#daryl is fascinating

[springcatalyst]

something about merle and daryls relationship to religion (particularly christianity)

oops this turned out long. readmore time for yalls sanity and my dignity

it's never actually mentioned, but they both seem to have had a rather christian upbringing. it's safe to assume, because they're in the deep south, but its evident in the ways they interact with the presence of religion and with themselves.

when merle is handcuffed to the roof, hes crying about how he deserves this, about how hes being punished, hes been bad and this is what he gets. he pleads with god for mercy before ultimately telling him he doesnt need his help. this is something we can imagine he is familiar with. hes used to the concepts of divine (or otherwise) punishment, violence and pain as something deserved, a consequence of behaving badly. he seems very used to "this is what you get." and ultimately when he pleads for mercy his prayers go unanswered. this is a familiar script, or at least it was. god never helped him before. hes been punished before. he'll get out of this one on his own, just like all the rest. (he uses the exact same line "I ain't gonna beg" with the governor before hes killed: this is something familiar to him). merle quotes from the bible with hershel in season 3: he knows it. not only knows it, but remembers it. he's held onto it

and then daryl. who is so averse, so mocking of christianity and those who follow it. his casual snide remarks whenever hes in a church, making clear his distaste for the whole affair. his disdain with gabriel for a long while after they meet him. ("the word of god is the only protection I need" "sure didnt look like it.") he sees the lie in it all, while it seems like merle still buys into it, even if he doesn't try to follow it anymore, he knows the punishment that will catch up to him and to others. merle frequently damns others to hell. he inflicts punishment, or the deserving of it, as easily as he understands it for himself. daryl, though, has been disillusioned, at the very least. he sees it as nothing more than a tool to manipulate and lie to the people that believe in it. best case scenario, religion to him is a false hope that will never reach fruition. worst case, it's a manipulative power play meant to keep people in line where 'in line' means subservient. its foolish: a waste of time, to him.

theres a deleted scene where he finds a man dead in a prayer room, and he mocks him for all the good his prayers did. for all the answers he found for his trouble. in season 4, after the prison falls, he says something along the lines of 'faith never did anything for us.' he and merle, though their reasons are different, both see prayer and faith (and as a tangent, hope in general) as a useless tact, nothing gained, nobody will ever answer, you're just fooling yourself. nobody is going to save you but you. and when you say it like that, you know exactly how they got there. these are two characters who frequently have been only out for themselves, only able to rely on themselves, anything outside of that is bound to let them down, to variant degrees of harm. plenty of their own prayers must have gone unanswered. nobody saves them but them.

I legally cant talk about the dixon brothers' relationship to christianity without also talking about carol. she has a lot of similar perspectives as the two of them, but we see her in both sides. when the show begins she still appears to believe in god, and when sophia goes missing she takes that time in the church to pray to him. she says god can punish her however he wants as long as he doesnt hurt sophia. she, too, expects punishment in the form of violence and grief when she behaves badly or, in this case, even thinks things she supposedly shouldn't. here, she had a similar relationship to religion as merle does- she still believes in god: more specifically, a wrathful one. as the seasons progress, though, we see her lose that faith and shift to something closer to daryl's perspective. we see her disillusionment in real time as she sees worse and worse things and is subject to worse and worse environments. but she never really stops behaving as if she is deserving of punishment.

her and Daryl are similar in this way: while merle outright says it, accepts his supposed punishment, and then continues doing whatever he has to and whatever he wants to, carol and daryl operate under the same kind of threat but they dont really realize it. when they do things they deem worthy of punishment, whatever harm comes their way as a result- or even unrelated but soon after (and it's the walking dead, things always happen)- they kind of accept it. daryl allows himself to be treated the way he is in the savior compound, yes because he had no immediate out, but also because he felt like he deserved it. dwight gives him that photograph to really hammer home how he got here, and daryl lets it happen, to an extent. after Henry's death, carol goes off the deep end and doesnt care what happens to her. if not for lydia, she would have gone right over the edge of that cliff because it's what she felt like she deserved, like a righteous end to a life shes been leading poorly. they live under the same eye as merle, but it's more abstract with them. rather than being punished by god, they're being punished by fate, or karma, or luck. it's very 'you get what you deserve' with them, because their disillusionment prevents them from blaming an entity, so in its place they blame themselves.

I think that's the only other option they see, and its part of the reason they are both so different from merle. merle can still blame this outside force, can shove all his problems onto something out of his control that isnt his fault but can be resented for it, so he becomes this hateful, violent person because the one thing hes really angry with is untouchable. daryl and carol lack that, and cant blame anybody else because they are the only common denominator, so it instead turns inward. they hurt other people less because of this, but it's still not healthy, and so in their place they're hurting themselves more.

I have to think they are all intimately familiar with god as a reason. as a justification for damage or an unattainable perfect form that when fallen short of, is punished for. merle still operates on this warped justice system, on punishment for bad behavior (reinforced by his many experiences with prison and the military), while daryl has rejected it entirely. merle still buys into it, but daryl sees it as nothing more than that justification, than that false sense of security. neither trusts god, or religion, or christianity, but the difference I think is that merle still feels the eye of it, while daryl feels the absence.

[onyour-right]

Daryl McCormack. All I'm gonna say. Beautiful man. Gorgeous. And an irish accent too. He's husband material for sureeeee.

[omiriice]

I’m kinda like idk surprised there haven’t been any weird crackship crossovers made for Steve yknow ??

Like most pop malewife Steve and just pair him up with a random dude from another show,,

[scudslut]

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'. 

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”  

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.” 

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water. 

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily. 

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly. 

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy. 

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong. 

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?” 

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank. 

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

[metanoiahh]

Get off my back - Daryl Dixon

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚꩜ ➴

Summary: A great fascination for the youngest Dixon took over you ever since the Quarry. Daryl notices and in fear of reciprocating your feelings, he continuously pushes you away. After Andrea shoots him, you don’t leave his side with the excuse of keeping an eye on him.

Warnings: Implied age gap (reader early 20s, Daryl late 30s) Fem!reader, Usual TWD gore, mentions of injuries, angst, yelling, mean!Daryl, failed-ish attempts of comfort, slightly medically skilled!reader, cigarettes, Daryl being a little too abrasive.

Era(s): Quarry, Greene farm.

Word count: 1.7k

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚꩜ ➴

Your eyes were trained on him the second you got to the group. As days went by, he seemed to have cast a spell on you, hypnotised you with something only he had. You saw beyond his mean persona, his rugged ways only making his vulnerability shine through. How you treated him didn't go unnoticed, not by him, certainly not by the rest. Always ensuring he had everything he could use before leaving for a hunt, sparing him extra food because 'He needed the extra energy', even small insignificant details like leaving his folded clothes at his tent door were starting to get to him. He felt like you could read him better than he could himself, which made him want to hate you.

Daryl kept everyone at a distance, but you were kept even farther. It bothered you and occupied your thoughts like a plague, you were practically living with the sole purpose of showing him he was worth everything you'd ever do and more. He had pulled something within you, although it was beyond your comprehension, you let your instincts and desire take you over. You were anything but pushy, you didn't try to force yourself onto his life, content with giving and not receiving even a glance your way in return. The archer hated that he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

In a fucked up world where the dead roamed, injuring oneself with the simple task of carrying firewood seemed flat-out stupid. Angry mumbles escaped the man as the log fell with a thud. "Goddamnit." Your eyes lifted from your task of shaping branches as stakes, at the sound of Daryl's grumbles. Blood dripped down to the ground as the blue-eyed man fixated on his newly obtained cut.

"Sit." You pointed to the nearest makeshift seat, marching your way inside your tent to look for your precarious medical supplies. "Wha' " He growled, squinted eyes now settled in your back, as he obeyed your command.

"You heard me." You replied in a quiet mumble, carrying alcohol, iodine, and bandages in one hand. You accommodated yourself on the ground at his feet, hands grasping his injured one in one swift but gentle motion. "Won't need stitches." You assured. Worried demeanor showed through your actions and on this occasion, he couldn't look away.

His stare changed from your face to your working consistently, as you finished wrapping the bandage expertly he looked at you through his eyebrows. "Ya' a doctor 'fore all this?"

A nostalgic smile crept up your face, usually content eyes now clouding with sadness. At your change of aura, he wished he could take back the question, even if he didn't understand what was wrong in his doing. "Sorry." He spoke barely above a whisper, raspy voice making him nearly unintelligible

"Third year of med-school. 'bout to start my fourth." He nodded, now wrapping his mind around your medical knowledge, you did look too young to be a doctor.

After that evening he stayed even further from you, which you didn't think possible. Still, you abstained from offering to look after his wound, knowing he was capable of doing that himself, and knew it would bother him to have the obligation of holding a conversation with you every day. The archer hated that you knew all that, proving his point of you being able to read him like your favourite goddamn romantic novel. If his mind stayed too much upon it, he would drive himself insane.

The next few weeks were hectic, in a matter of days you were already starting to get settled in a new location, a family farm that was lending you the place till the shot kid, Carl, healed and the lost kid, Sophia, whom Daryl frantically looked for, resurfaced from god knows where.

You paced around camp, Daryl had left earlier that morning and while that wasn't odd, the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach was. "He's fine." Carol smiled at you, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder. Your brows furrowed, answering your own silent question as to how she knew what was on your mind. Being sly was never your strength.

"I know." You smiled, rubbing her back up and down in a reciprocation of her action. You admired how she stood strongly, after the death of her asshole husband and the disappearance of her daughter, she had survivor written all over her face. The calm atmosphere faded at the series of unfortunate events that continued to unfold before you. A shot, screaming and a bloody, limp archer being carried inside the house.

As Hershel worked on the wound at his torso, which you were relieved to know was not a walker bite, you got your hands on the bullet graze at the side of his head. The youngest Dixon would be fine, back on his feet in a few days time, that didn't wash away your anger at the blonde now standing behind you. "Oh my god, he's going to be fine, right?" Andrea questioned for the billionth time.

Your eyes travelled back to her. "You won't be if you don't shut your mouth." Attention back on your stitching, you mumbled an unintelligible cuss, anger practically bubbling out of you.

That night you slept curled up in a chair next to his sleeping form. He had woken up multiple times, only having the strength to look around the room and then doze off once again. You kept constantly waking up to check for a fever, maybe a broken stitch, anything putting his life at stake, your mind could not rest easy. Andrea had apologised to him and even to you, but you brushed her off, too angry to hold a conversation on the topic still.

The idea of not having the archer around made your heart sink. His rough hands that you ached to hold, blue eyes that got smaller the brighter his surroundings got, the unsympathetic yet very empathic personality that made him so fucking special, and his fear of being loved which pulled you close to him. Losing Daryl Dixon would've made you wish you stayed at the CDC. That would've been the day when you wouldn't be grateful at Doctor Jenner for giving you a shot at life.

"You need to stay in bed!" Exasperated, you grabbed both of the brunette's shoulders, pushing him down on the bed. The morning of the second day after his accident, Daryl wanted to get back on his normal doings. He glared at you sideways, the corner of his mouth lifting up before he spat out the words.

"Get off my back, bitch. Don’ need ya’ pesterin’ me like you’re ma’ goddamn babysitter.” He pushed you off him with a strength he couldn't seem to control under his rage spell.  The volume of his voice grew louder by the second. “Always ´round ‘ere. Big brown eyes starin’ like I’m bein’ exhibited. I ain’t your pet. Sure as hell ain't your boyfriend.” Now on his feet, he held the bedsheets to his torso as he looked over the room for his clothes.

You stared at him, not a sign of emotion on your features, though you wished you could yell back, maybe even shed a tear or two, but you knew it would be uncalled for. Same way everything you had been doing was.

You extended your hand holding a pile of folded clothes, his folded clothes. The brunette snatched them from your grip without care, launching them onto the mattress behind him.

His body caged yours, one of his hands gripped your forearm as you were backed up into a wall. Your free hand went to rest against his bare chest, no pressure inflicted nonetheless. “Dar..” You whispered, chin pointing towards the ceiling to look into his eyes. 

“Don’ call me that like I’m your friend. Ya’ could be gone tomorrow ‘n I wouldn’t give a goddamn shit.” His grip tightened as his face inched closer to your own, so much his breath fanned over the tip of your nose. "Yer so desperate t'be loved it shows how ya never have been before, but I don't do charity, so go bother somebody else and leave me the hell alone!."

He stood like that for half a minute, keeping you in place with his hand clutching your skin tight, though his grip fell the second he noticed a hint of pain in your eyes, though you weren't sure if it was for his grip or his words, implying you weren't worthy of anything. Making you feel small. He pushed himself off you, taking a good few steps back. "Get the hell outta 'ere." He yelled, pointing with his uninjured side to the, hopefully empty, hall behind the bedroom door.

You had vanished. Completely erased yourself from existence for the rest of the day. You grabbed the pack of cigarettes you had kept after your last run, a lighter, and climbed up the tree furthest away from everyone. You sat on the wide branch with your knees to your chest, the stilled bike belonging to the man you had pestered all this time staring right back at you, yelling the same words he had hours ago. He was right, couldn´t argue against anything he said, as much as it hurt, it was the truth.

You were down to the last two tobacco sticks, an unlit one being hugged by your reddened lips from all the nervous biting. "Hard as shit lookin' for ya in this state." His grumble woke you up from your daydreaming, eyes landing right on his as you brought the fire to your cigarette. "Wha's doctor doin' with a smoke? Don' tha' kill you?" He tried to joke around after being met with radio silence on your part. Attempting to rip something out of you.

A small smile formed on your lips, shrugging. "Gonna die sooner or later." You weren´t big on it, but ever since you were sixteen cigarettes were a habit of you that was embarrassingly hard to let go of. His head was at level with your legs, you weren´t too far up and he didn't lack height. Hence why he easily reached for the last cigarette and the red lighter beside you, lighting it up swiftly.

" 'm sorry." He whispered. The view you had was one you wanted carved onto your skin. The sun setting behind the archer, his dirty blond hair being lit up by the orange beaming from the large figure. Cigarette between his lips, as well as your own, and a shy hand, going to rest on your calf in an awkward comfort-inducing mannerism he wasn´t too experienced with.

" 's fine." You smiled, hand enveloping his. "i'll get off your back."

"Don'. I like ya' pesterin' me."

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚꩜ ➴

i kinda hate it but i got it done lol

Anyway, my requests are open! please leave me anything you'd want to read and with no promised deadline I'll get it done :)

[kissesfordaryl]

daryl dixon with a size&strength kink, except its for his 6foot+ boyfriend.

nsfw, top male reader

it takes a while for you to realize hes got any kinda thing for the size difference between you two. usually he'd curl up and fit himself into your arms, but thats how it had always been. youd tease him too- which probably made things worse, but you just couldnt help it.

you liked to hold his hand in yours, comparing the noticeable gap in length where you fingers met. daryl'd watch in fascination too, chewing on his lip with wide eyes.

sometimes youd carry him around the house, listening in for the way his breath would hitch and how his fingernails dug into your back to maintain a better grip.

what made things click was when he decided to raid your side of the closet, putting on your sweats and a shirt a size too big for him. just like that, you were all over him and carrying him back to bed.

youd coo about how small he was against you, how well he could handle your larger body pressed inside him, and hed come right then and there. hes shy afterwards, just like always- but he doesnt know how to admit how hard he gets thinking about how much stronger you were than him.

he gets extremely flustered anytime he sees you displaying your muscles, whether that be you carrying something around or you showing off and trying to see how many push-ups you could do with glenn on your back.

youd catch him staring at your dick in the shower, his eyes tracing its length then returning to his own cock: smaller in its own. just to tease him, you take the weight of your cock and press it flush against his own, your fingers wrapped firmly around both your shafts. he practically turns pink, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. neither of you mention how quick he comes that night.

sometimes youd have to shove daryl out of the way or into a smaller space to avoid walkers- and he'd feel so guilty by how turned on he gets. just your proximity and the way you tower over him has his cock half hard in his pants.

literally i think about this all the time. daryl'd be putty in your hands if you man-handled him a bit!!

[scentedpepper]

Missing | TWD

MALE READER X S5 GROUP

Summary: The group reverberates with a somberness upon your potential death

Content Warnings: Mention of Major Character Deaths from previous seasons, S5 and below spoilers

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Not too sure how I feel about this one

Could be read as GN for the most part (he/him used a few times, 'Father' used once, 'Brother' used once)

Was originally supposed to be centered around Daryl and Rick, but somewhere along the writing process, I devlled into just about every other member of the group

Ya'll know how many last names I had to look up for these tags

Enjoy?

_________________________________________

7 days.

Seven days of them searching for their found family member who went out to investigate and never came back.

Glenn thought for sure that maybe with all the shit they have been through, the apocalypse must have treated you a little kinder.

That was assuming you were already dead.

Which Rick, in all his glory, continued to remind everyone that until there is evidence, there are just as many possibilities as there are stars in the sky.

He thought it was a strange fit, all doom and gloom, it wasn't like Glenn to carry around the carcasses of such negative presumptions about his loved ones, but nonetheless, he had just the same.

An ever present reminder as the fire was stoked by Glenn's constant fidgets, his spaced-out breaths being released with the baggage of endless possibilities.

"Glenn's gonna lose it when he sees this one. "

Is what Daryl said to Rick on the night of day 5, your shirt clenched in hand, approaching the church with footsteps so heavy you could mistake them for Walkers.

The worst part, Rick thought, was how he had found it, which further fueled the possibility that couldn't help but arise.

A decaying Walker's den where there was a mass majority of bodies wearing clothes; Not Walker corpses.

Hopeless and without explanation Rick approached camp with a grim expression that took root in his features.

And when Daryl had handed the shirt to Glenn after he feverishly chanted let me see it, let me see it, over and over, Daryl observed the way his hand shook when he snatched it and how the same hand came up to rub his face after he confirmed in his own mind that, without a doubt, it was yours.

Maggie had to take the shirt from his hands and when she felt the dirt and grime ragged against her skin, she almost burst at the seams, Rick knew by the strain in her brows and the way her hands turned into fists at her side.

She was the first person Rick had questioned upon your missing presence, wanting to know who you had walked out with last night and who stayed behind, wanting to pinpoint possible places you might be, or routes you could've taken.

Her response was ridden with anxious adrenaline, her lips chewed raw in worry, bouncing on her toes before stomping off and pulling everyone together to go looking for you.

There was no conversation within the group but a mutual agreement.

Naturally, the first person they looked to for some account of wrongdoing was Gabriel.

You had always been so intuitive, like you were the one who could read minds not him.

The others felt so comforted by you, Gabriel assumed.

He was only too accustomed to the fact that everyone saw the good in you, the positive, and while that brought him a modicum of solace, there were times where he couldn't help but wallow in envy.

A man of God and yet, it was you who they looked to, as if you were Christ himself.

As if you were his light.

Gabriel couldn't understand this fascination.

When he had confronted you about it, rather presumptuously, Gabriel was too quick to gauge the situation and allow his ego to speak for him. Said confrontation also happened to occur right before Maggie and Sasha who shared pointed looks with each other as they watched the scene unfold before them.

You were quick on your toes, always had been. Back on the farm, when Shane had been more akin to a wild boar, you were always the first to confront him. Always calm, or whenever you spoke you at least had the appearance of it, always matter of fact. Even when your voice raised or when anger was seething through you, it seemed like everyone just stopped, and listened.

It was one of your redeeming traits, sharp tongue laced with facts that wouldn't hesitate to point out things that were missing, contradictions, positions and beliefs.

It left some satisfaction amongst the ton when Gabriel pushed out of Judith's designated room, nearly knocking Carl off his feet as the door came with his exit.

A flustered look had replaced him, no doubt having felt the embarrassment, as if he had been burning inside.

After a beat, he had apologized under his breath and carried himself in haste towards you.

Unfortunately, this incident occurred the last night anyone had seen you.

When everyone had risen that morning, one by one coming off the floors of the church and stirring awake those who remained sleeping, you were the only one who hadn't stirred. Because your body wasn't even of prescence.

Almost immediately, everybody went on an emotional and mental frenzy.

Even when the conversation with Gabriel didn't bode well for him. He refuted, if a little pathetically, that you weren't very friendly towards him.

Upon hearing of what had happened just hours before they woke, Daryl seemed to retreat back to the deepest of his old roots.

Begrudgingly, Rick knew this was what they called "fight or flight."

Luckily for everyone involved, Daryl never moved unless there was something to fight for. The man had gained some sort of control over the years of personal development but like a dog, he'd jumped on Gabriel the second tensions rose.

There was a knife pressed against Gabriel's throat when Drayl pushed him into the nearest wall and the preacher did nothing but pray to himself and accept his fate.

Minuets later of interrogation and threatening, Michonne and Tara intervenned, though Daryl seemed none too eager to back off the smaller man, not until he was physically being dragged back and Rick telling him to get a hold of himself.

"He's lucky I didn't slit his fuckin' throat! It was him!"

Because back in the day, with Merle at his side, he would've and to hell with anyone who said differently.

Rick saw Carol's lips part to say something, as did Abraham, but nothing came out. Not with Rick cutting through them like cloth to speak, clearing his throat, hands rising in demand to appease the tension in the church.

"We are going to look for Y/N. It's no secret that we're standing on a ticking time bomb. " His head turned sharply towards everyone, waiting a beat before he continued. "Everybody gets paired off. No one leaves each other's sides. "

His gaze softened upon the archer as he came around to see the anger and frustration but most of all, the pain in his eyes. He wanted to assure him, they were going to find you. But he couldn't find the words to, as his own fingertips surged with doubt and as the rest of the days proceeded, his whole body seemed to become encapsulated by it.

They all began out at once, weapons gathered, determination and grievance fused into them as they exited the church in pairs. The only 2 persons staying behind being Judith and Abraham.

Before the front doors fell, Rick sought out Gabriel, his fingers ghosting over the knob as his stomach tied in knots.

"If you so much as touch a hair on her head. "

He was referring to Michonne who'd gotten the unsavory job of catering to Gabriel, "I swear it'll be the last thing you do. "

His eyes followed Gabriels timley swallow as he spoke.

"And if I find out you had an inkling of any wrongdoing, God won't be able to save you. "

It wasn't just Daryl that was shaken by the fear of your abduction –or worse, there wasn't a moment where Rick could stop to inhale without thinking about you. How tightly you had embraced him 2 nights prior, when he'd confided that maybe he wasn't suited for this leader job anymore, that he didn't know where you all would go, or if you'd even make it past these religious grounds before succumbing to hunger.

There was warmth radiating off you like a furnace and he couldn't shake the soothing way your fingertips gilded against his forearm as you told him that things would fall into place in time, no matter how difficult it got.

But Daryl was a damn firecracker, this way of his to emote through hostility and intimidation was a way for him to cope with the potential loss of his brother.

You were not Shane.

There's so much Rick could rationalize before he no longer had the will to counter how much he wished you were there now to quell the savagery within his best friend.

Carl was as much of a mess as the archer, if not more. The rage within him seemed to blaze each step closer to the forest. It burned at his eyes, tearing his hands into fists that felt as if their own knuckles may shatter within the grasp.

Rosita had to stop him.

"What?" He initially sneered at her, pushing out of her grip and continuing to stomp forward until he could feel her nipping at his heels.

"Carl, now is not the time to get some kind of revenge, alright? We'll find the fucker, but getting ourselves killed is not going to help. "

In time, she got him to sit down and collect himself, which consisted of roughly pacing and rubbing his face with his palms in an attempt to scrub the hostility right out of him. He wanted to scream, to fucking yell the earth apart because this wasn't fair, none of this was.

Yet, he found it somewhat easier to sit there and allow his teeth to sink into his knuckles while he suppressed tears.

Eugene and Tara had wandered the farthest the fastest, the church began to slowly disappear the deeper they strayed into the density of the trees until there was no distinguishable church at all, or street or houses for that matter.

They were silent the entire way, like speaking would somehow shatter the chances of finding you, safe, sound and alive.

So then when Tara's voice did come, meek and soft, far from anything close to the tone she usually sported, Eugene nearly jumped.

He halted immediately, his body turning as he looked every which way as if you may suddenly appear behind a tree.

"We should turn around and just make our way back. " She whispered.

That was her biggest concern, because with the route they had taken, any further into the unknown, she knew there were no way to familiarize themselves with where they were.

"Rick said to keep searching til sun down and that's just what I intend to do. " There was an an irrtation in his expression and an agony to his voice that confirmed his intentions were anything but logical.

"Eugene. "

And again, his body suddenly felt like it wasn't his, or maybe his bones weren't aligned and he was a puppet, a stranger, someone entirely else.

"Eugene, we won't get anywhere trying to force out this search. Please. The sun is already setting, it's near impossible to see 10 feet ahead and even if we were to press further in the dark, they're-"

She didn't need to finish her sentence to know what she wanted to say, the image was still clear in her mind as if she had just watched the last interaction you'd had with her and Rosita. The absolute dejection you allowed her to see in your eyes, the hesitation and restraint you had felt in giving your hugs. She took one and wrapped herself around you and you didn't dare do more than reciprocate the tightness, afraid to hurt her. As if.

After some minuets, Eugene came to and they turned back.

When they got to the church, Abraham was doing circles around the confinements of the holy sanctuary with Judith in his arms.

"Where's Gabriel?" Eugene spoke cautiously, realizing the weight in his voice when he did so.

"He's locked in his office. Said to leave him to rot or somethin'. Not a bad idea, the bastards a fuckin killer. "

Abraham was just as convinced as Daryl. No one asked to elaborate because they somehow knew the moment he did, he'd lose his shit. Like a bomb that's set to a timer, ticking away until it explodes into your ears.

"Find anything?" He asked as Tara slid down the wall she had been leaning against since they returned and brought her legs to her chest. Eugene shook his head at him which made the soldier nod back bitterly.

By day two, Michonne decided to conduct a one man search party for the nights. When the moon came out, she snuck off to the woods and scouted the area she had previously searched, for any evidence that may have been missed on the 1st visitation. Which would prove to cause strife amongst the group when Carl found her out four days later.

"What are you doing?" He challenged harshly as he forced himself into the dark brush behind her with Michonne's body jolting at the abrupt arrival of company.

"Carl-"

"Are you crazy?”

The boy wasn't the only person who she'd receive these questions from, Tyrese had found himself wandering her way as well.

"Why would you come out here on your own? Have you lost it?" He griped under his breath, tone laced with disapproval as if the woods had just come to eat them alive.

"Well, what are you doing out here?" She retorted back in a whisper yell with a forceful gesture to the man who was just as armed, just as ready as her.

Her efforts were fruitless, though, and no response was heard, which left her walking the same way she came.

Rick wasn't happy about it.

At first, when Carl appeared through the door in the night, he thought his son was the culprit of the secret night searches, but soon realized what has transpired when he saw Michonne making her way inside.

"Everyone is on edge, alright? Everyone is doing exactly what is expected of them, they have been looking and looking and Michonne, it's about time you pulled your head from your ass and sat down for the night. " Rick had said 5 minuets after they'd settled in the privacy of Judiths room. Their voices were lowered considerably so as not to wake the others, but Rick's tone wasn't anything less than a demand.

"So we should just sit around?" She had, then, the urge to spit at him and remind him that you could be dead in the next second. Gone. Poof.

"We are not–" Rick's voice began to rise in octaves but he took a moment to lower the volume. "We are *not* just sitting around. "

There was an enervation in Rick's stance that Michonne could feel pricking her heart strings. He looked exhausted, absolutely strained.

"He could– he could be in trouble. " Michonne attempted to keep her voice leveled as she looked around in disdain, her lip trembling and Rick saw this, that she could not come to accept the way things were."I can't bury him." She hissed as clear glistens of wetness fell from the pools in her eyes.

Rick knew exactly the terror Michonne felt in the pit of her gut and he could almost see inside her head, the vision of a funeral and everyone in a heavy sweat of depression and rage, because it was the same one he saw every night before he closed his eyes.

A few dead bodies surrounding the fire pit in the woods while everyone circled around you and Daryl cried.

He had already envisioned it all, envisioned the way Glenn would crack at your loss. While Maggie was reduced to hiccups and broken speeches, she had somehow found the strength to collapse to the floor and refuse help.

Bobs face would fall, for once, it would fall and Sasha wouldn't be able to handle the breath leaving her body, clutching Tyrese, who looked just as devastated, to her to bring her solace.

Carol would gasp but it wouldn't matter because no one would hear her over Daryl's sobs, no one would see the way her lips pulled down at the corners and the lines in her face would tighten.

Rick didn't like to think about how he might react. He imagined it be something similar to crazed. But beyond that, he didn't want to picture it.

And what about his son? Carl who hadn't even fully grown yet. Rick couldn't stomach the thought, the sheer utter torment he'd experience watching his sons body begin to wither. He didn't want to know.

You'd been there while he was unconscious in that hospital bed, through every storm, everything, by his side. You were a father to Carl as much as he was and you'd been nothing short of a supporting role to Rick. There's been times when you just drove the both of them off in the car, taking trips to lakes and nearby parks, anywhere that offered a semblance of normalcy.

You'd scout the places out days before, cleaned it free of Walker's and set up a picnic on the cool greens of grass or near broken tables. Even once or twice when the fire smothered to ambers or if Carl's blood started to burn so hot, you'd give them a midnight rendezvous, all three of you climbing up a tree or anything that fit the current circumstances in which the group resided.

Rick had to run a hand through his hair and all he could do was grab Michonne by her shoulders, look her forcefully in the eyes and say:

"We are going to find him. And anyone who gets in the way of that will pay. "

Because he wasn't going to accept anything else.

Which is why he didn't stop Tyrese or Daryl or anybody who wanted a chunk out of Gabriel the morning of day eight when he suggested that they move on.

He even went as far as leaving the church entirely, not caring to put aside personal feelings, not caring how he may look. His expression was sour and drained and at this rate, the only thing he cared about was finding you.

He would have no problem burying his tomahawk right into the preachers skull.

Daryl kept watch most of the nights, refusing rest for the past week because every time he tried, he felt as if it were a ploy. He became distressed each time he was reminded you weren't going to walk in and slumber on the floor next to him or Carol. You weren't anywhere.

It pissed Daryl off beyond belief to know there was an actual possibility that you weren't breathing anymore, weren't thinking, feeling.

His anger had to be one of the few things driving him into the same track less search the next day as he pushed through the forest ahead of Rick.

Things were starting to feel all too familiar and he thought he might find you in a barn just the same as Sofia. But you didn't pop out the doors in any walkers veil, you weren't bloodied nor torn apart. There were no traces of anyone or anything in those forests.

You simply disappeared.

And it left them in another night of quiet.

Spoons scraping agaisnt cans, the faint sound of chewing. A tiny droplet of rain hitting a window pane or two.

That was all.

No one spoke, yet they all sat around a room cramped with anxious bodies.

Sasha's leg brushed against her guns outline, her boots rubbed together, her tongue flicked at her teeth and she felt as if her thoughts were vibrating the inside of her skull, riling her from the depths. There was an eerily absence of anything positive, because at this point no one was expecting good news.

Gabriel's execution was more or less inevitable as each of the nights rolled by. There'd be the lingering aura of danger and anticipation due to the preachers remaining presence. But no one ever mentioned it, let alone had the will to.

It was hard to digest the concept of your loss because not a single one of them wanted to bury you, the group preferred to be broken and you had become like an integral part of what bound them.

Food was beginning to dwindle down the line of low and low to nonexistent.

And as they sat there, in silence, there was collective knowing resonating around them that this would be the last night they spent in the church.

Not that anyone dared to speak it, not even Rick, who gazed afar into the burning light of a candle and contemplated.

Carol noticed first, maybe it was her nose, fine tuned for the scent of trouble and like a dog trailing a rabbit, she jumped up with a clatter and darted towards the front door.

But she didn't even get halfway across the church, with Rick trailing closely behind her, along with the others who were all clammering to their feet, when the doors burst open on their own, the cool whip of wind entering the room as the room itself seemed to rise up in temperature.

There, with a trail of blood drops, a scarily dehydrated and filthy body fell into her arms.

It was you.

And the sigh of relief felt as if you breathed the air back into everyones lungs. It reanimated the whole church.

[cultofdixon]

Oddly Fascinating

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Can you imagine a human fucking pretzel? Well you certainly like to freak the others out unexpectedly • SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex

Requested by: Anon

It’s…fascinating. The things Y/N can do with JUST her body. Keep that noggin out of the gutter for a minute.

Y/N joined the group a little after the Woodbury infusion to the prison. She didn’t have a group and sort of ended up in Virginia because she simply didn’t stop walking from where she originated.

One day Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn were out on a run in the closest outdoor mall, which is a few hours away from the prison—so they were going to have to camp. Daryl went to check the store that looked like a miniature Home Depot thinking he could find some camping supplies but when he entered the store…said camping supplies were in use but no person.

“If anybody is here, I ain’t gonna hurt yea,” Daryl stated knowing that wouldn’t go far but to his surprise one of the storage boxes’s lids flung open. Soon a woman’s upper half popped out like a jack in the box and it was a bit unsettling to the archer.

“I had to see who I’m working with and what makes yea think I’ll trust “I ain’t gonna hurt yea” with muscles like those”

“You think I’d hit a woman?”

“It’s the apocalypse. If laws don’t exist, neither does moral code. I follow them still…but still”

“I don’t hit women.” Daryl scoffs. “How do yea fit in there?”

“I don’t know you well enough to share my skills. But I do feel a little better knowing you’re not gonna throw a left hook at my face” the woman began to fully pull herself out of the container and when she stepped out, she locked eyes with the archer’s confused yet curious ones. “Okay I trust you about not killing me but why haven’t you left?”

“Gonna ask yea a few things if that’s okay with you”

“Sure I guess” She put the lid back on the box before taking a seat and crossing her arms.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Lost count a long time ago”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Four”

“Why?”

The woman went silent for a moment and avoided eye contact as she held herself. “They were my friends, and brother who were about to turn. They didn’t want to be taken out as a walker and didn’t want to become one so. You know…”

“I do” Daryl leaned against one of the shelves. “It’s hard to take someone you care about out after they’ve changed”

“Getting deep with me and we don’t even know each other’s name”

“Daryl”

“Y/N”

Then she joined their group right then and there. The others that came with Daryl liked her, didn’t trust her right away but given her attitude immediately when it came to them asking the same questions Daryl asked—-both Glenn and Michonne knew that they will grow to trust her. Same with the others. Returning back to the prison with a lot more than they had expected helped the initial image of the new comer. Y/N hoarded a lot of stuff so thinking that she would survive alone in there.

Some part of Daryl wanted Y/N to take the empty cell in their cellblock but given he didn’t speak up and Rick showed her one of the others, that wasn’t happening.

But she was very involved with helping around the prison.

“You good up there Y/N?” Rick calls out to her receiving a thumbs up while she continued to work with fixing part of the fence that disconnected from the gate.

The retired sheriff watches his brother pull in on his bike but stop to watch Y/N a moment. She dropped her wire cutters and as it hit the grass, Daryl hopped off his bike about to grab it when he quickly took a step back when Y/N jumped down somersaulting in the dirt.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl shouted as Y/N stood up immediately, stretching her back after her action. “Yea could’ve cracked your head open!”

“I’ve done it a million times before. Don’t worry your pretty little head”

“A million times? What, in the circus?”

“How did you know?” Y/N smiles catching him off guard at first and even more when she broke out in laughter. “I wasn’t in the circus dumbass. I’ve done a lot of risky stuff and…gymnastics. But what just happened is nothing compared to other stuff” she states while throwing herself back so she was then in a bridged position and Daryl watched her upper half lay flat on its stomach showing her crawl between her legs and hold her ankles. Exorcist shit.

“Now I think you’re an alien”

“Rude” Y/N scoffs as such action was a bit uncomfortable given her twisted position. “It definitely impressed and freaked out a few hook ups”

Now that led Rick to leave from overhearing their conversation, both knowing damn well he was there. He opened the gate once Y/N was back in the upright position and Daryl was still left appalled somewhat.

Y/N was definitely making a good impression on most. Has been on every run that was planned and no one opposed, she’s especially useful in tight situations.

“Alright, so I was thinking we break down the door and then—-“ Tyreese cut himself off when Y/N gestured for Maggie’s help to hoist her up and she happily obliged.

Next thing the group knew, Y/N was pushing herself through the small window above the locked door landing on the other side and unlocking it.

“Or that” Sasha chimes in with a laugh and smile, impressed by the woman. “Now we don’t have to almost break ourselves to get into places” she walked past her as Y/N brushes off some of the dirt checking her person carefully. Said actions didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

After a couple hours passed, the four returned to the prison and dispersed but as Daryl stuck by his bike a moment he noticed Y/N straggling a bit. She stood for a while glancing around and turned to Daryl with a questioning look before turning away.

“If yea need something, you can ask” He didn’t hesitate as Y/N slumped in defeat before turning around and approaching him.

“Crack my back”

“What?” Daryl scoffs confused as he wiped the grime off his hands with his rag. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Imma turn around cross my arms and you’re going to wrap your arms around me then lean back until a crack is heard.” Y/N explained in the most layman terms she could think of and it clicked instantly to Daryl but he hesitated a moment.

“Is that what yea want?”

“Yes, well. What I really want is someone to step on my back but all of y’all aren’t trained to do that and back in the day I had a friend who was a masseuse.”

“Well, I’ll do my best” Daryl grunts bringing himself over after tossing his rag on his bike watching her turn around and do what she had to do before he wrapped his arms around her. “Just lean back holding yea?”

“Yup” Y/N felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest when she was being lifted and the heat came clear in her cheeks expressing more of a red hue.

She heard the crack a bit ago but they both just. Stood there and it went from Daryl holding her to them both holding each other. Still Y/N’s back against his chest but her arms held onto his. Daryl relaxed setting her down but the way he held her for much longer and Y/N didn’t show any sign of letting go.

There was something

When the illness washed through the prison and a few were sent to get the medicine, Y/N found herself in the doorway watching Bob shove alcohol into his bag. He turned toward her realizing she was there and instead of talking first, he quickly took a bottle and threw it in her direction watching her quickly fall back then swing her body back forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ what are you? One of those inflatable car sales string cheese looking things?!”

“That’s very descriptive. Are you gonna be the same way when telling me why you have a goddamn bag of alcohol and not medicine to save our people”

“Oh for fucks sake! You and I are the newest people at the prison and you’re willing to bend over backwards—-even literally—-for people you barely know”

“So?!”

“SO?!” Bob shouted which caught another’s attention, Michonne as the conversation ended the second she joined. Bob brushed past her as she quickly gave a concerned look to Y/N.

I’m fine. Was all Y/N gave her as she stepped out.

Of course the booze was found out by Daryl and that was a more explosive mess to address than when Y/N first confronted him. But it all stopped mattering when they finally got their medicine into their people.

After getting their medicine in, Daryl went in search for Y/N who disappeared after they did such. It didn’t take long to find her because she was in her cell but she was alone in the old Woodbury cell block. Because of the outbreak.

“You alright?” Daryl asks Y/N even if she was currently hiding under her deconstructed bunk.

“Yeah”

“Don’t look like it”

A few seconds of silence. “Yeah…” she sounded defeated and pulls her entire self out from under bringing herself to sit on her bed. Daryl bringing himself to sit with her leaning his back against the wall.

“You can trust me, with whatever is on your mind”

“It’s strange…how easily it was for Bob to just. Not care about the others in the heat of the moment”

“Some people are just like that. Somethin’ or someone has to change them”

“I used to be like that. Not a warm caring person when this thing first started. I just. Had moments that changed me”

“Yeah?” Daryl gave her a questioning look that she noticed in the corner of her eye. “What changed yea?”

“Having to end the lives of people I cared for, the ones who got bit. When…” Y/N hesitated a second before looking at Daryl. “When I met you”

She’s full of surprises isn’t she? Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he never felt that feeling before.

But this moment was short lived like the many that followed after.

Until they found themselves alone weeks later…in a new place, with strange new people. Y/N stuck by Daryl’s side since they first entered Alexandria and given how the archer was feeling from all the loss, he would find himself following her if she were to stray or disappear from his side for too long.

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Daryl asks while under the car Aaron drives for recruiting as he was asked to check something out for the man. Y/N being there to help in any way even if it is just handing tools to the archer.

Y/N was currently repairing one of the angel wings on Daryl’s vest which led her to using her leg to reach toward the bench then her foot hooked onto the handle of the tool box. She then carefully bent so that she could grasp the box with her hands and go through the kit for what he asked for.

“Damn”

The annoyingly familiar voice caught both of their attentions as Daryl pushes out on the skateboard sitting up to look at Spencer confused. Y/N equally confused on the matter while handing the tool over.

“You know I saw you the other day doing your…morning stretches or whatever. Didn’t think you’d be THAT flexible…and limber…” Spencer was starting, or continuing to make Y/N uncomfortable as he starts to check her out making her cover herself with Daryl’s vest in her lap.

Daryl quickly taking note of the reaction and glaring at the man. “Beat it”

“I wasn’t talking to you” Spencer brushed him off keeping his attention on Y/N. “I bet you’re even more flexible in more intimate situations”

Y/N scoffs instantly but before she could bite the guy’s head off. She felt herself being pulled toward Daryl’s direction. Daryl having grabbed the blanket she was seated on pulling it closer to him so he could protectively wrap his arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned into him.

“She’s taken. Now I’d fuck off and bother somebody else before your mommy sees her little boy’s face smashed the fuck in” Daryl threats and didn’t let his guard down but it got Spencer to storm off defeated. “What a tool”

“He’s not wrong about something”

“Huh?”

“I am very flexible when we’re intimate” Y/N laughs slightly catching her own boyfriend off guard resulting in the red hue rising in his cheeks.

[darylsdelts]

Daryl wasn’t always such a tough guy, he was emotional like any other child when he was little.

Between the ages of 4 to 6, Daryl was fascinated with the play park. The only bad thing about it were there were other kids there, kids that wanted to make friends with Daryl, kids that weren’t overcome with such painful anxiety at a young age that Daryl couldn’t understand.

However, he’d still go to the park all by himself because he liked the swings. When he’d get there, if there was someone on the swings already, he’d sit on the tarmac floor (right next to a perfectly fine bench but he was not taking the chances of someone coming to sit by him) and wait. He wouldn’t ask for a turn, he would just wait.

Sometimes, if Merle came with him he’d encourage Daryl to go and ask for a turn. Merle so desperately wanted Daryl to make friends, making friends meant play dates and play dates meant going to somebody else’s house that didn’t have a drunk, abusive man in it, he wanted Daryl away from it. But Daryl never wanted to make friends.

One day Daryl went to the park by himself, which was more common than going with Merle, and when he got there the swings were free! He ran to his favourite swing, struggling a bit to get on it since he was quite short. He persevered and completed the difficult task, next came swinging himself, which was hard too but he managed to get it going. After being on the swing for about half an hour, he wanted to get off to go on the slide. He found that stopping the swing and getting off took way too long for how excited he was, so he decided to try what he’d seen some bigger kids do. He wanted to jump off.

He was sure he could do it, he prepared himself, jumped, completely missed his feet, landing on his hands and knees. Now, his knees were scraped and bloody, along with the heels of both palms.

The five year old’s eyes welled with tears, quickly he rose to his feet and his little legs worked as hard as they could to get him home. He planned on getting in and going to momma, knowing daddy wouldn’t help.

Merle was round the side working on something when he heard the scuffing of shoes and loud sniffling and he knew exactly what had happened.

Quickly, he rounded the corner and stepped in front of the front door to stop Daryl.

“Ya got hurt, baby brother?”

Daryl shook his head and sniffled, trying to get past Merle to get to momma.

Obviously Merle could see Daryl was crying and he could see his bloody knees. He took Daryl’s forearms in his hands and turned them to see his scraped palms.

“Looks tough, brother”

“Move… needa get momma…”

Merle knew that their mother wasn’t home right now and if Daryl went in there, crying, all he was gonna get was yelled at and beaten.

“She ain’t home, bud… s’only pa… C’mere”

Merle tried to pull Daryl in his direction but Daryl hastily shrugged him off. Merle could be a huge meanie sometimes and he was sure he was gonna make fun of him.

When Daryl wouldn’t budge, Merle reluctantly lifted Daryl straight off the ground, carried him to the side of the shack and sat him on the rotting bench.

Of course the whole time Daryl was grumbling.

“Put me down, merwe!”

“S’for your own good, lil brother, show me yer hands”

Daryl slowly held his hands out to his big brother, hoping he’d help. Daryl had originally planned to go cry in mommy’s arms but now he was with Merle, he was trying not to.

Merle poured some water from a plastic bottle over the little boys palms and knees and wiped over them with his handkerchief.

A few tears fell from Daryls eyes but Merle ignored it.

“Some pretty nasty busts ya got ‘ere… musta been doin’ some real brave shit, huh?”

Merle wanted to cheer Daryl up but he wasn’t sure how.

“Jumped off da swing”

“Ya ain’t quite stuck the landing’ yet… plen’y o’ time ta practice… I’ll go wit’ ya to the damn park tomorruh”

“Pwomise?” Daryl looked at him with wide, hopeful, blue eyes.

Merle hated making promises to Daryl, but he reckons he could keep this one so he ruffles his hair and nods before reaching into his vest pocket and pulling out a bandaid (that may or may not be in there for when he takes Daryl’s blood and needs to put a plaster over the needle hole) and gently putting it on the more scuffed knee of the two.

“You gon’ sit ‘ere n watch me work on this piece o’ crap?”

Daryl nodded and Merle was relieved, he didn’t want Daryl going inside yet, not with how his eyes were still misty and red rimmed.

He’d never said this before, it felt awkward to say it to be honest but he figured it’s what mom would’ve said to him and he knows that Daryl wants her.

“Good boy, Daryl… pass me that driver”

Daryl’s feet kick a little at the praise, he’s too little to reach the ground, as he passes over the screw driver.

[zirconika]

PART TWO

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a two-part fic entitled 'Chivalry is Dead.' Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader WORDS: 6.1k SUMMARY: Accepting that your persuasion of Daryl is going nowhere and deciding that you’re better off as friends, you begin to welcome the idea of a sure thing with Spencer. So if Daryl has turned you down multiple times, what gives him the right to be frustrated? WARNINGS: fluff + angst! plot twist HSHJHSJASA SETTING: pre-negan alexandria A/N: kinda felt like the ending turned out weak, but i'm confident this is a fun read still :) reblogs and comments are appreciated!

IV. A CHANGE OF SCENERY…AGAIN - ALEXANDRIA

When you were introduced to the prospect of a change of scenery, you didn’t expect it to be like home. Alexandria was huge. It wasn’t simply a ‘change of scenery,’ it felt like a different world from the one you’ve been living in just a few hours ago.

No blood-stained fences, no corpses stabbed to the head thrown away haphazardly across the streets… 

You were damned convinced it was a new world altogether. From a couple of steps away, Daryl observed your eyes darting from one neat detail to the next, fascinated by this neighborhood before you.

He stepped forward to say something nice, maybe something along the lines of, “How—”

You look up at him, curious as to what he has to say. But he stands there frozen, looking as if he was about to say something he’d been debating on saying. He settles for a nod your way, shrinking back to where he stood. You gave him a tight-lipped smile in response.

Daryl sighed to himself, shifting his attention to his crossbow, not knowing what to do with either. Great job, dumbass. 

Back in Terminus, Daryl’s only concern was you. Once upon a time, Daryl thought that the worst thing in the world was being liked by you. He was proven otherwise. 

The worst thing in the world was having you be mad at him. He couldn’t look out for you, couldn’t keep you safe. You wouldn’t let him. 

The entire walk to Alexandria, you spent it with everyone but Daryl. You mostly hung around with Tara, happy to provide her company seeing that she didn’t know what to do with herself either. 

“[Y/N],” Rick called as he stepped out of the door to Deanna’s home. “You’re up.”

Daryl spared a glance your way, hoping you would at least look his way so he could assure you with something as minimal as a smile. You didn’t. 

After all, you had every right not to.

He recalls the last time you snapped at him. It was in Gabriel’s church, when you decided that you wanted to come along with Abraham’s group. 

“You’re out of your mind,” he had said just as you’re about to get on the bus, your hands keeping the door from closing. “There’s no guarantee that Washington’s safe. You should stay here.”

“For what?” you hissed, challenging him to say something. Daryl had thought of what Beth told him. But now wasn’t the time. So he let you go that time. Glenn looked away as you took your seat just to look out the window where you wouldn’t be watched by Daryl as the bus drove off.

No one said a thing as you cried yourself to sleep during the trip.

That’s why up to this day, Daryl still couldn’t find the right words to say and the right way to say them. First, he had to find the right timing.

Except that the right timing was tricky to find. You were always speaking to someone, getting all friendly with everyone. The way you fit right in should’ve been enough to make him doubt his intentions again, but he wouldn’t let that same mistake get to him.

Once the Alexandrians finally left you alone, Daryl made his way to you, trying not to attract any of the people to him as he did.

It was the first time he saw you in a dress, the first time he’d ever seen you neatly groomed. 

Daryl didn’t prefer any version of you, he just wanted you. He didn’t care if you were in a dress or blood-stained cargo pants. He found you beautiful nonetheless. He’d always felt that way, he just didn’t want to unload any of his feelings.

He should’ve.

Alas, the right timing was a bust again when a fine looking gentleman came in to talk you out of boredom. Daryl halted in his tracks, a sinking feeling in his stomach coming in when he noticed something about the guy.

“Prim and proper, clean-shaven, wears an authentic watch, bothers to use cufflinks, gets a neat haircut often, works in corporate…”

Daryl eyed his hair. Neat haircut? Check. 

“I like them worthy of an introduction to the fam, y’know?. The kind of guy who I could brag about to them shamelessly! The guy who would do well in the role of a sweet, loving husband and father and all that crap in a suburban home.”

He wondered if you could recall how you described it to him. He should be leaving now, running away, accepting that this is what you wanted. 

Daryl kept thinking of his conversation with Beth back when they were the ones left together, how he feared he’d lost you forever. How he told Beth that he wishes he’d told you how he really felt about you. How he should’ve never let you go when he kissed you, and that the only regret he had was that he even thought of pulling away.

“Tell her,” Beth had urged him back then. 

It was easier said than done. 

Daryl couldn’t seem to bring himself to function when he finds you about to look his way. Everything happened in slow motion. 

He caught sight of Carol and Tara approaching his way, heading for the doorway he was stationed right next to. Just in time, he gets a hold of them and he asks them about what they think of Alexandria.

You had seen him in your peripheral vision, and you hated that you felt disappointed that he wasn’t walking over to talk to you. You stared at the archer for about two seconds while the man spoke.

Daryl appeared to be deep in conversation with two of your group members—Carol and Tara. 

You’d been waiting for him to reach out to you, talk to you. You were waiting for an apology, hoping he’d eventually find the words he wanted to say so you could finally move on.

But it looks like he’s just as nonchalant as you knew him. Maybe it was for the better. And you didn’t mind talking to a charming guy like Spencer, unaware that three of your friends were listening in.

“You know, I’m surprised.” He leaned against the wall, a bottle of beer in hand as he gave you a kind smile. “I didn’t think you’d be easy to talk to.”

You rolled your eyes at the guy. “Why, ‘cause I’ve been with the dead for too long?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, feigning thinking to himself by tapping his finger on his chin. “I got it.”

You laughed. “Oh, yeah? Then what?”

“Because I thought a pretty girl like you would have another guy tied to your waist by now.” Spencer was a devious flirt, and you were in for it. “I mean, there isn’t anyone, is there? I’d hate to be that guy.”

Daryl’s thoughts froze even while he pretended to be nodding at whatever it is that Carol and Tara were pretending to be saying. 

They were just as busy listening into your conversation, only making feign chatter so as to not have you on their trail.

Carol and Tara watched Daryl, preparing themselves for how he would take whatever it is you were about to say. 

“Nope,” you confessed. “There’s no one. Plus, I’m not interested in anything at the moment.”

“Why not?” 

“Because chivalry is dead.” You shrugged.

He chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, and so is romance. It died along with everyone else.”

“So, it’s still alive.”

“Right!” you chuckled.

“You must be fun at parties,” he quipped, an effortless stance in his gait.

“Well, you think I’m hilarious.” There was doubt that he was a smooth talker, but you did not know yet.

“Spencer!” he delightfully said, extending his hand to you. To Daryl’s badly disguised dismay, you shake it. “Spencer Monroe.”

“Monroe? Why do I—you’re related to Deanna Monroe?”

“I see you’ve met my son!” On cue, Deanna stops by in front of you and Spencer, delighted at the sight. 

The three of your friends noted how well you fit into this life, and that same onslaught of self-doubt crept up to Daryl.

Maybe you suited this life better. . .

But he knew Spencer was a bust, that this was only his facade, exactly like the guys you said you used to date.

“Hi! Yeah, I was just about to introduce myself to him, actually.”

The older woman smiled. “There’s no need for that, he’s watched your introduction one too many times already!”

“Has he now?”

“I might have,” he confessed.

A couple of steps away stood Daryl, who was now dead silent. Daryl wondered if you had told Tara something, but she looked just as confused as to why they were bothering listening into the conversation.

It goes on like that for a while, ending with Deanna inviting you over for dinner sometime within the week. Almost as if you were her son’s girlfriend already. 

As soon as Deanna left to entertain the rest of the guests, Carol and Tara could only watch in confusion as Daryl absentmindedly slipped away from them to approach you, not a single thought or plan in his head on how he would even start the conversation.

He grabbed you by the arm with no warning. You yelp in response, confused and slightly furious. The fuck does he want now?

“Daryl!” you exclaimed. You turned to Spencer as you tried to minimize your temper. “Sorry, he’s had too much to drink.”

He hasn’t. He’d never been thinking more clearly than ever before. “Nah, I didn’t. In fact, this is the first time I’m thinkin’ clearly.”

“Is everything alright?” Spencer asked, his eyes on the man he also assumed was intoxicated. Daryl hadn’t even sipped any drink. “There’s more food, if you need some.”

He shook his head. “Nah, m’good. Just needa talk to my friend ‘bout the mattress we gotta bring down from the upper bedrooms to downstairs.”

“Sounds like matters best talked about after a party rather than during one,” said Spencer politely, but there was a threat in it somewhere. 

“It’s urgent.”

“Well, this is the time for your group to talk to everyone else other than yourselves! And I think she wants to stay.”

You couldn’t butt in, busy racking your mind on why the fuck Daryl Dixon decided to bother you during this specific moment.

Daryl glared at Spencer. “Why don’t we let her decide?”

“What?” you blurt out, returning from your dazed state. “Decide what?”

“Daryl here—Did I get that right? Daryl here wants your help with moving bed cushions from upstairs to the living room. I, on the other hand, think everybody will be happier just enjoying the gathering as of present.”

“I…”

You felt Daryl’s eyes on you this time, almost pleading. It was so quick, you thought you’d imagined it. But it was there. But if he had no issues denying your pleas, then denying his this time shouldn’t be a problem, either.

“Actually, I think we can talk about the… Mattresses later.” A couple of months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to imagine saying ‘No’ to Daryl, much less outright reject him for any reason. “You should just go do whatever you want for a while.”

Ouch.

Spencer was a master at holding a friendly atmosphere around him, but Daryl could recognize the sinister intentions in his eyes. He didn’t know what it was, but it was there. He looked at you again, hoping you could see through the guy in front of you.

He wanted to ask you if this is what you really wanted, but his reasoning returned. 

“Alrigh’ then,” was all he said before leaving the house. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about not saying anything else, but you were also satisfied to get back at him. He deserved it.

He did though, right? You’ve been waiting for him to talk to you, to apologize or to confess, anything. So many times when you were left alone, it was easy for him to approach. And yet he never did!

It’s over, just like it should be. 

Carol followed Daryl outside, looking for answers. 

She watched as he hoisted himself on his bike, ready to leave again. “You like her, don’t you?”

“What does it matter?” he said, getting off just to catch a cigarette break while speaking with his friend. “She made it pretty clear it’s over, whatever it is.”

“No, she didn’t,” Carol argued, her arms crossed. “The problem with you is that you take maybes for final answers and final answers for maybes.”

He looked up after lighting his cig. “Whaddya mean?”

“[Y/N] tells you many times she likes you, she stops when she realizes it’s going nowhere, you give her motive so she pursues you again, it’s… You have to understand why she’s frustrated, where she’s coming from. She’s a woman after all, she knows her worth. Which is why it’s disappointing having it worn out.”

“She tell you anythin’?”

“No, never,” Carol said honestly. “Although, she used to be vocal about how she felt about you. That’s probably just what she’s been waiting for for a long time. She’s just waiting for you to change, but you’re taking so long and you’re so inconsistent that she eventually got tired.”

“Huh,” Daryl said thoughtfully. “Thanks, Carol.”

It wasn’t just Carol he seeked advice from. He traipsed from one person to the next, hoping to find an answer he wasn’t seeing. An easier solution. The next person who was lucky enough to run into him in the morning was Glenn, just getting out of the second house provided for their group.

“Heya, Glenn, whaddya think of that Spencer guy?”

“Who’s that again?” he asked.

“Deanna’s son. The one—er—[Y/N] was talkin’ to.”

“Oh! I dunno, I never really got to meet him properly. Saw him kind of flirting with Sasha, though.”

“You did?” he asked excitedly, thrilled to have intel. Glenn had to laugh. 

“Are you jealous?” Glenn asked.

Daryl ignored the question. He wasn’t. He thinks. He wasn’t sure. Maybe…? “She ever told you anythin’ when yer group was supposedly on the way to Washington?”

Glenn thought back to that day, trying to find ways he could help out. “No, but she was cryin’ during the first few minutes. Then she was… Okay? I guess? Like nothing happened, y’know. Why?”

Daryl was already walking back home. “Nothin’, thanks.”

The next one was Tara, whom Daryl caught just getting out of the same house Glenn came out from. It was still around six in the morning. The poor girl had puffy eyes, having just woken up, and the curious little archer just had to bombard her with questions as he walked with her.

“So you and [Y/N] were with each other on the way,” Daryl started. “Did she… Maybe say anythin’ at all?”

Tara’s face scrunched up, thinking. “About you?”

“Well, I—it ain’t like that, I just—”

“She didn’t, bro.” Tara shrugged, yawning while she scratched at her neck. She halted. “Look, if this is about last night’s party, I didn’t even know the two of you were” — Tara made a kissing gesture with her two hands” — “you know? I mean, I sensed you guys had some history, but she never told me anything. She just kept me company.”

Though Daryl decided just the night before that your anger towards him was the worst thing he could ever live to experience, he felt worse knowing you didn’t care enough to feel anything towards him. He could settle for anger.

“What am I gonna do now?” he asked himself quietly, but Tara still managed to hear it.

“I dunno, man. Maybe you need to change? Most of the time, in relationships, the reason one person starts to lose interest is because there’s something that the other guy’s doing they’re not happy about, so…”

Daryl waited. “So…?”

Tara groaned, rubbing at her eyes. “Sorry, I’m not really the best person to ask these kinds of things. Maybe try Aaron? Seems like a wise dude.”

“He ain’t around, he’s out. I need advice, as in for somethin’ I could do as soon as possible.”

“Erm, talk to her?”

Daryl shook his head, carefully considering his options. “Nah, nah, that’s not it. Thanks, though.”

He pats Tara on the back and prepares to leave, but he halts in his tracks. “Also, what’s that ‘ya said ‘bout suspecting that we uh…”

Tara made the same kissing gesture with her hands, but this time with a question on her face. 

“Yeah, yeah, that.”

“I dunno, I didn’t think too much of it before because I was new to the group. But now that I think of it, you guys were pretty obvious with how you felt about each other. Maybe it’s just me.”

“Obvious how?” Daryl interrogated.

“The way you guys stared at each other when the other wasn’t looking? Like, back at that barn?”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks at the thought of you watching him whenever he wasn’t looking at you. “She—?”

“I don’t know. Listen, you’re a cool guy. I like you, you’re strong, crossbow, cool, strong, and all that but I just need to take a walk right now.”

“Oh, right, m’sorry, thanks for the talk.”

One would think that was the end of it. That is, until he got home and caught poor Rick just coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Hey, Rick, say, I like a girl, righ’?” Daryl started. Rick stood in front of the bathroom door, dripping wet on the floor. Daryl was blind to hints now thanks to you. “What if, say, the girl I like, and the guy I don’t like, got together? And it was all ‘cause of me, I guess, but it’s ‘cause I didn’t think I deserved the same girl—”

“[Y/N]?” asked Rick, to which Daryl pressed his finger to his mouth, signaling Rick to keep it quiet in fear that you’d wake up next door.

Rick Grimes counted with his fingers at Daryl, who listened concerningly well. “Number one, I know you like her. We all do. Don’t give me that look. Number two, we all know she likes you, she’s made that clear. You never make anything clear. And number three, I need you to go downstairs and have some breakfast and that I’d appreciate an ounce of my privacy and maybe even my dignity. I need to change.”

“Oh, righ’,” Daryl said, bewildered to realize he’d just interrupted Rick who had just gotten out of the shower. He then hurriedly ran downstairs to get himself a glass of water.

Carl was sitting on the couch, reading a comic book.

“Hey, Carl?” Daryl asked.

Carl turned around from his comfortable position on the couch, his brows raised in question. 

It was there that Daryl realized how crazy he’d gotten, even about to ask a child for love advice. What’s gotten into him? “Y’know what? Nevermind.”

After drinking a glass of water, Daryl stepped out of the house to feel the breeze of the morning air. Daryl didn’t realize he misheard the last sentence Rick told him. He thought Rick told him to change, opening this whole door of realization—there was a pattern, he thought.

Carol, Glenn, Tara, and Rick have all urged him to change. And he was gonna. Daryl Dixon finally understood, finally knew what he had to do. It all made sense, really. You said it yourself—what you wanted. And you were gonna get it tonight.

“Hey, Rick!” he called from the bottom of the stairs. “"I needa borrow something from ya later! I just gotta run some errands out.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You awoke after sleeping for around three hours, feeling the need to visit the restroom. Half asleep, you got out of your bed to use the restroom. You’re surprised to find that it was locked. You try again.

“Rick?” a voice called. Pressing your ear against the door, you could hear water rushing. It was the shower. “I ain’t done yet!”

“Daryl?” you called.

“[Y/N]? S’that you?” he asked. The shower stopped abruptly. 

“Are you taking a shower?” you asked, a smile forming on your face.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Really?”

“Fuck you,” he said in response. “Also, you can, uh, use the toilet if ya need to go.”

“What?” you asked with a laugh. You really needed to go, though. “Would that be fine?”

“Erm—yeah, sure. Hearin’ you piss is a walk in the park compared to when ya puked all over me, anyway.”

You laughed. That already feels way too long ago. . .

“I’ll unlock it, then I’ll tell you when you can come in.”

You scoffed. “You better not be flaunting your nether regions when I get in, Dixon.”

“Fucker.” You heard shuffling from behind the door, then a click from behind the doorknob. “Come on in. I’ll turn the shower on so I can’t hear your…”

“Piss?” you added as you came inside. He turned the shower on as he continued on with his bath. “Please, it’d be music to your ears. Walk in the park, right?”

“Shuddup.”

While you answered nature’s call, you looked at the mirror. Then your eyes fell to the sink, finding some wet crumpled tissues. You stifle your laugh, resisting the urge to tease him about the wet tissues. You did your business, flushing afterwards.

“I’m gonna go now,” you said. Daryl merely grunted in response.

Just as you left the bathroom, you caught sight of a razor with cream by the edge of the sink. 

Once you were back in bed, you told yourself you were going to sleep, unaware that you were waiting for Daryl to finish just to hear his footsteps go down the stairs. You think of that time in the Greene farm again. Then the time in CDC. Then… everything. 

No. You didn’t want to think about it anymore. Spencer was good. To you and for you. But you felt as if he was only showing you a fabricated facade. But you wanted to like him so bad. You liked talking to him, but that was it. What you felt for Spencer was what you thought was what you felt for Daryl back at the Quarry.

Now, you knew what you felt for Daryl was more than just that. And it pained you that he didn’t feel the same. As your memories together flashed in your mind, you shook it off to will yourself to sleep.

The following morning, you looked for Daryl, disheartened to not find him anywhere. More so when you checked the garage to find that he’d brought along with him the bike Aaron had given him. 

He’s avoiding you again, you thought to yourself. After all, that’s what he always did. So running into Daryl today was out of the question.

The one you did run into, though, was Spencer Monroe.

You had to hit yourself internally when you found yourself disappointed at the prospect of spending another moment with him. 

You don’t know why it was so difficult to attach yourself to him, really. He was practically perfect in so many ways and yet… He wasn’t Daryl. Nobody was Daryl. You could try to hide these feelings of yours in all the drawers and compartments back at home, but it’ll always manage to find you and haunt you.

Today, in every single second you spent with Spencer, you always found your mind lingering on being with Daryl. It was a disease at this point, consuming you wholeheartedly. And by the time Spencer walked you back to your home come nighttime, you’d made up your mind.

When you turned around to face him after taking one step on the porch, he knew too.

“It’s not happening, isn’t it?” he asked with a friendly smile. He probably saw the apology in your face, as well as the way you spoke with him throughout the entire day. “I get it. It’s because of that guy, isn’t it?”

“What?” you asked, still burying your feelings within you. “No, it’s…”

“[Y/N], it’s fine. This was fun while it lasted.” He extended his hand to you again in surrender. For the second time, you shook it. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “It’s… It goes way back.”

Spencer gave you a warm smile, already coming to terms with the end of your time together. “I’ll see you around, [Y/N]. Though, you’re really gonna break my poor old pa’s heart once he finds out.”

“Oh, damn, really?” you asked with a laugh. “Tell him I love him.”

“Will do, will do.” And then Spencer was gone, leaving you alone on the porch of the house. You made your way back upstairs to take a shower. It felt monotonous. You understood where Daryl was coming from, why he was always outside.

You missed the thrill of being outside, not knowing what would come next. It just annoyed you to the bone that the universe gave you the supposed thrill of not knowing to you and Daryl. 

The minute you sat in your bed after getting dressed, you felt an all too overwhelming feeling of doom closing in on you. You settled for spending your time on the couch, reading all the old magazines to pass time. A loud rumbling in the sky shook you awake while you were about to doze off to sleep. 

It was raining. Daryl still wasn’t home yet, and you found your mind racing with all the possible troubles he could have gotten himself into. You still haven’t moved on from him and that one instance in the ravine… 

No, no. He was fine. You had to believe he was—

A knock. Then thunder.

You yelled in shock, dropping the magazine you were holding. You hoped you didn’t wake the house up. You rushed to the door, hurriedly swinging it open.

Nothing, and as in nothing could have prepared you for what stood in front of you.

“Prim ‘n proper,” the figure started, “clean-shaven, wears a… Well, it’s a watch for sure. Couldn’t find any cufflinks. Got a neat haircut, at least the best I can do. I hope the corporate part of yer criteria is up for reconsideration because… Ya get it.”

Mr. Daryl Dixon.

In front of your door, wearing a clean button-down shirt tucked into a neat pair of black slacks completed with a leather belt. Under a neat vest, he wore a necktie, albeit a little cluttered, but a necktie nonetheless. He wore black dress shoes and in his hands, he carried a small brown suitcase.

“Good thing we share the same family now, ‘cause I sure as hell ain’t the kind you’d—”

“Holy shit,” you blurt out, in disbelief. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or… Well, you definitely wanted to laugh. And you did, so did he. “Are you my attorney or something?”

But it wasn’t his attire that threw you off. It was his hair and his face. It was the first time you saw Daryl’s face clearly. The first time that his mole stood out as a mole and not just as part of whatever gunk he had all over his face. 

His jaw was neatly shaven, too. And you thought of the razor in the bathroom the night before. That’s what it was about. You were relieved to say the least, but you’d tell that to him some other time.

“Whaddya think?”

His hair, on the other hand, was trimmed enough for his face to be the center of attraction. He definitely had the most captivating eyes, but you already knew that long before this. Daryl was a little wet from the rain, but it didn’t destroy the new look he’d fabricated for himself.

“I—The fuck did you do?” you asked, eyes bewildered in shock.

From behind you, Rick came down the stairs while brandishing his gun. “Hands—Daryl? Is that you?”

The archer froze. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued on him, still adjusting to his new look. Rick Grimes seemed to be just as dumbfounded as you, dropping his gun to his side.  

“Rick, I—!” You watched as the archer, who now looked like a total stranger, panickedly stepped closer to let you step out so he could close the door shut as soon as possible. “Alright, [Y/N], let’s talk outside. Just here on the porch.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just obliged. Rick just stood there at the stairs, still in shock. Almost as if he was literally frozen.

By the time it was just the two of you out on the porch, you laughed out loud.

“Some look you got there,” you teased.

“I try my best,” he said. “Ya like it?”

You shake your head in disbelief, looking him up and down. “Seriously, what… What’s up with you?”

“See, I… I talked to our friends. And I thought ‘bout what ya said and I put two and two together and I realized that I should’ve been what ya wanted me to be and—”

“Hold up, what I wanted you to be?” you clarified. “Daryl, you still don’t get it. Why can’t you get it? Just—why?”

You wanted to be mad at him—you were! It was just hard to stay that way when you feel like you’re at the precipice of laughing everytime you look at him. You take a deep sigh.

“I never needed you to be anyone else, alright? The thing I told you that was my type long ago, that was just it. A type. And it was all because I wanted to impress my parents.” You started to feel the anger return, bubbling inside you. “Fuck, Daryl! I’ve been nothing but clear with you what I wanted! All I ever wanted was you, and all you did was just confuse me! You didn’t need to do all this.”

“[Y/N] —”

“No! You’re gonna let me finish! I hated that you kissed me and then you took it back. I hated that you never even tried to talk to me before we got here. I hated that you never let me move on.”

“It’s ‘cause I never moved on from ya. And I hated seein’ you with that prick.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled, walking away from him. Furious, you feel your feet moving of their own accord, leaving the house to face the unforgiving rain.

“[Y/N], stop! I ain’t lettin’ ya catch a cold. Are ya nuts?” he yelled after you, leaving behind the suitcase he’d brought along with him.

“Am I nuts?” You faced the now properly groomed archer. “I’m not the one who changed who I am for someone I say I care about when really all they ever wanted was assurance!” 

If you were stubborn, Daryl was obstinate. “So, what, yer gonna marry him or somethin’?”

“For your information, I cut it off with him! Because of you!”

“‘Cause of me?”

“Yes, because of you.” The one thing to thank the rain for was that it was hard to tell which drop on your face was from the sky and which one was from your eyes. Unfortunately, Daryl was a master of telling them apart. “Everything I did was for you, and you just keep missing the point!”

“M’sorry,” he said, pulling you into that same damned embrace you’ve always been craving. He held you against his body, his arms wrapping around you. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You wept against his chest, beating your fists against his chest, trying to get away. But he held you like that for a while. And the next second, your lips were on each other’s once more. The rain soaked your clothes and his. 

This time, you pulled away. “Daryl, I never needed you to be someone else. Can’t you see? I’ve only ever wanted you. Your long, untamed hair, your stubble, your—just all of you. I’m sorry you ever felt like you had to change. You never had to. I just needed you to be—”

“To be sure ‘bout ‘ya,” he finished your sentence, nodding. For the first time, Daryl’s mind was clearer than how the skies would be once the rain comes to pass.

You nodded. 

The rain poured down on the two of you, but it made the scene worth the wait, worth the back and forth. 

“Ya did nothin’ wrong, alrigh’? I… I’s just an idiot, I—”

You pressed a finger against his lips and asked him, “If I let you kiss me again, do you promise to not take it back?”

“I just caught ma hair off for ‘ya, sunshine. S’look like I plan on takin’ anythin’ back?” Daryl smiled as he leaned forward, but you resisted. Confusion took over his face, his shoulders slumping, dejected. “S’matter?”

“Actually,” you said, reeling yourself for the confession, “I kinda had the hots for the hair. And the, uh, the stubble. And… Everything?”

“Oh,” he uttered. You were on the verge of apologizing. “Thank God. I ‘dun really know where I’m gonna get any more of these shirts, I—”

This time, you were the one who pressed your lips against his, hoping it was enough.

Enough to tell him you loved him just as Daryl Dixon.

Rugged and unconventional, sports a stubble jaw, wears a crossbow instead of a watch, favors a leather vest over unnecessary cufflinks, grows his hair out, loves to hunt…

You liked your men— No. You loved Daryl Dixon as Daryl Dixon, never not worthy of being bragged about to anyone and everyone. Daryl Dixon who’d do well in whatever path you decide to choose together, as long it was with each other.

The rain eventually came to a stop once you pulled away from each other, and you couldn’t help but laugh once more.

“What did I tell you, Dixon?” you jab at him. “Never say never.”

“C’mon, let’s get ‘ya washed up, yer gonna get sick if ‘ya let that sit.” He pressed a kiss against your cheek, and when he returned to face you, you were met by the sweetest smile that has ever graced his face. Somehow, you knew you’d be seeing more of that smile from that moment on.

On the way back to the house, you asked him to wait while he stood on the porch. You bent down to scoop a little bit of soiled dirt with your hands. “Wait, I need to see something.”

Grinning, you wiped a little bit of mud on his face. Daryl was scowling, acting all tough, but that’s just Daryl—routinely accustomed to holding a tougher front. You saw through it, and you were willing to wait until he was able to take it off for good.

“Now that’s Daryl.”

“Should I be flattered or offended?” Daryl asked. 

“I still need to spell things out for you?” you jokingly asked him. You took it back the moment you saw him getting flustered. “I’m kiddin’, idiot. Flattered. You should be flattered.”

“I knew that,” he answered. Before you could get to the door, he made sure he got there first, his hand on the handle already.  “I got this for ‘ya.”

“Wait, before you open it.”

“Mhm?”

You pointed towards the suitcase he’d dropped on the floor moments before. “What’s in that?”

“Oh!” With his memory refreshed, Daryl jogged over to the suitcase to pick it up. Daryl opened the suitcase to reveal two packs of chocolates. “Couldn’t find any more, just found this in the minifridge of a car parked a couple of miles from here.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were sure you didn’t need the shower anymore, you were already warmed up by everything he’s done already, but you knew he’d pester you to clean up so you wouldn’t get sick.

You stepped forward, no longer resisting the ever present urge to kiss him. You press a soft kiss against his cheek in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Daryl clasped the suitcase shut for now and returned to his position by the door, his hand ready to open it for you. 

“You really have to do this?” you asked him.

“Every door ya gotta open, I’m openin’ all of ‘em for ya.” At that moment, he swung it open.

���And here I thought chivalry was dead.” To your surprise, Rick was still there at the stairs, sitting on one of the steps, staring blankly at nothing.

“Hey, man,” Daryl called. The same look of confusion flashed in Rick’s eyes upon getting a good look at Daryl again. “Ya should go to bed now.”

“No, yeah, right…”

And Rick was off walking back upstairs to bed, and you waited until the door shut upstairs before you and Daryl laughed.

“Just you wait until Glenn and Tara get to see your new look,” you told him. “You’re gonna be the hot topic for the next three weeks.”

You were right.

And just like that, Daryl Dixon was yours, just as you were his.

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my general taglist :)

TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie @avabh12 @stinkygirl009 @whatchareadingnow @remuslittlesister @romanoffmaximoff0096

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

reader pronouns: she/her

"What the hell are ya smirkin' about?" Daryl asked, glancing sideways at Carol.

"Oh," she shrugged, "nothing." That smug little smiled stayed put on her lips though, and all Daryl could do was roll his eyes. She laughed. "I just—I've never seen you talk to anyone that much. Ever. Really—not me, not Rick, no one. It was fascinating," she said, grinning and glancing back at him.

Daryl felt his chest and face growing hot. In an instant, the heat spilled into his ears. "She's just—I dunno... she's easy to talk to. Alrigh'? Dun mean—"

Carol interrupted with a laugh. "Daryl, the only reason you would say 'It doesn't mean anything' is because it actually does. If it didn't mean anything, you wouldn't need to say that it didn't mean anything," she said firmly.

Daryl fixed a confused stare on her. "...what?"

"You have feelings for her. Admit it," Carol replied, giving him a knowing look.

Daryl scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his head and avoided her eyes. "I'mma pretend I didn't hear that," he said, breaking off toward his place.

"I'll just say it again tomorrow!" Carol called after him, laughing to herself and shaking her head. "Stubborn ass..."

Prompt: "I've never seen you talk to anyone that much."

[asexual-juliet]

saw the outsiders musical last night (7/20/24) and thought i would make a little post about some of my favorite parts!! brody, sky & daryl were out so i saw trevor wayne as pony, josh strobl as johnny & henry julián gendron as two-bit!

there’s a bit after pony gets jumped by the socs where darry and soda are cleaning the blood off his face and when they’re done and have gotten up johnny comes and sits next to him and takes out a rag and starts also cleaning pony’s face <3 it’s so so sweet

henry does a couple little opt-ups as two-bit in both grease got a hold and hoods turned heroes where i was like “ooh!” i adore daryl tofa so i was a little disappointed when i found out i wouldn’t be able to see him but henry was SO fantastic!! such a talented dancer and you could tell he was having so much fun with the character! such a standout for me.

was deeply impressed by how many items were successfully thrown and caught in grease got a hold like holy shit dude

the LIGHTING in great expectations has pony pointing his flashlight at darrel on “darrel was on his way up in the world” & johnny on “johnny has no kind of chance in this world” and then as the verse goes on he points it at all of the greasers standing all over the stage and the light lingers on them for the rest of the song it’s so fucking cool-looking! and during the chorus the stage starts to look like a starry sky which is a choice they bring back for the little great expectations reprise at the end of far away from tulsa. 

the moment where pony & johnny do their little cool guy walks over to cherry and marcia at the drive-in with their popped collars was so precious to me

i ADORE cherry valance and i ADORE emma’s take on her!! her little convo with pony at the drive-in was really sweet and i loved that they chose not to make the dynamic feel like a crush on ponyboy’s part it was such a nice moment of two people finding and genuinely understanding each other so deeply <3

lighting sound & everything was so next-level during the fountain scene-bob’s death like i don’t even think i can describe it it was so much and so crisp and so visceral in the absolute best way

staging for run run brother was SO cool — there’s a part at the end where they use the tires and boards from the set to make two platforms that the other actors can roll them back and forth while johnny is on one and pony on the other and they roll them away from each other and they are both reaching out so desperately towards each other its so fantastic

i also really liked the part in run run brother where dally gives pony his jacket like he just wordlessly put it on for him it’s so nice

lighting & subsequent blackout at the end of run run brother as pb&j are in the air after jumping off the “train” was ELITE

pony is holding johnny’s switchblade during death’s at my door and at the end of the song johnny reaches out to take it from him but he doesn’t pull away so he’s just holding pony’s hand and then he puts his other hand over pony’s too and they sit there like that until the lights go down <3

LOVED what they’ve done with darry’s character here!! i know people have some nitpicky things with it but he is such a fascinating character and i’m so glad that the musical theater medium was able to do so much with him that the limited pov of the novel couldn’t — brent comer plays darry so so well and my heart aches for him like fuck dude he cares about his brothers so fucking much and he’s doing his best and he’s so so tired :((( give him a break!!

jason schmidt’s voice is SO fantastic holy fuck throwing in the towel was GORGEOUS!! and the little bit at the end where soda hugs darry and it looks like he maybe kisses him on the head a little is so darling <3

the entire “do i look like julie andrews?” scene is so fucking good… genuinely made me laugh out loud. “fine, paul newman, then!” “…no shit?” is so fantastic and johnny’s little “she is pretty as hell :)” about cherry is adorable. and ofc the “goldilocks and her ugly sister” line is fucking great

the way that johnny perks up when he hears “say hey to johnny for us :)” in soda’s letter is so cute

the church fire scene is perhaps the coolest shit i have ever seen onstage

ponyboy is crying so hard after johnny dies that has to sit down on the floor of the hospital room and soda sits behind him and just holds him <3

ponyboy is like actively crying as he narrates dally’s death its so fucking heartbreaking. i liked that they drew the parallels between the train crashes in order to make dally’s death meaningful despite its departure from the book. and the detail about the train derailing when it hit him was wonderfully written. 

there is a scene where ponyboy is like inconsolable sitting on the living room floor with his head in his arms after johnny and dally die and cherry comes by the house because she has been volunteering at the hospital and no one came to pick up johnny’s clothes after he died and she thought ponyboy should have them and she tells him there’s a letter in the pocket addressed to him and after she leaves he just sits there for a while and when he finally moves he picks up johnny’s jean jacket and fucking like hugs it and buries his face in it and it’s so so so heartbreaking and soda has to come over and start reading the letter to him before johnny appears and starts singing stay gold <3

johnny starts SR at the beginning of stay gold while pony is sitting on the car at SL but he is slowly moving closer to pony as the song goes on and right before they start singing in harmony johnny sits down next to him <3 <3 <3

josh’s stay gold made me CRY!! especially him and trevor singing “i have known a love that many never know / and that love lives on no matter where i go” holy shit. their voices blend together so beautifully

overall i fucking ADORED trevor’s ponyboy!! he embodies the role so so well and has such a fourteen-year-old boy vibe when he’s onstage that i definitely did not expect from an actor in his twenties! i’ve heard that his pony is a little more emotional than brody’s & josh’s and that was a choice i really really vibed with!! and his voice was like jaw-dropping, what a talent!!

stagedoor afterwards was so so wonderful! i made drawings for the entire cast and everyone was so so nice and seemed to really like them! the ensemble & understudies especially seemed really thrilled that i had made something for them

henry in particular was so so sweet and seemed like he couldn’t believe that i had drawn him! he was like “is this me for real?” and someone (i think it was trevor) told him to look at the back where i had written his name and a little note and he was really excited about it!! he actually was like “this is awesome i have to go inside and give this to my mom right now so i don’t lose it” and his family was right inside the stagedoor and he pointed me out to them and they were so excited! he gave me a hug too it was really nice :)

trevor was also really excited and was like “this is a drawing of me for real? not brody?” and he was so happy when he turned it around and saw his name <3

i gave melody and sarahgrace copies of the same drawing of both of them and as soon as i gave it to melody she immediately looked around to find sarahgrace and show it to her (she was still inside but it was very cute) and then she told me they were going to put it on the wall in their dressing room!!

sarahgrace was like “omg you even drew my bracelet!” and was excited when i pointed out the detail i put in for the pattern on her dress!

trevor yelled across the sidewalk to tell josh to stop talking to his (trevor’s) mom as a joke lmfao

everyone except jason & kevin c came out to stagedoor and they were all so so sweet!! got photos with most of them and they all signed my copy of the book!! overall such a fucking fantastic experience! the drawings were a lot of work but it was so nice to see the looks on the cast’s faces when they saw them!!

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hi!! I want to start of by saying that I love your writing!

So while watching twd I noticed that Daryl has more tattoos in the later seasons and can only guess that they’re stick-and-poke and that he did them himself. Do you think you could write a fic where the reader(f) is in a relationship with Daryl and asks him to give her a tattoo (which she has none of btw)? I was thinking like a little arrow or something because she “wants to have something of him even when they’re apart”? And make it super fluffy and stuff?

Marked

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Needles, profanity, mostly just fluffy nice cool Daryl

Note: I am not encouraging you to give anyone or receive an at home tattoo via sewing needle or tattoo gun, but I have received my fair share of both and the descriptions in this story are just based off my vague memory of how it was done for me! It is definitely not a tattoo guide.

edited to add: tysm for the compliment ilysm <3

        "Did you always have that tattoo?" You wondered, tracing over the dark marking on his arm. The two of you were on one of your regular afternoon strolls through the woods when you decided to lay against a log and chat. The sunbeams filtered through the canopy above and littered little golden rays over his arms, highlighting the light hairs and texture of his skin. These moments were your favorite. Peaceful bliss in the natural world.

        Daryl shook his head.

        "Nah. Did it awhile back." He said.

        "How?"

        "Never had a stick-n-poke?" He asked.

        "Never had a tattoo, period. Let alone a prickle-poke." You shrugged.

        "It's stick-n-poke." He snickered silently. You glared.

        "Whatever. Can you give me one?" You asked.

        "A tattoo?" 

        "Yeah. The stick-n-prickle kind." You joked.

        "Alright." He nodded. "Gotta get some supplies together for it."

----

        You watched as he carefully burned the little sewing needle and wrapped it in thread. 

        "Why thread?" You asked.

        "Kinda helps hold the ink but mostly jus' for grip." He explained.

        He set up a tiny container on the side table of your bed with black liquid.

        "Is that ink?" You asked.

        "Mm-hmm." He nodded.

        "You made it?"

        "Uh-huh."

        "How?"

        "Soot. Alcohol. Water." He shrugged. "Ain't hard."

        "Cool." You whispered, fascinated by his expertise. 

        "Wha'd'ya want?"

        "I was thinking about an arrow." You said. "A small one. Real simple." He raised an eyebrow. "For you, dummy."

        "I got that but.. Why?" He tilted his head a little.

        "'Cause. I wanna have something for you... Always. Even when we're apart." You said with a soft smile. He hid his face bashfully, not wanting to expose the little blush that was creeping over his features. Instead, he pretended to adjust the thread around the needle.

        "Where ya want it?" He asked when his flushed cheeks returned to their normal sunkissed glow.

        "Right here." You pointed to your ring finger, right where a ring would go.

        "Ya sure?"

        "Mm-hmm." You nodded surely. He wiped some alcohol over that spot to disinfect it.

        "Alright." He said. He delicately grabbed your finger and held it in place. "Y'ready?"

        "I've had worse than a little pin prick." You giggled. "I'm ready."

        Without another word, he got to work carefully poking the needle through your skin, freehanding a perfect line. You watched in awe, studying his look of concentration, the way he tilted his head to see though his hair, holding your finger up close to his face to make sure every detail was perfect. It only took about twenty minutes. You looked it over when he finished, holding your hand up the way someone does when they're admiring their engagement ring.

        "Wow." You grinned. "How did you make such a perfect line?"

        "Ain't perfect." He shrugged.

        "It is! I love it." You insisted. A half smile curled at the corner of his lips.

        "'M glad, 'cause it don't wash off." He joked. You rolled your eyes.

        "This is no laughing matter, Daryl. You just proposed to me, ya know." You said in mock seriousness.

        "What?" His eyes widened. Even under the tan skin, his face still drained of color. 

        "Yeah," you pressed on. "This is my ring finger. Like, the ring finger. And you permanently marked it with something symbolic to yourself." You gloated.

        He blinked. He couldn't tell if you were joking or not.

        "Anyways, I'm gonna go talk to Carol about planning the wedding. I bet Rosita and Tara would be beautiful bridesmaids." You rambled. "Oh, and instead of cake, everyone gets a glass of moonshine!"

        "I don' think.."

        "I'm kidding, genius." You rolled your eyes. He relaxed a little. "Thanks though. I love it."

        He cleared his throat and stood up, cleaning his workspace so not to clutter your bedroom.

        "Oh, by the way.. This is the ring finger." You smirked. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

        "Don't go showin' the whole damn world and tellin' 'em we're married." He grumbled.        

        "Would that be so bad?" You pouted. He smirked and planted a kiss on your forehead.

        "Nah. But I ain't proposin' with no damn stick-n-poke. Gon' find ya somethin' better than that."

        Your face lit up, practically brightening the entire room.

        "You're gonna propose?!" You bounced with joy.

        "Wha-- I didn't--"

        "Oh, my god! I have to tell Carol!!" You squealed as you darted out of the room. He stood there expressionless, processing what he had just done.

        "Shit." He mumbled. It wasn't that he wouldn't propose one of these days. He'd love to call you his forever. Otherwise, he never would have marked you with something that represented him in the first place. It was just.. That it would draw so much attention to him. He sighed. He guessed he walked right into that one.

---

        "When did you do this?" You asked him, holding up his ring finger that was now decorated with a little cloud shape.

        "Yesterday." He shrugged.

        "Is that a cloud?" You eyed it closer.

        "Mm-hmm." 

        "For what?"

        "Dunno. Ya always stare up at the clouds when we take long drives." He explained. "Now we're both marked."

Join the taglist! || Masterlist

Tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Request daryl dixon x plus!size reader) so the reader and are married they have been together since before the world went to hell maybe when they make it to Alexandra some guys hit on the reader or make comments about her weight ( I couldn't decide which one to choose so you can pick) and early just gets really pissed off and he fights the guys Maggie is worried that one of the guys is not breathing but rick tells everyone he is still breathing and that rick almost beat him to death Daryl didn't care because they shouldn't say stuff to his wife or about his wife.

.⋆｡The Dress｡⋆.

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Spencer and his lackeys decide that they want to be pieces of shit and your husband teaches them a lesson they’ll never forget

Warnings: fat shaming, Spencer Monroe, some angst, fighting, protective!Daryl, swearing, blood, cat-calling, implied smut

WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Maggie was the one that found the sundress. It was wrinkled and smelled like dust balls but the blue of the fabric hadn’t faded and it fit you like a dream. You were hesitant at first, dresses had always been a bit of a sore spot for you in the past but you couldn’t deny just how good you looked when you finally caved and slipped it on (just to appease your best friend of course). 

While tight around your bust, providing you ample support even without a bra, it flared out at your wide hips, giving you a more hourglass figure. The colour suited your skin tone perfectly and the fabric was light enough that you didn’t feel constricted. Even you found yourself hot as you looked in the bathroom mirror. 

Maggie had just about lost her mind when you finally re-emerged into your bedroom and after she had convinced you to walk downstairs, you found that your husband was even more excited about it.

So on a particularly hot day in Alexandra, you decided to wear it as you went about doing your chores. You ignored the eyes that looked your way as you milled about, delivering parcels of food to different houses and collecting any clothes that needed to be fixed.

It was the whistle that finally caught your attention. A group of men were gathered outside of Deanna’s old house, Spencer led the charge. He was positively leering at you in what you assumed was supposed to be a ‘smoulder’ but really just came across like he was constipated.

You rolled your eyes and attempted to get on with your work but that’s when he spoke up. “Hey sweetheart how about you bring that ass over here and I can show you what a real man can do.” You cringed at his nasal voice. The three men behind him hooted as he smirked your way.

All-to-used to the cat calls of pathetic men, you kept walking, yet you couldn’t help but mutter under your breath. “I get a real man every morning with breakfast, fucking pig.” Evidently, you hadn’t said it quietly enough because suddenly there was an iron grip around your wrist and an angry voice in your ear.

“The fuck did you just say, fat bitch. I was gonna do you a favour by fucking you but now I wanna know something. How are you still so fat in the middle of the fucking apocalypse?” This started another round of side splitting laughter from his friends. Your hand flew to your wide hip, unconsciously searching for your knife which you had left on the hall table at home. “I know! That redneck that follows you around like a mangy dog must keep feeding you so you can be bait.”

Your mouth dropped open to retort but suddenly, there was a growl and the disgusting hand on your skin disappeared. You were startled for only a moment before you realised that your husband’s voice had replaced Spencer’s. “Shut yer fuckin mouth!” 

A sickening crack rang through the now silent street and you watched with morbid fascination as the man you called yours beat the ever loving shit out of the much taller man. Daryl’s blue eyes were wide with fury as he held him down by his neck as his right fist landed blow after blow to his face.

You stood frozen as his hand steadily became stained with red blood, only a distant shout from Rick broke you from your trance. “Daryl!” You pulled at his shoulder but he wouldn’t budge, too blinded by his anger. He landed another hit and you cringed as you heard Spencer’s nose shatter.

“Rick!” The sheriff was your last option and he delivered. He gave your husband one good punch to the jaw and Daryl was briefly stunned. Using that distraction, you pulled him back with all your might causing you both to roll to the dusty ground.

You threw your leg over his thin hips and grabbed his arms, pinning them to his chest as you sat down onto his thighs, effectively keeping him on the ground. You knew he could easily throw you off and lunge at the man once more but he stayed immobile beneath you, his chest heaving.

“You good?” You could hear others running up to where Spencer lay but your focus was on the man beneath you. His shoulders were still tense and his fists still clenched but his eyes weren’t as wild as they fixed themselves on you.

He grunted in reply and you breathed out in relief. “Are you gonna go after him again if I let you up?” He thought for a moment and then shook his head. You smiled before carefully getting to your feet. You offered him a hand which he quickly took, pulling himself up to stand next to you.

“I don’t think he’s breathing!” One of Spencer’s cronies whined but Rick just scoffed as he looked down at Spencer.

“He’ll be fine, just get him to the infirmary.” He dismissed, turning to you and Daryl who had slipped his hand into yours. “You almost beat that man to death.” 

Daryl spun the gold wedding band on your ring finger. “Shouldn’t have talked bout my wife like that.” He brushed off. You could feel the split skin of his knuckles beneath your fingertips- a reminder of the violence he was capable of for you.

Rick sighed in defeat and turned his attention to you. “Bring him home, I’ll deal with this. Just- just watch him please.” He begged, sounding like a tired father. Your free hand clutched Daryl’s muscular forearm in a silent signal for him to walk away.

“He’ll be right as rain tomorrow. Scout’s honour.” You promised and the ex-sheriff shot you a grateful look.

“By the way- you do look good in that dress.” A growl was your only warning before you found yourself thrown over your husband’s broad shoulder and he stormed away, presumably back to your house. Your laugh carried down the street with you as you clutched onto his strong back.

“I guess I shouldn’t wear this dress out again huh?” You asked jokingly as he kicked open your front door and thundered up the stairs.

He gently threw you onto your bed and as he stripped off his vest, he spoke once more. “Only if ya know ‘m gonna fight anyone tha looks at ya.” The dress stayed on.

TWD Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada

TWD

@Becausedarylsaidso @hopefulatrocity @Originalsourpatch @eternalrose81 @hc-geralt-23 @Theantisoci-alone

Daryl Dixon 

@minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @itsbqueenthings @blasianbitch @springdandelixn @l9ckheed @tinyinfluencerharmony @goobysgoobers @capsheadquaters @stabmemaybe @marvel-mistress @bking4000 @graciespies @ruinedbythehobbit @sydsicr @ambassadortotrilliusprime @mewlingoizys @oxymorondemon @brittney69

[optimist-pine]

Mercy

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Animal death

Summary: Daryl watches you hunt and he's left with a question he can't answer.

Era: Season 2, the farm

A/n: Haha this was supposed to be fluff under the title Archer. It's flangst now... Whoopsie.

     Daryl doesn't know what drives him to do it. Maybe it's simply boredom. More likely though, it's his growing desire to learn - to study you, study your technique. Maybe he's already impressed and all that's left is to see you in action.

     That's how he finds himself following you into the woods on this freshly arrived morning. He keeps his distance but it's not very difficult to keep track of you, your pace and direction consistent and reliable. When you do stop he finds himself watching with rapt attention.

     The way you wait is as reverent as a prayer. Your stance never shifting, arms steady and strong, posture perfect. Images of those ancient marble sculptures cross his mind, their bodies crafted into fine-tuned instruments. If he didn't know better, he'd say that the forest has gone still; nothing - not even the breeze - makes a move. The world has gone quiet, like even the animals are holding their breath.

     Then your arrow flies and the earth returns to life in full force, that is, everything except for one rabbit who has become quite still. Your arrow has pierced its eye with extreme precision, but he's not surprised. Every piece of game you've ever brought back has been taken down that exact same way.

     You collect the rabbit, removing and cleaning your arrow before continuing on deeper into the woods. Daryl doesn't mean to follow, but something spurs him onward. He's never really cared much for art, but if that's what you are, call him a damn aficionado. He's fascinated. 

     It takes a little while, but you suddenly pause. He spots the reason why - a large gray squirrel clings to the bark of a nearby tree, tail twitching. You take aim, graceful and smooth. But then, like last time, you hold your stance for one breath, then a second, and suddenly the squirrel quirks its head and bolts. He expects you to show at least some disappointment, but you simply let down your bow and continue on.

     This happens a few more times; you find your prey, ready your bow, and then wait. Sometimes you loose your arrow and other times you practically allow the animal to get away. This time you have your aim trained on a rather large rabbit, probably a buck. It turns, ready to run, and Daryl can tell you aren't going to shoot this one, so he does. As soon as his bolt hits its target your entire body pivots.

     He immediately finds himself at the business end of your bow, but the sharpness of your glare currently feels like the larger threat. "Are you following me?" You ask, lowering your weapon. The glare remains, although it seems to be softening.

     You'll know he's lying if he says he isn't, but he doesn't want to admit that he is. "Why d'yuh wait, when ya got'um in your sights?" He blurts out.

     You place the arrow back in your quiver with a sigh. "You are following me."

     "Jus' curious." He shrugs.

     You look up to the sky. "Dunno... Don't like killing things." Your gaze lands on the dead rabbit laying a little ways away. "Figure I'll give 'em one last chance to keep on livin'."

     He lets out a snort. Hunting is a way to secure a meal, not some moralistic nonsense. "So, yer like a damn fairytale princess or somethin'?" He asks. "Bes' friends wi'the woodland creatures an'all that?" He waves his hands around for emphasis.

     Your face hardens. "It'd be different if we really needed the food." You say sternly, turning to stalk away, back towards the farm. He grabs the now-joined rabbit and bolt and jogs after you, but you're moving at a surprisingly quick clip, dodging branches and roots with ease.

     When he's nearly caught up, you stop suddenly and he barely avoids plowing straight into you. You whip around to face him and he instinctively takes a step back. But you're not angry, at least not in the way that he was expecting. He'd been prepared for a slap in the face, not the deep sadness in your eyes. "Feels like some sorta mercy I guess." You say quietly.

     He doesn't feel bad about what he said, but your answer catches him off guard. The world is as cruel and as harsh as it's ever been. It doesn't care who lives and who dies, and it sure as hell isn't handing out second chances. "Not much'a that goin' around righ' now." He replies solemnly.

     "I don't wanna turn into someone who loses that." Your voice is soft and almost pleading and it pulls at something buried within him.

     With a jolt he's thrown into his own past. He knows what that loss does to a person, how much of his life he's spent terrified of becoming that. You're beginning to make a little more sense now. "Yuh, won't." He assures.

---

     As time passes, when you do desperately need the food and mercy is barely a reality, Daryl finds himself fighting to protect yours. When the two of you hunt, he insists you take point, that you stick to the way you did things that day at the farm. He'll be right behind you, your backup, he'll do what you shouldn't have to. That part of you - that's something that can't afford to ever be lost. He'll do everything in his power to see to that.

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Whoopps im liking this better than i thought

Summary: Daryl and Rick go on a run, they run into a pretty girl who is quite skilled in killing walkers but she is acting a bit suspicious👀 they decide to keep an eye on her. Again this takes place in the prison era.

Warnings: nothing really? a bit of phsyical pain involved cuz its twd

I initially tried to write this with first and third person narration which failed horribly so this is my first y/n fanfic ? feel free to correct my mistakes!! i'm new

"...And she ain't afraid to get violent with men 3 times her size."

Daryl and Rick were behind a large tree as they were watching out for walkers. Daryl narrowed his eyes slightly when he saw this girl fighting off walkers on the corner of his eyes.

"The hell she think' she's doin' ?" Daryl mumbled under his breath in a rush only for Rick to turn to his body towards him.

"What?" He asked before his eyes caught Y/n taking down three walkers.

Rick scanned the area only to see two more coming at her from behind. Daryl looked at Rick for a second and followed his gaze.

"Should we help her?" Rick asked cautiously, trying to calculate Daryl's reaction.

"Nah, she can handle 'em herself. Let's go."

Rick gazed at Daryl as he was walking into the woods. He decided to take one last glare at this alone mysterious girl when his eyes widened slightly at the scene that was going on infront of his eyes. He called for Daryl in a barely audible tone.

"Check this out." He said swinging his index and middle finger lightly at the girl. Daryl leered at her. She had a camera on her and she was documenting the area. She was taking pictures of the trees, the dead walkers, the stores. Anything.

"Well, ain't none of our dam' business." Daryl said with a slight irritation in his voice.

Rick glared at him from the corner of his eyes for a brief second before taking a deep breath.

"She is alone, quiet pretty and actin' all strange." Rick said with an undertone of mistrust.

"She took five or six walkers all by herself, without a trouble." He then added with fascinated eyes.

Daryl rolled his eyes moderately "Now what? Yea takin' interest in sum girl fightin' for 'er life?"

Daryl kept leering at Y/n as she walked into the pharmacy store right after cleaning her knife with a cloth she ripped from a dress that one of the walkers was wearing.

He scowled lightly as his frustration revealed itself in his voice "Great. She goin' into the store I was plannin' to go into." He grunted. He sighed audibly and looked at Rick over his shoulder before putting his crossbow in place on his hands. Rick kept sniggering and followed him. They were looking for survivors. They needed them, Daryl didn't love the idea. He thought Rick was trusting people easily but maybe he needed to do that... He entered the pharmacy, with the intention of studying this girl more.

. . . .

Y/n kneelt infront of the biggest drug shelf, trying her hardest to find antibiotics. They were useful for anything, though none was left. Y/n sighed before going through piled up medications on the floor when she heard someone walk in. Whoever that was, they were quite, almost too quite for her to not notice. She slowly got up, scanned the area for a brief moment. Thank god, she wasn't in the entrance, otherwise she would be caught in the open; like a prey awaiting for its predator.

Y/n knew the first thing she had to do was to control her breathing so she did. She hid behind a big metal desk, her backpack was near the door, the entrance where whoever that was there could see it easily. She didn't panick. She held her breath and got close to her backbag with cautious light movements. She dragged her bag to herself.

Y/n listened to area for a few seconds before slowly pulling her knife and pistol out of their cases. This was what she was scared of, dealing with somebody she doesn't know in the middle of the apocalpyse. She knew she had to stay calm. She inspected her ammo, incase she had to use it. She checked the magazine. Y/n had her pistol on one hand meanwhile she had her commando knife sitting on her left hand gently. She had a firm stance but before she could even take a second peek, y/n felt someone's presence.

"Come out."

Y/n studied the man's voice before she got up. The grunt, the thick southern accent one could hear even in two words. Y/n could already tell she had to deal with an aggressive one. She had a moment of debating with herself whether or not she should leave her weapons on the floor. "That's stupid." she notioned inside of her head. All these thoughts pondered her head within 5 seconds when the man, once again repeated it.

"Come on out. Now."

She lifted her head up. An arrow in a crossbow looking directly at her forehead and blue stern eyes behind it. Y/n immediatly got up and stepped back, weapons in her hand with a firm stance. A hasty moment of exchanging rigid gazes.

"I'm not looking for trouble." Y/n said with a humane tone. Ironic, she believed. A girl stating that she isn't looking for trouble with two lethal weapons in her hands.

The man stayed silent without breaking the intense eye contact. Y/n felt the need of giving assurance to him to not get killed. Anything could happen these days.

She sounded as if she was begging, abundance of tender in her voice "I just need some supplies and I'll be out of here before you know it."

Y/n leered deep into the man's eye as if she could see what was going on inside of his head. Daryl looked at y/n up and down, trying to conclude if she is any danger at all. He finally stopped frowning and loosened his grip on the crossbow.

"Go ahead." he mumbled.

Y/n also loosened her grip on her weapons. She felt her hands cramping because how long she had been holding the weapons. She moved aside, her eyes still following the man. Y/n got down, confused even scared because she had no idea what could happen any second. She forgot about the pills. She was scared for her life. Nonetheless, she grabbed a few medicine from the pile on the floor and tossed them into her bag. Y/n could see the man's reflection from the broken glass infront of her. He was not taking his eyes off of her, which freaked y/n out. She took a deep breath and slowly got up. The man was leaning against one of the desks in the pharmacy, he was looking rather calm but at alert. Y/n could see that. Her eyes formed some kind of apologetic manner as she examined the man for a brief moment. She didn't know why she did that. Maybe she felt he was no longer a threat to her. Daryl was quite indifferent. He was not also taking her eyes off of Y/n. She started walking towards the door when the ammo in her backpack started making noises because they got all messy in there when she tried to get a magazine out. She hoped he wouldn't mind it and stopped for a second, turned to this man and gently said

"I'm Y/n"

Y/n didn't know if she was supposed to wait for him to respond. She felt as if she owed this man the courtesy of saying her name at least. She decided to walk out when all of a sudden her thoughts were interrupted by another grunt. "Daryl." He said. It sounded apathetic as if he only said his name because Y/n said hers. Y/n gently smiled, if you can call that a smile. She made her way to the door. She was still sweating when another one of her pistols dropped from her bag and made a big thud, leaving her all panicked. She had a few guns in her backpack and this wasn't good to a stranger's eyes. She grabbed her ALFA combat and incompetently put it into her jacket pocket that she was wearing in the heat of Georgia. She didn't even look at Daryl.

Y/n didn't wanna take long because she knew it would get fucked up and it indeed did. Her action was interrupted by Daryl's hasty voice when her hand touched the door handle.

"Hold on." He said in a wary tone.

"Wha's tha' in yer bag?" his eyes roaming through her body and backpack as he came closer.

Y/n took a deep breath before turning to him. She knew it was time to actually be a bit belligerent. There was no way this could end in any virtuousness.

"You a damn cop now?" Y/n said with vexation in her eyes.

"First you come here and spy on me now you wanna check my backpack." the annoyance and electric in her voice growing stronger with each word.

Daryl stayed tranquil. He knew Y/n was a potential survivor Rick might wanna take in but he still needed to make sure everything. He came even closer. No one could blame Y/n for feeling under threat. Her survival instinct kicked in. She already calculated the strength of Daryl, there was no way she could overpower him. That's the thought that kept notioning inside of her head throughtout the 5 minutes she had to spend with him. But, Y/n thought, if she attacked him when he least expected it, maybe that would give her enough time to run as far as she could and make him lose track of her.

So she did, she kicked Daryl in the guts, leaving him only stumble a few steps back. Daryl huffed "Fuck." at the pain of being kicked in the stomach.That was all her power and Daryl didn't even fall. She didn't have time to bore her mind with that at the moment. Y/n grabbed the the door handle and pulled it with all her power and started running as fast as she could.

Y/n was panicking more than ever now. She knew she was a survivor, that was the reason she stayed alive in this wilderness where dead people were walking aimlessly, attempting to bite into anything that had life and flesh. The bag full of ammo and couple of guns were making harsh noises as it was also slowing her down.

Y/n was panting and practically dragging her feet to run along when she heard a gun fire. She instantly stopped. Perhaps it was another survival instinct, perhaps she believed the next upcoming bullet would go through her skull if she didn't stop. Her legs were trembling and her body was sweating like never before. She should've never worn that jacket in the heat of the summer but that was for precaution. She halted. The first thing she did before turning to him with her hands in the air was to catch up on breathing as if she forgot how to do that. It was a big area before one could get lost in the woods. She took long hasty breaths and slowly turned her body towards the spot where the gun was fired.

Y/n huffed swiftly under her breath "Fuck" She did not only see Daryl but another man next to him holding a colt python. Daryl was panting aswell but he quickly fixed his posture.

Were they spying on Y/n all along? Demented possibilities were lining up in her head one after another. Two of the men kept looking at her while her arms and hands started cramping because of how long she had been holding them up in the air.

"What do you want?" Y/n shouted. Her eyes scrutinizing both men, debating inside of her head if they would go any further.

A few geeks started coming out of the woods. She knew it was mindless of the other man to fire a gun, even far away from the city. She reached at for her knife the second she heard their infuriating growls but Daryl didn't let her. He gave y/n a spine-chilling glare as he walked past her and killed the geeks on the spot. The other man looked rather nonchalant, not keeping his eyes on neither one of them; just giving soft glares now and then. Y/n couldn't even dare to look back, see what Daryl was doing. She supposed he was taking his arrows out of geeks' heads, cleaning them with a piece of cloth. That's pretty much what everyone did.

Then y/n felt Daryl's unyielding grip on her forearm and her backpack. He was forcing her to walk ahead of him. She could feel his harsh breaths behind her ears and it only made her heart drop.

"Asshole." she whispered and sort of hoped he wouldn't hear it. He most likely did but did not pay any attention to it. Y/n felt more under threat as they were getting closer to the other man. She notioned this could not end in any good. It was time to take action now or never. Her brain felt like it could explode any minute.

"Let me go." she howled, trying to push Daryl but it only made him more antagonized. He felt as if she was only trying to provoke him at this point. He responded back with pushing y/n to the wall of the pharmacy store. Her back hit the wall swiftly and harshly making her whine in pain. The backpack was still on her and all that metal stinged her back because of how hard Daryl tossed her on the wall. It was like every single one of the curved metal was being carved into her back.

"Ahh." she cried out. Before y/n could even pull herself together, she once again felt his harsh grip on the backpack. She gave in at that point, seeing no reason in fighting back.

"Easy." y/n heard the other man saying slowly to Daryl, his eyes forming a stern look. Y/n looked at him, she wanted to speak; explain herself but she didn't know if it would make a difference at all. She bucked up, her back was still hurting but it was now or never. Y/n took a deep breath between the whimpers of pain and said

"I don't fire 'em." she exchanged glances between two men. Her voice sounded as if she was in rush. Her voice growing raspier because of thirst that was caused by running and apprehensiveness. Daryl looking more irritated with every word that was coming out of her mouth.

"Then wha's for carryin' a bag full o' guns, huh?" he uttered.

Y/n knew she had to be wary, if not she had no idea what would happen to her. She made out that she could put some sense into the other man if not into the redneck.

"I'm delivering them to a friend." a lie. She couldn't even look into directly their eyes but tried her best to do so.

Rick seemed rather suspicious "All alone?" he muttered. Y/n caught his leer.

"Goin' all this trouble to deliver few guns." Rick sounded as if he was asking a question but also reflecting the situation in his head.

" 'Few' guns worth more than gold nowadays." Y/n said emphasizing the word "few" with a subtle irritation in her voice.

"I don' know man." Daryl got closer to Rick. Every one of them were still eyeing eachother up and down. Rick didn't want to let her go for two reasons, first being cautious about the prison's perimeter if she was telling the truth. He thought she wasn't being honest but there was no harm in being wary. Second being, she would be good use in the prison if she was alone and soloing her way. He knew he needed to investigate into it when y/n interrupted his track of thought

"Can I go now?" she said, not too pretentious but also not too sloppy either. She kept eyeing them, not letting her guard down and trying to not irritate them even more.

"Y'all don't look like bandits or I- I- don't know, plunderers. Why not let me go?" She was gazing at both of them as if she could see their souls.

"Tha's cuz wer not." Daryl said in an obvious exasperated, raucous tone. Y/n couldn't help but smirk a little bit at his extreme, fragile reaction.

A brief fierce eye contacted formed between y/n and Daryl when Rick made a hand gesture infront of Daryl to indicate him that Y/n was no longer a threat that she could, perhaps, leave. Her gaze shifted back to Rick. Rick had a soft manner on his face, he slowly swinged his fingers at y/n, indicating she was free to go. Y/n sighed and rolled her eyes lightly as she got down and grabbed her backpack, she had a fierce look on her eyes when she took one last leer at Daryl and slowly started to walk away.

Rick gazed at Daryl watching Y/n walk away from the corner of his eyes. Daryl could feel his eyes on him so he turned to him with a slight maddening going through his body like electroshocks. Rick still had that pleasant bearing on his face which drew Daryl more irritated

"No more interested in takin' 'er into the prison?" He grunted as he grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder as he kept staring at Rick.

"I am." Rick said in a cool manner.

"I dun' kno' man. She 's trouble and ain't afraid to get violent wit' men three times her size." Daryl said still studying y/n in his mind.

"And that's a survivor right there." Rick sniggered as a subtle smirk appeared on Daryl's face.

FOOTNOTE

Ok yall can't believe this took me 2-ish days to write😭😭 i love writing these that's why i been skipping studying lmao and this one is a lot longer than the previous one. we get more daryl content (i hope you like the way i describe/write him im trying my best but again he is such a complicated character. writing rick is a lot easier.) i hope you like it!! i can write a sequel fanfic if you want me to!!! just let me know :)