#long distance prison era

[dixons-sunshine]

Good Job! | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When out gathering supplies with Daryl, he successfully catches your dinner. To show him how proud you were, you bestowed him the highest honour you could at that moment—a sticker.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison.

Warnings: Animal death.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/N: Inspired by a post I saw by @darylsdelts. I hope y’all like this!

The sun was shining brightly in the sky. Birds were chirping merrily from their sanctuary in the trees and the air just felt fresher than usual. If it were the old world, you would have spent the day lounging next to some body of water, a cold beverage in your hand as you soaked up the vitamin D the sun provided.

But it was not the old world. Instead of spending the day relaxing or something along those lines, you were instead trudging through the woods in clothes too long to be worn in such intense heat, wearing shoes so heavy you were seriously amazed that people wore them simply because they wanted to before the dead started walking, lugging a duffle bag full of supplies and deadly rifle along with you—a weapon you never would have thought you would be able to handle with the immense skill you now possessed.

Despite all those nuances that, under normal circumstances, would have had you complaining, you could not find it in yourself to do so, because it was not normal circumstances. The harshness of the world run by the dead had toughened your resolve and made you realize that some discomforts definitely were not as bad as you once thought them to be. Sure, you absolutely despised having to eat worms when the situation called for it, but you held your tongue because it was certainly better than the alternative, which was to starve.

Very rarely did you complain about anything nowadays—well, that is, if you did not count in the amount of times you had complained about Glenn’s snoring before, but that was all more in good fun. And a good chunk of what you knew to survive in a world like this was all thanks to the man you were trailing behind; your partner, Daryl Dixon.

As if somehow sensing that you had been thinking of him, Daryl glanced over his shoulder at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a softness reserved only for you.

“You alright back there?” he called back to you, despite already knowing what the answer would be. You were not the type of person to complain much about anything, and that was an attribute about you that he loved.

You nodded your head and adjusted the rifle’s strap over your shoulder. “I’m fine, Dar,” you assured him, sending him a radiant smile.

He nodded his head and turned his attention back in front of him. He kept his crossbow trained in front of him as his eyes searched for any dangers that could be lurking in the shadows, be it a walker, a wild animal, or another person. His main mission was to get the two of you to his bike that had been left abandoned for the time being, as the two of you had been forced to go on foot to the cabin Michonne had come across whilst on her search for the Governor.

The cabin—which had been in pretty decent shape despite being abandoned—had been stocked with supplies. You and Daryl, along with some other people, would have to go back in the morning to get the rest of the supplies. The two of you had stumbled across a metaphorical gold mine.

“So, Daryl,” you began, deeming it safe to strike up a conversation when the man in question grunted in acknowledgement. “What’s your favourite bird?”

The unexpectedness of the question made Daryl chuckle. He shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his eyes trained forward. “I don’ know. Maybe a bluejay?”

You nodded in approval at his choice, although he could not see you do so. “Great choice.”

Daryl hummed, glancing back at you. “Why’d ya ask?” he inquired. However, his attention got diverted when he heard something in the distance, his senses jumping to high alert.

“Just curious, is all.” You transferred the duffle bag from your one hand into the other, nearly sighing in relief when the blood began circulating through it again. “What—”

“Shh,” he shushed you quietly, instantly shutting you up. He motioned for you to stay put as he quietly stalked towards the bush where the source of the noise was, his crossbow raised and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice.

The perpetrator quickly got revealed in the form of a raccoon when Daryl pulled the leaves back. It hissed up at the archer, but it quickly got silenced when one of Daryl’s bolts pierced through its body. The pained whimper it let out right before it died made your heart ache a bit, but you quickly reminded yourself that it was necessary. It meant that there was the slightest bit more nutrition to bring back to the prison. Its death would not be in vain.

Daryl picked up his bolt, the raccoon’s body sat on it, before turning back to you. He simply raised the arrow a bit, shrugging a bit as he looked at you.

“Got us our dinner,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing to say.

You laughed lightly at him, shaking your head. However, it was as if a lightbulb went of in your head. Placing the duffle bag on the ground, you leaned down and zipped it open before rummaging through multiple cans of food and other supplies, in search of something you had bagged for little Judith to play with.

“Ah-ha!” you exclaimed victoriously when you found it, taking it out of the bag to reveal a small sticker book. You stepped towards your partner while flipping through the pages, searching for the sticker you had spotted when you had initially looked through it the first time.

You found it after a few moments. You gently peeled the sticker off of the page and pressed it against the archer’s beloved vest, the bright, neon-like yellow ‘good job!’ standing out against the gray leather. You smiled and gently patted his chest, before taking a step back.

“Good job,” you repeated the words on the sticker, giggling to yourself.

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, but he could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks,” he drawled sarcastically, trying not to laugh at the silliness of the situation. “S’much appreciated.”

“Oh, come on. I know you love it,” you told him through your small fits of laughter, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

Daryl simply shook his head. “You’re ridiculous, ya know that?” Despite his words, he could not help the warmth that bloomed in his chest. He felt oddly touched by the small gesture, felt appreciated. He could not explain it.

You laughed and picked up the bag again, before beginning to walk again. “Yeah, but you love that about me.”

Among a lot of other things, Daryl thought to himself. However, he shook the thought from his mind and caught up with you, this time falling into step beside you rather than being in the lead.

As the two of you walked the remaining short distance to Daryl’s bike, with you striking up another conversation, Daryl simply admired you. He felt like the luckiest man alive for being able to say that you were his girl.

And if he got teased by the members of his found family for the sticker that remained on his vest for the rest of that day, he could not have cared less.

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @thevegandarkelf (comment/DM/inbox me to be added/removed!)

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

First off your writing is incredible. I was in literal tears reading your Daryl fic.

But I thought I'd send in a request, a jealous Daryl. Doesnt have to be established reader, pretty easy. I just like it when he's all riled up. 😂 Please and thank you

Jealousy

Summary: He could have just told her, couldn’t he? That would have been simple. He’d had to yell at her instead though, because Daryl can never do things the usual way round. Hand down her skirt and about to run away for the second time really was more his style.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Nervous!Daryl. Angst. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Alexandria era. Vague, very short smut.

A/N: Thank you for this request and the beautiful compliment! I may have rushed the editing a little so if you notice any errors please tell me!

It’s not that she’s been avoiding him, it’s the complete opposite, she’s absolutely, inarguably, infuriatingly normal. He’s clawing at the walls of his own brain and she’s acting as if everything is fine. Maybe it is, he thinks, maybe she’s over it, maybe she’s been over it since the second he screwed it up and he’s the only one still hanging on to whatever it was in the first place. He can’t even claim he’s hanging on to much, they’d barely even kissed and it was months ago, but he hadn’t exactly been good at this kind of thing before the world threw a damn apocalypse into the mix.

He’d loved her since the moment he’d heard her laugh. He’d found her in a cabin in the woods on a run, just after Woodbury had fallen, back when the prison was still strong. He didn’t want to bring her back, one more mouth to feed, one more person to keep an eye on, but she’d saved him from a rogue walker he hadn’t seen coming, shrugged like it was nothing, like she’d have done it for anyone. She’d offered him food and water, a rundown but relatively safe place to lay low for a few hours, she was kind. The words were tumbling from his lips before he’d really thought about them.

He’d avoided her for a good while, despite her efforts to befriend him, he’d lost so much already he didn’t want to let her in. But then he’d said something sarcastic, something snappy and prissy and she’d laughed; an honest to goodness belly laugh that had her head throwing back and him smiling from the side of his mouth despite himself and something deep in his chest felt warm.

So he’d loved her, quietly and from a distance. Safe. Until she’d kissed him.

He watches as she laughs, the same laugh, big and warm and real. It’s not aimed at him, and he hates it. After he’d run away from her, he worried he wouldn’t hear it again, but he’d been wrong, and this was worse. He taps his fingers against his thigh, trying to keep a scowl from his face. Failing. He thinks steam would come out of his ears if it were within the realm of possibility.

He’s always too late. Always takes too long to get comfortable. Always spends so long waiting that he misses out on the thing he wanted, and she’s not a thing but his blood is fucking boiling. At the man she’s talking to, at himself, at her too if he’s a little honest.

The man, who’s name he doesn’t know and now never wants to, is handsome. If you’re into that suburban, well groomed, boring kind of thing. He has a punchable face. Daryl is not allowed to punch people unless its necessary anymore, Rick has told him that explicitly but surely flirting with his…flirting with the woman he’s in lo…flirting with her makes it necessary.

He can’t stand the thought that he might not be the last person to kiss her lips. He can’t stand looking any longer, but he doesn’t mean for his knife to clatter loudly on the floor as he tries to flee. He doesn’t dare turn around, but he’d be able to tell she was looking at him even in pitch black. Knows she’s watching the solid, tense set of his shoulders as he retreats.

-

She startles at the sight of him sitting on her porch, quickly schooling her face into the nonchalance she’s been practicing around him since they arrived. It was easy enough, on the road, to pretend he hadn’t hurt her. They were so busy trying to survive, so busy being busy that she could avoid an inevitable conversation where she’d had to apologise for getting their wires crossed.

But since they’ve been behind the walls of Alexandria? She can’t stop herself from searching him out, finding excuses to be near him, trying to act like they were back at the prison. Friends. She can do friends. She has been absolutely nailing being just friends, as long as she can ignore the tightness in her chest and the way she feels like she’s going to cry every time she walks away. Friends.

She flips the knife in her hand with ease, shielding his hand from the blade as she passes it back to him. He nods his thanks as he squints up at her.

“What crawled up your ass tonight?” She asks, but there’s a teasing smile on her face as leans against the railing to her house. The porch light is dim, warm golden yellow illuminating them. Daryl hasn’t been one for a lot of words in a long time, but he intends to bat the question away, distract her with something funny, something acerbic but good natured. Friendly, he can do friendly. He can’t, could barely do it on the road after everything happened. Now though, when she’s showered and brushed her hair and dressed up, lit up by a damn porch light? He doesn’t stand a chance.

“Dun’ kiss him”

“What the fuck?”

Fists clenching to calm himself down, unfurling them when he feels more grounded, he looks up at her again, daring to lock his eyes onto hers.

“Ya like him…tha’ guy?” He tries to keep his voice steady, hopes she doesn’t understand he’s begging her to say no, begging for her to give him a chance, but how many can one man have?

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Dun’ kiss him, please” He asks again, with a shake of his head, knocking his hair in front of his eyes as the ground in front of him becomes the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. She sighs quietly, but the sound reverberates in his brain, he can hear the disappointment that weighs it down, the disappointment he’d hoped to avoid by avoiding talking about this thing between them entirely.

“I’m not having this conversation with you on the porch” She pushes herself off the railing, turning to open the front floor. She means for him to leave but he follows her inside, tapping his fingers nervously against his thigh as he closes the door behind him. Every part of his body is telling him to run.

“I know I ain’t got no right t’ ask”

“No, you don’t. Why are you asking?”

“‘cause I can’t stand it”

“Why do you care?”

“’cause ya shouldn’t be wit’ him!”

“Who should I be with then, Daryl? Huh?” He doesn’t respond, not that she expects him to, head hanging low toward the ground “You have no answer, because it’s not you, is it? You didn’t want me!”

“I didn’t-what?”

He’d tried to make it obvious, had given her extra food, had nudged her shoulder with his, had talked to her more than anyone else. But she’d tried to kiss him and he’d fled, had retreated safely back into the comfort of his walls. Then he’d come back. He’d kissed her and again he’d fled. Daryl Dixon is the human embodiment of emotional whiplash. He knows he’s not easy, but he thought at least he’d been clear, he can’t imagine the way he looks at her has ever been subtle.

“I did want ya”

Her mind thinks over the weeks he’s been standoffish, the time he’s spent avoiding her touches, thinks back the first week they’d arrived here and he’s barely spoken a word, all the while watching her with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable if she hadn’t wanted his attention.

“I can’t do this, you can’t play with my head because you’re jealous all of a sudden”

“Ain’t jealous” He argues, knowing they both know he’s lying, but he still, even now, won’t let himself be vulnerable. “I know I fucked up, ‘kay? I know, but I’m ‘ere now!”

He snarls, frustrated and bordering on vicious, practically diving towards her as his hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise. He smashes his lips against hers, unpractised and clumsily before his brain catches up and he goes to pull away. Her response is so fast he doesn’t get a chance, dragging him back in as his brain shuts down.

The kiss is hard, angry and fast, all hip bones pressing into hip bones and teeth clacking against teeth. It’s not the romantic, affectionate start she was hoping for. It’s not the gentle steady and slow he was. She’s angry, he is too she can feel it in his body as he presses it against her.

The room spins, air thick and foggy with months’ worth of frustration, tension so thick it could be cut, it’s only when he swallows a heady, deep moan from her that he realises he needs more. Tongue sweeping into her mouth he grips the fabric of her skirt in his hand, bunching it up until he can reach an insistent, rough calloused hand inside her underwear, ripping his lips away from hers to heave a breath in. She’s soaked, dripping around his fingers and he’ll have time to be absolutely fucking floored by that when he recounts this later. His forehead sticks to hers as she moans.

It’s not that he hasn’t had trysts before, it’s just that they were short and unimportant, he’s barely been confident enough to use his hands. He wants to touch her in the right way, wants to know what he’s doing but she’s snaking a hand into his trousers and wrapping her fingers around his cock so thinking isn’t the top of his priorities right now.

It feels incredible, and in the vague recess of his brain he thinks he should have done this at a pace he'd be more comfortable with but he hasn’t done this in years, and barely successfully then so its not long before he comes all over her hand, whining as his head dips down to pant heavily against her collarbone. His fingers still, embarrassed and suddenly full of crippling self-doubt. She knows he’s going to remove them about a second before he does.

A thud echoes through the suddenly too big room as she tips her head back to hit the wall behind her.

“You leaving?” She lets out an incredulous laugh, hurt, betrayed, surprisingly unsurprised. The zip on his trousers seems louder than anything she’d yelled at him less than an hour before. It feels like an eternity before she lowers her head to look at him, doesn’t bother to mask the absolute disappointment on her features.

“I-uh-yeah-I”

She can practically see the walls slamming back up around him, the walls she’s been watching for weeks. A tear rolls down her cheek as he turns away from her, heading towards the front door.

“You don’t get another chance with me, Daryl” the finality in her voice makes him pause, hand on the doorknob. She sighs, hating that she’s about to give him the grace she is “You need to make up your mind, because I’m not waiting for you, not again. If you’re not certain by tomorrow you need to leave me alone”

The shaky nod from him is so small its almost imperceptible.

-

She’s not expecting the knock on her door as soon as the sun is up, really she isn’t. The whole night has been sleepless and filled to the brim with dread, knowing for sure that he wants her but fully believing he will never be able to let himself have her. She isn’t unaware of Daryl’s tendency to self-destruct. Maybe this is it, she thinks, maybe he values her enough as a friend if nothing else, to tell her face to face, but he’d never been able to before and the tiniest hint of hope lights her up as she treads carefully down the stairs.

Daryl stands there with a small, nervous but hopeful smile on his face. The hope hasn’t missed him, either. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, so out of his depth he might as well be drowning, but the knowledge that she wants this too means he’d rather fumble his way through this with her than do well without her.

“I’m a’ idiot”

“Yes you are” She laughs, setting him alight on the inside. The laugh that started al of this, almost. Doubt underneath her voice is the thing that finally settles it for him, makes him pull her towards him, gentle this time, the way he’d wanted. He’ll never let her doubt his feelings even when he doubts himself.

“I always wanted ya” he murmurs against her lips before closing the distance.

“You’re not going to run away again?”

“Ain’t runnin’, ain’t ever runnin’ again”

[daryldicksuckon69]

Unspoken Truths (16+)

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)

Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: none

Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.

@futuremilfemma hey :) i saw that your request were open and i had something in my mind 🤭 first of all i love your fics and your writing style especially in „ride his motorcycle“ when the character had this cute relationship with the women of the group and their little gossip sessions. sooo i was wondering if you could write something like this: the group finally settles down in alexandria (pre negan) the reader and daryl have known eachother since the quarry (they went hunting together. bonded over past trauma, etc.) and they have always hit it off and are now labeled as best friends but everyone around them can see that they feel more. like they try and convince them to confess and all but they just keep admiring eachother from afar especially daryl when he sees the reader getting ready for the party at deanna‘s? sorry if that‘s too much i would just love reading something like this

A/N: Thanks for the request emma, I hope this is what you were looking for. I was keke-ing while writing about the girls and guys teasing reader and daryl haha

The walls of Alexandria loomed in the distance, a symbol of safety and normalcy in a world where both had become distant memories. Daryl, perched against the frame of the front porch, watched the community come alive. People bustled about, preparing for a party Deanna was hosting that night—a strange but welcome change of pace from the endless survivalist days on the road.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. The quiet, the calm—it unnerved him. It was a stark contrast to the constant danger they’d faced since the prison, the farm; since anything in his life, even before people lost their brains: Alexandria seemed almost too good to be true.

And then there was you.

You had been with him from the beginning, always by his side during hunts, sharing long silences and stories of past hurts, unspoken but understood. Over the years, you’d become his anchor, the one person he could trust completely. The one person he didn’t feel judged by, and the one who saw past his rough exterior. You got him in a way no one else did.

Which is why it was complicated now, more than ever.

His gaze flickered to the house where you were getting ready for the party. The curtains were drawn back, and he could see you through the open window. You’d always been beautiful to him, though he’d never said it aloud. That wasn’t his way, after all. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the fact that you had spent so long getting ready, or maybe it was the way the soft glow of the evening light bathed you in an ethereal warmth. Whatever it was, Daryl couldn’t look away.

You were standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the dress he’d recognised all too well. 

You and Daryl had gone on a supply run, just the two of you—like old times. Though Alexandria offered some respite from the chaos, there were still days when you both preferred the quiet of the woods, where the only sounds were your footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

It had been a rough few days, though. A week ago, Spencer, Mayor Deanna’s son, had rejected you. The memory of his dismissive words still stung—how he’d said you were “nice,” but he wasn’t looking for anything serious. It wasn’t just the rejection that hurt, but the way he’d made you feel small, like you were an afterthought.

Daryl hadn’t pried, but he knew something was off. He’d seen the sadness you tried to hide and how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes lately.

“Need somethin’?” Daryl asked as he pulled open the door to what used to be a boutique, stepping inside first to make sure it was clear.

“No, just looking,” you muttered, following him in. The boutique was a sad shell of its former self. Clothes lay scattered across the floor, mannequins toppled, and the scent of dust and decay filled the air.

You trailed behind him, not really interested in finding anything specific—just glad to be moving. Daryl moved with his usual quiet intensity, sifting through racks with a practised eye. He didn’t speak much, but his presence was a comfort. He’d always been that for you, even when words weren’t necessary.

As you wandered near the back of the store, your gaze fell on a shattered mirror. You stared at your reflection for a moment, feeling the weight of Spencer’s rejection creeping back in. The cracked glass seemed to echo how you felt inside—fractured, unimportant.

Suddenly, Daryl’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Hey.”

You turned, and your heart skipped at the sight of him holding up a dress—a simple, sleeveless one in a soft, faded green. He held it awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to handle it, but his expression was serious as ever. “Thought this might suit ya.”

For a moment, you were speechless. The idea of Daryl, tough and rugged, holding up a dress for you was almost surreal. But the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.

“Me?” You arched a brow, stepping closer to inspect the dress. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “Kinda matches your eyes, I guess. I dunno.” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through. “Just… figured ya might like it. After… y’know.”

It took you a second to realise what he meant. After Spencer. It wasn’t just that Spencer had rejected you– it was the casual way he’d brushed you aside, as though your feelings were nothing more than an inconvenience. It has cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

The realisation made your chest tighten, but not with sadness this time—with something else. He wasn’t just showing you a dress. He was trying to make you feel better, in the way only Daryl could.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Daryl. That’s… sweet.”

He grunted, clearly embarrassed, his gaze darting away. “Ain’t nothin’. Just a stupid dress.”

But you shook your head. “No, it’s not stupid. I like it.”

For the first time in days, you felt the shadow that had been hanging over you lift just a little. The dress was a gesture, small but significant. Daryl didn’t give compliments easily, and for him to go out of his way to do something like this—it meant more than you could put into words.

You took the dress from his hands, feeling the worn fabric between your fingers. “Maybe I’ll wear it to the next one of Deanna’s parties,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Daryl’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you. “You should,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “You’d look real good.”

You blinked, surprised by the weight behind his words. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before he turned back to the rack of clothes, mumbling something under his breath. It wasn’t like Daryl to give compliments, much less ones that carried so much weight.

Your heart fluttered at the thought.

Tucking the dress under your arm, you smiled softly to yourself. Spencer’s rejection suddenly seemed like a distant memory. Maybe it didn’t matter what he thought. Maybe the only person whose opinion really mattered was standing right in front of you.

He saw the way you ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing it down before reaching up to touch your hair. It was rare to see you like this—clean, dressed up. It made his heart race in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t even sure if you ever really noticed how hard he tried, in his own way, to make you feel like you mattered.

“What’re you starin’ at, Dixon?”

Daryl stiffened at the voice behind him. Rick. Of course.

“Nothin’,” he muttered, turning away from the window as if caught doing something wrong. But Rick wasn’t buying it, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told Daryl that much.

“Yeah, sure. Nothin’.” Rick chuckled softly, clapping a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Everyone sees it, you know.”

Daryl frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Sees what?”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “You and her. You think nobody’s noticed the way you two are? C’mon, Daryl. It’s obvious.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his boots scraping against the porch floor. He wanted to scoff, shrug it off like Rick was wrong, but the truth stuck in his throat like splinters. It wasn't just how you made him feel—he was terrified of what would happen if you knew.

“Ain’t like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Rick’s tone was teasing but gentle, like he knew exactly what Daryl was feeling. “You ever think about just… telling her?”

Daryl’s throat tightened at the thought. Confess? To you? The idea seemed ridiculous. You were his best friend—why would you want anything more from a guy like him? You deserved better. Someone who could give you more than just broken words and awkward silences.

“Nah,” he finally muttered. “Ain’t my place.”

Rick sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Just think about it.”

With that, Rick walked away, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts. He huffed in frustration, casting another glance toward your window. You were moving now, stepping back from the mirror to admire your reflection. A soft smile touched your lips, and something inside Daryl clenched.

He didn’t deserve to feel this way, did he? Not about you.

But he couldn’t help it.

The small house in Alexandria buzzed with excitement as you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the green dress Daryl had found for you on that run weeks ago. You weren’t exactly used to getting dressed up, and the idea of attending Deanna’s party made you feel awkward, even if the people around you seemed eager for a night of normalcy.

Behind you, Rosita lounged on the bed with her legs crossed, twirling a strand of her hair, while Carol and Maggie were sorting through a small pile of accessories on the table. Michonne leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk already playing at her lips.

“You know,” Rosita said, eyeing you with a sly grin, “if you’re getting all dolled up like that, maybe it’s not just for the party.”

You blinked at her through the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Carol chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’ve been wearing that same look all afternoon. Like you’re not sure if you’re nervous about the party or something else… or someone else.”

Your cheeks burned instantly, and you turned to look at her. “Carol, don’t start—”

“Daryl,” Maggie finished for her, waggling her eyebrows playfully. “We’re talking about Daryl.”

You groaned, shaking your head, but the teasing only intensified. Michonne smirked, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer. “Oh yeah. It’s obvious,” she added. “The way he looks at you… like he’s ready to rip apart anyone who so much as breathes in your direction.”

“Pfft,” Rosita snickered, shifting on the bed. “That man’s got it bad for you. I mean, you’ve been glued to his side since day one. You’re practically the Bonnie to his Clyde. Except way less murder-y… sometimes.”

You laughed despite yourself. “We’re just friends.”

Maggie let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “If you two are ‘just friends,’ then Rick and Michonne are still ‘just patrolling together,’” she teased, throwing a playful glance at Michonne, who raised a brow in mock offense.

“Hey, at least Rick and I own it now,” Michonne quipped, smirking. “You two? You’ve been dancing around each other forever.”

“Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Carol said thoughtfully, her smile turning softer. “Daryl’s like that. He’s patient, but… when he cares about someone, he doesn’t let go.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up at her words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—about Daryl, about what he meant to you. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside. Why ruin a good thing?

Rosita, though, wasn’t about to let you off the hook. She stood up and walked over, grinning as she picked up a necklace from the table and held it up to your neck. “Come on, admit it. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, haven’t you? He watches you like you’re the last good thing in this world.”

You swallowed hard, your mind drifting back to the way Daryl had looked at you earlier today when you caught him staring before the party. The way his eyes softened just slightly, the way he averted his gaze as if he was afraid of being caught.

Maggie smirked, stepping closer and nudging your arm. “Face it, girl. Y’all are the definition of ‘cute couple that won’t admit it.’”

“I—” you started, but Michonne cut you off, crossing her arms again with a teasing grin.

“Daryl may be rough around the edges, but let me tell you, when it comes to you…” She paused for dramatic effect, raising a brow. “He’d take real good care of you.”

Your face went hot. “Michonne!”

“What?” Rosita laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as she wiggled her brows. “You know it’s true. He’s got that whole protective thing going on, like he’s just waiting to step in and—”

“Rosita, stop,” you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment.

But the room erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t help but smile behind your hands. The teasing was relentless, but you knew it came from a place of love. They saw something in the way Daryl and you interacted—something you had been too scared to fully acknowledge yourself.

As the laughter died down, Carol stepped forward, her expression soft and kind. “We’re only teasing because we care about you. And him. He might not be good with words, but Daryl… he shows how he feels in other ways.”

Maggie nodded, her voice gentle. “Like finding that dress for you. You know he didn’t just stumble on it by accident, right? He wanted you to have something nice. For yourself.”

“I can think of something else he wants her to have all to herself,” Rosita quips, turning the room into a bottle of laughter once again. 

You looked down at the green fabric, brushing your fingers over it. Daryl had given it to you during one of your lowest moments, and you hadn’t realised until now how much it truly meant. It wasn’t just a dress. It was his way of saying he saw you, that you mattered to him.

Rosita gave you a playful nudge. “He may not say it out loud, but actions speak louder than words, right?”

You met her eyes through the mirror, and for a moment, everything felt so clear. The tension between you and Daryl had been building for so long, and maybe—just maybe—it was time to stop pretending it didn’t exist.

“Whatever happens tonight,” Maggie said, adjusting a bracelet on your wrist, “just remember—we all think you two would be great together.”

“Yeah,” Rosita added with a wink, “and don’t be surprised if Daryl tries to ‘take real good care of you’ later.”

You groaned again, laughing despite yourself. “You guys are terrible.”

Michonne grinned, her voice low and teasing. “Terrible? Maybe. But we’re right.”

And deep down, you really wanted them to be right.

The sun had begun to set by the time the party was in full swing. The house was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses as the residents of Alexandria tried to pretend, just for a moment, that the world outside wasn’t in ruins. Daryl stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, scanning the room with the practised eye of someone who never quite let his guard down.

And then you walked in.

He hadn’t seen you since earlier when you were getting ready, and now that you were here, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The dress you wore was simple, but it hugged your frame in a way that made Daryl’s heart stutter. Your hair was loose, framing your face, and your eyes… your eyes were searching the room until they found him.

When you smiled, his throat went dry.

Daryl quickly looked away, feeling like an idiot. He was supposed to be a damn hunter, a man of few words, not some lovesick fool gawking at his best friend from across the room.

“Wow,” came a voice at his side. Daryl looked over to see Carol, who had caught his reaction and was now giving him a knowing grin. “You really should tell her, you know.”

“Not you too,” Daryl grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Carol chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just saying, Daryl. It’s been obvious for a long time. She feels the same way—you can see it in the way she looks at you.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Feel the same way? No. That couldn’t be possible. Could it?

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Carol nudged him gently. “It’s a party, after all.”

Daryl hesitated. He wasn’t good with this kind of stuff—feelings, emotions, talking. But as he glanced back at you, standing there, laughing with Maggie and Glenn, he realised that maybe Rick and Carol were right.

You spotted him as he was walking out into the yard, your eyes lighting up as you excused yourself from the conversation and made your way over to him just outside the house.

He could spend the rest of his life admiring you from afar, or he could take a risk.

"I'm goin' out for a smoke," Daryl nods, as he leaves through the back door.

The dim street light reflected the sheen of sweat on his toned bicep, Daryl’s eye locked on you as you made your way over to him. It was hard to see his expression as the setting of the sun glared in your eyes.

His heart pounded in his chest as you approached, every step making him more nervous than he’d ever been facing walkers.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stopping just in front of him. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Daryl mumbled, avoiding your gaze for a moment before finally looking at you. “You, uh… you look nice.”

You smiled, a hint of surprise flickering in your eyes. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothin’ fancy ‘bout me.”

“I like you just the way you are,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat. There it was again—that feeling. The one he’d been trying to ignore for so long. The one that made his heart race whenever you were near. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.

“You ever think about… us?”

Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Us,” he repeated, his voice rougher than he intended. “I mean… hell, I dunno. Everyone keeps sayin’… like maybe there’s more. Between us.”

You blinked, processing his words, and for a moment Daryl feared he’d made a huge mistake. But then your expression softened, and you took a small step closer.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

Daryl’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Yeah?”

You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I thought you’d never say anything.”

“I didn’t think I deserved to,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, and the warmth in your eyes nearly undid him. “You’ve always deserved it, Daryl.”

And with that, the unspoken truth between you finally became clear. You had always been more than just best friends. You had always been each other’s home, in this world of chaos and ruin.

Maybe it was time you both admitted it.

The moment hung between you and Daryl like a fragile thread, one pull away from unraveling everything. His admission still echoed in your ears, making your heart race. You stood in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, your pulse quickening with each second that passed. You could feel the tension—thick, electric—stretching between you, both of you aware that this was a moment you couldn’t come back from.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “Daryl…”

He was still avoiding your gaze, the vulnerability in his expression so foreign it almost took your breath away. Daryl Dixon, the man who had survived everything, was scared—of you, of what this meant. You could see it in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his jaw tightened as if he was bracing himself for something he couldn’t control.

But there was something else in his eyes too. Something raw and hungry, something that made your skin tingle.

“Daryl,” you whispered again, softer this time, stepping closer. He didn’t back away. Instead, his blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, and the intensity there sent a shiver down your spine.

Before either of you could think twice, before you could second-guess or push it away, your hands found his jacket, gripping the worn leather like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, and in the next heartbeat, your lips were on his.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like you were testing the waters, unsure of how far you could go. But the moment his lips moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. Daryl’s hands came up to your waist, pulling you closer as if he’d been holding himself back for too long. The gentle touch of his calloused fingers sent sparks through your skin, making you gasp against his mouth.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

The kiss deepened, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The world outside—the party, the people, the chaos—faded into the background until it was just you and Daryl. You could taste the intensity of his need, the years of unspoken words between you bleeding into every brush of your lips. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d been starving for this—starving for you.

Your heart pounded as you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, guttural sound from the back of his throat. The noise sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and suddenly, you wanted more. Needed more.

Daryl seemed to feel the same. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress in a way that made you shiver. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with want.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. His thumb traced slow circles on your hip, as though he was fighting against the very desire that had his body trembling with tension.

In response, you tugged him down again, crashing your lips against his. It wasn’t soft this time. It was all heat and desperation, like you couldn’t get enough of him, like you were trying to make up for all the time you’d spent denying this.

He groaned against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as his hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer. You could feel his body against yours, all hard muscle and heat, and it made your knees weak. Without breaking the kiss, Daryl backed you against the nearest wall, your back pressing against the cool surface as his mouth trailed down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“God, Daryl,” you breathed, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he kissed his way down your throat, the rough scrape of his stubble igniting a fire beneath your skin.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen from the kiss, his breathing heavy. “I ain’t… I ain’t good at this,” he muttered, his voice low, filled with doubt. But there was a vulnerability there too, a softness that made your heart ache.

You cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “You’re better than you think,” you whispered, leaning in to press another soft kiss to his lips.

The reassurance seemed to break whatever was left of his hesitation. His hands were back on you, running down your sides, his fingers skimming over your dress before gripping your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you could feel every inch of him pressed against you.

Daryl kissed you again, rougher this time, his hands sliding under your dress, fingertips brushing against bare skin. His touch was searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake, and the need pooling in your core only intensified. His body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall, and you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Daryl…” you whispered, your breath hitching as his hands roamed higher, slipping beneath your dress. Every touch sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you arched against him, craving more of his heat, more of him.

His lips were back on yours, his kiss desperate and demanding. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, like he was afraid of losing control. But that was exactly what you wanted—you wanted him to lose control, to let go of all the tension he’d been holding for so long. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and the heat between you was undeniable. His breath was heavy against your neck, lips grazing your skin, when—

“Daryl? You out here?” Rick’s voice cut through the air like a bucket of cold water.

Both of you froze, bodies tense and pressed together against the wall. You heard the sound of boots approaching, and panic shot through you. Daryl stepped back quickly, dropping his hands from your waist, but not before Rick rounded the corner, his brows shooting up in surprise.

“Oh, uh—sorry,” Rick said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender, though there was a smirk creeping onto his face. “Didn’t mean to… interrupt.”

Your face flushed red as you adjusted your dress, smoothing it down, while Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly flustered. His shoulders were still tense, and he shot Rick a look that could’ve melted steel.

Rick, ever the leader, just shrugged. “Deanna’s lookin’ for you two. Figured I’d check out back. Didn’t expect to find… this.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words failed you. The heat of the moment had been so intense, so all-consuming, that being yanked back to reality felt almost disorienting. Daryl, on the other hand, let out a low grunt, clearly still agitated by the sudden intrusion.

Rick, picking up on the tension, tried to backtrack. “Look, I’ll tell her I couldn’t find you. Give you some more time.”

“No,” you blurted, straightening your back and forcing a shaky laugh. “No, it’s fine. We’ll… we’ll be there in a minute.”

Rick nodded, the smirk still lingering on his lips as he backed away, throwing one last glance at Daryl. “Y’all take your time.”

As soon as he was gone, you and Daryl were left in awkward silence. You dared a glance at him, his eyes still burning with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, embarrassment, maybe both. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rougher than usual. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You swallowed hard, the moment that had felt so heated now replaced with a strange tension. But you managed a small smile, stepping closer and brushing your fingers lightly against his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

His gaze flickered to you, softer now, but still conflicted. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to say next, but before he could speak, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get back inside.”

As you walked back inside, Daryl’s hand brushing yours was a silent promise. The air between you was charged with what had just happened, but there was a new understanding. “We’ll talk later,” you said quietly, and he nodded, a small smile breaking through his earlier tension.

The house was bustling when you walked back in, laughter and music filling the air, the warmth of the party wrapping around you like a blanket. You felt a bit dishevelled, your mind still lingering on what had almost happened out there.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted with knowing looks from your friends. Maggie’s eyes landed on you first, and she exchanged a smirk with Rosita, who was sitting on the couch. Carol and Michonne were nearby, their gazes flicking between you and Daryl, who had taken up his usual stance near the door, trying to stay invisible.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Rosita teased, raising an eyebrow at you. Her eyes darted from you to Daryl, a grin spreading across her face. “You two were gone for a while. Everything okay?”

Your face flushed again, and you glanced at Daryl, who was doing his best to avoid everyone’s eyes. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, shuffling his feet, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously.

“Yeah,” you managed, trying to sound casual. “We just… needed some air.”

“Uh-huh,” Maggie drawled, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is that what they call it these days?”

Carol, who had been watching quietly from the side, stepped forward with a soft smile. “Glad you two finally got some air. It’s about time.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond, but before you could, Michonne chimed in, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “You two need a map, or did you manage to find your way back okay?”

“Michonne!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as everyone around you erupted into laughter. Even Rick, who had rejoined the group, couldn’t suppress his grin.

Daryl, still standing off to the side, cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. But there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You alright, Daryl?” Rick asked, his voice teasing but with genuine care beneath it.

Daryl grunted in response, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, but his eyes briefly flicked to you, and the tension between you was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

Rosita, never one to miss a beat, leaned back on the couch and sighed dramatically. “Well, if that’s what fresh air does, maybe we should all get some.”

Laughter rippled through the group again, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh with them. The teasing, though relentless, was filled with warmth, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. They weren’t judging you—they were happy. Happy that, after everything, you and Daryl had finally taken a step toward something more.

Carol caught your eye, her smile gentle as ever. “Don’t let us embarrass you too much. We’re just glad you both finally stopped dancing around it.”

As the laughter subsided, you and Daryl exchanged a look that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the end of the conversation, but it was a start. You reached out, gently touching his arm, and he responded with a nod. In the midst of the party’s warmth, there was a new, tentative promise between you—an acknowledgment of all the unspoken truths that had simmered between you for so long.

There was a new, tentative promise between you—a promise to face the unspoken truths head-on. It was a promise of more conversations, more moments, and perhaps, the start of a deeper connection where everything that had remained unsaid would finally have a place.

[daisiesinvienna]

daryl being the most protective w fem!reader. maybe reader doubting daryl’s feelings for her & him saying “why wouldn’t i save you?”. reader shaking and daryl putting his hand on the side of her face brushing her cheek with his thumb 🥺

Nexilis

Title: Nexilis

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: You are a wildflower blooming in the midst of death and destruction, a breath of fresh air. Daryl doesn’t know how to tell you he loves you.

Warnings: Swearing

Era: Prison

Authors Note: Nexilis is the latin word for woven together or intertwined. This was meant to be a shorter blurb but dude I could not stop writing. Thank you for the request! <3

Daryl Dixon never liked having his emotions on display for everyone to see.

During his childhood, he learned that expressing emotions led to vulnerability, and vulnerability led to weakness. So, when he was young, he learned how to bottle up his emotions, learned to keep them suppressed so nobody around him knew what he was feeling. As he grew older, It became his second nature. 

When Daryl first met you back in Atlanta, he knew instantly that it would be a struggle to keep up his cold demeanor. He knew he would have to try to keep up the walls he worked so hard to build. Because you were like a breath of fresh air. 

You were the air that filled his lungs, the oxygen he needed to survive. And that terrified him.

The only problem he had with you was that everywhere you went, emotions followed. Not bad emotions, but emotions like joy and hopefulness. Feelings Daryl wasn’t used to. So he tried to keep his distance.

But you, being the beam of sunlight you were, noticed his seemingly sullen personality and made a point of talking to him regularly. He made an attempt at resisting your charm, but it didn’t take long for his carefully built walls to come crashing down. He soon came to realize that a single beam of sunlight could cast away the darkest of shadows.

During your time spent together before and at the prison, you and Daryl grew closer. He often sought you out to ask if you wanted to go on a run with him, and you took pride in knowing you were the only person he’d outright ask to join him. You often asked him questions about himself and whatever other things crossed your mind, seeming genuinely interested in the things he had to say. Daryl wasn’t used to being listened too, to being considered. People would make jokes, feign surprise when one of you was spotted without the other. It was known, the deep bond the two of you had, but it wasn’t pointed out. It was just a fact.

At some point in your relationship, you crossed the imaginary line drawn between friends and something more. Somehow, despite all the horrors that happened everyday in the world, something beautiful emerged. Daryl had no choice but to let you into his heart. 

He’d tried to resist it, but eventually had to just face it. He loved you.

And that scared the shit out of him.

While you showed your love through words and touch, Daryl showed his by keeping you safe. It was the only way he knew how. In a world as unpredictable as this one, he knew that you could be ripped from him in an instant. But he would be damned if he let that happen.

He kept one eye on you all the time, making sure you were eating and staying hydrated. If there was ever an uncertain situation, he was at your side, resting a calloused yet gentle hand on your waist as if you were going to slip away from him. During encounters with other people, people you didn’t know, he was gently moving you behind him. Silently letting you know that he’d guard every hair on your head, that he would do anything to keep you safe.

You always felt safe around Daryl. You always knew that whatever the situation, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And for that you were eternally grateful.

But eventually you begun to notice how he was never the first to lean in for a kiss, never was the first to initiate contact. You were always the first. You’d told him you loved him multiple times, normally as a goodbye when he leaves for a run or when you go to help Rick with the garden. But you’d never once heard it back. Which you didn’t have a problem with at first. You knew he’d had a difficult childhood, though he didn’t like to talk about it. 

But as the months passed, you started to question his feelings for you. You started to wonder if he felt for you the way you felt for him, if he didn’t show you affection or tell you he loved you just because he didn’t want to.

One cloudy and slightly damp fall morning, while you were out tending to the garden out in the former prison yard, you spotted Daryl heading towards the gate with his crossbow slung over his back, clearly about to head out on a run. Dusting your hands off on your jeans, you make your way across the prison yard to meet him by the gate.

“Morning!” You say, flashing him a smile. You see he hadn’t retrieved his motorcycle from where it sat near the prison tower, so he was planning on heading out by foot. Probably going hunting.

“Mornin’,” He answers stoically. He doesn’t exactly return your smile, but the corners of his mouth turn up a bit.

“You going on a run?” 

“Yeah,” He murmurs in response, going to fiddle with the chain keeping the gate secure.

“Mind if I join?” You ask tentatively, and he looks at you for a moment before responding.

“Alrigh’,” He says gruffly, and you grin. He successfully opens the gate, tossing the chain aside. “You got your gun?” 

You in fact did have your pistol on your hip, and with that, you followed Daryl through the gate and away from the prison. He was just planning on hunting around the nearby woods, hoping a few squirrels or even a deer would cross his path. He knew that everyone at the prison would be grateful for something other than canned vegetables.

Neither of you talked much as you walked through the woods, the only sounds being the leaves crunching under your feet and occasional bird calls. Other than that, a good portion of your walk was spent in dead silence.

Daryl walked a bit ahead of you, glancing back periodically as if he was making sure you were still there. He moved effortlessly and silently through the woods, while you tried your best not to step on every twig you came across and stumbled once or twice.

As you trudge through the woods, you feel your thoughts drifting back to your doubts about your relationship with the broad man walking ahead of you. You didn’t miss how he’d avoided your gaze back at the prison gate, and it had only encouraged your feelings of uncertainty.  Now, as you step over a fallen tree, you wonder why he rarely shows you any affection.

Maybe it was something you’d done. Maybe you’d said something, done something at some point that had made him grow so distant. But as you rack your brain for an instance such as this, you come up with nothing. Or, maybe, he just didn’t care for you as much as you thought. Maybe he kept you around because he felt bad for you. 

You stare at the back of his head, knowing that you should talk to him about it. If you had done something to him, you’d want to know. If he didn’t love you, you would want to know even more. Better to know so you could move on and stop burdening him with feelings he didn’t reciprocate. But you didn’t know how to start such a conversation. So you hear yourself blurt out probably the worst conversation starter of the decade.

“Do you love me?”

He stops walking. You stop a few feet behind him, and he slowly turns to face you. You’re fully prepared for that signature Daryl scowl, but instead he looks shocked. His eyebrows knit together in concern.

“What the hell ‘re you talkin’ about?” He asks, and you stare down at the ground, embarrassed you’d asked such a blunt question.

“I mean- you’re just always so… distant,” You respond quietly, and he sighs. There is a moment of silence, broken only by the trees rustling in the breeze. 

“I know,” He murmurs after a second, and you look up to meet his eyes. “I know, ‘n i’m sorry.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment.

“It’s just-“ He starts, then trails off. You stare at him, waiting. He appears to be having some kind of conflict within himself.

“I’ve never felt like this for anyone before, and it scares the shit outta me,” He says finally, and you meet his eyes, dumbfounded. You can tell that that was difficult for him to say.

“That’s it?” You ask, quietly. He moves closer to you, and to your surprise, cups your cheek in his large, calloused hand and looks into your eyes before speaking again.

“‘M not used to this. Any of it,” He murmurs, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb. You lift your hand to rest on his, staring into his blue eyes. “And I know ‘m not good at findin’ ways to tell ya I love ya. But I do, and I need ya to know that. I love ya more than anythin’.”

You nod, feeling relief wash over you at the sound of those three words leaving his mouth. A smile creeps onto your face. He moves his hand from your cheek, using it to tilt your chin up slightly. He takes a moment to rake his eyes across your face, hesitating, before leaning in to press his lips to yours.

He kisses you slowly, deeply, trying to convey the feelings he couldn’t come to terms with to you. You reciprocate, feeling yourself smile into the kiss.

And, as Daryl continues to kiss you amongst the trees, he swears to himself that he is going to make sure you don’t have to ask him that question ever again.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Like there was no tomorrow." CH.2—Daryl Dixon.

Chapter Summary: Everything seems peaceful the few days you spend in the prison while your best friend recovers from an illness, but after a rough night when walkers threaten to break in, the so-called Governor attacks the place the next day, causing Daryl's group to scatter, leaving you and him to go on your own.

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x reader

WARNING: Death, blood, a lot of bad words hehe (but also romance and even some comedy if I can get it right hehe)

ERA: From prison onwards.

A/N: Sorry if this is boring :( I didn't elaborate much on the fight between the prison group and the governor because they were different scenes and this chapter was getting really long, but I hope you like it. Spoiler alert: Daryl talking bad about your falcon a few times made me laugh hehe

Chapter 1

“What happened to your arm?”

With a slight nod, you point to Daryl’s left arm, specifically to the inner part of his elbow that is covered by white tape. On the way back to the prison, the quiet place stretches between a dirt road and dust that the car kicks up, trees on the sides and a lot of vegetation that almost creates the illusion that nothing happened to the world, but every so often when you two leave behind a walker that is swinging aimlessly along the road, you realize that nothing is as it used to be.

“Nothing.” Daryl shifts uncomfortably, shooting you a glance before looking ahead. You roll your eyes, because even though you knew you were probably the only person Daryl had ever fully opened up to in the past, (showing you his scars and all), he still maintained that reserved personality, but even though the world had changed, you’re glad to know those little things are still intact. “Can ya tell yer rat to stop lookin' at me like that?”

Sitting on your right wrist, Aeris has her eyes fixed on Daryl, her deep, dark-colored gaze watching for the slightest movement, but it’s like she’s searching the depths of his soul. It’s an overflowing interest that makes you chuckle.

“Look at my baby hating you.” Your free hand strokes her soft fur, black and white feathers and a mix of them. “Good girl.”

Daryl frowns.

“How ya even know she’s a girl? Did ya look up her skirt?”

You try to hide the mockery in your next words.

“Aeris was a baby when I found her, and she learned to listen to the walkers and find her way out of those flesh—eating things on her own. I don’t mean to insult you, but I don’t think a boy would be that smart without being taught first.” You shrug. “You know that men’s stupidity knows no bounds.”

Daryl scoffs.

“Yer hatred is bigger than yer height.”

Shocked, you laugh.

“Asshole!”

But he looks at you in exasperation, though at the same time, remembering and missing those old times.

“Woman, ain’t ya tired of cursin’ at me? I still don' know how I let ya kiss me with that dirty mouth.”

You frown, playing dumb.

“Well, it’s not like a curse you while running, is it?”

Daryl scoffs again, but a smile appears on his lips.

“Ya are silly, y’know?”

You chuckle, settling into your seat as the sight of the prison comes into view. The place is big, but so is the horde of walkers stacked against the fence, always growling, all day and all night, hands outstretched and mouths open in their relentless attempt to kill. A man and a woman are on the other side, stabbing their knives into the heads of the walkers through the grates, trying to lessen the dead weight hanging over the bars.

When the man sees the car arrive, he opens the secondary and main gates, and Daryl drives inside through both as the people outside seal the place back up. The moment the car shuts off, you put Aeris on your shoulder to grab your backpack from the floor, opening the door to feel the first rays of the day’s sun on your covered skin. The grass is losing its color, and in the distance you can see the land that has been piled up, with cross—shaped woods on top of it.

Graves.

When you turn to meet the two people, the young woman stops dead in her tracks, the man a step behind.

“Shit. Is that a falcon?” Her beautiful green eyes glint in the light, but her gaze is unsure.

“No. S'a flyin’ rat.” Daryl stops beside you, but he ignores the serious look you give him. “(Y/N), this is Maggie and Rick. This is (Y/N), my…”

His next words hang in the warm air.

“Believe it or not, I’m his ex. And probably the only one.” You smile as you shake their hands, trying to hide your laughter at Maggie’s incredulous look, the way her mouth struggles not to hang open in surprise, and Rick’s frown and slightly widened eyes. “Nice to meet you two.”

“Yeah. Same here.” Maggie clears her throat before continuing, trying not to smile too much as she glances at Daryl before looking back at you. “I’ll take you to Sam.”

You nod before walking with her, leaving the men behind. Daryl's gaze follow you, his blue eyes narrowing under the stifling heat and the feeling of being exposed like that, because you always had that strange power over him, the way you could mock him and he would hate you silently (again, not seriously) while saying thank you at the same time.

Love was confusing, and stupid sometimes. Daryl knew that better than anyone, but when he turns around to meet Rick, Daryl has to swallow, trying to keep a serious expression.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just… you never mentioned you had a girlfriend." Rick shakes his head, doing his best not to smile too much. "She's beautiful AND she looks like a badass, you know? With the gun and her falcon, but she kind of hates you. I can see that."

Looking away for a few seconds, Daryl swears in a low voice.

"Nah. Hatin' me is her love language." Suddenly tired of that conversation, Daryl walks away towards the fence, without being able to hear Rick's chuckle. "C'mon, I'll help ya clear the way."

Back inside the prison, you find out Sam was developing peritonitis from her appendix, which was a few days away from rupturing but was treated in time, thankfully. You feel relief in your bones knowing that surgery wasn’t necessary, and although Maggie’s dad could perform it, knowing that he’s a vet made you feel slightly nervous but infinitely grateful.

“So…” Maggie tries not to smile too much, still in disbelief, because she too finds it strange and fascinating to know more about Daryl’s past, considering that he didn’t let much of himself show. “You and Daryl? I see you like men who don’t comb their hair.”

You laugh.

“What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants.”

She laughs with you, leading you towards the cells on the left of the large place.

“I met Daryl when the group came to our farm, and no offense, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who was in a relationship, was it something serious?”

“Something like that…” You shrug, just to downplay the silent pain that came after that night. “We actually broke up months before all this started. But don’t let his rudeness fool you, because between us…” You move closer to her a little, only to whisper a comical revenge against him. “Daryl liked to cuddle.”

Maggie has to cover her mouth with a hand to keep from laughing out loud, stopping at a half—open cell.

“When you’re done talking to Sam, I’ll be outside if you want to join us.”

She gives you a kind smile, the same one you return.

“Thank you, Maggie.”

As she walks away, you enter the cell. The first thing you see is Sam’s hair that’s spread out on the pillow, hands clasped together over her stomach, one of her arms hooked up to an IV, closed eyes that flutter open as she senses your presence in the small room. At that moment, her tired face lights up through the pain she’s surely still feeling inside, but she smiles when she sees you sit on the edge of the small bed, Aeris making a sound that seems to be her own way of greeting her friend.

“I’m glad to see your favorite girl has taken care of you while I’m gone.”

As your hand takes hers, Sam squeezes it lightly, sighing at your warmth mixing with her own.

“Don’t be jealous. You two are my favorite girls.” You chuckle, but the happiness merges with the huge relief in your chest at seeing your person still alive. “I’m so happy to see you’re okay, Sami. I guess running into Daryl wasn’t a curse after all.”

You’re joking to lighten the mood and she knows it, laughing with you at Daryl’s expense.

“Daryl’s been so attentive ever since I got here that night, always coming to check on me, asking if I needed anything else, even staying to talk to me for a while, though we always ended up talking about you.” Sam smiles, weakly. “It’s pretty clear that Daryl hasn’t forgotten you, love. But really, maybe that’s why I wasn’t surprised when Maggie told me that he was the one who gave me blood all this time.”

For a second, you feel your heart stop, eyes slightly wider, but now the tape on his arm made all the sense in the world.

“What?”

“Yeah. He even joked that he had special magical blood. Didn't Daryl tell you that?"

You shake your head softly, trying to put your scattered thoughts in order.

“You met him. Daryl is awfully quiet most of the time.”

“Really?” Sam frowns, but keeps a smile. “Well, with you, Daryl seemed like a different person. I liked the way he looked at you, kind of intense, but it seemed like he was trying to tell you what you meant to him: maybe the poor guy didn’t know how to use his words. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice his hand on your lower back.”

For a few seconds, your gaze gets lost in an empty spot in the room. There in the back of your mind, stored deep in your memories, you always thought about his reasons for breaking up with you when everything seemed to be fine. The lack of love was painful but understandable, but other reasons didn’t seem to make sense, not when it was Merle who said that, if Daryl had fallen in love, he would be in love for life.

“But that’s in the past.” You say, looking back at her. “Now we just have to worry about you getting better so we can go home.”

Sam nods, though neither you nor she delves into the fact that maybe the word home no longer exists.

“How are the old folks? I miss them. You left them protected, right?"”

You smile softly.

“They're fine, worried about you, but fine. And yes, I left them all the things they needed until we can go back”

When Sam’s eyes begin to close, you can see the heaviness of her exhaustion, so you let her rest before heading out of the prison to help.

When another heavy night falls, and with a candle that smells like cinnamon and that hides the rottenness of the outside and the world in general, the silence keeps you company as you turn the page of the book about exotic animals on the table of what used to be the prison dining room. You had already read that book a couple of times, but the words silence the thoughts in your head, loud words capable of driving the sanest person crazy, those voices that were only your own fear of dying in the most grotesque way possible. You had already seen how the walkers destroyed the skin, making their way through as if it were chewing gum, images that played in your head when it was time to sleep, and for that very reason, you no longer slept much.

But just when a sharp pain in your lower back begins to throb and your hand finds that region, you hear someone's footsteps before seeing Daryl at the entrance.

“Hey. I thought ya were sleepin'.” He says, approaching, always in that low, hoarse voice. “Ya okay?”

“Yeah, my back hurts a little.”

Daryl sits down on the long iron chair, his legs on either side.

“Why? And don’ tell me s'cause yer gettin' old.”

You chuckle.

“It’s nothing…” Your hand leaves that area, only to pretend it doesn’t hurt like it does now. “During the time this started I went through a tin roof while Sam and I were escaping a horde of walkers. After the pain and the shock, it was pretty funny actually. I just... disappeared!” You laugh, earning a scoff from him because he didn’t find that memory funny. “Luckily I landed on my back and not on my knees.”

“Turn around.” He says, seriously.

You frown, looking at him in confusion.

“Why?”

“Woman, jus' turn around.” You turn around in the chair, placing one leg on the other side so your back is facing him. You can guess what he’s about to do, but knowing doesn’t slow down your heart rate when you feel the contact of his fingers on your shirt, right in the area where Sam said he always put his hand. “Here?”

“Yeah.” Your back arches slightly under the pain, but at the same time, the pressure he exerts is pleasurable. For a moment, silence reigns in the room, and while it’s not awkward, because you enjoyed his silence as much as hearing his voice, you have to clear your throat to make any noise other than your heartbeat. “You’re not doing this to get into my pants, are you?”

Daryl chuckles.

“Don’ think ya’ll let me get in there ever again.”

You chuckle.

“Nope. You’re banned from that place forever.”

When his hands leave your body after a while, you turn back around, but the thanks you’re about to give him gets stuck in your throat when he speaks again.

“Where’s yer flyin’ rat?”

The sarcasm in his voice makes you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, I guess she went out to eat, but if you’re good maybe Aeris will bring you a squirrel for you to eat in a stew.”

Daryl scoffs, but you know him too well to know that he wants to laugh.

“I’ve never eaten falcon.” The corner of his lip curls into a smile.

You laugh sarcastically, because even though you know he’s joking, Aeris is a daughter to you.

“Do something to her, and this time it’ll be a bullet that hits your forehead and not a peach.”

You stand up, closing the book, ending the conversation, but before you can take a step, Daryl's hand closes around yours, stopping you.

“Peach, hey, I was jus’ messin’ with ya.”

You can see the worry on his face, and hear the apologies in the way his deep voice turns soft, but the more he looks at you, the more it feels like you might sink into a new kind of ocean.

“I know.” You nod, smiling slightly to reassure him. “I was just going to wait for her outside. Do you want to go or do you have something more important to do?”

The relief in his eyes is clear, transparent in the way his gaze softens as Daryl stands up. You two walk in silence for a moment, but it feels like the night breeze can bring back old memories, old feelings, an echo that you can only hear in your ears.

And for some reason, it feels like going back to the beginning where you two were only strangers, because when you read a story from its first page, the characters are presented as two different worlds, travelers who venture to explore unknown territory, and when they meet, for the first time, it’s like witnessing the collision of two universes. But no one teaches you the risks of falling in love.

“I, uh…” You think deeply about your next words, and if it’s okay to say them out loud, but when he looks at you intently, it’s like the night brings back memories of when your mom died and he was there for you, all the time. “I’m so sorry about Merle, Daryl. I saw the cross outside with his name on it.”

Daryl mourns his brother’s death, but he can’t help but remember the best, colorful memories of the times he shared with you, which are turning blue inside him, because in that moment of loneliness when Merle left, Daryl wanted nothing more than to be with you.

“Thanks, peach.”

But as time mercilessly pursues you and prevents you from falling into a deeper conversation like the night outside the prison, your gazes turn towards the terrifying scene in front of the two of you the moment the door connecting to the outside opens. On the left side of the place, the outer gate falls under the weight of the horde of walkers, and although the second inner gate stops them for a few minutes, it won’t be enough.

“Hey! Rick!” Daryl is only a few steps away from him and a young boy with a sheriff hat, and Rick turns around showing his own fear as time runs out. “We need to use the guns, s’the only way.”

Rick nods, quickly.

“Okay, Daryl says you know how to shoot, right, (Y/N)?” You nod too, and he runs a few steps back to the pile of guns in a large canvas box. His breathing is ragged, just like the others as Rick hands a long gun to the young boy, doing the same with you as Daryl takes one on his own, each of you filling your pockets with ammunition. “Carl, (Y/N), magazine goes in here. Release is here. Make sure it latches. Pull back the operating rod and rounds feed up. Keep squeezing the trigger for rapid fire, okay?” As Rick takes the lead while he explains the workings of the weapon, he takes a second to lean over the boy. “You fire or you run. Don’t let them get close. Okay?”

The moment the gate finally falls and the first walkers take the first step towards you all, time gives Daryl a second to look at you.

“I’ll be fine.” You say quietly before looking ahead.

In the no longer so silent night, the sound of incessant gunfire resonates, taking down the first row of walkers who fall forever this time, silencing their grunts as you all do the same with the next group and the one behind. The tail of the gun hits you in the shoulder, a bump each time you fire a bullet that hits the heads of those who used to be normal people, with normal jobs, being someone else’s family. But it’s funny how the suffocating situation still allows you to remember how your dad exercised that paternal authority over you, always doing what he wanted you to do, but as the last walkers finally return to the land where they belong, you can’t help but give a silent thanks to the man who, unknowingly, saved your life in that new world.

When the last walker is shot down and the last bullet is fired, silence falls over everyone like a foggy night.

“Ya okay, peach?” You feel Daryl’s hand on your shoulder, and it’s like waking up from a trance under the warmth of his fingers.

“Uh? Yeah.” You nod at him while, above your head, you hear the sounds Aeris makes before landing on your shoulder.

“Shit. Is that a falcon?”

The moment the young boy turns to check that everyone is okay, his eyes stop on Aeris, admiring her in fascination.

Rick chuckles.

“(Y/N), this is my son Carl. Carl, this is (Y/N), Daryl's…”

It’s confusing for everyone.

“I’m not related to this man, not at all…” You shake your head, pointing at him, so seriously that you hear Daryl scoffs. “It’s a pleasure, Carl. This is Aeris.”

“That's cool. And she’s beautiful.” He smiles.

And between that thick feeling of terror and confusion, it’s almost funny and sad to see the innocence in a young man who surely learned to shoot to protect his life and others.

A few hours later and in the farthest part of the prison where the sick were quarantined, everyone finally got a break from danger as the dead came back to life in that place too. Now, in the solitude of your own cell, sitting on the edge of the small bed, it’s endearingly awkward the way Daryl silently enters, trying to get closer to you as he sits down next to you. But for a moment, it’s as if you both need a minute to contemplate with different eyes what just happened, the constant game of tug-of-war with death, surviving one more day.

“Ya okay?” He asks, his voice low. “Ya look a little shocked.”

You take a deep breath, trying to let go of the bad feelings.

“Yeah, it’s just… I never believed, not for a second, that the way my dad forced me to learn how to shoot was going to save my life one day. And at this point in my life, I know well how to shoot, but I never imagined I’d actually have to.”

Daryl nods, but when the ocean depths in his eyes stare at you, you fear what he might say.

“Can ya stay?” It’s a question, but it sounds like a plea that makes you hold your breath. “Ya and Sam can stay here. We can… find a way to bring yer new parents over.”

His words are tender, but something stops you from saying yes.

“Mark’s not going to leave his home. I know him, and asking him will only make him feel like a burden, and I don’t want to put him through that. Thank you, really… I really appreciate what you did for Sam. You and everyone here.” When you look back at him, you think of the times you told yourself that if you fell too deep into his gaze, you’d just have to swim back to the surface. “I’m glad to know you found a family, but this isn’t my place, Daryl.”

Daryl has to look away when his fears threaten to overwhelm him, but they are enough to fill the emptiness of the world.

“Try to sleep, peach.”

And coldly, he leaves.

But when morning comes, it all happens in the blink of an eye.

The man with the eye patch kills Hershel without any remorse in front of his daughter and the group, his new family, and then, there are gunshots and injuries when a battle breaks out, fire and explosions, and a tank knocking down the fences while letting the walkers in. Out of focus, like being outside your own head and body: one by one, behind a wall, you shoot those who try to shoot you and the people around. But the big group disperses into small ones, the injured and some children, and there are screams everywhere, words you can't make out over the repetitive sound of the bullets. From somewhere in the distance, you hear Sam's voice, but it's like the wind is pushing it through you and into the smoke, getting lost forever.

But there are too many walkers for you alone, and in your own escape plan, while taking down the man who got out of the tank and others trying to get away, you find Daryl just as he shoots another guy in the head with an arrow.

“Daryl…”

He's out of breath when he turns around, but the surrender in his gaze is overwhelming.

“Peach, we need to go.”

You take one last look at the fallen prison, nodding as you look back at him.

But once far away and with a full view of the place, the sight is heartbreaking, lonely despite all the walkers that begin to enter the prison. Fire and smoke are the only things you hope are left in the ruined place, an image that sticks in your memory as you begin to turn your back to enter the woods.

The ammunition in your pockets weighs like you’re carrying lead, but with a shaking hand against your lips and a whistle traveling through the place, the pressure in your chest is released slightly as Aeris’s voice echoes, until the moment she lands on your shoulder.

“Peach, hey, we need a plan, okay?” Daryl’s hand stops you.

“I have a plan…” You turn to him, the gun still in your hand and your breathing ragged, hot in your chest like you have a fever, but you want to believe it’s because of the strength you used to run there, and not because of the fear of losing your family. “Ellie didn’t answer last night when I tried to talk to her on the walkie-talkie, and she always answers. I want to believe that Sam is okay, that she will be able to protect herself with the little I was able to teach her all this time, but Ellie doesn’t know how.”

However, when you try to turn around again, Daryl stops you when he steps in front of you.

“Can ya wait a damn minute?” He breathes through slightly parted lips, his chest rising and falling at an abnormal pace. “It took us a whole day to get here from the city, and ya want to walk back there? Are ya crazy, woman?”

In a second, you feel like circumstances have put back that concrete wall life once put between the two of you when you parted, and it’s then that the world regains sound when you realize that this could be the end. So, gathering courage, you dare to look deeply into his eyes because you no longer have time to be afraid, because heartless time has finally caught up with you.

“Maybe I am a little crazy…” You try to laugh, but your smile falters. “You know something? I once told you that I was trying to find my place in the old world we lived in, to do something useful with my life so that it would have meaning the day I die, and I think now is the time. I don’t care if it takes me a week or a month, I’m going to get to them. You can do whatever you want, anyway, that’s what you always do…”

The moment you start walking, Daryl knows again that falling for you years ago was forbidden, like biting the apple of discord every night in which, secretly, you two enjoyed clandestine encounters, because the desire to be together was like fire inside him, and you, you were going to be the only person for whom he was going to fall in love deeply, he knew it and he would know it forever.

“Ya don’ know why I broke up with ya.”

With a broken smile, you try to push the memories of that night to the back of your mind, because, in a constant struggle between your mind and your heart, that last one wanted to believe that you two could have worked out despite the fears and insecurities.

“So what? Do you want to tell me now?”

The air of the world doesn’t seem enough to reach the emptiness that your departure left in his chest, but now, Daryl knows that he will follow you to the end of the world, or to hell itself if necessary. So, with a grunt that masks his feelings, Daryl starts walking in your direction, muttering under his breath before continuing on.

“Ya are insufferable sometimes, woman.” As he passes you, you chuckle as you start walking in the same direction. “If anythin' happens to us, we’re eatin’ yer rat.”

And among that world that tries to continually tear you down, slowly kill you, you find a small spark of hope among the ruins.

Or so you thought.

@fluffy-dixon

@stunkbiggu

@kurogxrix

[sharkie06]

༄ Happy Birthday Dixon

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: some violence & risk of death (walker attack), mentions of weapons,

Background Info: Y/N had been traveling with Daryl and the group since Atlanta, and before that she lived in the same trailer park as Daryl and his brother. This work is taking place during the prison era, shortly after they took in people from Woodbury and before the outbreak happened.

A/N: aaaaaaaa Happy Birthday Norman Reedus!!! Wasn’t quite sure what to do to start up my works on this account but wanted to do something for his birthday so figured I’d do a little oneshot! I enjoyed writing this and hope people enjoy reading it :)

The day starts out like normal; rousing yourself from the cot in your cell. You get up and tug your faded green denim shorts on, pulling on a beige long-sleeved shirt with a v-shaped neckline over your white tank top. You run your fingers through your hair to try and detangle it a bit before you head out to see the others, then turn and pick up your knife and gun, sliding them both into their holsters on either of your hips before slipping on your boots and heading out.

To nobody’s surprise, Rick is already up and looks to be getting ready for a perimeter check with Glenn, the two of them waving slightly in greeting as you pass them on your way to the exit door. You find Beth on the stairs with baby Judith, going and stopping beside her. “How’s she doin’?” Your voice is soft and curious as you ask Beth, reaching over to gently play with one of the baby’s hands. “She’s alright, but Rick says she was fussin’ all night. She needs more formula too, we’re running out pretty quick.” Beth responds, bouncing the baby slightly in her arms, to which Judith lets out a small giggle. Both of you pause, as does Rick before he comes over in quick strides, a hesitant smile on his face. You reach over and gently tickle the baby until her giggles ring throughout the cell block, Maggie and Carl each coming to the doorways of their cells to look over.

You hear soft footsteps behind you and turn to look up the stairs, seeing Daryl there watching as well, having come out of the guard tower where he spends most nights. Carefully standing back up, you make your way up to him and the two of you discuss the run you planned on going on today. “Judith needs more formula, and I wanna try ‘nd see if I can find some new clothes for everyone. We got what’s on our backs and maybe a few other shirts or pants but most of it’s gettin’ pretty ripped up and stained.” You speak softly, keeping the conversation between you and Daryl as you both watch the others start their day as well. You hear him grunt softly from beside you, nodding in agreement with your words.

Hours later, when the sun is high in the sky, you and Daryl head out on his bike to find supplies. The two of you make your way to an old strip mall he had found a few days prior and he parks his bike, covering it with some shrubbery and hiding it once you both hop off of it. You wait patiently for him before the pair of you head into the first building, a pharmacy that you clear out pretty quickly and find some unused antibiotics and bandages behind the counter. The next building is empty and seems to have been an old small grocery store, so it doesn’t take too long before Daryl finds some containers of formula for Judith, shoving them into his pack carefully before you make your way to the following store.

The next one seems to have been an old ammunitions store, which of course has mostly been picked over. Daryl does manage to find some more arrows for his crossbow, and you find some comic books behind the counter, stuffing them into your pack for Carl. As you walk out of the store and up to the next one, you look to Daryl, “We can probably split up for these last two; haven’t run into anything yet and we’ll be within shoutin’ distance.” He looks uneasy but he hesitantly nods, heading over to the next, and the last, store in the row. Meanwhile you head into the one you had stopped in front of; an old clothing store.

You carefully make your way through the aisles, doing a quick sweep of the place before grabbing a plastic basket and heading over to the mens’ clothing section. It had been a while since you’d gone clothing shopping, even before the apocalypse sent the world into chaos. But you still remember what size clothes Daryl wears, so you make a beeline straight for it. He’d never been big on fashion, but you’d been counting the days and marking them in your handheld journal, and you were sure today was his birthday. Daryl had always been a difficult man to shop for, but you had found what was practically a jackpot the other day at a convenience store; a near-fully stocked shelf of his favorite cigarettes, and a lighter that miraculously still worked.

So, you figured you could also find him some fresh clothes, since nowadays he was getting pretty grimy, but trying to convince him to shower at the prison in the community showers was like pulling teeth, though he always ended up taking one with enough pestering from her. He always mentioned that he didn’t like the idea of being so vulnerable with his back turned to any possible danger. You’d mentioned time and time again that nobody there would pose a threat to him, but he was just as stubborn and determined as he had been when they were kids. Returning your attention to the clothing, you find a solid black tshirt and a dark grey, slightly textured long-sleeve shirt, both in his size and in good condition, so they both go in your basket.

Moving over to the pants, you’re able to find a pair of jeans for him that are in pretty good condition, which also go into your basket. You go around the store, picking up items of clothing here and there, first for Daryl but then also for yourself, even finding a new top for Beth and a sweater for Maggie. You make your way over to the coats and jackets section and set down your basket to go through the racks, when suddenly a walker comes out between the clothes, knocking over the rack on top of you and trying desperately to get at you. You can feel its fingers digging at your legs and your side, trying to break skin as you push at the metal rack, using it to try and push the walker back, unable to reach for your knife or your gun.

The blood is rushing in your ears, muffling all the sounds around you as the adrenaline pumps through your veins. Suddenly, you remember Daryl, starting to yell for him, kicking and screaming as the walker on top of the bar is suddenly joined by a second, it taking all of your strength to keep them pushed up and away from you. Then you hear running footsteps and seconds later one of the walkers is shot through the top of it’s skull with an arrow, the other being yanked off of you by Daryl as you quickly squirm out from beneath the bar, grabbing your basket of clothes and a coat you had been eyeing as he swiftly and easily takes down the walker.

More walkers burst through a closet doorway in the back of the store and you and Daryl waste no time leaving the store, clothes and both your packs in your possession as Daryl retrieves his bike and the two of you head back to the prison.

Later that night, you’re both back at the prison and Daryl has retired to the guard tower for the night. It takes longer than you’d like to admit to find something to wrap up the things you’d gotten him, but you eventually find some newspapers and old rope and wrap up the cigarettes and the new clothes. You make your way through the cell block, dropping off Judith’s formula in Rick’s cell and bringing a fresh bottle to Beth to feed her, then you head up the stairs to the guard tower.

When you get to the door, you see Daryl sitting on his cot. He’s cleaning his crossbow, looking freshly showered with his hair still slightly dripping water. You observe him for a moment, lit up slightly by the few candles on the windowsills in every wall of the tower. It’s moments like this where you’re reminded of your life before the world went to shit; when you and Daryl could go out in your dad’s truck and just escape for a few hours, be together away from your fathers and Daryl’s brother.

You knock lightly on the doorway, Daryl’s eyes flitting to you and wordlessly inviting you in with a soft grunt and a tilt of his head. You walk over and sit beside him on the cot, his attention caught momentarily by the newspaper-wrapped package now resting in your lap. “Wha’s tha’?” He questions quietly, still cleaning his crossbow. “It’s your birthday present, Dixon.” You speak softly, his eyebrows drawing together slightly in confusion and surprise as he sets down his weapon, accepting the package when you hand it over.

“Didn’t know ya were keepin’ track.” Daryl speaks softly as he unwraps the newspaper, chuckling softly at the packs of cigarettes before unfolding the clothing to look at it. “What’s wrong with ma’ clothes?” He questions, giving you a slightly offended glance. You smile a bit, patting his shoulder gently as you pull the lighter out of your pocket and hand it over to him as you speak, “Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong with your clothes, just figured it’s easier for the days I do the wash, for you to have something else to wear. Y’know, since we’re finally starting to… settle in here.”

Daryl turns to look at her, visibly fighting back his own smile as he stands up, tugging off his tshirt to try on the new long-sleeved shirt she had gotten him. He speaks softly again as she stands up to gently fix his hair, “Settlin’ in? I think I like the sound of that.”

[star-wrote]

Daryl and reader’s first summer together ? Mood board or headcanon or whatever you like babes 😏🫶 I picture they’ve been together for the fall and a very long harsh winter, and the summer comes around and readers energy just starts to burst in response to the warmth and sunlight, and how that might look for them as a couple 🌻💛😁

Summer Lovin’

ao3 link

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader | Pre-Prison Era/After Farm Fell

A/N: tysm for the request love !! i adored writing this <3 also i’ve found that i struggle with staying in tenses so this switches from past to present tense :/ whoops

Warnings: typical TWD violence, poor mental health, fluff, angst

Word Count: 750

not my character | images from pinterest

Winter in the apocalypse sucks.

The group had been on the road for months now, grieving the loss of the Greene Farm; the loss of safety. Which also means the group was going through the harsh winter without a whole lot of warmth. Abandoned shacks and small campfires can only do so much.

You had been cold for too long, and you were sure that Daryl had grown annoyed with you complaining about your frozen toes when you huddled up against him at night.

Worst of all was your mental health. Obviously there’s always an air of depression, (it is the end of the world) but your thoughts were getting dangerously close to “hey let’s jump off that bridge!”

You didn’t want to burden Daryl, but after his gentle prying, you reluctantly agreed to tell him your thoughts. He did his best to reassure you, and he held you a little tighter that night.

Finally, the group had found the prison, a place that could be a forever home after the walkers get cleared. The weather had warmed up too over the last few weeks, and it was finally starting to feel like summer.

It was a pretty calm day, most of the group decided to relax for a day outside before trying to get into the prison. You recall passing a pond not too far from the prison walls. Deciding it was warm enough for a swim, you grabbed a blanket and your knife.

“Where are ya goin’ with that?” Daryl stepped in front of you, nodding at the stuff in your hands.

“Swimming. Wanna come with? I need a bodyguard.” You suggest while smiling up at him.

He grunts out what you have come to know as “yes,” and grabs his crossbow. “Ya sure it’s warm enough?”

You shrug. “Don’t care, I’ve waited long enough.”

He must’ve read your mind because he leads you out past the walls and to the pond that you saw while traveling with the group. You both quickly survey the area for walkers, feeling relieved after there seem to be none.

You strip down to your underwear and toss a smirk over your shoulder to a blushing Daryl, then giggle and wade your way into the pond.

Taking a moment to pause, you admire the sun reflecting off the water. You felt so happy in the warmth of the sun that you could cry.

Daryl watches from a distance, smiling at the peace and happiness that seems to be radiating off of you. He knew you had a tough time on the road during the winter. He was worried about you, but now he’s just glad that you’re smiling.

You swim and float around the pond for about thirty minutes, and then decide that you want to lay on the grass to dry off in the sun. You sigh as the warm grass envelops you.

“Come join me?” You smiled up at Daryl who was sat on a rock.

“Thought I was yer bodyguard.” He said while walking over to you anyway. He found out a long time ago that he couldn’t handle denying you anything.

You giggle as he groans as he lays down next to you. You start to cuddle into him but he gently shoves you away.

“Yer soakin’ like a wet dog righ’ now, dry off first.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, but comply. While putting on your t-shirt, you spot a patch of wildflowers and gasp. You run over to them.

This makes Daryl sit up immediately and grab his knife, anxiety filling his veins. He then sees that you found flowers and relaxes.

Walking over to you, he scoffs. “Scared me half to death, girl.”

While you were smelling the flowers, Daryl crouched down and picked one. He gently moved your hair out of your face and tucked the flower behind your ear. You blush and kiss his cheek.

“I’m glad yer feelin’ better. Was worried ‘bout ya.” He looked away for a moment, then back into your eyes. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

You felt your heart flutter. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

You hugged him tight and stayed like that for a while. You started to hum a song and swayed in his arms.

Daryl scoffs and loosens up so you can sway his body for him. “Whatcha doin’ girl?”

“Dancing with you, duh.”

He smiles and tucks his head into your hair. “Please never stop bein’ you, sunshine.”

[livviewritess]

⭐Stars n' Scars⭐

Summary: Daryl finds his love interest (y/n) in the woods, crying about her scars. Daryl has to do something about it.

Era: Prison

The twigs in the woody forest crunched underneath Daryl's big boots. He'd been walking for about 20 minutes now, since Rick had sent him to go and hunt for some food out in the nearby Forrest.

Some other branches snapped. Uncorrelated to his own feet thumping the ground. He came to a pause, loading his crossbow. He eased towards the sound, noticing you sitting at a tree next to the little river they had discovered. He was silent, observing you from a distance. You where cleaning your arms, getting rid of the blood and muck from the past few days of digging holes for the undead. But.. you where crying. Daryl stared, then narrowing his eyes down to your arms and your legs. You had rolled up your jeans to rid the grime, something you never did. He was staring for some while until he leaned his weight onto one leg, causing a twig to snap underneath him.

You snapped your head up, looking at him wide eyed. he emerged from the treeline, stepping forward, his eyes fixated on your scars. You could feel your eyes burning, tears swelling up. You yanked your trouser legs down, and stared at the floor, almost ashamed.

"hey." He said, sitting in front of her on a log that had been previously been chopped by Carl and Hershel for firewood. She looks up, still not making eye contact with the redneck.

"look at me." You moved your eyes up, meeting his. He stared even longer, getting lost in your gaze. You looked a lot like beth. Same long, blonde hair, bright blue doey eyes and an unmistakable smile. You loved bows, pink ribbons, skirts and pretty, frilly tshirts. You where the polar opposite of Beth and Maggie. Quiet, reserved, awfully awkward, and jumpy.

His hand grazed over your arm, sending sparks and butterflies through your body. You flinched away, not wanting your scars to scare him away.

"m' not gonna hurt ya, sunshine," he said softly, holding your hand. He grabbed a marker from his back pocket, one he kept to mark where to go next on the map.

He rolled up her sleeve, and started doodling stars over the scars on her forearm. She was staring at the river, and her eyes drifted to her arms.

"Daryl?.." you whispered, staring. He grunted, continuing with the doodles.

He soon finished, running his finger over the marker, noting that it's dry, then he rolls down her sleeve.

"shoulda told me you had em. Got a bunch of scars on ma chest." He says, looking down at you. "Can I draw stars on them?" He pauses.

"don't see why not." He says, peeling off his shirt and vest, giving her the pen.

"New hobby?" She asked.

"new hobby, sunshine."

[turbulentscrawl]

I LOOVE your Luca he's soooo <3 may I please request some headcanons for him with an s/o from the future? (As in our time) like they time traveled back to the manor and are now stuck there. Sfw and if you can think of anything nsfw then go for it!

Thank you! And I love writing for Luca, he's definitely a favorite of mine <3

I may have missed the mark a tad here? I think Luca would largely treat an future-s/o the same as one who's not...but technology definately plays a factor in some aspects of the relationship.

Also the whole time I wrote this i kept thinking about what skills someone from the future would have. It would be hilarious to blare music to speed up ciphers, or maybe chug a preworkout and get a kiting boost hahah

-So first of all, everyone is completely mindblown by this development. It’s not like anyone really knew anything concrete about the manor’s time-space situation, but this just proves even the most popular theories hold no weight. Are you from a different era, or a different timeline all together? Why are you the only one—or are you just the first?? Has more time passed than they suspected, is anyone here even from the same universe???

-Basically, there’s a lot of chaos, spoken and unspoken. Everyone is varying degrees of scared, distrustful, and excited. It’s mostly the last one, in Luca’s case, which is why he’s one of the first people you get to know. Instead of avoiding you, he’s constantly around you. Question after question after question—it probably gets tiring after a while.

-But he’s just so earnest! His excitement is contagious, and despite running his mouth a lot he’s incredibly respectful and well-mannered. When he gets a moment with you alone, he concedes that this must all be more overwhelming for you than it was for everyone else, considering that you’ve lost about 100 years of development along with the regular shockers. So he asks you to come to him if anyone treats you too harshly. He promises to be a respite from that, if nothing else.

-And he is! Luca doesn’t often let people in his work spaces for several reasons…but he makes an exception for you. Just don’t touch anything, okay? You’re safe in his messy spaces. It’s during a visit there that he tells you about what happened to him, all the things he’s been told but doesn’t remember. He’s open about having been in prison, of course, but he doesn’t give the details to just anyone. This is his good-faith peace offering, strange as it might seem. And you can share your life with him when you’re ready.

-If any of your technology happened to come through with you, he’s going to want to look at them. I don’t…entirely suggest letting him? It’s up to you, but just know your phone may not survive the thorough disassembly-inspection he wants to give it. On the other hand! I think Luca could charge your phone just by holding it so no worries if you didn’t have a charger in your bag.

-Years down the line, you two will still have things to teach one another. Culture and technology both are very different in each of your homes, and the little details show themselves at the strangest times. Luca, in all his genius, does his best to replicate the things you miss most about home. It’s only fair that the manor be populated with creature comforts for everyone. It’s not that he’s trying to impress you or anything.

-At some point he starts to ask about dating modern culture. It has its perks, obviously, like being able to stay in immediate touch long-distance, but honestly he’s a bit disappointed to hear about the rush and informality of it. Luca returns the favor, explaining how courtship tended to work from his time…so you know what he’s doing when he starts courting you. He can speed things along if you really want him to, but Luca would enjoy a month or so of gentle flirting and pining. Anticipation is part of the enjoyment!

-After being together for so long, he starts to pick up some of your mannerisms and modern dialect. It’s funny for him to suddenly be throwing out pop culture references when he doesn’t fully understand them. It’s like teaching your grandparents slang; he doesn’t get it but he’s happy to be involved. I’m 100% sure there’s no wifi at the manor but if you have any funny videos saved to you phone they become Luca’s favorite thing. You are now designated manor documentarian! Make sure to catch all of everyone’s embarrassing and funny moments.

-On that note, it’s also incredibly helpful for Luca if you film the two of you a lot. Literally anything, him mumbling to himself while he works, silly jokes, him playing the piano. It’s so much easier to show him things when his memory fails, than to try and explain your relationship from the ground-up.

[the-dixon-effect]

Sticks and Stones

A/N: dear fic writers, consider this a public service announcement. DO NOT schedule a week of fic writing that coincides with a camping trip, it is hell!!!!

era: season 3-4, prison era

summary: Y/N suffers from chronic pain in her feet, but hates to feel vulnerable around others so constantly overworks herself. perhaps a certain archer could be the right kind of medicine... | requested from this ask by @justalexheree :) guys i really did my research for this one so i hope you enjoy ^.^

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

words: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of chronic foot pain ig?? lil' time jump

It must be late by now, you thought. You were hesitant to look up to check the position of the sun for fear of getting distracted. You were crouched down, working out in the allotment around the front of the prison. The farm was a brilliant idea, you decided, despite the high amount of labour that was necessary to feed the residents of the prison-turned-camp. God knows you needed the food. Perhaps if the members of your community were aware of your condition, you wouldn't be forced to work out here all day, practically sweating your skin off in the Georgia sun. It didn't matter anyway, 'cause you couldn't let that happen.

So here you were, digging up soil and planting seeds 'til the sun disappeared behind the trees. It was somewhat enjoyable, you convinced yourself, of course you had your thoughts and daydreams to entertain yourself, and back in your old life you would have never found yourself spending so much time outdoors. Even so, a mundane office job might have arguably been a little better for your body. You constantly found yourself having to distract yourself from the persistent ache in your feet, maybe some company would do you good, you thought.

"Hey, we're all eatin' inside, ya can prolly finish up now," you heard the familiar voice of the crossbow-wielding man from several metres away. You knew you needed to stop, but there was still work to be done. If only there was enough food in the first place, then maybe you would let yourself resign to the dining area. Save it for those who needed it, you thought.

"Alright, I'll be inside in a second," That was a lie. It's not like the rest of the group would notice your absence, you figured. You better just stay out here a little longer, making sure the crops were tended to until it was dark. Then maybe you'd get some rest. For now, you didn't need to eat. Truthfully, your feet were killing you and it felt like you could keel over at any second. Get over yourself, you said, over and over in your mind, these people need feeding.

You remembered the look the archer gave you when he called you inside, observing how you were the only person left out in the field. You turned to check if he had left and, to your surprise, he was still stood watching, hands buried in his pockets as he looked straight ahead and met your eyes.

"C'mon," he shouted across the distance between the two of you. You couldn't really say no to him, except he left you wondering why he was so eager for you to join him. You put down your equipment and split from whatever idle job you had yourself occupied with. Something you did appreciate about the humble farmer's life was the reasonable tan you had acquired, which was on display in your little denim shorts as you jogged up to meet him. A part of you wished Daryl would notice.

"Ya' alrigh'? Yer limpin'," he asked, meanwhile you were contemplating on the fact that this might be the most words you'd ever heard the archer speak, to your face anyway. Your lack of association with the man didn't stop you from admiring from afar, though.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Been a long day."

"I bet," he replied, walking side-by-side with you up to the building entrance. You thought it was sweet how he paid attention to you and noticed something like that. Maybe one day you'd open up about your condition, when it felt right.

3 MONTHS LATER

You looked around the room, searching for Daryl's eyes. Today, more than ever, you needed to be with him. After months of breaking down his thick walls, it was safe to say that he'd become one of the most important people in your life. Your feet were hurting like hell today, and the only thing that would make you feel better right now was his presence.

He'd been out on a solo run, which you'd begged Rick to let you join him, ultimately to your disappointment. So you spent your day as you always did, out in the pasture, tending to the crops. After a while you headed back inside in hopes of finding Daryl, perched at one of the rusty tables, waiting for you. To your dismay, you couldn't find him anywhere.

You approached Rick with a worried look shaping your features, "Where's Daryl? Is he back yet?" you asked, your voice laced with concern. "Nah, he's not back yet," sensing your anxiety, he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and spoke, "Y/N, he's gonna be fine. Anyway, he's scheduled to be back in... about an hour."

So you waited. And waited. It felt like the longest 60 minutes of your life, busying yourself in your cell by reading a book that Carol recommended, not absorbing a single word. By the time you decided that there was nothing else you could do to distract yourself, you headed downstairs and made idle chatter with one of the prison newcomers, Karen.

"I hear your boyfriend Daryl's coming back from a run today," she said.

"Oh, no, he's not my boyfriend," you said with a slight giggle.

"Oh, right! Gosh, it's just that you two are so close, I just figured- you know what, nevermind, ignore me," she said with a chuckle.

You smiled and looked at the floor, and tried to silence your anxious thoughts about whether something might have happened to him, if he's hurt, or anything. At this, the double-doors swung open and in walked the man you'd been waiting for for the last 48 hours. You approached him, suppressing the relief and excitement you felt just from seeing him walk through those doors. His eyes lit up at your welcoming smile, and maybe, just maybe, he would be inclined to embrace you right here if the prison foyer wasn't so crowded.

For now, he had other things on his mind that he needed to clear with you. Just like you, he spent the last 48 hours worrying more about your safety than he did his own. He regretted not being able to stay with you, or at least bring you along with him. He was the only person who knew about your condition and how badly you were affected by it, which meant he felt an immense responsibility to take care of you and offer you acts of service. Not to mention, you were also the only person who Daryl felt totally comfortable around, comfortable enough to share some of his childhood trauma and emotion with. You liked to think the two of you had a special bond, but despite your healthy friendship, you couldn't help wanting more. Either way, all he wanted right now was to be with you and to not have to deal with anyone else in this damn place.

Maggie shot you a mischievous look from across the room as you tugged on the archer's sleeve. You rolled you eyes at her following Daryl up the steel staircase and entered his cell. You sat down next to him on the mattress and he copied you by rolling his head back against the cool brick wall. You sighed in contentment, still in somewhat pain in your feet.

"So, how'd it go?" you asked, turning to face him.

"Was fine. Are ya' alrigh'?" you noticed how he changed the subject, sensing his concern.

"Yeah, I'm okay. It's just a little relentless, you know," you felt a little guilt for immediately beginning to talk about yourself, even when you knew you needed his comfort. His closeness was good enough for you.

"Mm, I know. Ya' gotta stop overworkin' yerself, ya know," he drawled. His pretty eyes were staring deeply at you now.

"Uh-huh. It's just, it's kind of relentless, you know. Like nothing I do makes it better. There's no distraction that works," it felt undeniably good to talk to someone about it, someone who understands. Someone who doesn't subject you to the same stereotypes or think that you're making it up. He wrapped an arm around you and you instinctively rested your head in the crook of his neck. He smelled delicious, like the outdoors, mixed with the distinct notes of Marlboro cigarettes and stormy weather. This was a pretty good distraction, you thought.

"Hey, I'll always make a run into some pharmacy to get ya yer meds, or anythin' like tha'," he spoke softly with his lips resting on the top of your head, occasionally brushing against your silky hair. "Jus' tell me what ya' need." It was this. You needed this.

“I just need you.”

[dixons-sunshine]

Holding On To You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite not being too keen on PDA, Daryl craved comfort too. He got that comfort by holding your hand in his. It wasn't always that simple, though. He had to work his way up to being comfortable with that. Luckily, you were a patient person.

Or, three different scenarios in where the archer shows progress in his comfort with you.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre-prison (on the road); pre-Alexandria; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, migraines, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: @louifaith, the muse you are, feeding our Daryl obsessed minds with your beautifully crafted scenarios. I wasn't feeling well today (a migraine and I was pretty dizzy) and didn't get much writing done, but this idea deserved to be written. There's a bit of Eugene slander in this but it's because I don't really like S5 Eugene. He's way better in the other seasons imo. Anyways, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The cruelty of life seemed endless. With the stability and safety of the farm being something of the past, having to scavenge for scraps and having to move from house to house every few days, and with the impending arrival of Lori's little baby, everyone's spirits were diminished. Everyone longed for the comfort the farm brought for those few weeks you had all been looking for Sophia, everyone wanted a decent meal to satiate their hunger and although Lori's unborn baby was a reminder that innocence still existed, it was also a cruel reminder that you all needed to find someplace to plant some roots, and fast—especially if you didn't want to attract the dead with the baby's loud crying.

You sighed softly as you quietly followed behind Daryl, yours and his boots making clear tracks in the deep snow. The archer, as observant as ever, noticed your shift in mood and turned his head, eyeing you carefully.

“Ya alrigh'?” he questioned, turning his attention back to the tracks in front of him. Your relationship was pretty new, only having been "officially" together since the two of you had shared a kiss back after the fall of the farm.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. “I'm fine.”

Daryl hummed, unconvinced. “Yer not fine. I know ya better than tha'.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile, walking a little faster to walk next to him. Daryl slowed his pace slightly to allow you to walk next to him at a steady pace, eyeing you as you adjusted your compound bow over your shoulder—a gift he had gotten you when you had mentioned wanting to learn how to hunt.

“I'm fine, I promise. I'm just tired, that's all,” you replied reassuringly, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with your partner.

Daryl shot you a worried look, fully prepared to head back. “If yer tired, we can go back. This trail ain't leadin' us anywhere, anyway.”

“I don't mean tired in the literal sense,” you corrected. “I'm just tired of all this moving around. Not knowing what our next meals going to be, if we even eat at all, not knowing when our current camp's going to be overrun with walkers, not knowing when Lori's baby's going to be here... It's mentally exhausting. We all need a break.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We could do with a couple' of days where we ain't gotta worry.”

Before you could respond, there was a snap of a twig ahead of the two of you. Instinctively, you and Daryl raised your respective weapons in the direction of the noise, expecting to find a walker staggering towards you. However, instead of coming face to face with danger, you saw a small deer walking over to something in the distance.

Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming to take the shot. However, your hand on his arm halted his intentions. He shot you a questioning look, but you only hushed him and beckoned for him to follow you. The two of you slowly crept closer, the scene before you becoming clearer. The small deer made its way to what was presumably its mother, nuzzling against her legs.

You smiled softly at the sight. Despite the fall of the world, beauty still remained. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was thinking the exact same thing at that moment, but he wasn't looking at the deer. He was gazing at you, taking in your radiant smile, the sparkle in your eyes, just everything about you. You truly were beautiful to the archer.

Hesitantly, Daryl brushed his hand against yours. Your smile widened but you made no move to grab his hand, not wanting to scare him off. You moved at his pace, and whether he held your hand at that moment was his decision.

In the end, the only thing he did was link his pinky with yours, and it was a perfect moment for you. In your mind, that was really good progress for a man who wasn't familiar with giving or receiving comfort. You'd wait as long as you needed to for Daryl to be comfortable around you. You'd never push him, never.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The road seemed endless. You listened to the incessant yapping from one of your newest companions in your group of ragtag survivors, Eugene Porter, and had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up. Despite the euphoria and relief that came with reuniting with your group and having new members that could help you all, you were tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. It was so much worse this time around than when you were initially on the road two years back. You were sporting a bruised cheek with deep cuts and scrapes littering the rest of your body, and you had a raging migraine.

And Eugene's droning wasn't helping matters at all.

As if sensing your deteriorating resolve at not biting the poor man's head of, Rick finally called for a break. “We rest here for now. We'll get moving again in an hour. Everything you want to do, do it now. Once we move again, we're not stopping until nightfall.”

Everyone soon dispersed, some heading to a nearby creek to refill the water supply, some starting a small fire to heat up some food and some even laying down on the hard ground to get some much needed sleep. You walked over to a tree and slid down against it, resting your head on your knees, willing the migraine away.

You soon heard a rustling next to you, before feeling a body sitting down next to you. You didn't even have to look up to know it was Daryl—the archer's presence was something you had grown used to and you could identify him anywhere.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, loosely hugging his knees. “Ya alrigh'?”

You hummed, lifting your head to look at him. “I'm fine,” you replied. “I just have a migraine.”

Daryl nodded, his face showing sympathy for you. “M'sorry we dun' have anythin' fer yer migraine. I know how bad they can get.”

You smiled and shook your head, placing your hand on the ground beside you, right between you and Daryl. “It's okay. It'll go away eventually. It's not that bad, as long as Eugene's quiet.”

Daryl chuckled, eyeing the aforementioned man who was sitting near the campfire. “Yeah, he's quite annoying, ain't he?”

“No, he's alright. He just needs to learn to be quiet from time to time.”

Daryl hummed and quieted down, simply basking in the early afternoon heat under the shade of the tree while the two of you observed the survivors going about their chores. However, Rick soon called for everyone to regroup, and you and Daryl got up to follow behind him.

You and Daryl walked at the back, giving you some semblance of privacy, and some semblance of relief from Eugene's rambling as he was at the front with Abraham and Rosita. Slowly and hesitantly, Daryl moved closer to you and brushed his hand against yours, before slowly interlacing his fingers through yours.

You smiled up at him, and he returned the smile with a small one of his own. It may not have been the first time that you've held hands with the archer, but it was the first time that you've done so with people around. Although Daryl slightly manoeuvred the two of you in a way that your locked hands wouldn't draw attention if people weren't directly looking at you, it was still a big deal for you. He was starting to show you off publicly. Although people back at the prison knew you as "the hunter's girl" because of an incident where a guy flirted with you and Daryl put him in his place, PDA wasn't something they ever saw from the man. He preferred to keep that part of your lives private—so this simple gesture was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand, a gesture you and Daryl had come up with to quietly tell the other "I love you". Daryl smiled softly and squeezed your hand back.

You truly loved this man, and he had shown countless times that he loved you, too.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You guys should come over again. This was nice,” Eric told you with a smile, him and Aaron walking out onto the porch with you and Daryl.

You smiled at him and nodded. “We will, especially if you're going to be serving that spaghetti you made again. It was delicious. Seriously, thank you. It's the best meal we've had in a while.”

“No thanks necessary,” Aaron replied, waving you off. “It was our pleasure.”

Daryl nodded, moving to shake Aaron's extended hand. “Thanks. This was a hell of a lot better than tha' party at Deanna's woulda been.”

Aaron nodded and withdrew his hand again, allowing Eric to take his place before moving over to give you a hug. You returned it before giving Eric a hug too, and then pulled back.

“We should get going. Once again, thanks for tonight.”

“Once again, it's our pleasure,” Eric laughed. “Goodnight, guys. We'll see you around.”

“Goodnight,” you greeted them.

“Nigh',” Daryl responded, turning to you and subconsciously extending his hand to you.

You smiled at him but didn't say anything, not wanting him to change his mind about it. You slipped your hand into his and walked with him down the porch steps and into the relatively quiet streets of Alexandria, music from Deanna's party playing very faintly in the background.

You and Daryl didn't instantly go home. You simply walked through the streets, familiarising yourselves with the community. Daryl never let go of your hand; he had even brought your hand up to his lips once to kiss your knuckles, and your heart swelled with love for the man.

The two of you had run into a couple of the people in the community who were returning to their homes after the party, and you had suspected that Daryl would pull his hand from yours, but he never did. His grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly during your interactions with those people, seeking your comfort around people he didn't know. It made you feel special, important. It made you happy to know that the man you met back at the quarry trusted you enough to bring him comfort.

Later that night, when the two of you returned to the empty house and retreated into the sanctuary of your shared basement, snuggled up together under the covers was when you finally addressed what he had done. Daryl was laying with his head on your chest, absentmindedly tracing shapes and figures onto your hand.

“You held my hand today,” you told him, softly threading your fingers through his freshly washed, brown locks, the shower having been courtesy of your skillful convincing.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed absentmindedly, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest.

“In front of people,” you said, eyeing his reaction carefully.

Daryl simply glanced up at you, his face not revealing anything. “Ya want me to stop doin' tha'?”

You shook your head. “No, I like it. It's just a little out of the ordinary for you, and it took me by surprise.”

Daryl was quiet for a few moments. “I always wanna hold yer hand when we're walkin' together. I jus' never had the courage to. Dun' want people to overreact when they see it. But, I dunno... I love ya and I'll be damned if I dun' hold my girl's hand 'cause of wha' people think.”

You giggled and kissed the top of Daryl's head. “So I can expect an increase in handholding?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I love you, Dar.”

Daryl placed a kiss to your chest, before laying his head back down. “Love ya more, sunshine.”

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 59 ~ The Priest

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 5.9k

In this chapter ~ When the group continues to move with no real destination in mind, they're suddenly thrown off course as shouts for help could be heard in the distance. It turns out it was some kind of pastor, offering his church as sanctuary for those who saved him from the clutches of evil. Though it was no secret that a few members didn't trust his intentions.

AN ~ It's officially been a year since I started writing this story and uploading it to wattpad. And though I started posting chapters here a few months later, I still just wanted to say thank you for all the love and support! It truly means the world to me, and I can't wait for you guys to read what else I have planned for the many chapters to come:))

We all woke up fairly early the next morning, merely minutes after the sun began to rise to keep on moving. Rick made it very clear that he wanted us as far away from Terminus as possible, though he didn't really have a clear destination in mind. It gave me that same familiar feeling of when we lost the farm, not knowing where to turn to next or where to go when there weren't many options to begin with.

Subconsciously I think we all wanted to find a safe place we could build up again like the prison, although that was a long shot. But the truth was, I didn't really care if we had a plan or not. I hadn't felt this positive in a very long time, and to me it didn't matter where we were going, as long as we all stayed together.

We all formed some kind of line as we walked towards who knows where, leaving me next to Carl as we talked casually while he held Judith in his arms. Our conversation was hushed, unheard from the people walking a little ways ahead of us as we smiled and laughed quietly together for the first time in a while. I ravished in the feeling, loving to see the kid actually relax as he felt safe and hopeful after everything we went through.

Though a gentle touch on my shoulder seemed to stop me in my tracks, turning to see Daryl looking down at me with a small smile, "Was bout to go hunt. Ya wanna come with me?" he asked.

I nodded as I glanced back to Carl, "Let your dad know. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"I will." he said. 

With that, I followed Daryl deeper into the woods so we could try and find more food to bring back. I stayed pretty quiet as I looked for any tracks in the dirt, but of course it was pretty slim to none, our luck not being on our sides with finding something to eat. Let alone enough to feed the whole group. All I could manage to see were old walker footprints, settling with looking up in the trees instead to try and maybe spot a few squirrels. 

My eyes scanned around the branches as I tried to pinpoint some nests built up high in the trees, but it was hard to focus on that when all I could feel was Daryl's eyes burning into me. I tried to ignore it for the few silent minutes we spent out there, but my annoyance only grew as I was the only one attempting to find food when it was his idea in the first place.

A sigh left my lips as I finally turned around to face him, watching as he immediately looked down towards the ground acting as if he hadn't been caught.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked.

His lowered eyes slowly traveled up to reach my own, "Like what?" he asked, as if he didn't already know what I was referring to.

I huffed as my arms crossed over my chest, "Like...I'm going to break or something." I clarified.

He shrugged, "Just worried about ya."

"I'm fine." I assured in a much calmer tone, not wanting to start something, but also not wanting to be seen as someone weak. 

His eyes held nothing but sadness and concern when he looked towards me, silently telling me he didn't believe a word coming out of my mouth. To be completely honest, I don't even know why I lie to him anymore, because one way or another he's going to know.

"Okay," I confessed, "I'm not fine...but I will be." His face didn't falter, as if waiting for me to continue, "I just need some time." I finished.

This caused him to nod with a small, reluctant smile on his face, now moving to walk right beside me, searching the trees as well. I didn't want to wander too far from the others, but so far, we weren't having much luck finding any animals to bring back. Everything seemed empty, like even the wildlife knew to stay far away from the place we too were trying desperately to get away from.

The silence that fell between us was nice, comfortable, though I missed hearing his voice. But as if he read my mind, he opened his mouth to fill the quiet.

"Talk to me about somethin." he said.

I felt my face scrunch, "What do you mean?"

"Anythin," he said simply, "Just wanna hear yer voice. Tell me somethin I might not know bout cha."

I faltered for a moment as we seemed to have the same damn mind, but laughed quietly to myself at his request, "Well you're my husband, you know pretty much everything...but let me think."

I began to rack my brain for something that he had yet to find out about me but nothing instantly came to mind. On the farm, we spent most of the time talking nonstop, getting to know every single detail about the other before we even got together. So, there was truly not much that he didn't already know. In fact, he probably knew me better than anyone else.

 "Why don't you go first?" I suggested when I couldn't think of anything good, "Gives me more time to come up with something."

"Alright." he huffed, growing silent as he picked through his mind as well. I then looked back towards him a moment later when he let out a quiet gasp, watching as the corners of his mouth tilted up as he nodded, "I got one."

"Go ahead." I said softly.

He grinned at me, "So, before all this...whenever I went huntin, I would always bring back at least one rock I found in the woods. I ended up havin a lil collection by the end."

My heart swelled, "That's adorable. You're so cute."

"Pfft." he scoffed, "I ain't cute." he said defensively, although I could see a little blush appear on his cheeks at the compliment.

"Well, I think you're pretty cute...you're just going to have to deal with it." I said sweetly, reaching out to gently boop his nose.

He rolled his eyes, "Woman, I swear-"

But I stopped him before he could say anything else by kissing him softly. I pulled his frame closer to mine and parted my lips a little so he could easily slip in his tongue. He quietly groaned in response, causing me to smile against his mouth as my hands trailed down to give his big arms a gentle squeeze.

I pulled away after a few seconds to see his eyes open slowly, having a hazy look to them which made me smile brightly as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"Alright...I'll be cute for ya."

I smirked, "You're whipped." I teased.

"Aw, well can ya blame me?" he asked before leaning in to peck my lips once, twice, before finally breaking apart, "Yer turn." 

"Oh yeah," I said, "Well, the only thing I could think of that's kind of interesting is that I know another language."

His eyes widened a little, "Really?"

I nodded my head, "Mhm, I took French throughout high school, and I can still speak it somewhat. I'm a little rusty though."

"Say somethin." he said a bit excitedly.

I thought for a moment before smiling softly, "Je t'aime beaucoup chéri."

His eyes lit up at the phrase, but I thought it was even sweeter that he didn't even know what I said, he just loved the sound of it. "What'd ya say?" he asked.

"I said, I love you very much honey."

He then asked me to repeat it, surprising me a little when he tried to say it himself, nailing it almost right away. I didn't think I could fall anymore in love with his voice, but when he spoke French, I think I could've melted into a puddle if he didn't have his arm placed around my waist.

"You sound sexy." I complimented.

He raised his eyebrows, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I confirmed.

He smiled and kissed me once more before we were off again to try and actually find something to bring back. Once we ventured further out, by the grace of God we finally found a handful of squirrels, Daryl pulling out a thick string from his bag so we were able to carry them back. To my surprise, we actually got more than what I was expecting, but it still didn't seem like much considering the number of mouths we now had to feed.

After being away from the others for far too long, we decided to head back towards their path to catch up with them, seeing as though we had something that would last us a little while. Though I couldn't help but notice that Daryl was a little more on edge as we walked back, trying his best to hide his anxious feeling, but I caught on almost immediately. His eyes scanned around the area rapidly, almost as if he was keeping an eye out expectantly for something lurking by. But I didn't linger on it for very long when I noticed the group beginning to come into view.

They didn't see us however, and once they heard a stick snap from underneath my foot, they all raised their weapons in our direction. My eyebrows raised a little as Daryl and I coincidentally raised our hands at the same time in a joking matter.

"We surrender." Daryl muttered sarcastically.

I laughed and nudged his shoulder lightly, seeing the rest of them visibly relax as we kept moving forward. Though Rick seemed to make a beeline over to us instead of leading the group like he once was, not saying a word as he looked at Daryl expectantly.

"Nothin." was all he said, and I furrowed my brows in confusion.

"Nothing?" I asked, watching as the both of them tried desperately not to let me in on the private discussion, "Guys, come on. Secrets don't make friends." I reminded with raised brows as I stared at them expectantly.

Daryl let out a sigh before he finally caved, "Last night I had this feelin that someone coulda been watchin us. But when we went out, I didn't see no tracks. Just me bein paranoid."

I let out a breath, "Okay, good. But please just tell me the next time you think there's a psychopath following us." I joked.

"Yes ma'am." he nodded, and I rolled my eyes at the famous phrase he loved to use to get a reaction out of me. And clearly it worked just as well this time as it did the last, seeing him chuckle to himself.

"So, whatever you heard last night-" Rick stepped in.

"It's more what I felt. But if someone's followin us, there woulda been somethin." Daryl confirmed.

Rick nodded, relief filling him momentarily before he looked back towards me, "You doing okay?"

I knew he meant his question with the best intentions, but the annoyance I was feeling only started to bubble over. To everyone else, I had apparently grown fragile after what happened to me when I was out there on my own, but that was far from the truth. It was just a minor bump in the road, one that I had taken care of myself, it was as simple as that. But I could see almost everyone was walking on eggshells around me now that they had an idea of what went down without knowing the whole story, and it was starting to get to me.

"Jesus, I'm fine." I snapped slightly, turning on my heel to walk away without another word.

When my back was turned and I had created some distance, I heard them begin to talk quietly with each other as I only got further away, but I just kept going. Blowing off some steam as I finally caught up with the others, falling in line near the back as I took out my bow to hold in my grasp in case of any danger that passed by.

But as it turns out, I had unknowingly planted myself right next to the new girl, Tara, without even realizing it at first. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she scanned the side of my face, clearly trying to come up with something to say.

"We didn't uh...we didn't get to officially meet." she said after a few seconds, "I'm Tara." she introduced, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I glanced over at her before panning down towards her extended hand, reaching down to grasp it lightly, "Rose."

She smiled with a nod as our hands eventually parted, "Listen, uh...Glenn told me about how you almost...tore my head off last night."

I chuckled sarcastically to myself, "Oh, I'm sure he did." I muttered, not surprised in the slightest, "Him and his big mouth have been nothing but a pain in my ass since the beginning."

She laughed a little before her smile faded once more, "My point is...I'm not trying to cause any trouble. It's just-"

"I know," I interrupted as my face softened, "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Glenn gave me the gist and...I trust him. So, I guess that means I trust you too. You're good."

She let out a relieved sigh, "Good...cause I'm not gonna lie, you kinda scare me a little."

"Good." I said simply, sending her a wink to show that I was joking.

She smiled slightly and held out her hand again, this time in a fist. Her smile seemed to be contagious as my lip quirked up as well, knocking her knuckles lightly with my own before we continued walking in comfortable silence. 

That is until we all suddenly heard a man began to scream and cry for help, his voice echoing through the forest though he didn't seem too far away from the path we were taking. Everyone stopped in their tracks as our ears perked up, our weapons clutched tightly in our hands as we tried to listen and pinpoint where the sound was coming from. But the last thing I wanted or needed right now was to cross paths with someone that we didn't know, and didn't trust.

"Dad, come on!" Carl tried.

I shook my head as I made a beeline towards the front of the group, "Hell no, we keep moving. No more strangers."

"Rose please, he needs help." Carl begged, his eyes darting from Rick to me to see who would make the first move, the decision the others were anticipating for.

I could easily see how anxious the kid grew, wanting to help someone who was clearly about to lose his life, but I didn't know if we should risk it. It could be some kind of trap, the unknown scaring me much more than anything else seemed to as I had an inner debate with myself.

But I eventually closed my eyes as I made up my mind, groaning a little in irritation before running in the direction of all the noise, hearing everyone else following my lead to have my back. As we weaved through the many trees and different obstacles, it wasn't long before we came across the man who was making all the noise amongst the quiet.

He was stuck up on a giant rock as a few walkers surrounded him, some grabbing at his feet while the others reached from different angles. He was now crying as he desperately tried to fight back, wearing to what looked to be a priest collar and all black clothing.

A gunshot was fired from just behind me, watching as one of the walkers went down instantly as the bullet shot through its skull. I grabbed one of my knives and quickly stabbed the nearest corpse in the head, Rick coming up beside me and doing the same thing from my left as we got the ones that clung onto the man's limbs.

The rest dropped like flies as we took care of them with ease, our attention now on the man still somewhat frozen on top of the giant rock in shock. He continued to cry breathlessly as his hands clung to the top for dear life, he didn't look like a threat. But looks could be deceiving, and I was far from ready to trust him just yet.

"Come on down." Rick said to the man.

He scanned the ground below him uneasily to make sure it was safe, before slowly sliding down the side and landing firmly on his feet. He looked to be in pain as his wide eyes scanned all of us, Rick asking if he was alright as he tried to break him out of his little trance.

The man held up a finger to tell us to wait before leaning over and suddenly throwing up everything that remained in his stomach. I cringed at the sound and turned my head away slightly, trying not to laugh at everyone's faces as they watched the man in disgust.

"Sorry," he whispered as he wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve, standing back up to his full height to face us again, "Yes, thank you. I'm Gabriel."

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick asked cautiously.

Gabriel chuckled and looked around nervously, "Do I look like I would have any weapons?" he asked.

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like." Abraham said.

I blinked a few times as I glanced back to the man in confusion, trying not to laugh at the same time with the random, out of pocket comment he just made. I thought back to what Glenn said just last night about him, and low and behold, he was right.

"I have no weapons of any kind. The word of God is the only protection I need." Gabriel assured.

Daryl scoffed from beside me, "Sure didn't look like it."

Gabriel only smiled, "I called for help. Help came."

My eyes scanned the man for a moment as I thought about what he meant. I was the one who took off running first, but I sure as hell knew it wasn't God that compelled me to rush towards the complete stranger. It was just...well I actually didn't know what it was. Pity maybe? Or the desperate look in Carl's eyes? Hormones? Who fucking knows.

"Do you- do you have any food?" he suddenly asked, "Whatever I had left just hit the ground."

Carl almost instantly reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling something out to offer it to him with an extended hand, "We have some pecans." 

The man smiled, muttering a small "Thank you." as he took a few from his hand and placed them in his mouth. He began to glance around at all of us again in clear nervousness, his eyes lingering on Judith as she began to coo in Tyreese's arms.

"That's a beautiful child." he complimented.

My eyes narrowed dangerously as I glared daggers at the man, instinctively stepping in front of Tyreese to block the baby from his view. I watched his eyes widen as he instantly looked somewhere other than my intense stare, settling with looking to my left back towards Rick.

"Do you have a camp?" he asked.

"No," Rick said immediately, "Do you?"

"I have a church." he said simply. Shocker.

Rick thought for a second before speaking again, "Hold your hands above your head." When Gabriel did as he asked, Rick moved over towards him, starting to pat him down as he questioned him. "How many walkers have you killed?"

I stepped in quickly, "Rick no. Not this guy." I said sternly.

He looked back at me, "He has a church."

"Woohoo," I cheered sarcastically, "I don't give a shit. I'm not doing this again...I can't."

The last part of my sentence came out quieter than I had intended it too, but I wasn't going to lie; I was scared. After everything that happened to us recently, I thought that the others might agree that going with this stranger wasn't a good idea. He could have more people waiting for us back at his sanctuary and attack us all. I didn't want to risk that. Risk anyone else's lives.

Rick turned to face me fully upon hearing my plea, placing a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze as he wanted me to really hear him, "Trust me." he whispered.

I stared at him for a few seconds before looking back to the priest, watching as he smiled nervously at me. I turned my attention back to Rick and reluctantly nodded, knowing that I only agreed because I did truly trust him. Not because of the pity I felt for the man.

Rick nodded back to me in return, before turning to face Gabriel who raised his arms up again, "How many walkers?" he repeated.

"Not any actually." he confessed.

"How many people have you killed?"

His eyes widened, his mouth slightly parting in shock as he was blown away he was even accused of such a thing, "None."

"Why?"

"Because the Lord abhors violence." he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, the Lord also wanted that one guy to kill his own son as a sacrifice instead of a goat." I stated, pointing out that God wasn't necessarily a splendid guy, before walking up closer so we were face to face. "What have you done? We've all done something." I questioned in a dangerously low tone.

He looked nervous once again as swallowed harshly, beginning to stutter over his words, "I'm a sinner. I sin almost every day...but those sins, I confess them to God. Not strangers." 

I couldn't help but scoff as I ran my tongue over my teeth, "And I only save my family from danger. Not strangers. Today's just full of surprises, huh?"

He truly didn't know how to answer me, beginning to stammer over his words as he realized I wasn't backing down. That is until Michonne spoke up from behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder for me to back off, mentioning the church he brought up originally. The man then didn't hesitate as he began to lead us in the opposite direction of where we were headed, the group following close behind as he ducked through the many branches in his way.

I still didn't know if I fully trusted this guy, even before we were being leaded blindly through the forest. He was definitely hiding something, but then again maybe his sin was something like he forgot to pray before bed one night or some shit. However, I had grown to read people pretty well, and watching him get a little too nervous at the simple question I asked him, caused a red flag to pop up in my mind.

"Hey earlier, were you watching us?" Rick suddenly asked Gabriel.

"I keep to myself. Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead don't you think?" he asked.

Daryl shook his head, "Nah, people are worse."

"Well, I wasn't watching you. I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I've gone before today." he informed.

Everyone nodded in silent agreement, moving along right behind him, "Or maybe I'm lying." Gabriel suddenly spoke again, "Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels."

We all seemed to stop walking at the same time as he attempted to joke around, but it only caused all of us to become a little more on edge. Everyone clutched their weapons on instict a little bit tighter as he slowly turned back around to face us the moment he heard we had stopped.

His mouth parted as he noticed we didn't understand the joking manner, watching out of the corner of my eye as Daryl moved his squirrels behind his back protectively so they would be out of view.

Gabriel looked apologetic, "Members of my flock had often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to me desired."

"Yeah, hilarious." I deadpanned.

He just nodded his head and didn't say another word, knowing that at this point he was just digging himself deeper into a hole. We walked only a little further before a simple white church started to come into view, surrounded by a quiet beautiful greenery. It kind of reminded me of the church we thought Sophia was hiding in way back when this all started, everything about it seemed almost exactly the same. 

Gabriel walked up the few steps towards the giant double doors, pulling out a key to unlock the handle, but Rick stopped him. "Hold up," he said and held his hand out for the keys, "Can we take a look around first? We just want to hold onto our squirrels."

I snorted as I watched Gabriel visibly hesitate to hand the keys over, but eventually complied so we could scope the place out before him. Rick was the first to walk in with his gun raised and we all followed cautiously to see if there was any type of threat waiting for us inside. It was dark and completely silent in the space, the only light coming from a quite beautiful stained-glass window in the very front of the structure.

I stood tall in the back, lingering by the entrance as the other scoped out every inch of the place, focusing more on the doors toward the right and left at the end of the room. But it didn't take long before I saw Rick coming back out, giving me a nod that it was clear before I turned to exit the place along with the rest of them. He was telling the truth.

Gabriel looked a little relieved as we walked back outside, nodding towards the place, "I spent months here without stepping out the front door. If you found someone inside, well it would've been surprising." he said.

"Thanks for this." Carl said gratefully.

I looked down towards him with softened eyes, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and giving his arm a soft squeeze. This kid had been through hell and back but was still so thankful for everything he had. I swear most of the time he was more mature than I was.

"We found a short bus out back, it don't run but I bet we could fix that in a day or two. Father here says he don't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport." Abraham announced as he made his way back from around the building.

Rick only nodded as he spoke again, "You know what's at stake here, right?" the burly man asked.

"Yeah, I do." Rick said.

"We can take a breath-" Michonne began to say.

But Abraham was quick to interrupt her, "We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down."

"We need supplies no matter what we do next." I stepped in, "And if I remember right, you said it would take a day or two to fix that bus. That gives the rest of us a break we need, and we have shelter right here." I gestured to the church.

He clicked his tongue, wanting to protest but I spoke again before he got a chance, "I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass, okay? But you can't look me in the eye and tell me with a straight face that we haven't been through hell the past few hours. Just a day or two...and then we can go on your little field trip."

He huffed, "Ain't no field trip, missy. It's a mission that's going to save everyone's asses. It's gonna save the world." he stated confidently.

I nodded my head slowly, "Yeah, let me know how that works out in the end." I muttered before glancing back at Eugene. I gave him a subtle look that he would be able to read, telling him silently that I knew his little secret. Everything clicked together when he shifted slightly under my gaze; he was lying.

After seeing enough to only confirm my suspicions, I moved to head back into the church, following behind everyone else except the small trio who lingered outside as they now didn't know what to do.

I slowly walked right up to the very front as everyone else seemed to fan out from around me, though I couldn't pull my eyes away from the giant window. It was mesmerizing, the beautiful colors flowing out of the glass only illuminated everything else so beautifully. They were so bright and vibrant, something I hadn't seen in a long time, it practically hypnotized me.

Until there was a sudden presence at my side, gently placing a hand on the small of my back to turn me around to face them. My eyes then met with Daryl's as he smiled at me softly, though I frowned a little to myself at the black eye he still had.

"It'll be nice to sleep somewhere with a roof for a little while." I commented.

He nodded, "Yeah, tell me bout it."

I tilted my head, "But you love being outside."

"M' just happy to sleep somewhere other than the ground," he said, nodding to the many pews behind us, "Ain't gettin any younger you know."

"Yeah, that's fair..." I trailed off as I ran my hands gently up and down his arms.

I then slowly realized the position we were in, facing each other with our arms tangled together in the front of an altar, only causing me to wonder what it would be like to get married in a place like this. We obviously never had an official wedding, but being in an actual church made me think more about it, especially with the beautiful window illuminating the space. 

He caught my mind wandering almost instantly, placing his finger under my chin to get me to look back up at him, "Whacha thinkin bout?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Nothing. Just...did you ever think about getting married somewhere like this?"

He hummed as he thought for a moment, "With you? Or just in general?"

"In general."

"Pfft." he scoffed, "No."

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Cause I never thought I would ever get married." he said simply before a slow smile spread across his face, "But then I met a real pretty girl, and somehow convinced her to like me enough to put a ring on her finger." he said as he ran his thumb over the diamond on my left hand.

I smiled a bit sheepishly, "Well, first of all, you got her to love you. Second, any woman would be insanely lucky to have you, leaving me the luckiest girl on the planet." I winked, "And third...I don't have a third, but you get it."

He chuckled, "Alright, yeah, I get it. Why are ya thinkin bout gettin married anyway?"

"I don't know...I guess I always wanted to get married in a pretty church like this one. But it's the end of the world so it doesn't really matter anymore. Just a thought." I said, brushing the topic off completely.

He hummed a response before he grew quiet for a long moment, chewing his bottom lip as he thought hard about something. I watched in amusement as he almost forgot I was standing right in front of him, witnessing him deep in his own little world.

"You still with me?" I finally spoke.

His eyes snapped back to me, "Uh yeah...sorry, darlin. Just thinkin."

"Care to share?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Nah, nothin important. M' gonna...talk to Rick figure out a gameplan bout those supplies."

I nodded, "Okay, love."

He glanced around quickly to see if anyone was watching us before kissing my cheek, turning to make his way towards Rick who was talking quietly to Gabriel further down towards the aisle. I watched for a moment as the three men were having a serious conversation, but then Daryl seemed to say something that made Gabriel look directly at me, and I turned my head away abruptly. 

That was awkward. 

With the silence consuming me once again, I decided to walk around the place a little more until I spotted Maggie and Glenn in the back, having a hushed discussion side by side. "Hey lovebirds." I greeted them.

They both looked up at me and smiled, "Hey," they said in unison.

"So," I started, taking a seat next to Maggie as they looked towards me expectantly, "What do you think about this whole saving the world bullshit?" I asked.

She looked confused, "What do you mean?"

Glenn chimed in from her left, "Ro doesn't think Eugene actually knows the cure."

"What makes you think that?" she asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know, he just doesn't seem very confident, and I can just feel his guilt from here. He just looks like he doesn't know shit, and now it's catching up to him."

They both looked at me with raised eyebrows, "Wow." Maggie muttered.

"It's just an observation, I obviously don't know for sure...but I guess we're going find out one way or another." I said as I gestured to the three now entering the building.

They both nodded in silent agreement as our eyes followed them for a moment, "Should we bet on it?" Glenn suggested, a mischievous smirk coming onto his face.

I blinked, "We don't have anything."

"Oh yeah." he muttered in slight defeat, placing his head in his hands as Maggie chuckled softly, rubbing his back in reassurance.

But before any of us could say anything else, Carol walked up hesitantly, "Sorry, I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

I shook my head, "Nope, just talking about how much of a big fat liar Eugene might be, what's up?"

She looked confused for a second before shaking her head a little at my humor, excitement suddenly filling her features, "I was just wondering if you would like to look for some water with me." she said as she looked directly at me.

"Oh sure, let me just tell Daryl where I'm going-"

"He already knows, Rick's sending out a few different groups to look for some things. Water, food, ammo, all that." she listed.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, "Oh...okay. Then let's go."

She smiled and gestured for me to get up with her hand. I went to grab my bow and arrows from where I left them by my backpack before heading to follow her out the front doors. Though I glanced over my shoulder one last time towards the group before actually leaving, a few people watching my movements as they waved goodbye with the same excitement that Carol seemed to carry.

Confusion crossed my face again, waving back to the rest of them awkwardly before I shut the giant door behind me with a slam. My frame turned back around slowly as I tired to figure out what the hell I missed, jogging a little to catch up with the woman who was already on the move.

"So, did you guys find some special brownies or something? What's up?" I asked in slight amusement.

She looked over with furrowed brows, "What do you mean?"

"Everyone just waved at me before I left like they were suddenly excited to be in God's house or something."

Her eyes flickered with a little bit of an oh shit emotion, but she quickly smiled to cover it up, "I wouldn't know anything about that. Probably just happy we're all together again." she said with a shrug.

I narrowed my eyes at her, "Yeah...probably."

Bullshit. This woman was hiding something. Maybe she was luring me out into the woods to kill me, but then again, I'm always paranoid about that sort of thing. I watched way too many crime shows before the world ended. 

After I eliminated the possibility of her trying to kill me, I dropped the topic completely. Whatever it was, I was either going to find out eventually or there truly wasn't anything suspicious to begin with. For now, we were just two lovely ladies getting some water for the rest of our group. Or at least that's what I assumed.

~ Thanks for reading!

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[captainkurosolaire]

Father of Shadow

Grey skies of bone waste, dry uncertain humidity polluted the air, in a time stone of an oppressive era. When a peaceful Nation was under siege of a Garlean Empire was prominent conflict. Depleted soul's were torn from destruction brought upon them, not able to spark their rebel spirits. Hopelessness festered, longed, in the dark-void, absence reigned. Until those who dwell and thrive in night, answered. A Doman elegant-magpie, colored descended below gracefully upon a leather-glove, with a braille message-strung delicately for delivery, to who wields sharp steel and handles Black Miracles. It read two-words, stroked in Hingashi. "Unsheathe Shadow." The figure clad to black, descended below a tall cliff-side using a large-bright dragon-theme kite at the last daring moment, blocking a Magitek Armor with an Operator and fellow squadron leading a convoy of spoiled slavers, formerly settlers, farmers of the neighboring land, that'd know a harvest again. Feet-padded quietly a step in their pause. This mask-silhouette figure gave a small startle. Keen eyes of one Imperialist gave rise to a Eastern-forged scabbard blade, letting out a small-laugh from his throat, "Hey, Men! Seems we forgot one. Ki--" Cut off before the executive order, through a sleeved kunai punctured the throat. The specter of death, was swarmed instantaneous. Time felt frozen momentarily, when two-pursuers stepped in striking distance, before they were aware of the next breathe, they were struck down from a blinding quick unsheathe. A firm masculine gloved-hand grappled one of the defeated imperialist by their skull and used their cadaver as a shield-charge to block, a volley of ballistics sponged to the reload, swiftly, the assailant lunged his blade through the deceased into the reloading legionary, puncturing two-hearts. Crushing flail came swinging towards the assailant from behind, stern senses strengthened for obscured sight gave an acrobatic bending dodge, strands of raven hair's plucked grazing overhead, the swordsman withdrew his blade full of heated ichor, blinding the bruiser. Handicapped and shouting obscenities, he withdrew his chained-flail, the assailant vanished alongside the call-back, leaping carefully on returning weapon. Graciously leaping overhead. A swift-slice midair struck. Another head fell below removed from neck. Sudden commotion and pause made the prisoner's of war began up-roaring with renewed spirits, kicking at their confines. Magitek-Armored pilot took firing aim and unleashed a mini-gun of bullets at the shadow. The figure-glided with the wind, feline ear's rattling towards the preparing machinery coiling before assault, heel's building up wind, his blade let out a howling gust, rocketing him forth towards a hanging-tree, bullet's closely racketing behind. Fluid-movement, his free-arm locked onto a sturdy branch. He parted his blade-flat below his feet using it like a temporarily standing-board. Then unhooked from hip satchel a paper-scrolled bomb strung to another kunai, a fuse laid underneath the hilt like a switch, once launched and struck its target, it'd detonate. Ilm's from filling the assassin with swissed-holes, the weapon's arm of the machinery imploded and cracked pilot's glass windshield, the magitek armor fell off balance, exposed trying to regain control. His eye's-opened widely. Sole's directly above his small-layer between him, in the death-dealer who had catapulted and sprung himself with a feline leap. Shedding a last-gasp before expertly steel slid between the cracked- creases, and impaled him unable to evade demise. His skull ragged dolled forth bashing into the detonation button. Electrical in-balance was felt predicatively, the assassin leapt backwards, yet was unable to clear. Blocking with his arm's and blade, shrapnel of machinery projectiles dug into his flesh, boom sent the shadow careening below harshly.

Ember's surrounding him, scorched land and concussed with his hearing shrieking, distorted, his mask cracked. His body was tortured fashioned to these sensations. Adrenaline coursing inside him, nullifying the extent of his injuries, momentarily, he rolled instinctively feeling the heat near his feline tail. Despite being a deadly-weapon, expressionless, empty-nearly. He finished his task employed, by releasing the prisoner's door, they flooded out looking to find their rescuer but only a blood-trail remained mixed with all the other disarray. He had a date, with someone, that daringly made his sharpest blade, blunt. Even demolished like this, he wouldn't miss the intended target who'd forever alter his knowledge of Life. Using his blade-hilt as a cane to hold uprightness. In all or any; Darkness... There was somewhere a Light, to appreciate.

[Prev:Chapter]: ~ ♪"As Above, So Below"♪

[dhnrys]

Ides of Gold - Messmer x Original Female Character

In a time where the Golden Lineage once reigned supreme, a powerful and enigmatic force known as the Greater Will takes notice of an unsuspecting Tarnished woman. With its remaining might, the Greater Will transports her through the fabric of time itself, back to an era when the Lands Between and the Realm of Shadow existed in harmonious balance. Her purpose? To prevent the catastrophic Shattering that would ultimately bring ruin to both realms and trap the Golden Lineage in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. However, upon her arrival in this long-forgotten age, the woman finds herself stripped of all memories from her past life, a blank slate amid the swirling tides of fate. What she does possess is the incredible power of Grace, an intangible force that draws the attention of both demigods and mere mortals alike. Some see her as a potential ally, while others view her as a threat to the established order. Regardless, her very existence sets in motion a chain of events that will reshape the foundations of this ancient world forever...

As she stood before the towering Erdtree, fully prepared to accept her role as Elden Lord with her arms and teeth bared in defiance against Ser Margott, The Fell Omen, an invisible force plucked her away from the constraints of known time. She thrashed and cursed, gnawing at the air as she fought against the being's unrelenting grasp, but it remained unphased by her futile struggles. Every muscle in her body strained against the invisible hold as she was forcefully pulled into a new realm beyond her understanding.

 And in that moment, she knew that her fate had been sealed by forces far greater than any mortal could comprehend.

The deafening crack shattered the stillness, sending waves of sorrow coursing through her. She was consumed by a blinding light, as if all her blood had turned to gold. Memories of her past and present were swept away, leaving behind a blank slate. The Tarnished woman hung in the palm of the Greater Will, caught between life and death, her eyes flickering with conflicting shades of gold and amethyst. Her body spasmed as it tried to make sense of its own destruction and rebirth.

“Thou art a struggler through and through, even in the grasp of divinity.” A chuckle escaped the creature’s throat as it observed the woman.

She had a spark in her soul—a bright flame that was fueled by various influences, and the Greater Will admired such determination in mortals. As the god spoke, a low rumble resonated from its palm with each word. Finally, the woman's eyes settled into a deep shade of violet with golden rings around the iris.

She used her own palms to support herself as she slowly pushed herself upwards, gathering in whatever surroundings she could see. “What is this place?”

“Paradise. Home. Prison,” Her body stiffened at the realization that she was not alone. “For which does thou’st choose, I wonder?”

As she lifted her gaze, the woman was met with a breathtaking sight. Countless golden trees stretched out into the distance, their leaves shimmering like fragments of sunlight. Above and below, stars twinkled in the endless expanse of the sky, creating an ethereal atmosphere. The woman couldn't help but gasp at the surreal beauty surrounding her; it felt as though she had been transported to the very edge of existence, where all possibilities merged into one. Despite her fear and uncertainty, she couldn't deny the awe that filled her being. Surely, the person who had brought her here would reveal their intentions soon enough, but for now she allowed herself to be swept away by the wonder of this mysterious place.

“Thou…wants something of me, I presume?” Her voice was smooth and velvety, like freshly woven silk or a dollop of warm honey being delicately stirred into a cup of steaming tea on a cold winter's day. Each word she spoke felt like a gentle caress, soothing and comforting.

“Ah,” A cruel laugh echoed through its core, and she could feel it deep within her being. It was at that moment when the true weight of the situation hit her, and a sense of overwhelming fear washed over her. She could only bow her head and clench her jaw tightly, feeling the faint taste of blood in her mouth from biting down so hard.

“Curious thou are—very well, then, I shall tell thee what yer purpose be.”

Silence enveloped them, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. She could sense the creature's gaze piercing into her, until it finally broke the stillness by speaking. “I am neither ally nor foe to thee in thou’st mundane conquests, I simply wish to see that ordered be restored upon the lands in which ye shall reside.”

“And what has one, such as I, done to be granted such an audience as grand as thee? Amongst that which observes with eyes scattered across infinite lifetimes?” She said back, swallowing the lump in her throat, bracing whatever may come next.

Another rumble, almost like a laugh, echoed throughout her entire being. “Thou’st provide adequate entertainment. Perhaps I should keep ye here as companion to me, this seemeth better than what journey ye must take.”

“…But if I were to refuse thi—”

“Thy first mistake was to assume that this was a request or that thou haveth say in the matter, little Tarnished.”

She pursed her lips, deep in thought. It was clear that this situation was beyond her reach - it was outside of her capabilities to handle or escape from. “You seek to use me as thine own puppet, then?”

“No,” She couldn't tear her eyes away from the looming figure above her, even though every instinct urged her to do so. The creature's eyes bore into hers, a mesmerizing mix of fear and fascination. It was as if she was being pulled into a world of shimmering stars and endless possibilities, but at the same time, she felt a sense of danger lurking beneath the surface. She was torn between wanting to escape and wanting to stay entranced by this unknown being.

“Thou are to be what thou are, nothing more nor less.”

Her lips parted, but the creature continued to speak. “Ye will not remember this but know that I bestow upon thee my own blessings—thine own power to wield as thou’st see fit. Ye will not remember, but thou will learn as if it is all you ever knew.

She wanted to speak, to make sense of the swirling chaos around her. But as she opened her mouth, flashes of familiar and unfamiliar colors overwhelmed her senses. Memories of a place and time that had been torn apart and rearranged filled her mind, leaving behind an unrecognizable canvas. She was caught between wanting to remember and wanting to forget.

Read the rest HERE - sporadic updates :)

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Sketch in partial colour of Redemption era Parker and Eliot sitting side by side in the courtyard of their New Orleans base, in similar relative positions to when they had a heart to heart at the end of the hurricane job. Parker and her background are in colour, and she’s looking sadly down, hunched forward slightly. Eliot is in greyscale and wearing prison clothes, looking sad and serious. End ID] -

Day 29: alt. Prison

AU for The Turkish Prisoner Job, where Eliot gets stuck in the prison, and also the first part of the three-parter of ficlets, with the others on days 8 (dissociation, part 3) and 15 (experimentation, part 2). I know it’s backwards but that’s the way the days worked out 😅

Ficlet below the cut.

-

“Do exactly what they say,” were the last words they heard from Eliot for days, and they hadn’t even been addressed to the team.  He had been speaking to Romero, just as he was about to get released on a day pass by their marks, and then he was gone.  Taken away by prison guards under orders that overruled the detectives.

The confusion and surprise didn’t last more than a few seconds.

Sophie stepped in, had Breanna mute Eliot’s comm for all but her, and talked their client through how to proceed, keeping him calm and collected as he had to keep going now without a hitter for back-up.

The job had taken another turn, requiring a change of plan, new considerations, and they needed all of them involved to pull it off successfully, which meant it was two days before they had a chance to get back to Eliot.  If had been any member of the team other than Eliot, Parker would have been worried.

But it was Eliot and a stint in prison out of contact with his crew was nothing to him.

Regardless, she felt something unpleasant and annoying and she didn’t understand it.

“Babe, you okay?” Hardison asked, his image large in the screens as their long distance call connected.

Breanna had emailed him as soon as they lost contact with Eliot, just in case there was something he could do with his amazing exosphere hacking access. But the prison ran a closed network, no access from the outside even from the exosphere.

“It just feels wrong.”

Hardison frowned, “Eliot being in jail?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe…”

For over ten years Parker had barely gone a day without one or both of Hardison and Eliot either right there beside her or talking in her ear. Now Hardison was gone, only reachable through a complicated video link thing or emails that took too long and were too impersonal, and Eliot’s voice was no longer there either.

“Babe?”

Parker realised she had let her mind wander and looked back to the screen.

She couldn’t place what she was feeling.

She was angry. Angry at Eliot for not just breaking out, angry at Harry for running the job so Eliot ended up in prison, angry with Sophie for letting Harry run the job, and angry with herself because it wasn’t Harry’s fault or Sophie’s fault.

This happened.  They did a dangerous job, especially Eliot, and this sort of thing could happen, and no one was to blame.

And she was anxious.  Worried about Eliot, which was stupid because it was Eliot Spencer and he was always fine.

“Parker? Talk to me.”

She looked up.

Hardison looked worried, sad.

She smiled slightly, feeling that rising warmth that came whenever he looked at her with so much emotion. The reminder that she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t like not having him here,” she said quietly.  She wanted Hardison to understand.

“I know,” he replied, “I’m sorry I’m not there right now.”

She nodded, “Well, you’ve got satellite stuff to do.”

That earned her only a sad smile, and she looked down at the keyboard.

“Harry going into the prison tomorrow?” Hardison asked, “Playing the lawyer.”

“Yeah. We can’t do anything until we know more.”

“I’ll keep trying to dig up intel from my end too. Got an algorithm running right now to cross-reference each of his aliases and his real name against email communications between government agencies, prison networks, rich folk…anyone who might want to lock him up.”

“That’s a long list. We’ve made a lot of enemies.”

And Eliot had a lot more still from before Leverage.

“Yeah. It’s gonna take a while,” Hardison replied, “So, wanna watch something together tonight?  I can stream from any country in the world and share the screen.”

“Sharknado?”

Hardison sighed, “We got access to pretty much any film that exists on the internet, and you wanna watch Sharknado.  Again.”

She grinned, “We can watch Sharknado II after.”

Sighing again, but smiling properly this time, he got to work finding the films, and they began their movie night.

-

Harry’s visit to the prison had three purposes.  The first, to see if there was a quick route to getting Eliot released.  The second, if that failed, to find out what had happened and why Eliot had been detained.  The third, to get an earbud back to Eliot.

This required what was, essentially, a pointless and entirely fabricated lawyer-client conversation between Eliot and Harry, which Parker mostly ignored in favour of watching Breanna attempt to find a way into the prison security system now they were parked close to the building in the food truck.

The culmination of this conversation was that no, it was not going to be quick and easy to get Eliot released because he reportedly had committed severe infractions within the prison, as observed by the guards.  Eliot had been moved to solitary because of these supposed dangerous acts, which were false but backed up by multiple guards.  He hinted that he had some idea of why, but the conversation was recorded and monitored, with two guards in the room at the time, so he couldn’t say more.

But the third task was successful.

About half an hour after Harry returned, and while they were still outside the prison, Eliot’s comm came online.

“Welcome back,” Sophie said, seeing the feed on the laptop screen appear.

“Thanks,” Eliot whispered, suggesting he suspected someone may be listening, “Romero okay?”

“Okay and rolling in it,” Breanna replied proudly.

“Job’s wrapped up, everything sorted, so now we just need to get you out,” Parker added, “Any idea what got you locked in there?”

“Think so,” he replied, “Sorta.  Pretty sure I’ve been ID’d.”

That was no surprise.  It was among the theories they had discussed.

“Who by?” Harry asked, “It has to be someone high up for them to get you moved to solitary and multiple guards confirming a false story to keep you there.”

“Dunno, but I heard someone talkin’ outside my cell.  Think they were on the phone, an’ they told whoever they were talkin’ to that they had me - said my name, not the alias’s - locked down.  My guess is they’re gonna transfer me at some point.”

“Weakest part of any transit is when the goods are being loaded into the vehicle,” Parker repeated information she had heard from Eliot years before, “That’s where we rescue you.”

Breanna shifted her screen to bring up several views of roads, “Look, I didn’t manage to get into the prison cameras, but I could get into some CCTV on the roads leading to the prison.  A prisoner transport is gonna require an armoured car, right?  And it’s gotta go down one of those roads.”

“We’ll be ready for it too, now,” Sophie added, “You can tell us when the transfer is taking place.  We’ll get everything prepared to attack the car, and when you give us the signal, we’ll move.”

Considering the number of times they’d waylaid and broken into armoured vehicles in the past, setting up the plan for dealing with this one - and contingencies in case of an escort, alternative routes, timings being off, and so on - didn’t take more than a few hours.  And, with the plan established and it already nearing midnight, they all went to bed.

All except Parker.

She tried sitting at the bar and then the desk and then on the stage, and finally wandered out to the courtyard to sit on the picnic table there. It felt very empty to be sitting on that table without Eliot next to her. But then most places she was used to sitting tended to have their hitter there too.

She felt stupid. Ridiculous. Eliot had been away from them undercover or kidnapped or on some side-hustle job loads of times and she never felt this unhappy about it. Hardison had been away loads too, working on those hacker things only he could do, and she felt sad but not like this. Not this icky, distracting, fuzzy feeling in her brain like something was really really wrong.

She pulled her earbud from her pocket and put it in her ear.

“Hey, Eliot?  You asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to listen to that podcast with all the facts. Wanna listen with me? We’re like six episodes behind.”

Eliot didn’t reply immediately. She heard a quiet background noise. His footsteps on a hard floor.

Then he spoke quietly, not answering the question.

“You doin’ alright, Parker?”

She tried to laugh properly but it didn’t work.  It didn’t sound like a laugh, even though she was meant to be good at grifting by now.

“I’m not the one sitting alone in a dark lonely cold prison cell.”

She could hear the smile in Eliot’s voice. The gentle, soft smile.

“I’ve been in a lot of prisons, Parker.  This one’s among the nicest,” he paused, and in it she could picture his expression perfectly. It was the kind, understanding, expression few people ever got to see.

The thought of it, so clear in her mind, finally made her understand what felt so wrong.

She was lonely.

She hadn’t been lonely in a very long time and now it hurt so much more than before.

“It’s just,” she began, looking down at her shoes on the bench, “First Hardison left. And now so have you.”

“Parker,” Eliot said softly, “I didn’t leave. I’m right here, an’ I’m always gonna be. Hardison might be a stupid number of miles away, but he’s right there with you too.”

“With us.”

“With us,” he accepted her correction without hesitating, “We’re not, either of us, ever gonna leave you. An’ I know right now it feels lonely, but you’re not alone. We’re here, Sophie’s there. Harry an’ Breanna are there. Hell, if you wanna call up Hurley I bet he’d answer any time of the day or night an’ probably make you talk to his damn cat.”

Parker laughed despite herself. She liked Hurley’s cat. Eliot didn’t, so the cat always sat on Eliot when they visited, purring contentedly while he growled at it to go annoy someone else, and trying to pretend there wasn’t a fond smile just on the verge of forming on his face.

Eliot left a long pause for his words to sink in, and for Parker to find the truth within them. When he spoke again it was in a more normal tone, saving her from falling too deep into emotions she couldn’t name.

“So,” Eliot said, “About that podcast. ‘Cus solitary’s pretty damn boring.”

Parker found herself smiling.

She already had it up on her phone, the first in their episode backlog ready to go.

“You hear it?”

The familiar theme tune started as she pressed play.

“I hear it,” Eliot replied, then added softly, just as the voices of the podcasters began, “Thanks, Park.”

She nodded although he couldn’t see, smiled, and settled in to spend the night happily with Eliot, even if there were miles and walls of concrete between them.

Parker went to sleep, still listening to that podcast with Eliot in her ear.

When she woke up, Eliot was gone.

His comms were off, and no amount of yelling into her earbud would get a response.

Harry went back into the prison, playing the part of his alias's lawyer again, but he was told that alias wasn't in the prison system. Never had been in the prison at all, according to the records. Hours of intense hacking from outside the walls and from the exosphere found that alias wiped entirely from the prison records, and Eliot's name was nowhere to be found either.

During the night, while his crew slept, Eliot had been made to disappear.

-

[enlighten3d]

More thoughts on r!au, because you brought it up again:

There are 3 eras of wifies and his person, both of whom have similar skill sets. First comes evilfies and masked wato, who create escape rooms. Then comes clonefies and ken, who escape them. Finally comes lastfies and parrot who kill to survive. (Hearts at least are technically craftable)

Ken managed to rescue clonefies by outsmarting their predecessors. By proving that clonefies was more than a clone, through a game rigged in their favor.

Parrot managed to rescue lastfies by killing their predecessors. By proving that lastfies was just a clone, through mistaking one for the other.

There are so many stars in the bright sky, all of them basically identical. It takes knowing them and how they relate to the others around them to identify them. Who could blame you if just after sunset, when only a few are visible, you mistook one star for another? (And the sun is still a star, even as it burns you. It's your fault for mistaking distance for peace, and still inviting it closer)

And then, because the spyglass reminded me, you can't look directly at the sun- it'll blind you. Parrot can't look directly at his own actions, can't look clearly at lastfies, can't process what happened. Is it because of how bright his mistakes shine? Or is it because his spyglass is stained with blood?

(and yes, in my opinion, lastfies and parrot can share being represented by the sun. Clonefies needs something specific to contrast and parrot deserves every parallel he gets)

Finally, does wato eventually stop putting hanging roots in their escape rooms? I doubt lastfies would know enough about escape rooms to confidently declare them as the most useless item, and why bother sneaking in a signature when you have to show up to help them out of softlocks you could have sworn they would never get into.

Just what do you do when you don't have any of your friends. Wifies is different, and parrot won't meet your eye and ken is trapped in a prison that blocks messages. (except no one off-server has heard from him and the prison seems abandoned when you try to arrange a visit and you're pretty sure that ken wouldn't have let his stasis despawn and this is apparently the only prison that parrot won't try to break someone out of)

What do you do when you have no proof, but your server feels like a graveyard.

(post in which i brought up rau again, and heres the post explaining rau. yay for having context! context is great.)

forewarning that i wrote this over the course of like, a day, sorry if its disjointed lol. but then again, what else does one expect from a long lime post but incoherency.

HI HELL YEAHHH RAU THOUGHTS!!! REPLACEMENT AU!!!!!!!!!!! i love rau did you know that <- fucking insane about this au. nonnie i love you thank you. this is going to be as incoherent + probably hard to read as usual! sorry gonna yap a lot about rau!wato here because you made the mistake of mentioning rau!wato. replacement au may be about wifies clones stuff but OUGH DOES RAU!WATO HAUNT ME. that will be the latter portion of this post tho

SO!

OOOHHH OKAY GOOD POINT. about. fuck okay thats insane? have NOT thought about the eras of wifies each having their own person and the 'transitions' reflecting their relationships... actually fucking insane. dont have anything to add just know that im staring at you w wide eyes /pos

its your fault for mistaking distance for peace, and still inviting it closer- actually wild line im- okay. okay.

YEAH THE. the. yeah. you get it perfectly, i have no notes.the spyglass and the sun thing- fuck. he tries to look at the sun, his actions, and doesnt see, doesnt understand, but still he does it via the spyglass, via that same frame of mine of clonefies that hes unwilling to abandon. look at lastfies, understand him through the lense of parrots relationship with clonefies, understand him only as clonefies. hes still the same person! parrot didnt do anything! nothing happened! youre fine! look at lastfies, look at his own actions/mistakes through the lense of a spyglass. frame of mind of his relationship with clonefies. actuallly insane.

lastfies and parrot can share the sun/daytime. wild thought actually, i do agree. because. the sun is a star - clonefies is the stars and lastfies is just similar enough but also not really; part of a larger category but different, so different. and parrot always denies how much of himself he sees in lastfies, its a whole thing. theyre similar in so many ways but- no! this is still the same wifies! and wifies would never be like parrot. never!

OKAY. SO. NONNIE. NONNIE. ABOUT WATO. ABOUT RAU!WATO. THERES A LOT. that never got mentioned on tumblr i dont think. theyre so theatre metaphor (coughs long poem coughs). genuinely like. okay. we (milo and i) have thought abt all of what youve mentioned here. sorry the rest of the post is going to be about rau!wato i am actually fucking insane about rau!wato holy shit

the escape rooms stop having those personal touches. no hanging roots, no little injokes, hints at familiarity. theyre easier, because they know that what theyd normally make is for clonefies, who they know would figure it out. so the escape rooms are easier, and he still watches, and he still has to interfere where he shouldnt have to (why doesnt parrot pick up on these things either? (hes in denial, wato. deeeeep denial.)). its wrong on every level. because- rau!wato is so interesting. she knows that lastfies isnt clonefies. hes in WAYYY less denial than parrot (its actually impossible to out-denial rau!parrot), AND he... he was the one that found lastfies in the first place, right? so she knows about lastfies existence, she knows that something is wrong. still theres a little bit of hope (parrot wouldnt kill wifies afterall, right?) that gets held out. maybe theyve got the story wrong! but still they pull away. this wifies is wrong, theyve never been close with parrot, ken is trapped in a prison unable to escape (somethings so off about that, right? why isnt parrot helping? why is he 'respecting kens wishes' when those wishes go entirely against what he stands for? why does parrot look that way whenever ken gets mentioned? something is so wrong about this.)

what defines rau!wato is the inaction. theyre trapped in the audience, and the one time they forced their way onstage, tried to help, to do something for once, it goes wrong. and clonefies dies. now she just doesnt do anything. shes fucked everything up once already (this is all her fault, right? right?). shes got the most information out of anyone other than lastfies and parrot, shes the only one who can do anything. but he doesnt. hes messed it up already, and he doesnt know enough to get people to believe him. what do you mean, wato? what do you mean this wifies isnt the same wifies? no, hes always been this way? this violent, this quiet, this loyal- yeah sure hes a bit different from when he joined, but maybe getting chunkbanned messed him up just that much, you know? youre making things up. you have no evidence. and so wato doesnt say anything. theyre trapped in the audience, watching this play set to music that they wrote themselves, and they cant do anything about it. and everywhere he looks, theres death.

parrot and lastfies canonically die, in rau. not sure if i ever mentioned this on tumblr but whatever, am (re?)explaining it. eventually someone gets suspicious about the weirdness at proton, and maybe wato slips a piece of information or two, but they go and investigate, and theres no one there. its abandoned, more than just the lack of guards whom to ask to visit the supposed sole prisoner. theres no one there. breaking in is easy, figuring out that kenadian is not there is easier. naturally, one goes to parrot, the very person who said that ken was trapped in the first place. question him. parrot runs. lastfies follows. but parrot cant run forever, not from a bunch of people who considered ken a friend/ally, not a manhunt

this all started on a cliff, didnt it? parrot and clonefies watched the sunset from a cliff right before the lastfies thing. it ends on a cliff, too. a cliff, above the ocean. he jumps, doesnt fly, and lastfies, of course, follows willingly (theres a lot to say about lastfies). and then theyre dead, the both of them

the next day, theres an eclipse.

wato is the only person who really visits that cliff. theres this really pretty scene in the animatic milo is (was? idk) making about rau, where wato stands at that cliff during the eclipse, holding hydrangeas, and the petals fly off

onto the shore wash an earring, a spyglass, and a headband. (nothing else. parrots lost himself.)

and so, rau!wato is the last one left. out of everyone, hes the last one left. what now? pick up the pieces? sure, but theres no pieces to pick up. things remain obscured; its not like parrot or lastfies (the only ones who really knew everything, and even then their perceptions were warped in their own ways) ever wrote anything down or talked to anyone- and ken is dead, too. all she can do is piece together what she already has, and shes already done all that she could, and assumptions are dangerous, and-

its just this really really deep-seated feeling of unresolution. there will never be any resolution. watos just the last one left, left to grieve everything that happened and everyone thats died, and he cant even really talk to anyone about this, he never could, and he doesnt even know everything thats happened. hes just left to deal with the consequences of everything. and nothing is ever quite the same. whats she to do now? (they dont know.)

a server the feels like a graveyard, indeed

(pspspspspsps @milo-the-mage... i summon thee.....)