#touch starved!daryl dixon x reader

[constantcrisis19]

Deck The Halls

Daryl Dixon x GN S/O

AN: I know that this is a day late, but I swear that I had every intention of writing a TWD piece for the holidays, even if I didn't get it posted until after Christmas. So merry late-Christmas, y'all!

Word Count: 3,221

The loud crack of a branch breaking echoed through the cold, dry air and you froze, your head whipping around in order to stare at the part of the forest that the sound had come from.

The quiet chatter of the rest of the group abruptly dropped off into silence, the already high tensions ratcheted up to unbearable levels when your steady progress ground to a dead halt, Rick motioning for everyone to be on their guard. 

Various weapons were collected from their respective holsters before the echo of the snap had even dissipated, and you pulled your sawed-off from your back, leveling it at the part of the forest where the noise had originated from as the group closed ranks.

You slowly backed up toward where the others had huddled together in the middle of the road, the thick snow crunching under your boots as you went.

When several minutes passed and nothing happened, you darted a quick glance at Rick, who had handed Judith off to Carol in favor of drawing his revolver. You met his steady gaze, wordlessly asking for permission to check it out, and he gave you a sharp nod. 

You returned the gesture before breaking off from the rest of the group to cautiously approach the edge of the road, your shotgun trained at the trees as your gaze raked over the snow blanketed forest.

You startled when a figure silently emerged from the brush, your finger twitching on the trigger before your brain registered who you were staring at. Thankfully, you hadn’t put any pressure behind your involuntary movement, so you were able to avoid blowing a gaping hole in your lover.  

You lowered your gun with an exasperated sigh, your breath fanning out in front of you in a cloud, as you reengaged safety and slung the shotgun back over your shoulder. 

Daryl, who had stopped short at the treeline upon noticing the various firearms pointed at him, only began moving again once you signaled to the rest of the group that it was a false alarm, just in case they hadn’t spotted Daryl yet.

You stayed in place as the group shifted gears, watching as Daryl trudged through the snow and made his way over to you. When he reached you, he briefly rubbed his hand over your forearm, your freezing fingers rising in order to cover his own for a short moment, before he pulled away. 

He stepped around you without moving his hand, his finger sliding across from your arm before finally falling back to his side as he continued on to where Rick was standing, the man having already holstered his firearm and reacquired Judith. 

You pried your gaze away from Daryl’s back and, with one last lingering look at the forest’s edge, you turned on your heel and began making your way back toward the others.

“Hey, Maggs.” You greeted as you saddled up next to the woman, Maggie returning the sentiment with a grin before continuing her conversation with Sasha. With nothing better to do until Rick gave the all clear to keep moving, you found your eyes drifting over to where Daryl and Rick were standing.

You watched as Daryl fell into Rick’s orbit, Rick adjusting Judith on his hip in order to lean closer to Daryl when the redneck moved into his personal space, the two men speaking in low tones.

You tilted your head curiously when Rick’s expression flickered through several emotions before landing on fragile hope at whatever Daryl had told him, his hand coming up to squeeze Daryl’s shoulder in what you recognized as Rick’s very subtle version of praise, having been on the receiving end of the man’s appreciation a few times yourself.

“Alright. Here’s the deal,” Rick called out just loud enough to reach the group. All eyes -including yours- were drawn away from the snow-blanketed forest on either side of the road and Rick briefly scanned over your ever expanding group, making sure that everyone was paying attention, before continuing.

“Daryl found a house about a mile west. If we keep up the pace, we should be able to get there in time to set up camp before nightfall.”

Your keen stare quickly shifted from Rick to Daryl at the news and you raised an impressed brow at your lover for his seemingly supernatural ability to find shelter for the group no matter where you ended up.

Daryl ignored the relieved sighs and Abraham’s soft whistle in favor of meeting your gaze, the man giving you a slight nod that had a grin spreading across your lips before he hid behind his shaggy curtain of hair, avoiding any further contact.

You rubbed your nose with the sleeve of your jacket with a fond smile, you never failed to find his shyness when it came to praise or gratitude endlessly endearing.

You watched as Rick’s sharp blue eyes swept over the excited group, a tension that you didn’t even know was there easing from your leaders shoulders at the murmurs of agreement you could hear sweeping over the group, the man briefly sharing a few more words with Daryl before turning to once again acknowledge the rest of the group.

“Let’s head out. Daryl, lead on brother.” Rick nodded to the other man before adjusting Judith higher on his hip, hiking her up to his ribs, the little girl letting out a miserable whine at being disturbed. Daryl gently brushed a hand across Judith’s back as he passed, Rick soothing his disgruntled daughter with soft words as he pulled the soft blanket she wore over her jacket tighter around her. 

Judith settled back down once Rick started walking, the girl burying her cold nose into the man’s neck as Rick’s rhythmic steps rocked her back to sleep.

By the time you had reached the house that Daryl had told Rick about, your thighs were sore from stubbornly trudging through the thick snow and your toes were numb. You frowned and wiped your running nose on your sleeve again, making a mental note to replace your ratty shoes as soon as possible. 

Hell, at this point, you were cold enough to entertain the thought of searching every corpse you came across from this moment onward for a nicer pair that would fit you until you found one. You would rather steal from a dead person who didn’t need the footwear anymore than let respect for the dead cause you to lose your toes to frostbite and, if that made you a shitty person, so be it.

At least then you would be able to keep your toes.

“Hey.” 

You startled at the quiet greeting, flinching and turning your head to see Daryl to your right -the man having come out of seemingly nowhere- his head tilted in a way that parted his bangs to reveal one of his piercing eyes. 

“What’s up?” You replied, one of your shaking hands slowly reaching out to fuss with the poncho, readjusting the fabric to better shield him from the chill. His gaze darted down to the trembling appendage, his brows furrowing when he noticed the unnatural color of your flesh, the tips of your fingers turning a dark burgundy.

“Rick wants ya ta secure the perimeter with Glenn.” He said as he clasped your hand between both of his, gently rubbing at your chilled skin before bringing his cupped hands to his mouth to blow hot hair onto your cold fingers, your hand tingling under his heated breaths. 

When Daryl’s gaze flicked up to you, you let your lips curl up into a grateful smile, moving the hand that Daryl had trapped between his so that you could lace your fingers together with his.

“And what are you gonna be up to in the meantime?” You asked with a teasing edge to your voice and Daryl grumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely insulting, his offended muttering making your grin spread to shit-eating levels.

“Clearin’ out the house and settin’ up a place fer us ta sleep.” Daryl grunted petulantly, his hand shifting restlessly around yours, the man’s inability to sit still for very long rearing its ugly head.

“Alright, I’ll see you when I get back.” You chuckled, leaning closer in order to press your lips against the corner of his mouth before untangling your hands and separating from him in order to join Glenn, who was patiently waiting next to the overgrown driveway, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his own coat.

The perimeter check went much faster than you thought it would despite the cold that seemed to slither under your clothes and cling to your bones.

Fortunately, the two of you had only run into a total of two Walkers during your trek and, once they were both dealt with, you immediately kneeled down next to each body, gaining a look that was equal parts concern and amusement from Glenn as you checked their shoe size.

Unfortunately, you were disappointed to discover that both creatures weren’t wearing shoes in your size, so you had to deal with making the rest of your round in your thin sneakers.

You were moving toward the boarded up back door of the house that the group had cleared out with the intent to use as shelter in order to test the barricade before going finally inside when you heard Glenn let out a surprised squawk, the undignified noise immediately followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Fully expecting Glenn to be wrestling with a Walker, you yanked your knife from your belt and whirled around, before pausing at the sight that greeted you. Glenn was sitting on his ass in the snow, cursing as he tried to wipe the powdery substance from his face with little to no success, his entire front covered in white with no Walker in sight.

“Glenn?” You asked, your cheeks hurting from how badly you wanted to smile at the pitiful image he made. Glenn looked up at you with narrowed eyes, as if daring you to laugh, and promptly gave up on trying to get all the snow off of him before the heat of his skin melted it. It was a fruitless endeavor anyway. 

“Yeah laugh it up, Chuckles. I tripped. But not over my own feet, there’s something hidden in the snow.” He complained, massaging the foot that you assumed that had connected with whatever had caused him to fall. 

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” You snorted, sheathing your blade before moving toward the last clear track in the snow, carefully prodding at the snow covered ground with your foot before hitting something solid.

You shot Glenn a wide grin as you squatted down and pushed your hand into the snow, shoving all of the snow away from the object with your sleeve, revealing a piece of rebar that had been cemented into a rusted metal panel.

You must have been silently staring down at the paneling, contemplating the implications of it's existence, for too long though because Glenn was suddenly at your back, peering over your shoulder at the hatch in the ground.

“Holy shit… is that…?” Glenn breathed, his exclamation warming the back of your neck and causing you to shiver before shooting him a glare. He raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender and moved to kneel down next to you, reaching out for the handle in order to pull it open. 

The hatch door gave way with a groan of protest, both of you coughing at the smell of stale air that wafted out from the dark hole. 

“Ladies first.” You quipped as you turned to face Glenn, gesturing for him to enter first. The Korean playfully flicked you off, earning a half-hearted swat from you, before pulling a small flashlight out of his backpack and clicking it on in order to shine it at the ladder leading down. 

He cautiously swung his leg over and began to descend and you held onto his jacket to give him a safety net just in case one of the rungs gave out beneath his weight until he was out of reach.

You followed the glow of the flashlight with your eyes, his lean figure back-lit by the beam as he reached the end of the ladder, and you figured that the bottom of secret bunker was only about eight feet down.

“Y/n, you gotta get down here.” Glenn called up to you and you wasted no time following after him, Glenn’s hands coming up to grab your waist once you were within reach, helping you down.

Once steady, he pointed the beam of his flashlight at the opposite wall, your jaw dropping as your eyes widened at the sight of a shelf filled to the brim with large boxes, all of them labeled ‘MRE’.

“God bless doomsday preppers.” You cheered as you rushed over to open one, a giddy feeling making your chest warm as you shuffled through the various packaged foods.

You were so invested in picking through the box that you barely reacted to the soft click of a delicate chain, the room suddenly flooding with yellow light from the lone bulb that was hanging in the center of the room.

“Look, there’s blankets and batteries and even an entire shelf stocked with first aid supplies. We hit a fucking gold mine.” Glenn said incredulously, turning his flashlight off as he moved through the packed shelves that were taking up the majority of the space. “It must be Christmas.” He added jokingly and you halted your own exploration in order to whirl around to face him, your face lighting up as an idea occurred to you.

“You know what, it is Christmas.” You declared as you took a hold of Glenn’s forearms, using your grip to reel him in closer.

“What? Today?” Glenn stuttered out nervously, the two of  you so close that your noses were almost touching. 

“Why not?” You chirped happily, releasing him and moving back to the shelf you’d been searching to heft one of the boxes into your arms, carrying it past a frozen Glenn and dropping it next to the ladder before looking for a stool or something to stand on so that you could reach the opening and lift the MRE’s out. 

“Fair enough.” Glenn acquiesced with a sigh, moving over to join you in your search, the two of you eventually uncovering a small, dusty folding ladder that would do nicely. “Let’s go tell the others the good news.” He said good-naturedly as he set up the ladder directly under the hatch, matching your grin with one of his own.

___

“You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen!” You crowed from your perch on Daryl’s lap, pausing your caroling in order to give the several other voices time to echo you, making you smile. Apparently, no one else was as familiar as you with Christmas songs, so it was up to you to educate the rest of the group.

As select group members crowed out the intro to ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’ with you, you took in the excited bustle of your group. Tara and Rosita were currently engaged in starting a fire, the two bickering over how to stack the logs that Abraham and Sasha had brought in.

Meanwhile, Michonne and Rick were in charge of spreading out blankets for everyone to curl up on as Eugene and Carl meticulously divvied up the rations for dinner, leaving Carol and Maggie, who were the first to go down into the cellar in order to pick out gifts.

You and Glenn were allowed to kick back and relax since the two of you brought most of the supplies inside for the others, which left you with Daryl, who got out of doing most mundane chores because he had the difficult task of trying to keep their family of fourteen fed.

"Comet and Cupid and Donner and Dixon-" You belted out before you were rudely interrupted by a grumpy Daryl.

"No."

You twisted around on your perch, swaying precariously for a moment before Daryl’s hand reached out and grabbed your hip in order to steady you before you fell over. You frowned at him in disapproval, the man unapologetically meeting your hard stare.

"What do you mean no? Isn't one of Santa’s reindeer named Dixon?" You asked, your lips twisting in confusion as you mentally went over the song in your head, coming to the unhelpful conclusion that the lyrics sounded fine to you.

"It's Blitzen." He huffed and your sour expression abruptly melted into a sappy grin, leaning further into his warmth with a delighted chuckle. 

"Ha! I can’t believe you knew that!” You managed to get out between giggles, Daryl’s flat look only making you dissolve into more hysterical laughter.

"Shut up." He snapped, though the heat of the words were tempered by the pout that he had on his face, the man somehow slumping further into his seat despite you being on top of him.

"Come on, cheer up!" You tutted as you spun around to face him as you straddled him, the man’s arms immediately coming up to loosely wrap around you, waiting until you settled with your own arms slung around the back of his neck to tighten.

You lightly placed your mouth against his in a slow kiss, the usually uptight man melting like butter under the firm pressure of your lips. The fact that you could turn Daryl to a puddle with merely a kiss never failed to light a fire in the pit of your belly, and this time was no exception.

Unfortunately, you had to part from him before the kiss could get any more heated, his hands having moved away from the small of your back in order to grip your thighs, his calloused palms sliding up your flexing thighs in a slow glide that was dangerously arousing.

You quickly caught his wandering hands, relocating them to a more acceptable area as you pulled away. Daryl followed with a soft noise of protest, briefly chasing your lips before giving up upon realizing that you weren’t going to continue and falling back into his seat.

You rubbed at Daryl’s arms, watching the way his chest heaved as he caught his breath and began to pull himself together, his cheeks flushed a pleasing shade of pink.

"If you manage to endure everyone's jolly behavior without finding a corner to brood in, I'll let you open your gift early." You teased and Daryl let out a private laugh, the corner of his lips quirking up into a subtle smile as he lightly ran his thick hands over your ribs, the barely there touch tickling at the sensitive skin. 

"This ‘s good 'nough." He mused softly, staring up at you through his hair. You reached out to gently move his bangs out of his face with a fond tilt to your mouth, tucking the dark locks behind his ear so that you could see his expressive eyes.

"You’re such a romantic.” You sighed, ignoring the way Daryl immediately tried to deny the fact in favor of pressing another, quicker kiss against his lips, silencing his weak protests.

[janiehellion]

Healing Touch

ONESHOT

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

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HANDJOB / TEASING / EDGING / ORGASM DENIAL

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.033

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E05—ᴄʜᴜᴘᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴀ & S2E06—ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,924 Daryl Dixon x Reader reader pronouns: she/her Era: the prison Summary: Daryl realizes how touch-starved he’s been and exactly who he wants to satisfy that with. Really just sweet, vulnerable Daryl.[he is baby in this fic 100%] Warnings: none really? Language? Fluff?

Daryl startled awake, shooting straight up on his bed.

“Wow! Sorry! I was trying to wake you up gently!”

He looked up at her with a steely glare. Then he let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, the frantic alarmed feeling passing quickly as he realized it was just Carol. “The hell ya wakin’ me up for at all? I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was nearly up,” he growled, swinging his legs down over the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. He still had his boots on.

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Sorry… but I really could use a hand. The water line is clogged up with mud again. The others are going to keep the herd on the fence occupied and thin the numbers down while I try to clear it. I could use you to watch my back.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, alrigh’. Just gimme a few minutes. I’ll meet ya out in the yard.”

“Okay, Pookie” she teased him, smiling. She reached to affectionately smooth a hand over his tousled hair but he deflected it hurriedly and shot her another look that made her laugh. “I’ll see you in a minute,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, go on and get outta here… Pain in my ass,” he grumbled, climbing to his feet.

As Carol’s footsteps retreated outside his cell, he glanced at his reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the cell wall. His hair was a mess and he did what he could to hastily smooth it with his hands before abandoning the effort with a grunt. He hurriedly grabbed his crossbow and fixed his knife in its sheath at his hip. Relacing his boots to make sure they were tight, he called it good and made his way through the prison.

As he stepped outside into the sunlight, he could already see that things were busy despite the early morning hour. Rick and Carl were in the garden plots with Hershel and everyone else seemed to either be chopping and stacking firewood or working down on the fence. It was rare for Daryl not to be the first one awake and it left him feeling off-balance. He hadn’t been sleeping hardly at all and it must have finally added up to pure exhaustion since he’d actually caught a few hours until Carol woke him.

His blue eyes, squinted against the light, searched for you out of subconscious habit. He spotted you alongside Glenn and Maggie on the fence. He felt his heart skipping a beat.

The gravel crunched under his boots as he headed to meet Carol who was waiting at the gate that led to the alleyway between the fences. She greeted him with a tight smile. “Ready?”

“Yep. Good to go,” he replied.

Carol opened the gate and Daryl followed her in. Soon they were passing by you, Glenn, and Maggie putting down walkers through the chainlink.

“Are you alright, Daryl?” Maggie called out, shading her eyes with a gloved hand. “I thought maybe you were sick or somethin’,” she said.

“Yeah, unusual for any of us to be up before you,” Glenn agreed, leaning on the metal rod in his hand.

“Christ, ev’rybody’s got somethin’ to say about it,” Daryl retorted. “Can’t a man get a couple hours of sleep for once?”

You turned after putting down a particularly large and loud walker, gore dripping off the end of the sharpened makeshift spear in your hand and you wiped at the stray strands of your hair that were sticking to your face with your arm. You skin was already glistening with sweat despite it being far from the hottest part of the day. You smiled at Daryl, squinting against the sun. “I didn’t say anything,” you laughed.

“Yeah, well thanks for that,” Daryl said, meeting your eyes. “Yer the only damn one…” He gulped, always a little nervous when your full attention was on him.

“Alright, alright,” Carol said, laughing. “I think we’ve teased poor Daryl enough for actually sleeping. Just keep the herd down this end, away from the water line, okay? We’re heading out to clear it now.”

You all nodded and returned to the task at hand. Daryl couldn’t help glancing back at you over his shoulder a few times, until he slipped out of the hole to the outside behind Carol and closed it back up behind him, lacing the sturdy wire back through the fencing and pulling it tight.

Carol pulled the water line up out of the creek and began twisting apart sections of it to clear out the mud and muck. “Yuck… no wonder we were hardly pulling any water in,” she said, shaking a particularly large chunk of red Georgia clay out of the nozzle.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes scanned the surrounding tall grass and trees for any approaching stray walkers, but he found that they continually seemed to return to you on the fence almost on their own.

“Hey. Hey!” Carol was suddenly laughing. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” Daryl’s eyes snapped back to her. “Sorry.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and a small, perhaps slightly knowing, smile curved her lips. “Distracted?” she asked.

He shifted. “Are ya done?”

Carol laughed to herself again and dusted off her hands. “Yeah, I think so.” She walked back to the stream with the end of the hose and dropped it back into the creek. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked as the two of them started back up the slope toward the fence.

Daryl shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe work on my bike. Probably due for a tune-up,” he drawled, slinging his crossbow back over his shoulder.

She nodded. “Sorry I woke you up. I was shocked you were still sleeping to be honest. I waited around a bit but—"

“Nah, s’alrigh’. I probably needed to get up anyway,” he replied, glancing ahead toward the fence again. The herd of walkers was dwindling with the efficient work of you and the others but the bodies were piling up on the outside now. Clean-up duty would be needed.

“Well, you should head inside and eat something,” Carol said. “I know you haven’t had anything yet today.”

He ran a hand back through his hair and nodded. “Yeah… maybe in a bit. I think ‘m gonna start pilin’ up those carcasses. We’ll need to burn ‘em later and it ain’t no good havin’ ‘em up against the fence, attractin’ new walkers.”

Carol stopped. “Oh. Yeah, true. I’ll help. Looks like they’re about done anyway,” she said.

He nodded and they strode over, dew down in the longer tufts of grass wetting their boots and hems. There were maybe six walkers left clawing at the fence and they were quickly cut down to three as he and Carol approached on the outside. Daryl pulled his gloves from his back pocket and tugged them on as Carol walked over, watching the last upright body fall onto the pile a moment later.

“How’s the water line?” you asked, gripping the fence, the tips of your fingers poking through.

“Should be all cleared out now,” Carol said. “Nice work,” she said, referring to the pile of bodies at her feet. “Daryl and I will start pulling these away from the fence and piling them to be burned.”

“Alright. I’ll come help,” you said, setting down the metal rod you’d been wielding and briefly wiping at the sweat glistening on your forehead with your forearm again.

“You sure? You’ve done more than your fair share of hard labor today,” Carol said. “Looks like Maggie and Glenn are already heading back up to rest.”

“Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t mind,” you said. “It’ll go faster with three of us.”

“Alright. Come on out! Thanks,” Carol said, giving you a grateful smile.

You nodded and hurried to let yourself out the makeshift opening to the outside. Daryl had already dragged away four bodies in the time it took for you to make your way over. You offered him a wide smile that had his heart jumping and he paused before he grabbed another walker, lacing the fingers of his gloves together in a nervous gesture. “Ya alrigh’?” he drawled. “Ya ain’t gotta help with this. Ya did a lot of work on them from the other side,” he said. Your cheeks and chest were flushed red with heat and effort and the cotton of your t-shirt was clinging to your damp skin.

You shrugged. “I’m all good. It’ll get done sooner this way,” you said. He watched your eyes flickering up over his face a couple times and he became suddenly self-conscious.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

You laughed lightly. “Oh—it’s just—you’ve got this one piece of hair sticking up—it’s been defying gravity since you first came out here. I’m just a little surprised it’s still hanging in there,” you joked. You pulled your gloves off and stepped up to him. “It’s just sticking straight up,” you laughed again, attempting to smooth it gently.

An electric shiver ran up Daryl’s back as your fingers combed through his hair. “What’s it matter?” he drawled, attempting to sound gruff and not what he was actually feeling… which was completely jittery. “Ain’t like ‘m tryin’ to win a beauty contest out here.”

“Oh, so you want to be a unicorn? Got it,” you teased him, redoubling your efforts and using both hands and your fingernails to try to combat the stray strand, but it only sprung right back up. You laughed again, your eyes crinkling at the corners. A fluttery feeling burst between Daryl’s lungs. You sighed and shook your head, stepping back and crossing your arms, surveying him. “Nope. Won’t cooperate. I guess you are stuck as a wild unicorn today,” you said. “At least until it comes in contact with a wet comb.”

“Comb? I dunno if I’ve even got one of those,” he joked. “Thanks for tryin’,” Daryl said, half-sarcastically. You only flashed him another grin. You pulled your gloves back on and headed back to the fence to grab a walker. Carol stopped beside Daryl and he grabbed the body she was dragging by the ankles and helped her swing it onto the newly-formed pile. She gave him an appraising look when she stood up, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “What?” he asked.

“No, nothing,” she said, smiling vaguely. But it certainly wasn’t lost on her that when she had attempted to ruffle his hair, her hand had been pushed away brusquely.

Daryl ducked his head and went back to work. You were still at the fence when he walked up beside you. You were attempting to untangle a disgusting mass of limbs to pull a single walker out. Your nose wrinkled and you let out a noise of disgust. “I don’t think I will ever get used to the smell of them,” you mused aloud.

Daryl looked up, about to respond, but suddenly your feet went out from under you and you were landing hard on your back, all the breath pushed out of your body. “Y/N!”

There was a surprisingly strong hand that had emerged from the pile of bodies gripping your ankle and low, muffled growls emanated from a walker beneath the heap that was not quite dead.

Daryl jumped into action immediately, stomping his boot down onto the grasping arm until it released you and then quickly tugging you away by gripping you under the arms. He collapsed down on the ground behind you and you came to rest partially against him, still gasping for air as your lungs had not yet returned to normal, still seized up from the fall. You found yourself completely unaware that you were laying back against his chest as you just focused on trying to breathe. Daryl didn’t dare move.

Carol came running over at full speed. “Oh my God! Are you okay?!”

All you could do was nod urgently, unable to talk still. You pressed a hand to your chest and willed your lungs to start drawing in air again. Your heart was pounding.

“Fucker didn’t scratch ya ,did he? Please, tell me he didn’t…” Daryl gasped. “Carol, check her ankles quick!”

Carol quickly bent over you and looked, sighing with relief. “No, she’s clean.”

It was about that time that your lungs started working again and you realized you were sort of on top of Daryl. “Oh, shit,” you breathed, sitting up and turning. “I’m sorry. I—I’m leaning on you,” you said hurriedly.

Daryl shook his head, his brow still furrowed deeply. “S’alrigh’. Are ya okay? Ya sure?”

You nodded, trying hard to slow your breathing and heart rate. “I’m okay. Just startled me more than anything.”

Daryl climbed to his feet and offered you his hand. He pulled you up. You both watched as Carol kicked a body aside and plunged her knife into the head of the walker that had grabbed you and was still moving. “Got him,” she said, straightening up, her knife dripping blood onto the grass.

It was then that you realized your hand was still in Daryl’s. He hadn’t let go. You could feel the calluses on his palms from digging with the shovels the week before and the calluses on his fingertips from drawing back his crossbow. His thumb was closed gently over the back of your hand. He seemed to have realized then that the moment had passed when he should have relinquished his gentle hold on you and he suddenly drew back, wiping his hand on his pants as if that would rid it of the electric tingle on his palm. “Are ya sure yer okay?” he asked again.

“Fine. I’m fine… just knocked the wind out of me for a minute,” you said.

“How was that one not dead?” he growled, moving to peer down at the body.

“Here,” Carol said, pointing at the neck. “Looks like whoever was trying to put it down just missed the back of head.”

Daryl straightened up, looking worried still. “We’ll have to remind ev’rybody to be more careful on the fence. What if somebody had gotten bit ‘cuz that fucker wasn’t quite dead?”

“It could’ve been my fault,” you said quickly. “I was working the fence too.”

“Well, I doubt ya need the reminder now,” Daryl said seriously, giving you a concerned look. You only nodded. “Look, why dun ya just head back up to the prison for a bit. Get outta the sun and get some water.”

You cocked your head as you looked at him. “What? No,” you laughed. “You think that’s enough to scare me off? Hell no, Dixon,” you said, already smiling at him again. “Let’s get this shit done.”

Carol smiled and shrugged. “You heard her, Dixon,” she teased, leaning down to grab another corpse by the wrists and pull it away.

The pile moved away from the fence and ready to be burned, you and Carol were about to start back to the prison when there was a rustling in the brush nearby. A scraggly looking walker wandered out and started toward the group of you, reaching up with hands that were missing several fingers.

Daryl unsheathed his knife with a well-practiced movement. “I got it,” he said, jogging over to put it down with a skillful stab to the head. He paced back, wiping his knife on his pants. “I’ll ask Rick where he put the gas/oil mixture for burnin�� this later. Ain’t no reason we gotta do it in this sun. Let’s head back up,” he drawled.

You nodded in agreement and pulled your gloves off, glancing at him with a half-smile. “Hey, do you have your bandana on you?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he said pulling it out from his back pocket and offering it to you. “Why?”

You took it, stepped in close to him, and dabbed at a spray of blood on the side of his neck from the walker he’d just put down, wiping it away. “You didn’t feel it?” you laughed. “Apparently it was a juicy one.” You held his bandana out to him again.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling his face flush a little with heat. He noticed Carol watching the interaction with that same vague smile on her face. He ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Alrigh’. Let’s head back inside them fences… One close call is more than enough for today.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Daryl saw you again in a few hours, he could tell you’d cleaned up after your morning shift on the fence. Your hair was down, framing your face and was shining in the sun. There was no more sweat or grime clinging to your skin anymore. You waved as you caught his eyes already on you and he gulped as you made your way over.

Daryl, on the other hand, was still just as filthy as he had been when you all left the pile of walkers outside the fence behind, perhaps moreso. His hands were covered in oil and grime from working on his bike. He felt suddenly self-conscious as you stopped beside him in your fresh clothes.

“I was looking for you,” you said.

“Me?” Daryl straightened up next to his bike.

“Yeah. Carol said you haven’t eaten anything all day,” you said pointedly, your eyebrows lifting.

He shrugged. “Just ain’t gotten around to it yet, I guess,” he drawled, fiddling with the tool in his hands.

“I see. You’re just entirely too busy to take care of yourself?” you retorted. As you talked, you reached out and wiped away a smudge of oil on his forearm casually.

Daryl, however, couldn’t be casual about the spark he’d just felt from that little touch of your fingertip. It jumped up to his arm and seemed to have made its way to his heart, because it was now racing. He gulped.

“Well, what if I fix you a bowl of something and bring it out? You worked hard this morning. You should eat,” you said, cocking your head at him. “We can’t have you suddenly passing out out here and faceplanting onto the cement,” you teased him.

He fixed his blue eyes on you for a long moment. “Ya ain’t gotta do that. ‘M almost done out here. I can come in and—”

You grabbed his arm again and Daryl almost stepped backwards from the way his body seemed to react to your touch again. It was nearly overwhelming. “Daryl, what I asked was if you would eat it if I brought it out. It’s a simple question,” you said, shooting him a playful look. “So?” Your hand was still on his arm. It was light and gentle, but he could feel the softness of your skin. He stared at it for a long second and then managed to clear his throat enough to respond. “Y—yeah, I’d eat it, I guess.”

“Good,” you said, nodding. “I’ll be right back then.” You disappeared back inside.

Rick happened to wander by carrying the gas can for burning the pile of walkers just a minute later. Daryl was bent over his bike, muttering expletives under his breath. “Ho—watch out!” Rick said suddenly, and Daryl shot up as he felt Rick’s hand brush his back.

Daryl jumped, spun around, and shook him off. “What the hell, man?” Daryl growled.

Rick laughed and held his hand up, palm out. “Sorry! You had a huge horsefly on your back! You’re welcome.” He shook his head. “With that reaction next time I might just let you get bit,” Rick joked.

Daryl shook his head. “Sorry. Ya just startled me is all.”

“It’s alright,” Rick replied. “I’ll go take care of those bodies.” He gestured with the gas can.

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh’. Be careful out there. Fire will probably bring more of ‘em in.”

“I’ll take Glenn out with me,” Rick said, and then he was off.

A moment later you were back with a bowl of food for him. It was some kind of noodles with some venison and a few fresh tomatoes from the garden. “Alright. Break time, Daryl,” you demanded. “I need to make sure you actually eat, since apparently you won’t.”

Daryl tugged his bandana from his back pocket and mopped at the oil on his skin the best he could.

You set the bowl in his hands and your fingertips brushed his skin. You didn’t seem to notice. For Daryl it was impossible not to. “Thanks,” he murmured, grabbing a seat on a nearby concrete block.

“No problem.” You came and sat down next to him, sighing good-naturedly and looking out over the green grass of the yard. Rick was just lighting up the pile of walkers outside the fence. A breeze was blowing the tops of the trees around, sending the leaves fluttering and changing their hues. Fluffy clouds drifted by lazily.

Daryl dragged a hand across his mouth. “Mmm. S’good. Thanks,” he murmured, hurriedly taking another bite. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d started eating.

You smiled at his voracious eating habits and leaned your chin on your hand, your elbow propped on your knee. You reached over again with your free hand and attempted to smooth that same stubborn strand of his hair that had been sticking up all day. Goosebumps rose up Daryl’s back.

“Thought ya gave that up as a lost cause,” Daryl said through a mouthful, holding absolutely still while your fingers were in his hair.

“I did. Was just… I don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling. “I kind of like it.”

He shot you a look like you were crazy.

“What?” you laughed. “It’s endearing!”

“Yer nuts,” he joked, ducking his head again and turning back to his food. He didn’t see you biting your bottom lip as you looked at him, a fond and soft light in your eyes.

_ _ _ _ _ _

That evening, most of the group was gathered around a bonfire out in the yard. You’d all roasted scraps of venison from a deer Daryl had shot the day before, supplemented with vegetables from the garden and everyone was full and happy. Carol was rocking Judith and cooing over her. Maggie, Glenn, and Beth were playing a rowdy game of cards. Rick and Carl seemed content to watch the people they loved enjoying themselves and you and Hershel were off to one side talking about plans for fall crops when cool season time rolled around again.

Daryl was the only one who had wandered away by himself and seemed to be standing watch on one of the guard platforms. You noticed his broad-shouldered silhouette against the sky and excused yourself.

He turned at the sound of steps on the rattling metal stairs and straightened up when he saw you come around the corner.

You looked up and smiled at him and his heart jumped. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. Everythin’ alrigh’?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. You came to stand beside him at the railing and leaned forward on your forearms. “You okay? Were we all too rowdy down there?” you asked.

“‘M good. Just thought somebody should be on watch, ya know?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding.

“It doesn’t always have to be you though,” you said. “You take on a lot. You’re allowed to relax too. Your worth as a person isn’t tied to what you can do for the group.”

He looked at you with a semi-startled expression on his handsome face.

“And I see now that you needed to hear that,” you said your eyebrows lifting. “It’s true.”

You turned and looked back out over the shadows settling into the yard and the warm orange glow illuminating your found family.

Daryl was chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. He lifted a hand to rub at his right shoulder, wincing a little as he rotated it.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nah, s’nothin’. I must’a tweaked it when I was movin’ my bike this afternoon. Tha’s all. S’fine.”

“Hmm. Alright. Turn around,” you said, straightening up.

“What?” Daryl asked, one of his eyebrows quirked up with the question.

“I said turn around,” you said again.

“Why?”

“Just turn around!” you laughed. “What, are you scared of me?”

“Maybe a little,” Daryl replied, a half-smile turning up one corner of your mouth.

Your hands landed on your hips and you cocked your head at him with attitude. He surrendered and turned so his back was to you.

Your hands landed gently on his shoulders and you worked your fingers into his stiff muscles. They seemed to melt beneath your touch. “You are tense,” you said. You moved to massage his sore shoulder and you could feel that one specific spot seemed particularly tight and inflamed. Your touch became gentler and Daryl’s eyes shut. He was almost leaning into the light workings of your hands. “How’s that feel?” you asked him.

All he could get out was a satisfied hum which made you smile.

“You definitely pulled something over here. You’ll have to go easy on it for a bit.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Maybe ya can just keep doin’ that ‘til it’s all better,” he drawled.

You laughed lightly. “I take it this feels okay then,” you said.

“Mhm,” he hummed again.

You smiled to yourself. The man deserved a little TLC. After all, you had scared the shit out of him when that walker grabbed you. You’d never forget the sound of his panicked voice yelling your name.

Just then, there was more clattering on the stairs and your hands left Daryl’s shoulders as you both turned to look. Carol came around the corner and stopped short. “Oh—sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting, um, anything,” she said, smiling.

You felt your cheeks flush and Daryl was feeling the same thing in his chest and face. “No. Not at all,” you said, leaning back against the railing.

“I was just looking for Daryl,” she explained.

“You found him,” you said. “I should head back down and see if Rick needs help getting Judith down for bed anyway.” You glanced back over at Daryl and gave him a small smile. “Night. See you in the morning. Night, Carol.”

Daryl watched you go until you disappeared into the deepening darkness. Then he felt Carol’s eyes on him. He turned at looked at her and her expression and postured, crossed arms and all, could only be described as smug. “What?” he asked, nestling the edge of his thumbnail in between his teeth and biting down.

“I’m really sorry if I did interrupt something,” she said pointedly.

“Interrupt what?” he drawled, a little irritated.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “Let me just ask you something. How come eight out of ten times if I go to ruffle your hair or wipe a smudge of something gross off you, I get my hand smacked away, but Y/N always seems able to make contact, hmm?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. He simply stared back at her. Internally though, his mind and his heart were working in overdrive.

Carol laughed. “You don’t have to answer. I think we both know why,” she said with a satisfied smile.

Daryl sighed and ruffled a hand back through his wavy hair before resuming his position leaning on the railing next to Carol.

“You do like her though, don’t you?” Carol asked.

Daryl only continued to stare out over the dark yard, chewing on his bottom lip in that signature way of his. Carol’s smile widened and she nodded.

“I thought so.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, you beat all of us awake again today. I guess everything is back to normal,” Glenn said, kindly reaching out to give Daryl a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed him. The archer flinched and Glenn gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he said quickly.

“Oh—nah, s’alrigh’,” Daryl drawled. “Just startled me… And yeah. Hope ya slackers had a good snooze. Some of us gotta get shit done around here,” he joked, shouldering his crossbow and heading toward the door to leave.

You happened to be coming back in with Judith in your arms and Daryl nearly ran into you, stopping short to avoid the collision. You laughed and greeted him, one of your hands reflexively landing flush in the center of his chest and staying there until the two of you had side-stepped around each other.

Glenn came to sit beside Maggie again, handing her the cup of tea he’d just gotten for her. “Did you see that? How he flinched?” he asked, a little sadly, his head indicating Daryl before the archer slipped out the door.

“Mhm,” Maggie nodded. “But did ya see that?” she asked, a faint smile tugging on her lips now. She nodded toward you across the room where you were sitting with Judith.

Glenn shook his head. “No. What? I was at the stove.”

Maggie’s smile widened. “Daryl nearly ran into her. She put her hand out and it landed right in the middle of his chest and it stayed there until they made their way around each other. And it almost seemed like Daryl didn’t want to step away from her. He didn’t flinch. He may have even moved in closer. He couldn’t stop lookin’ at her,” Maggie said.

Glenn nodded slowly, his eyebrows lifting as realization dawned on him. “Well, last night… the two of them disappeared from the bonfire... You don’t think—?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie laughed jovially. “But if they aren’t, they should. Daryl needs that. And he’d be good for her too. He’s always been so protective of her and you can just tell there’s somethin’ there.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was late afternoon when you spotted Daryl taking a break out in the yard. He was sitting on the stump used to chop wood, the axe leaning up against the wood pile nearby. Having just finished sorting some of the newly discovered supplies with Carol, you were ready for a break yourself.

“Hey,” you greeted him, tugging another round of wood over next to him.

“Hey,” he returned, watching you take a seat beside him. He found himself wringing his hands a little nervously.

As you settled in next to him, your arm floated behind him for a moment, your palm gently rubbing across his shoulder blades, almost giving his back a gentle scratch, and then tapering off down his spine in an affectionate gesture. Daryl froze, fluttering bursting to life in his chest again. Electric tingles ran up his back. He swallowed hard. “Why d’ya do that?” he asked suddenly.

You turned and gaze him a questioning look, the small smile dying on your lips. “Do what?”

“Ya know, ya rub my back or—or try to smooth down my hair—”

Your eyes went a bit round and then your brow furrowed, casting shadows over the rich color of your irises. “Oh. Does it bother you? I’m—I’m sorry, Daryl. I probably should have asked you if you were okay with me breaking the touch barrier like that with you. I’m really sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t—”

“What? No. No, it doesn’t—I, uhh—I just mean—” Fuck. How could he explain this without having to confess all his deeply held feelings for you on the spot? “It’s—it’s nice… is all,” he finished lamely.

Your expression relaxed. “Yeah?”

He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I just—I ain’t ever really had anybody that—that did that kinda stuff with me, ya know? I mean—” he broke off. He didn’t want to go there. He’d had sex. He wasn’t completely inexperienced, but it had never felt anywhere near as intimate as your fingertips brushing his arm did.

Your lips formed a soft pout and the worry lines in your forehead reappeared. “You mean, touched you… affectionately?”

He nodded a little, keeping his eyes fixed toward the horizon, unable to look at you in that exact moment. “Yeah.”

Your heart ached. You nodded. “I see…” you breathed. You paused thoughtfully for a moment. You thought of all the people in your past who had touched you with love of all kinds—your parents, your best friend, hugs from extended relatives and friends, playfully holding hands as a child, touches with past partners… To think Daryl had never really had any of that broke your heart. You turned toward him and your fingers landed lightly along his jaw, gently turning his face toward you so you could see his bright blue eyes. You clasped his face for a moment and his eyes closed for just a split second. He actually leaned into the touch of your palm and you felt another pang in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your fingertips trailing off his skin. “You should have had people your whole life touching you with love and friendship and care. And I’m so sorry you didn’t. We all need touch. It’s something fundamental to us as humans.”

You were close together, your knees almost bumping together.

Daryl’s eyes flickered between yours. “Yeah… I dun think I realized that until—pretty recently,” he said. “But ya don’t, uhh—I mean, I’ve noticed ya don’t… do the same thing with ev’rybody. I mean—not—not exactly the same,” he ventured.

“You noticed?” A small smile came back to your face. “No. You’re right. I don’t,” you agreed. You gave him a significant look and his heart began absolutely pounding in his chest, like he was running for his life, hard and fast.

“Oh…” he drawled, his eyes going suddenly unfocused.

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh, your cheeks heating with a blush. “Um, listen—come find me after dinner tonight. I’ve got first watch in the guard tower. Alright?” You stood and Daryl found himself looking up at you, wishing you wouldn’t go.

He could ask you to stay… but he just nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Alright. Tonight.”

“Great,” you said, flashing him a smile that made him glad he was sitting down already. You would have nearly knocked his knees out. How was he going to make it through the rest of the day? The waiting would be excruciating…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl looked up at the guard tower and could see your silhouette out on the platform against the warm splash of color from the setting sun. Inside the tower, a lantern glowed softly, illuminating the windows. He made his way up the winding stairs, trying to swallow his nerves to the best of his ability, but he found it wasn’t much use. He wiped his hands on his pants, suddenly aware that his palms were sweaty.

He pushed into the tower and found the door out onto the platform standing open. You looked over your shoulder at the sound of his boots and smiled at him, before returning to leaning on the railing, staring at the hues of salmon and orange and deep reds blazing across the sky as the sun sunk behind the trees at the horizon.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” you asked, meaning the sunset.

Daryl licked his lips nervously, but he was looking at you. “Yeah,” he drawled.

“I like how the sky is never the exact same. No two skies are alike. Something is always different with the colors or the clouds or the particular shade of blue. It makes me feel like even though the world has gone to complete shit… it hasn’t really. You know?”

Daryl leaned onto the railing beside you on his forearms and drank in the scene, humming his agreement. “Mhm.” He nervously shifted. “Um… why’d—why’d ya ask me up here?” He couldn’t stand the strenuous anticipation and wondering any longer.

You turned giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. You’ve probably been wondering all day. Well… I was wondering if I could kiss you and this seemed like a nice place to do it—private, nice view, stars will be out soon, unlikely to be interrupted…”

Daryl thought he must have heard you wrong. “Wait—what?”

You smiled at him, your eyes sparking with light. “I’d like to kiss you, if that’s alright?”

He stared at you. “Ya wanna kiss me?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Huh… well—what if I wanna kiss you first?”

You gave him an amused look, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Then, I’d say this works out for both of us?” you laughed.

He ducked his head for a moment. “Cuz I’ve wanted to kiss ya for—for a long time now. Prob’ly longer than you’ve wanted to kiss me,” he admitted. He shot a cautious look at your expression but you still just had that serene smile on your face.

“Daryl—” you said, stepping in toward him and gently taking hold of the front of his vest, “I don’t care who initiates it, but I’d like it to happen n—”

You didn’t get the last word out, because Daryl’s lips landed flush on yours and his hand was tangling into your hair, the other landing lightly on your waist. He seemed a little tense at first, nerves maybe, but quickly you melted into each other, your knees weakening, and he tugged you against him as your arms looped around his neck.

Your hearts were racing in time together and you were both breathless when you broke apart, pulling back only enough to breathe. Daryl’s fingers drummed anxiously on your lower back.

“Was… that alrigh’?” he asked.

“Alright?” you repeated. “It was perfect,” you said.

He looked relieved. “Good. ‘Cuz… it was for me too,” he said softly. “And I’d like to do it again, if tha’s alrigh’?”

You grinned and arched into him, crashing your lips against his. This kiss was fiery and hungry and you didn’t break apart for a long time. Daryl held your body firmly against his and the two of you moved without any clumsiness or reticence, reading each other easily and sinking into it.

The sun was now nearly completely gone and the first stars were appearing in the inky sky. The moon was rising. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at Daryl. “I was hoping you’d stay until my shift is over.”

“Mmm,” Daryl nodded, his hands still on your waist. “Alrigh’. But s’gonna be hard to keep watch with ya distractin’ me.”

“Well, there are two of us… only one of us really needs to be watching at a time,” you joked, laughing lightly. You stroked your fingers through his wavy hair, brushing it away from his face, and his eyes closed at your touch. “I brought a blanket up to sit on. Come on.”

Daryl settled down on it first and then nudged his head in a way as to request that you sink down against him. His arm draped behind you and landed on your hip. His fingers moved a little absently, feeling your softness and angles. “Thanks,” he said suddenly.

“Hmm? For what?” you asked, looking over at him and catching his eyes for a moment before he ducked his head and shrugged.

“For bein’ you and… bein’ the way ya are with me,” he drawled. He didn’t know how to voice that as long as he’d known you, every little touch you gave him, innocent or maybe more, felt like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he found himself craving it, craving you. But he’d never known for sure, beyond the doubt instilled in him, if it was one-sided or not. Now, he knew.

You smiled at him and then tucked yourself against him, your head resting under his chin, your hand moving softly on his bare arm, leaving tingles in its wake. The last light of the sun disappeared and was replaced with the cool glow of the moon and endless stars, and the two of you soaked in each other. Daryl seemed more confident as the minutes passed and drank you in, slowly touch-starved no longer and hoping he would never be again.

[lunajay33]

Touch Starved🖤

Summary: requested by @azanoni Daryl is touch starved and desperately craves your comforts and affection, you’ve been so busy lately that you’ve both barely gotten any time for eachother so when he comes to you with his head down and wary you knew he needed your love

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

After everything that happened with the saviors and having Daryl back now it felt like things could get normal again, well as normal as they could but I felt like if I stopped helping and trying to protect Alexandria it would fall again and by doing that I guess I’ve been neglecting mine and Daryl’s relationship so when Maggie said I need the day off I took it

I went back to mine and Daryl’s house seeing Dpg laying on the porch steps, once he spotted me his tailed thumped against the wood and he ran over circling me as I tried to walk towards the house, he loved Daryl and I he was only really like this with us

“Come on bud I need to be able to walk” I said kneeling down and scruffing his fur hoping it was good enough so he’d just walk beside me instead of circling

As I walked up the stairs Daryl opened up the door and looked at me with a sadness in his eyes that hurt my heart, after a moment of starring his head dropped like he did when he needed comfort and was ashamed of it and I didn’t wait a second to wrap my arms around him holding his head against my shoulder, he walked backwards to lead me into the house, dog running in right by me

“Daryl baby what’s wrong?” I asked running my hand through his hair

“Ya’ve been gone s’ much, I never see ya” he grumbled into my neck

“Oh D I’m so sorry, I’ve just been so worried about terrible things happening again and I guess I got swept up in it, but I’m gonna relax more because, I miss you too so so much, I miss your little smirk when I tease you, or the way you wrap your arm around my hip at night and pull me closer, or when we just sit with eachother, I’m really sorry”

He lifted his head to look down at me, pushing my hair back behind my ear and settling his hand on my cheek

“I just feel wrong with our ya here, dog does too, he’s been whining as he watched the streets, I just wanna feel ya again, be able to love ya like we use ta”

“Okay, okay I’ll make more time for us, because at the end of the day yeah I can work for the community all I want but you’re the one I come home to, you’re the one I love with all my heart, what can I do to cheer you up”

“How ‘bout we have a date night, supper, drinks, lil fire, maybe some dessert”

“Oh really, and what would you like for dessert Dixon?” I asked sultry wrapping my arms around his shoulders

“Hmmm I’m thinkin some strawberries and…….” He seemed hesitant but there was a spark in his eyes

“Annnnndddddd?”

“You”

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

cherry pt. 1 🍒

gif by @taiturner

touch-starved!fem!reader x touch-starved, shy daryl dixon. this is pure tooth-rotting fluff with protective daryl, set somewhere in alexandria. the reader is a medic, this is a sweet build-up to smut which is going to be in part 2.

3.5k words, suitable for everyone. reader is referred to as "she", written in 3rd person, mostly daryl's pov, all lowercase. title from the lana song cherry because lana + norman = *author barks incoherently and descends into insanity*

her knee landed between his legs with a soft thud. the meat of his thigh surrounded by her legs as he sat under the yellow overhead lamp, daryl's chest rose and fell steadily, caramel skin marred by a deep red welt.

he stunk like bloody sweat, moist soil and gunpowder and lead.

"I'll inject a local," she mumbled, tapping on the glass vial before inserting the syringe and filling it up with a clear liquid, "you gonna need some twenty stitches, boyo."

"you dun' hafta," he, nonetheless, winced; the welt went across his chest, over his pectoral and almost to his collarbone. all and all, far from the worst he's had.

painkillers were a luxury, better spent on someone else, someone not like him. but he knew better than to argue with a medic (or someone filling the position of one, for that matter).

the woman's scent enveloped his senses in an opaque fog of sweet summer sweat over sharp, cheap laundry powder. something bitter, like rosemary and thyme, something sweet, like cherries and wine.

daryl's eyelashes fluttered as the needle pierced his skin: once, twice, five times, all around the jagged edges of the torn wound. the breath he was holding in left his mouth in a humid huff.

her hands, so gentle, prodded at the edges of his hurt until he could answer her question of 'feel anything?' negative, honestly. briefly, the acrid stench of rubbing alcohol overshadowed everything else as she sterilized everything, the tools and him, to the best of her ability.

he opened his eyes.

"now," she lifted her clever eyes, surveying the scene, "I'm gonna perch myself here," she moved that much closer, one knee between his legs, the other on the side of his leg; hovering over the same leg, facing his reclined torso, "you tell me if you're uncomfortable. that's the only light here, I don't mean to invade your personal space like that."

he could have laughed, if not for the risk of disrupting her careful stitching of his flesh.

"don'tcha worry 'bout it, pretty girl," his voice gravelly low, daryl did his best to stay still.

she chuckled softly, "bet you say that to anyone who can stitch you up in an even line."

"no," he scoffed, surprising himself, "jus' you. rick's hardly a pretty girl."

her hands stilled, eyes momentarily darting to his. the yellow light reflected in them, giving her pupils a red-hot gleam, as if devil himself had taken a sharp turn and went to seek refuge inside her instead of coming down to georgia.

he studied it, studied his own blurry, open-mouthed, panting reflection in the pupils of the woman currently perched atop his lap. then the realisation hit him, like a derailed runaway train, and he immediately withdrew to count the cracks in the ceiling.

she cleared her throat, resuming the rhythmical push and pull of the needle.

"didn't know rick could do that."

daryl attempted to shrug - stopping it before the motion reached his shoulders - and grunted instead.

she continued to stitch, the suddenly pregnant silence punctuated by the crinkling of a wrapper. an extra large, sterile bandaid was placed over the wound after she applied something green and foul-smelling atop the now-closed gash; his grunted query was met with a curt,

"antiseptic."

and he was let go with instructions to return the next day for a dressing change.

he lied to himself. he waited until it was dark to show up the next day, well into the summer night, just to be placed in the same position - under the lone hanging lamp, under her.

cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme, complimented by a trail of herbal tea. she smelled like peaches, too, this time. or, perhaps, it were the blooming trees outside her window that snuck their sweet aroma indoors.

"healing nicely," she remarked off-handedly, seemingly oblivious to the rising level of his tension and his inner turmoil. "the pain not too bad? you seem grumpy. grumpier than usual."

this time, he waited until she removed herself from his form to bark a terse laugh.

"no, pretty girl," he eyed her in the dusky, dusty room and received a crooked smile for his troubles, "long day 'is all."

"tell me about it," she huffed, shoulders sagging a bit more than he would have liked.

"who's the prick bothering ya?" he couldn't help it, his mind immediately went... places. surely, he wasn't the only one who noticed her pretty.

"no-one but my own damn brain," she scoffed, seemingly at herself, "and maybe the dick from number 17. it's like he's doing it on purpose."

"doin' what now?" daryl's voice dropped, his eyes squinted. his palm migrated to the handle of his knife, a gesture utterly subconscious.

"gettin' injured," she grumbled, no real heat behind her words, "got shot with a dart last week, sprained his ankle on a routine perimeter check today. how did that man serve 6 years in the army is beyond me."

daryl's head tilted as his chest tensed, heart thudded uncomfortably against his ribs.

"isn't carol taking care of all the broken bones?" he asked, tone laced with suspicion.

she turned to face him; he felt, more than saw, the annoyed roll of her eyes.

"he demands a real doctor," the woman shook off the wrapper before leaning back into him and placing it over his wound in one swift, irritated gesture, "how come nobody's told him I'm just a good faker? everyone knows by this point. all he does is waste resources-"

"woah, woah," daryl's voice rose briefly as he attempted to halt the incoming ramble. not that he didn't want to hear what she had to say, it was just unusual to see the quiet woman so... not herself.

"sorry," she shot immediately, looking away, "he just gives me the creeps. I know it's mean but-"

"no," daryl shook his head immediately, "if he's botherin' you, he's botherin' you and he needa back off."

she chuckled as she leaned back to observe the results of her work. her eyes were tired and a little ashamed. "say whatchu want but you southern fellas are real gentlemen," her smile was soft.

nobody has ever spoken to him like that, much less referred to him as a gentleman. through the momentary awe, daryl let the corners of his lips tilt up in a closed-lipped, shy smile.

he didn't return the next day, and the day after, having been deemed healthy enough by rick to be sent off to hunt some game - all activities classified as "takin' it easy" by the community leader. people needed food, growing kids needed the protein.

the gash on his chest bled a little, not much, and the scab that formed afterwards looked proper, thick and healthy.

as he reached the gates upon his return, he could make out some shouting just on the border of the little gated town. a few voices did their best to be heard, one right over the other.

"whazzat?" he quizzed the guard.

"lil doctor lady," the guard responded, frowning, squinting into the distance, "and big john, arguin' over something. dunno what. rick's there too."

daryl did not like the sound of that. he didn't like that at all. he dumped the three deer right there on the muddy ground as soon as he crossed the threshold of the safe zone, powerwalking towards the arguing trio.

"... 'm tellin' ya, rick, she's makin' shit up! I risk my life every day goin' out and patrollin', getting the damn supplies so she could patch me up like she's s'posed to!" big john, red in the face and fists clenched, stood looming over rick as he defended himself to the unimpressed sheriff, "'s'not like I broke my damn arm on purpose!"

immediately, daryl's bullshit meter went off as alarms blared in his head at full volume. big john's words were a little too loud, a little too passionate.

rick's eyes darted towards daryl's rapidly approaching form; that was all he needed to know about the situation.

"if that were true, you'd have no problem with carol attending to you, man," for the time being, rick successfully played the good cop.

"she's not even a real doctor!"

"neither am I!" the woman finally spoke up, shooting a glance at daryl, too, as her shoulders dropped slightly.

"hey, what's your fuckin' problem?" daryl finally stomped close enough for big john to jump at his words.

"none of your damn business," he shot back immediately, switching to stare down at the woman. it wasn't hard for him to make her shrink: his name was big john for a reason.

"don't bother tha nice lady," daryl scoffed, straightening up, "least you want a fuckin' knuckle sandwich. first and final warning."

"oh, fuck you man," big john turned to daryl, taking a step towards the archer, chest puffing out with the force of his rage. his left hand was in a makeshift cast; the right one rose, rapidly flying, aimed at daryl's face.

it didn't take the archer much effort to side-step the large man. he was immediately responding with a punch of his own.

big john staggered, taking a couple of unsteady steps back; within the next second, another punch connected with his face, sending blood and snot flying as he fell on the ground noisily.

"that's enough!" rick yelled, pulling on daryl's shoulder.

for the time being, the archer was content to let himself be steered away from the fight.

somewhere behind him, a feminine voice mumbled something less-than-polite, sighing, as she joined rick in pulling him away from big john.

"you stay away from her, dipshit!" daryl added hotly, "fuckin' weirdo."

"c'mon big guy," she cooed softly, nodding to rick as she steered him towards her house, "let's get you cleaned up."

he let her drag him indoors, towards the kitchen sink where the smell of herbs was the most potent. throughout the dirt and grime that always followed his hunts, it was a welcome respite. earthy and natural in the best, the most tender of ways.

the woman checked his knuckles, tugging on his big, meaty hand to place it under a stream of cold tap water; his skin was clear, once the grime and blood and dirt was washed off. a coupla punches was nothing, his knuckles too seasoned to sustain an injury from something as simple as a fistfight.

in broad daylight, there was no need for her to perch atop him to check the wound on his chest.

daryl swallowed, following her hands with his eyes. in her pristine, clean kitchen, he'd never felt more out of place as she moved aside the neck of his sweat-stained shirt and touched the soft skin of her fingertips to the scab, checking for infection.

the corners of her mouth finally, finally tilted up. an angry, upset expression had no place on her face; daryl could feel himself deflate as the cloud over the head of the little doctor lady finally, finally dissipated.

"you didn't even tear the stitches, I'm impressed," she complimented him softly, brushing the shirt collar back in place and smoothing it out with her palm, "they're dissolvable, luckily. go wash up and come back, I'll put some antibiotic ointment on it just in case. okay?"

her touch burned, but it was a sweet sort of fire. the kind that remained in his mouth after a particularly delicious batch of spicy wings, blooming as he took a deep breath.

he wanted to chase it with his tongue.

his nostrils flared as he exhaled.

"okay, dar?"

she had a nickname for him. she stared at him with those round, trusting eyes, not knowing that in truth, he was no better than big john.

daryl's cheeks flamed.

"okay," he mumbled, unable to refuse her anything when her eyes.., "dun look at me like dat."

"like what?" she frowned again and oh no, this was so much worse than the earnest concern written plain as day on her face just seconds ago.

his heart hammered in his chest. his fingers twitched. he swallowed the lump in his throat, shuffled his feet.

"cya," finally, his legs cooperated! he ran out of the house like the coward that he was.

he didn't come back as she'd requested. he couldn't. instead, he stubbornly stood under an ice cold stream of water, as long as could manage - and it did exactly nada for his racing thoughts or his traitorous body.

the soap carol had made smelled like herbs.

it smelled like the kitchen where tender fingers prodded at his skin, where soft hair briefly brushed his cheek, where the overhead lamp illuminated a halo around the head of the woman that found a home inside his head on most nights.

dusk fell over the settlement as a knock disturbed the miniscule amount of peace he'd managed to find for himself in the darkness of the basement.

"daryl?" rick's voice yelled, "I gotta favour to ask!"

he was there in an instant. "whassup?"

"the doctor lady. big john's bin runnin' his mouth since dinner, ion like it. I think he's gonna be up to no good."

what daryl liked about rick was his straightforwardness and common sense. such concern had place to be. daryl nodded, walking inside to put on a clean shirt and pick up his crossbow.

"I appreciate it," rick clapped him on the shoulder, "I'd stick around myself but judy is teething and michonne has been up for three nights already, m'afraid she's gonna..."

"no probl'm, rick, ah get it," daryl cut off the rambling man, "you go take care of your baby girl."

as daryl made way to the woman's house, his mind switched to defense mode effortlessly. he knew just the perfect spot to perch himself in, away from prying eyes and well within the observation range of the entries to her house. it wasn't the most comfortable of spots but summer nights were warm and the birdsong from the trees provided a childhood sort of comfort under the clear, dark skies.

as he prepared to settle in, the main door to her house cracked open.

she wore short, thin cotton shorts and a worn out t-shirt and nothing else, a steaming cup of tea clutched securely between her palms. her eyes immediately landed on his dark figure attempting to blend into the dusky underbrush.

"I thought you'd be a no-show," she remarked, a playful tone colouring her voice.

daryl had enough conscience to look sheepish. "uhh," he replied, eloquently, taking a hesitant step towards her house. the light breeze blew the hot fumes of her tea right into his nose, momentarily clouding his judgement. he barely could tear his eyes away from the soft, unblemished skin of her legs.

"c'mon," she waved him in, and he followed, obedient, quiet, like a puppy. she made a brief stop at the stove before pushing a cup into his hands, "I made some tea. not terribly sweet for you, I hope. you seem like a black coffee kinda guy."

the upbeat, companionable chatter sent daryl's head reeling. it's like she was completely oblivious to his clumsiness, to his bluntness, to the awkwardness that seemed to take deep root in his bones whenever he was in her presence.

he took a sip, a courtesy, as she made him sit in that recliner chair again, her body warm and comfortable above him. isn't that what you wanted, moron? his head screamed at him, the annoying voice eerily similar to his late brother's.

"it's okay to let me know you're uncomfortable," she spoke quietly as she moved aside the collar of his shirt once more.

he shivered, it's not like he could help himself. "wha?"

"not everyone likes to be... touched," she briefly looked up, then back again as she rubbed the salve around his scabs, sharp chemicals and plastic disturbing the peaceful aroma of her herbal tea, "my ma used to yell at me to, like... stop hugging random people. sometimes I forget that not everyone is perfectly fine with jus' bein' groped."

"hmm," he managed, struggling not to sound like all of his christmases just had arrived at once. she wanted to touch him. well, not just him-

"these days, I'm not particularly keen on that either, but eventually, the touch starvation catches up to me. I'm just glad that, like, carol and rosita don't freak out or anything, when I play octopus with 'em."

"it's... okay," he had to drink to clear his throat, inhale to clear his mind. "ion mind, pretty girl," daryl tried for a smile and was sure it came more like a grimace. he desperately needed practice in that department.

she chuckled, a dulcet little noise, before her eyes shot up to his. whatever she was looking for, she found it; her hands, done with healing his external wounds, stroked slowly over his shoulders, mapping the broad, muscular expanse of them in one fluid motion. the tips of his hair tickled the tops of her palms.

with only a thin cotton barrier separating daryl's skin from hers, it was as close to heaven as he will ever allowed to be. the cup in his hand scalded his rough palms, hot ceramic burning through the callouses: it was like an afterthought of pain and nothing more.

her fingers connected behind his neck, the pads rubbing over the tense muscle there. the groan left his mouth unnoticed by him, until he could feel the smile on her face bloom just like the flowers outside her window.

"you like that?"

"mmm," he managed, weakly. something inside of him was crumbling. maybe it was the tea that had filled his veins with melted sugar and liquified the strong resolve to not let someone like her be tainted by someone like him.

she kept on kneading his neck and shoulders, like a damn cat working graveyard shift at the biscuit cookie factory.

daryl's deep inhale moved his whole body.

she staggered, brief and sweet, tilting heavily into him to keep up her balance and stop herself from falling over. graceful, she was not.

he was met with a parted mouth, so sweet and red and plump, like ripe cherries; right over his nose, just out of reach, sinful and tantalising in it's own right. the pink, moist meat of her tongue was tucked into the corner of it as her eyes narrowed, something between relief and concentration.

seeing him look, the mouth stretched into a smile, making it that much sweeter. she was looking at him, again, like- like that.

her hands faltered, she swayed in place; daryl's instincts got the better of him and he secured her, one hand holding her body by the hip to steady the sudden bout of clumsiness.

"m'sorry, imma klutz," she looked away sheepishly.

he squeezed her hip on response, letting her know it was okay. and it really was more than that: much to his wide-eyed wonder. he felt like he was the one who should be doing the apologizing. but not only did she not shake off his hand, oh no, she leaned further into him, her belly almost touching his bent forearm.

it took a gargantuan amount of effort just to not pull her in all the way. she was most inviting to touch, all soft curves courtesy of semi-regular meals and tender skin despite the blazing summer sun.

daryl's thumb moved up and down the cotton of her shorts absent-mindedly. the sweet little sighs falling from her lips were hard to miss. almost as if it was someone else pushing her into his arms, a well-meaning ghost perhaps; she tilted in on herself to soak up the warmth of his large, hot body.

a trail of goosebumps ran across his scalp, starting from the place she was rubbing gentle circles into it - at the back of his head, where his hairline met his nape. if he was capable of purring, he would.

instead, he groaned again, eyelashes fluttering, casting a moving shadow on his sharp cheeks. his reward was an equally-content sounding sigh as it drafted into his nose, warm and earthy.

the empty cup thudded against the table where he placed it.

her fingers parted his hair gingerly, taking great care to avoid potential tangles. some finer, smaller hairs still pulled, taking some of his self-deprecation and resolve with 'em as the motion traversed his body in a jolt and settled somewhere deep inside the pit of his belly.

this was getting dangerous.

daryl opened his eyes and stared up.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

King and his Queen

Daryl Dixon x Reader | [Pt.1]

After Daryl's match he gets treated like royalty by his loving partner.

Italics are flashbacks. Mild smut-ish at the end

Like clockwork you were down the stairs of your platform and down in the hallway that led to the cage where Daryl slumped against the wall. Out of view from the crowd he didn't have to pretend to be okay after taking a bad hit to the leg. Now he could be hurt and tired, and have you help him across the hall into your livin quarters where you would care for him with the most delicate touches that were like day and night compared to the harsh beatings he got in front of the crowd.

He needed your support to make it all the way into the bathroom where you helped him sit at the edge of the tub where he shifted back into his human form while you reached behind him to run the water and turning back to the sink. You heard the loud clanking of his metal claw tips and fang caps hit the floor as his shape no longer held the form they were made to hold onto.

"Here you go." Your hands held a cup of saltwater solution to rinse his mouth with, the other a container with metal caps to cover his broken teeth.

You watched as he rinsed his mouth and spat the solution back into the cup, handing it back to you to dispose of as he went to click the dentures into place and ran his tongue over the stubby fangs they replicated.

Daryl had never been as hungry as he was now, with the woods rigged in traps that were constantly under surveillance. There was no game left.

A scream caught his attention and he rushed out to the sound, he was in no way or shape against eating humans to survive right now, especially if they're already trapped.

Except the woman wasn't, instead she was cornered by the undead. He couldn't eat infected flesh, he had to go grab her before they did.

Tearing through the small group was a simple task, and the woman was happily thanking him over and over again, nit realising his true intentions until he had her cornered as well. He snarled at her, baring his teeth but was met with a curious stare. "I like your stubby little fangs, they're cute."

He could only grunt in confusion and snap at her, his eyes and fangs now changed and showing he did mean harm. But the loud grumble of his stomach seemed to ruin his scary vibes, and your offer of sharing food had him easily convinced not to eat you just yet.

WIth the tub filling up and your fist aid kid splayed open on the side Daryl felt content. You fed him when he was starving then, and now still tend to his wounds after each match. "M'lucky ta have ya, love."

His eyes were on you where you sat jn front of him, disinfecting the deep cuts on his leg before they fully healed and trapped an infection.

"Still happy you didn't eat me back then?"

With his hand hanging in the soapy water behind him he rolled his eyes at you. "Can still do tha', ya live with a monster, remember?"

You only laughed at him and pat his leg, telling him to go lay in the tub.

The hot water was a blessing for his sore muscles, laying down and letting his skin soak up the warmth.

"Daryl, if you decided to eat me it'd be in bed, with my thighs around your head." An excited hum left the fighter, his brows raised in interest but you quickly shot him down. "Wash up first, then we can get dirty again later."

“Hmhmm, fine.” He slid down further into the tub, only being above the water from the nose up. You took the opportunity to soak his hair and give it a wash, making him sit back up to scrub at his healed over skin. The way he knew your routine by heart made his after match cleaning so much easier, and of course the fact that he trusted you enough to see him fully nude in the tub.

He felt like royalty with how you treated him, holding his ankle in your hand as you took a sturdy brush to his toe claws. The darkened skin of his toe pads and the ball of his foot were always so rough, a lingering wolf feature that became permanent over time.

“Hey, Dee.” Your voice pulled him from his work, skinning a rabbit in your shared tent. “Don’t hate me for suggesting it, but I think I know how we can get a chance at a better life..”

Your current lifestyle wasn’t it. While Daryl didn’t mind the woodsy life, you weren’t adapting well to it and it slowly took a toll on your mental health. But you were living with a werewolf, which brought a lot of good things like having a skilled hunter who brought meat home, and never being cold at night while you cuddled close to him.

“Wha’s the plan, bun? Ya gotta talk ‘fore I can judge.” He had stopped working to listen to your probably insane plan.

“So, I overheard some guys talking about monster fighting—“

“No.” The plan was shot down immediately, without even hearing more of it. “Ain’t gon’ let ya use me as a pet.”

That was, of course, until he was out on a full moon and almost got captured by the men you had mentioned before. He overheard them talking about sedating and selling him as he hid long enough for them to believe he ran off.

It was how he ended up in his shifted form for much longer than he preferred, having to pretend to be a feral beast instead of an intelligent creature.

Even being toweled dry was done gently, careful of any skin that was still red and irritated where healing wounds had just been. Especially his leg still looked angry, the previously bleeding tears now only tinted red streaks of skin, waiting to settle overnight.

You brushed Daryl’s hair after towel drying it, making sure it was detangled entirely before letting him leave the bathroom.

He could feel your lingering stares as he made his way to his stash for some underwear and a robe. Never really wearing many of his old clothes anymore and even having you make adjustments to his current ones.

He knew your eyes were on his lower back, at the end of his spine where his tailbone protruded and shaped an immobile stub that made each and every pair of trousers a hell to wear.

"Quit starin'." The remnants of his beast form barely bothered him anymore. He knew to watch out and not snag his pointed ears when he brushed his hair in the morning, and had given up on shoes and socks a long while ago, going everywhere barefoot now. He didn’t mind the extra fuzz that remained on his legs either. But this one was different. He found it gross and ugly, always hiding it away in loose boxer shorts or underneath a robe.

You on the other hand found it cute how he sported the little tail stub nowadays, always trying to lighten the mood around it by mentioning it could stay a full tail by the end of his next transformation.

Daryl threw on the soft robe and hid himself in it, sitting down on the edge of your shared bed and watched you go get the new supply delivery and put it away before disappearing into the kitchen.

The smell of fresh fruits being cut up filled his nose and had him up to find you in seconds.

His arms wrapped around your waist in a loving embrace as he stuck himself against your back. The scruff on his chin scratched your cheek as he nuzzled you and purred. “Yer bein’ eager with those.”

“Well, I was gonna share with you, but if you’re being a jackass about it I’ll keep it all for myself.” You stuck out your tongue at him and fed him a small piece of apple, which he accepted with a careful bite.

“Would my king like to be fed in bed?” You turned around in his grasp and kissed his chin, wrapping your arms around his neck to get better access. While one hand snaked around your waist once more, the other one went behind your back and grabbed another piece of fruit. “King, huh.” He spoke around the food and moved to squeeze your behind. “Come a long way from bein’ yer guard dog.”

“Name and species.” The grump at the building’s entrance spoke. You had gone through the same process to get into the surrounding part of town already where you were checked bag after bag, every single pocket on your outfit included.

“Dixon. Werewolf.” Your tone was clearly one of boredom, albeit fake, you had to get in there to fight in order to get some food and a sucky roof over your head. Pretending you weren’t desperate was the best plan for now. Daryl listened intently to the conversation being held between you and the man, taking in all the important info without reacting to any of it, having to pretend to have lost most of his human skills in order to be allowed to fight.

After a while of back and forth you were allowed in, on the condition of being escorted to a waiting room, and keeping ‘Dixon’ chained. It was clear from his angry look you were going to get scolded for letting random strangers put chains on him, but for now it all seemed to work.

"This is your temporary room. If you survive today and decide to stay and fight you'll get something permanent." The man who escorted you turned on his heels to move on with his day, but not before muttering some last words. "For as long as your beast lives of course."

Later that day Daryl was thrown into the fighting cage and you were escorted to your spot up high. "Command him from here. You're allowed to head down after the last bell rings."

Down on the floor you saw Daryl, now Dixon, look around at the crowd in confusion and being caugh off guard by the loud voice announcing his fighter name, "and another newcomer" as well. His head snapped back down at the sound of the second door unlocking and revealing his first oponent..

"Yeah, well." You took his hands off you and started towards the bed, taking the bowl of fruits with you. "You're still my guard dog. I can't defend myself for shit." With a wink back to where he stood you turned the corner and disappeared from his view. While your words didn't sound like a compliment, he took them like one and stood there a moment taking it in.

The scene when he rounded the corner was one he'd never get enough of. You had ditched your jeans and top and were now on the bed in sweats and a shirt that hung off one shoulder. The bowl of fruit sat betwden your legs and your back rested against the stupid amount of pillows you kept on the bed. You were on one half of the bed, always making sure there was enough space for Daryl to join you, and he did. He sat down and stretched out beside you, not wasting a second to nudge you and gesture he wanted some fruit.

"Oh, of course your majesty." With a soft giggle you fed him bit after bit, putting pieces between your teeth and feeding him some like that too. You just relaxed and snacked until the bowl was emptied.

The groan that came from beside you reminded gou of the fact you skipped on tending to your precious fighter's aching muscles after the fight.

Putting the bowl aside on the floor you sat up and pat Daryl on the hip. "Roll over, baby. Lemme give you a massage."

With a low rumble deep in his chest he rolled over onto his stomach, his face towards where you still sat beside him with your upper body hanging off the bed to find the bottle of lotion you kept around. He was having a hard time resisting the urge to slap your ass, but he knee better than to risk having you topple off the bed and have him sleep on the couch you barely ever used.

Daryl shivered as the cold ointment touched his skin but quickly relaxed into the matres when your ministrations began. Within the first minute you had him purring beneath you, letting out soft moans and grunts when you worked out tough knots.

"Yer too good fer me, princess." His words came out almost in a moan. You knew exactly how and where to touch him go get all the pretty noises out of him. His back was something you always loved. Before all of this when you could stare for hours as he gutted a deer, watching his muscles ripple under his skin. But nowadays even more with the large wings carved into them.

The words of Dixon claiming the title of King spread fast, and all of a sudden people were challenging him with their own werewolves, believing it was an easy way to win with one in your corner. But obviously it wasn't seeing he still took out each and every one of them.

More and more wolves came in, and with those a whole bunch that sported fur patterns similar to Daryl's, making it difficult to keep them apart as they were at each others' throats.

"We really need to find something to make you easy to identify with all those wolves coming in lately. I swear I almost screamed at the wrong dog earlier.." You huffed and fell on your bed, shooting up only a second later. "Oh! I got something." And then you slumped back down again. "But you'll probably hate it again.."

"Can ya please start tellin' me yer plans 'fore decidin' I'll hate 'em?" Daryl came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. "Remind ya how great this one turned out. Almost livin' the new world dream 'ere."

You had to agree with him. If you ignored the fights to the death every couple of days it was one hell of an upgrade. "Alright, so your wings that you always wore before. What if we get them on you?"

"On me how, exactly?" He turned to look at you, still hunched over the basket of clean clothes to find his comfortable pants.

"There's this guy in town. He does tattoos and scar stuff. I'm sure if we give him a silver tool he can put those wings on you. With sikver they'll scar for sure and you'll always be recognisable."

The huff as Daryl pulled up his pants was almost enough of an answer for you, already admitting defeat when he spoke up.

"Got no fights fer the next two days. We'll go see'em t'morrow. Ain't changin' back now, just took a damn shower."

With each rough shove of your knuckles over groups of sore muscles you got a groan in return. "Yeah, my King loved getting his back rubs."

The satisfied humm that left his lips was enough motivation to keep going, rubbing right above his hips and working at the sore spots. You took some extra ointment and slowly worked your hands over his spine, circling downward ever so carefully, reaching the base of his tail and continued on.

The first reaction you got was a growl, telling you to back off but seeing how he was clawing at the sheets told you a whole different story.

You decided to push your luck and continue down, pressing right where his tail started and earning a pillow muffled moan. You watched him with his face stuffed into a pillow, one claw tearing into it as well. "Fuck girl, why ya gotta do tha'?" He tried so hard to sound annoyed, but in reality he was barely hiding the need for more.

"But my King deserves only the best treatment. And it sounded almost like you were enjoying that." You had leaned down to softly whisper that last bit and give his ear a soft bite and a kiss before moving back up and continuing to rub at his tail. Each pass over his spine earned you a a moan, whine or humm until you found the perfect spot that had him rut into the matres.

The second Daryl noticed his involuntary response he mentally cursed himself. And of course you noticed, giving that one spot extra attention and massaging it exclusively.

"Hhah, stop pleease.." He was a writhing mess beneath you, knuckes white from the death grip he had on the bed and biting down on the pillow to muffle his pleasured sounds. His face colored the same shade of red as the freshly rubbed skin of his back. He could have easily snapped at you, grabbed you by the wrists and thrown you off him but none of that crossed his mind. He was so hard he was ready to cum within a couple more rubs.

His noises got louder and more intense with each movement of your skilled fingers, even if it got more difficult to be precise with the constant thrust of his hips.

"God I love your sweet sounds, so delicious.." It was so good to see another side of him, allowing himself to not be the strong beast for once.

"Shit, bun. M'gonna.." your fingers rubbed his spine just right and his coil snapped. With a long winded moan he finished in his pants, needing a minute to catch his breath before throwing you off him with a grunt. "Ya gon' clean tha' mess ya made now?"

With a soft laugh you agreed to do exactly that. "Anything for my King."

A/N: Man, this took me so long! Apologies for the wait~

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn’t My Middle Name—Chapter Five | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: With each day that passed, without knowing whether or not you were okay was driving Daryl insane. He was on the edge of madness. However, when he got the chance to know about your well-being, his heart shattered when he realised what you had been forced to go through. And when chaos began to struck, he feared for your safety even more.

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to starving, mentions of torture.

Word Count: 2.8k.

A/N: I powered through this today. My main focus in October is going to be Halloween-related fics, so I wanted to get this up before then. Things are getting a bit more interesting now.

Taglist: @dixons-girl89, @jupiter1700, @enlightndone, @shadowcitrine, @angelwings-crossbowstrings, @holdmytesseract, @secretsicanthideanymore, @remuslittlesister

Drip. A momentary pause.

Another drip. Another slight pause.

Another drip. This one fell faster than the last.

Yet another drip. This one took longer to fall to the floor than any of the rest.

Observing how long it took for the droplets of water to fall down on the harsh, concrete floor was the only thing keeping Daryl from completely losing his mind and tearing his hair out of his head by the roots. Not that he could tear his hair from his head, however. The shackles securing him to the wall prevented him from moving his hands much. Still, with the worry that had taken root in the depths of his stomach, he was sure that he would find a way to rip his hair from his head one way or another if he did not keep his mind occupied with something else.

It had started lightly raining a few hours before. That was probably the only reason why Daryl had not been dragged off to work in the fields that day, like he had been for the past… He did not even know how long. The days seemed to blur together.

One of the guards that had been given the instructions to stand watch outside his cell had brought him food a few hours prior, but the archer had refused to touch the odd looking concoction that sloshed around in the bowl when moved. Even if he wanted to eat, he doubted he would be able to. The worry would prevent him from keeping any sustenance down. The worry for you and your unborn baby.

Daryl sighed and leaned his head back against the wall behind him. He had to swallow back the tears that threatened to form in his eyes at the mere thought of you and what you could be going through. Liam did not seem like a forgiving man, and what you had done, although completely justifiable in Daryl’s eyes, seemed like an action that could be punishable by death in this community.

Daryl did not even want to consider the possibility that you could be dead. His heart would not be able to handle the immense pain that came with diving into that rabbit hole. The guilt would eat him alive. If you were dead, that would mean that he had failed to keep his promise to you; he would never let anything happen to you. If you were dead, he would never be able to live with himself. You were the most precious thing in his life. He could not lose you.

The sudden, loud crack of thunder outside of the dungeon he was in snapped Daryl out of his thoughts with a startle, just in the nick of time as well. The door to his cell opened with a deafening screech, and the archer’s ocean-coloured eyes trailed up to meet those of one of his captors—Lucas Davis, the man responsible for your separation from Daryl. If there had not been chains keeping Daryl’s hands shackled to the wall, the huntsman would have lunged for the man and would have strangled him with his bare hands.

However, the chains rendered him with the inability to do so, so Daryl settled for simply giving the younger Davis brother a death glare, wishing that looks had the ability to kill.

“Aye, good afternoon, champ,” Lucas greeted Daryl merrily, pretending not to notice the absolute hatred that rolled in waves off of the archer at Lucas’ mere presence. The right-hand man of Sunny Meadows entered Daryl’s cell without a care in the world. His boots crunched the gravel of the ground beneath them as he walked towards Daryl, a set of keys dangling from the man’s grasp. He crouched down in front of Daryl, his green-eyed stare meeting the archer’s blue-eyed one. “The big guy wants to see you. Guess it’s your lucky day, finally being able to do something else than work or sit in this cell for two weeks, huh?”

Two weeks? Daryl’s eyes involuntarily widened at those words. Although, the more Daryl thought of it, the more he realised that Lucas’ words could be true. There was one singular window in his cell, and it had been boarded up a while ago, potentially so that the archer could not view the outside world once he was dragged back to his cell. The small amount of light that managed to trickle in through the cracks was not even remotely enough to grant Daryl the ability to differentiate between the rising and setting of the sun, and every day at a certain time while the sun was still in the sky, he would get dragged back to his cell and one of the guards would inject him with something that would knock him out cold for hours. Plus he did not work in the fields every day. Some days, he would be confined to his cell, so keeping track of the time had proven to be rather difficult.

However, Daryl had not expected that two weeks had already passed. That admission made his heart drop to his stomach. A full two weeks had passed, and he still had no idea how he would be able to escape his cell and find you, and that realisation made Daryl feel worse than he had already been feeling. His only hope of an escape at that moment would be to somehow knock Lucas out once he removed Daryl’s chains and make a run for it. It was his best bet. It was his only bet.

Lucas had begun to remove the chains that kept Daryl bound to the wall. He first removed the ones around his legs, before moving to his hands. However, as if possessing the ability to read the brooding archer’s mind, Lucas’ eyes flickered up to Daryl’s, a warning swimming around in his green irises.

“I wouldn’t attempt an attack if I were you,” he began in a threatening tone of voice. “There are three guys waiting for us upstairs. If you managed to kill me and make a run for it, they would shoot you on sight. And then they would go and have a little fun with that pregnant whore of a wife of yours before putting her out of her misery as well. And correct me if I’m wrong, but the death of the mother so early on in the pregnancy means that the baby would perish, too. So I would think wisely before acting out if I were you.”

Lucas could have been lying. Daryl definitely would not put it past the man in front of him to do so. However, Daryl clung on to the hope that you were still alive, and if you were, he did not want to be the reason you suffered a fate far worse than death. So he bit his tongue, swallowed back his pride, and willingly went with what Lucas instructed him to do. Once the shackles had fully been removed and Daryl had been yanked up to his feet, a pair of handcuffs had been secured around his wrists.

With Daryl thoroughly threatened and then cuffed, Lucas pushed the archer rather harshly. “Get moving,” he spat bitterly, his tone a stark contrast to the merry tone he had used a few minutes prior.

Daryl hesitated for a few moments, carefully considering his options for a moment, but he decided not to test fate just yet. He sighed and complied with the younger Davis man’s request, and began trudging forward. A staircase soon came into view, and Daryl climbed each step carefully, the wood creaking beneath the archer’s weight.

Soon enough, a door came into view, and Lucas pushed Daryl aside on the narrow staircase. He hastily opened the door, making a bright light flood the air. Daryl closed his eyes to shield them from the pain that the light caused, due to not having been in a properly lit space in a week. However, Lucas was having none of that. He grabbed the archer’s arm and harshly pulled him with him into the room.

Daryl stumbled and nearly fell to the carpeted ground below, but he managed to steady himself. Looking up, Daryl came face-to-face with the three men that Lucas had told him of, and he noticed that they were all armed to the teeth. Well, at least now he knew that Lucas had not been lying, and if he had not lied about that, then there was a good chance that he had not been lying about you. If he had opted to make a run for it, then there was a good chance that he would have been the reason you had to suffer a cruel fate. He was immensely relieved that he had opted to decide against it.

“Oh my god, you look like shit. Haven’t been able to take a shower recently, I take it?”

The archer’s jaw clenched at the sound of the voice he had come to hate. Liam. With a harsh glare, Daryl looked up and locked eyes with Liam. He could vaguely make out his surroundings, and he realised that he had been residing in the basement of the cruel leader’s farm house. He was back in the very same living room he had been in with you a week prior. The very same living room where everything had gone awry.

Liam’s twisted smile came into Daryl’s view, the scar at the edge of his mouth adding to the pure evil that the man exuded. He sent a nod in Lucas’ direction, before shifting his attention back to Daryl. “I have a few questions for you. Are you finally ready to talk?”

Daryl did not dare to utter a word. He was fully aware of the questions that Liam was talking about. Where are you from? Where’s the rest of your group? Why were you two on your own? The man had been coming down to his cell and had continuously been asking him those questions. However, Daryl had managed to remain quiet, even though he had suffered multiple deep cuts and bruises at the hands of Liam due to his silence. He would much rather die than give up the location of his found family. He would not have another Governor situation transpire, even if it meant he would lose his own life.

He just hoped that his defiance had not cost you your life. If it had, then he would never be able to forgive himself.

Liam’s smile slowly vanished from his face. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, his face adapting a faux look of disappointment. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he asked in a tone that closely resembled that of a parent scolding their child. “Bring him with me,” he commanded his brother, the man he had addressed instantly complying with his request. Liam grabbed the umbrella that had been laying against the wall opposite of him. “I hope you don’t mind getting wet, Daryl. I’m afraid I don’t have any umbrellas left to spare.”

Getting wet was the least of Daryl’s concerns. Where the hell was he being taken? Why had Liam’s lips twitched up into a small, ominous smirk when he had turned around and started stalking towards the door? Why did Mariah, Liam’s wife, send him a sympathetic look when his eyes had locked with hers when he had passed her on the way out the door? And why was he being led through the pouring rain to what appeared to be hundreds of wells that appeared as if it had been sealed off, but the boards to all of them had been ripped off recently? All except for one?

Liam stopped in front of one of the wells, one of which had a makeshift door on top of it. He opened the latch of the door and swung it outwards. He peered down into the hole before looking at Daryl with a smirk. “How about you have a look, Daryl? Perhaps this could persuade you to change your mind.”

Daryl did not have a say in the matter. Lucas pushed him forward and against the stone of the well. “Say hello to your darling wife.”

The archer’s eyes widened at his words. He quickly looked down at the deep hole in the ground. At first, he did not see you at all, and he considered the possibility that the man had opted to take the piss out of Daryl in an attempt to get answers from him. However, a movement at the bottom caught his attention, and on further, more thorough inspection, Daryl could see that they had not lied to him.

You laid at the bottom of the well, relatively motionless. Had it not been for the fact that you had moved a few seconds prior, Daryl would have believed that you were dead. He could vaguely make out a bowl and a water bottle that laid next to you, both toppled over, so it appeared as if the people had at least been feeding you. But other than that, you definitely looked worse for wear.

“Y/N,” Daryl rasped out brokenly, a lump forming in his throat at the sight of you. You did not look as if you were being properly taken care of, and that made the archer want to kill everyone within his vicinity. He took a step back from the well. His eyes trailed up and locked with those of Liam, a death glare being thrown at him. “If ya dun’ get ‘er outta there right now—”

“Then what, you’ll kill me?” Liam laughed incredulously. “You kill me, Lucas kills you, and then her.” For added emphasis, he motioned down at you in the well. “Hell, I still can kill her if you even so much as push my buttons, Daryl. Don’t test me.” He took a threatening step towards the crossbow-wielding archer, his eyes glaring into Daryl’s menacingly. “Now how about we try this again? Answer my questions, or else Lucas here shoots down at your wife. For every answer I don’t like, another shot gets fired. We’ll start with her legs and move up until we reach her head, and you’ll get to witness every scream of agony she lets out, and you’ll get to know that your stubbornness is the reason she’s suffering.”

Daryl’s heart stopped at Liam’s words. He never wanted to be the reason you got hurt, physically or emotionally. However, his loyalties were conflicted. He owed everything to his found family back in Alexandria, but then there was you. His wife. The one that had stuck with him since the early days at the quarry. The one that had stuck with him through thick and thin, through all of his bullshit and troubles. The one that was carrying his baby. The one he wanted to start his own family with.

Daryl sighed in defeat. It physically hurt his being to do what he was about to do, but he had to. He had no other choice. “Alright,” he conceded in a whisper. “What’cha wanna know?”

Liam smirked in victory. However, before he could utter a single word, the sound of a gunshot reverberated throughout the air. At first, Daryl had assumed that Lucas had taken a shot at you, and he whipped around to see, but he soon realised that the shot had not come from the leader’s right hand man. It had come from somewhere else, somewhere beyond the gated walls of the Sunny Meadows community. Soon, more gunfire filled the air, and loud yells and cries of agony could be heard.

“Intruders!” someone yelled from afar, before being interrupted by a scream.

Liam whipped around to look at Daryl and Lucas. “Get him back to his cell,” he instructed curtly, grabbing his own weapon from its holster. “Then get the men ready for battle.” When Lucas did not instantly comply, Liam’s voice rose in one final command before running off. “Did you not hear me? Get fucking going!”

That made Lucas finally do what was asked of him. Grabbing Daryl by his arm, he pulled him behind him, forcing the archer to have to jog to keep up with his pace. However, that was not his main concern. As if sensing that a war was about to break out, the rain had started to worsen, falling down to the earth heavier and heavier with each passing minute. As Daryl got dragged back to his cell, his only thoughts were of you, and he prayed to whatever god was listening that you would be okay.

Because the rain only got heavier, and it had not been lost on the archer that the ‘doors’ to the well you were being held captive in had not been closed. And if Daryl knew anything about wells, it’s that they tended to fill up with water when it rained.

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (Part XXIII)

XXIII. No one like you

MASTERLIST

Summary: You are… grounded… of sorts. So you spend time home with your family.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injuries, kissing, longing, angst, fluff, heavy kissing, touch starved reader & Daryl, hints at DV, Daryl’s awful childhood, nudity, body worship, NAKED PEOPLE AHHH, smut, a bit of awkwardness, unprotected sex (which I don’t encourage), might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: ALRIGHTTTT CAN’T HOLD IT ANYMOREEEEE IT’S IN THE WARNINGS LET’S DO THISSSSSSS AAAAHHHH I needed them to bond a lot before they get intimate, i’m trying to be as faithful as Daryl’s character as I can.

You woke up alone

Daryl’s pajama was folded neatly on a chair in the corner of your room, and a note above it

“I’m sorry”, it read. You shed some bitter tears, feeling the coldness of it all, of the bed, the room. You had ruined it. Was he breaking up with you? what you had? You pushed him too hard.

So you wanted to do what you always did.

You sat in front of Rick and Glenn an hour later

“So… when can I go out there again?”, you asked with a wide smile, both men exchanged looks

“What?”, asked Rick, like you just said the most ridiculous thing

“Yeah, where can you send me next?”, you asked excitedly

“Are you on crack?”, Glenn asked

“Hey!”, you protested

“You are done for the rest of the month, hell, the rest of the year!”, Rick said quickly 

“I want to go out there on runs”, you said excitedly, “please?”. No, what you wanted to do was get away from Daryl’s rejection, you didn't want to push him, but you wanted to be with him so badly. And he might as well just broke up with you. You just needed to feel something else than this pain in your chest. 

“You are not going anywhere”, said Rick, “not now, not until your shoulder is healed up”

“Ah! c’mon!”, you cursed. “My big run was a success!”

“I know”, he said, “but you are wounded, I need you to recover, alright?”, you sighed

“There is something you wanted to talk to us about”, you said, trying to distract yourself, “yesterday you said it…”

“We are having a meeting tomorrow to discuss it”, muttered Rick, “Today we will be dealing with… other things”

“Need to go”, said Glenn, he smiled at you sadly, “thank you for all the things you brought”, you barely nodded, and watched Rick

“Would you take care of Judith for me today?”, he asked softly

“Really? Babysitter duty?”, you asked him, entertained

“Yes”, he said with a soft smile, “please?”

“Sure”, you said with a soft smile. 

“She’s upstairs, I need to go”, he said softly, grabbing your good shoulder and giving it a squeeze, and then he left. You took a long sigh, and went to do as he asked you. You went upstairs and opened her door slowly in case she was sleeping. 

“Hello Judith!”, you greeted, the toddler seemed to be happy to see you, raising her tiny hands in your direction, you picked her up however you could and rocked her. “ready to spend the day with your favorite aunty?”, you felt soothed as you held her in your arms, Rick sometimes was wiser than you thought him to be… spending time with Judith was like a… soothing cream for a burn

So that’s what you did, you spent the morning reading to her, rocking her, you even put her in a high chair and cooked lunch for her, made her a big bowl of pasta she ate with her bare hands, she was so cute.

Then you grabbed her and went out there to see what your people were up to.

You joyfully discovered that they were putting up a small greenhouse with the tarp you had brought back, and the seeds you had found in that hardware store, and that made you so, so happy. Maggie and Beth were making it a personal project, and when they saw you coming with Judith thay smiled widely

“Hey! say hello to aunty Maggie and aunty Beth!”, you sing, Judith made a hand movement that resembled a wave and you screeched in happiness, “we are here to oversee the construction of such an important building!”, you said with a childish voice.

“Well, you are both welcome then”, said Maggie, and Olivia even brought a nice jar of lemonade for you all, it was a nice sunny day. You then kept going as Judith got a little fussy, you walked her all over the neighborhood, and that seemed to cheer her up, as you saw many members of your family. 

When you got the whole lap around and came back to the house, you found Daryl in Aaron’s house, with the garage door opened, and working on his bike. You stopped in your tracks, you didn't even know what to do or say… Did he break up with you? 

“Oh! look who’s there!”, you sang to Judith, and when she saw him, she twisted in your arms in happiness, “uncle Daryl!”, Daryl was already looking at you, and his face lit up, and came straight for you.He used the red rag he always carried to wipe sweat out of his forehead before he got to you, you loved that rag. 

“Hey you little ass kicker”, he whispered lovingly and kissed her in her hairline, he then turned to you and kissed you softly on the lips, “what are you both up to?”, you were flabbergasted, you didn’t expect that at all, that show of affection. 

“Uh, well, I saw your note”, you said, he noticed your conflicted face

“Yeah, I was sorry I left you”, he said, with a soft voice, “I left my pajamas for tonight, and I wanted to work on the bike and didn’t want to wake you”, you took a long breath you didn’t know you were holding

“I thought…”, you said, “you didn’t want to be with me anymore”, you murmured

“Nah”, he said, with a small smile

“Daryl, if you want this between us to be platonic, I can understand…”, he leaned in and kissed you gently, just to shut you up. You smiled into the kiss. Judith got fussy, already bored in your arms, making Daryl separate from you

“Rick asked me to take care of Judith for the day”, you said softly, “I think he wants to keep me busy so I don’t go out there”, you admitted, “but it's nice to hang around with this one!”, you teased, making Judith bounce in your good arm. “I was thinking of just hanging around out here, one of the old ladies…”

“You really should start learnin’ names”, he whispered

“Anyways…”, you said with a smile, “she gave me some strawberries. I was thinking of making a little picnic outside with the little one… care to join us?”, you asked hopefully. He smiled at you

“Hell yeah”, he grabbed Judith from you and she went happily with her uncle Daryl

It wasn’t much of a picnic, it was a blanket on the beautifully green grass, a bowl of strawberries, Daryl, baby Judith, and you. You even got a set of wooden blocks that Judith was playing with. 

“Little ass kicker”, you whispered, playing with her, “were you the one to call her that first?”, you asked with a smile, he smiled softly, clearly lost in his memories

“Yeah the very second she was born…”

“You were there?”, you asked him

“We had just lost her mother, Lori, Rick’s wife, he was… gone… we didn’ know how to call ‘er, so we call her little ass kicker for acouple o’days until they could figure out a name”, the memory was bittersweet, but you smiled nonetheless

“At the prison?”, you asked softly, at this point, you were putting pieces together

“Yeah”, he whispered, “simpler times”, he whispered, Judith caught Daryl’s index finger and squeezed tightly. 

“Tell me more about it”, you said softly, caressing his arms, you were both lying on the blanket, while Judith played in between you.

“Like wha’?”, he asked, scratching the back of his neck

“When did you meet Rick, Carol and Maggie? And the others?”

“I met Carol and Glenn first”, he said with a soft smile, “we were all in a campin’ near Atlanta”, he said, “then Rick showed up, looking for his kid and wife”

“They had split up?”

“Yeah, Carl and Lori ended up in our camp, and Glenn brought back Rick from Atlanta”

“Wow”, you murmured, I mean, what were the chances?

“From there we tried to keep goin, ended up in Maggie’s and Beth’s farm”, he said then, “we stayed there, we were looking for Carol’s kid, she was missing”, your heart broke a bit, because it was obvious they didn’t find her.

“Then the farm got overrun”, he said, “we were out there all winter”, he said, “Rick’s wife was pregnant with this little ass kicker”, he said, piling wooden blocks for Judith’s entertainment. “we found the prison, we took it”

“Did you liked it there?”, you asked softly, it was hard to picture… a prison as a home

“We made a home of it”, he said softly, “We had some crops, and piglets and stuff”, he said with a small smile, “the prison fell when we were attacked”, he said, “by the governor”

“That sounds pretentious”, you said

“He was a psycho prick”, he said, “he killed my brother”, he mumbled, his voice dropping several octaves

“What happened?”, you asked him, and he was about to answer

“Oh! look at that little angel!”, you both jumped on your spots in your blanket when you heard that new guy, Smith, smiling creepily down at you. “Yours?”, he asked you both

“No, she is Rick’s”, you said with a soft smile, but you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable under his gaze. You looked at Daryl, he had shared! He was opening up and you were interrupted. And you let this guy know it

“Ups, sorry for interrupting the family picnic”, he said, smiling mockingly. He leaned down and grabbed a strawberry, placing it in his mouth theatrically

“What can we help you with?”, you asked him, trying to get rid of him, you didn’t like him, you didn’t want him interacting with Judith. He raised his hands in a mocking manner

“No, no, just… feeling the vibe”, he said, “Looking through the neighborhood, that’s all”, he walked away from you. You exchanged looks

“I dun like him”, he mumbled

“Me neither”, you said back, “do you think he’s got a job yet?”

“Nah”, he mumbled. 

When the sun went down, you and Daryl left Judith’s in Rick’s arms, under his amused stare. As you seemed like such a strange looking family, as Judith didn’t resemble neither of you, but still, it was a comical situation. And then, you got washed up and went next door to have dinner with the rest of the family. 

Even the new ones were there. Which was strange to you. 

After dinner, strangely, beers came out, music was played, and you all dispersed over the dining room and living room, chatting lightly, groups, pairs and threesomes were formed. It had been a light day, like, “1 day without accidents” day, and everyone could feel it, the softness in the air, you were behind a wall, you had meds, food, supplies, guns… life was good.

It wasn’t much of a party, as you were just hanging out after dinner. You convinced Daryl to move to the couch, with you and Alex, and you chatted amicably. Smith’s eyes didn’t leave your form for a second, but you didn't say anything, you didn't want to make Daryl as uncomfortable as you were. .

Rick joined in, and you were happy he was giving Alexander a chance, he wanted to get to know him better. 

“He had handcuffed my brother to a roof when I met this guy”, told Daryl with a smirk on his face, as he had one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders

“Really?”, you laughed, “Rick!”

“He was… just a menace”, laughed Rick, “we did try to get him back though”, and then kept telling the tale. And you were glad they could laugh about it now. 

“Well now Alexander and I have a similar tale, he shot me on the shoulder as a warning not to take his tanker, but we are cool now!”, you laughed, and they all laughed with you. You were so happy right now, as you finally were starting to gather the pieces of Daryl’s story with the group, and the strong brotherly bond he had with Rick. Daryl kissed you in the temple and left you to go grab another beer

Rick stood up with him too, finding a talking topic somewhere else. 

“So? Did they give you a job?”, you asked Alexander, who sat by your side on the couch, he placed both his arms on the back and almost surrounded you, but you didn’t make anything of it.

“Yeah”, he said happily, “me and Rosita are gonna train the noble people of Alexandria in the fine art of ending the undead”, he said, pleased

“Really? that’s cool”, you admired

“Yeah and you know what? curiously all the ladies already signed up”, he said innocently, you chuckled, “I mean I used to teach self-defense classes to the ladies before and I did pretty well”, he laughed

“How well?”, you asked him

“Could retire after a year well”, he laughed. You chuckled, you clicked your beers together. He was handsome and anybody could see that.

“I think someone’s trying to poach your prey”, Smith chuckled in Daryl’s ear, as he was sitting in a corner sipping on a beer, but both had you on eye-shot

“Nah”, he said simply, he trusted you, he knew you liked Alexander’s company, he didn’t feel threatened at all. “They’re buddies”, he said simply.

“Gotta say, you two surprised me, didn’t think you’d be together”

“Why?”, he asked innocently. Negan just gave him a shit eating grin, looking him up and down. 

“You know what I’m talking about”, he said simply, “you look like you… lived some nasty things”, he said, “And she just looks like she’s fresh out of a fancy college”, he said simply. But he didn’t stop there, “You know? I’d poach her myself, I didn’t think you’d be her type, I bet that girl is into some kinky stuff!”

Hell broke loose in seconds

Abraham, Rick and Alex had to break it down, Daryl punched Smith in the face making him stumble back and get some other licks in before they could split them. Of course the attention was on Daryl, as all the backs were turned to Smith

“Calm down”, whispered Rick

“He was talking shit ‘bout my…”, there is something he was not going to let slide, and that is that someone spoke like that about you. 

“I get it, he is an asshole”, he answered

“Hey, calm down… she is watching”, Alex whispered in his ear, and that seemed to make Daryl stand down, as he found you looking at him with shiny eyes.

“Hey, what happened?”, you asked him softly, placing a hand on his arm, as Laura tended to Smith’s bloody nose. He relaxed immediately under your softness

“He’s got a big mouth”, he said angrily. Not having the heart to repeat what he had said. 

The environment turned sour, in a second, but Daryl, and Negan, both saw with amazement how the angry looks where towards the odd man out… and it was not the archer. 

“Wanna go”, he said with a grunt

“I’ll go with you”, you said with a soft smile. He looked at you to see if you meant it, and you did, so after the environment got calmer, you and him both went back to your place. 

The house was quiet, and you took advantage of that

“Hey, are you alright?”, you asked him. “Why did he say?”, you asked him

“Same thing I wonder sometimes”, he said

“What?”, you asked, he looked at you with sad eyes that broke your heart, “hey”, you called softly. 

So many things went through Daryl’s mind… He saw your soft hand, against his arm, his dirty arm, his rough hands… you look like you… lived some nasty things. He had… he had… he remembered his rough hands touching your unblemished skin, putting ointment in, he remembered your delicate fingers tracing his back over his pajamas, touching the scars you didn't know were there, his ugly… disfigured scars… 

You were as different as the sun and the moon, he was damaged, he had gone to hell and back, even since he could remember, you had managed to keep some piece of your humanity with you through all this. 

Your skin, or what he could see, was unmarked by the ugliness of the world, unlike his. 

He didn’t want you to see them, he was terrified that you’d finally could tell the kind of man he had become. 

He was crying, he couldn’t tell, and he only came to his senses when through his tear stricken eyes the only thing he could see was your beautiful face. You leaned in, caressing his cheek, and kissed him softly. 

“Hey, I’m here, not going anywhere”, you said, as gently as you could.

“You will if you see it”, he said.

“No fucking way”, you said with a smile, “looks like someone here could use some care”, you said with a soft smile. 

You took him to the basement, there were three rooms, his room, a big bathroom, and the laundry.

You made him sit on his bed, as you fetched some nice things you had gotten at the intimate store. The candles and some nice soaps. And you grabbed your pajamas. 

It was like a ritual, you filled the tub with water, you put in some nice oils and scents, you lit up the candles and turned off the lights. You went to get Daryl, you kissed him and caressed him until he was putty in your hands, and then… caressing all the skin in your path, you undressed him softly, gently, with a feathery touch.

You kissed his shoulder seeing his torso naked for the first time. And now his back.

There they were, crossing his skin in diagonals, deep ugly scars. Daryl moved uncomfortably under your hands, but you were not going to let him get away this time. Your hands traveled to his back towards each of his sides, to his chest, while you leaned in, and kissed each and every one of them. He moaned softly, grabbing your hands and squeezing, holding onto you for dear life.

“I wish I could take it all away”, you whispered against his skin. “But since I can't, I can only say this… You are the most important person in my life, Daryl, and I love you, just the way you are”, you whispered, you choked up a bit, your eyes filled with happy tears. 

You undid his belt, unbuttoned his dark jeans and let them fall to his feet. Then there were his boxers.

He got into the tub softly and gently. Letting the warm water envelop him completely, until he sat on it. His face was completely contorted in a myriad of sentiments, hope, relaxation, but also, love. You kneeled by the claw foot tub, and grabbed a sponge.

“I love ya”, he said, you smiled widely

“I love you too”, you said, you closed your eyes for a sec, breathing everything in.

“Come in ‘ere”, he said, you smiled, standing up, and getting rid of all your clothes, under his heated gaze. And you got in the tub with him. 

It was a bit messy. Water over boarding. making you laugh. He placed you over his lap, and you straddled him, sponge still in hand. You rubbed him good, his shoulders and chest, you washed his hair, you kissed him good. His eyes never left yours not even for a second.

“You are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen”, he murmured

“Stop it”, you said with a smile. And you believed yourself to be the luckiest person on earth, you got to see him like this, hair back, all wet… naked, soapy, vulnerable… “I meant it, when I sang that song, embarrassing myself”, you laughed

“It was a pretty damn good song”

“Well”, you said, “there’s no one like you Daryl Dixon”, you said with a soft smile, you leaned in and kissed him.

You stayed there, in his arms, as it was his turn to wash you, and you cuddled there until your skin was wrinkled and the water was so cold you couldn’t stand it. You heard voices and steps upstairs, but they knew better than to come down here. You just waited until they dissipated into their own rooms.

Only then, when the candles started to die out, you got out of the tub, you dressed each other, and went to his room, for the very first time. There was nothing special, a double bed, two bedside tables, a chair in the corner and a bureau, but you didn't pay too much attention to that.

You were going to get in the bed, but Daryl grabbed you softly, making you turn, you did, with a wide smile on your face. He kissed you, hungrily, caressing your sides, then your face. He made your front stick to his, and that’s when you felt it. In your belly…

You moaned softly

“Platonic my ass”, he chuckled against your lips, you laughed. “I want you so much it pains me”, he grunted

“I want you too”, you moaned as your hands sneaked under his pajamas

“Oh I know you do”, he teased, “what were you thinking? dressing in lace all for me?”, he grunted. Your pajamas were on the floor in seconds, both of them.

Something finally snapped inside of him, like you had finally went through that last final barrier, his hands were a bit more rough then, he grabbed you, caressed you, your hips, and then up to cup your breasts

You moaned wantonly, caressing him back. Everywhere you could get his hands on. His hard cock rubbed against your belly, and even though you were all in now, you still had something that stopped you, you haven't seen it yet.

“Please”, he begged, and you knew exactly what he meant, you did it then, hissing when your finger grabbed him, he was thick, big, you moaned when you could wrap your fingers around it. He kissed you, moaning in your mouth, it was sloppy, messy, needy and you wanted it so badly… You felt like you were on fire.

You pumped his length a couple of times while he kept caressing you, his mouth never left yours. He advanced on you, making you retreat until the back of your legs touched the bed. He pushed you to the bed gently, and he was over you in a second. 

He kissed you again while you spread your legs to accommodate him in between them. When his cock touched between your legs you swore you saw stars behind you eyelids

“Are ya’ sure?”, he asked, “If we do this, there’s no getting rid of me”, he said with a smirk

“Maybe i’m counting on it”, you teased, you grabbed him by the back of his neck and drew him in for a kiss. He first teased you, slipping a finger between your folds, you moaned when you felt it, oh gods it had been so long!, but he found you drenched, so wet, warm and slippery for him. So much he moaned when he felt it.

You grabbed his cock again, feeling pre-cum leaving his tip, so you rubbed it all over his length. Your moans could make anybody blush, you wanted it so badly. 

He placed another finger inside of you. Teasing you slowly and gently. You spread your legs even more, you wanted more, you needed more, you needed him.

“Please”, you begged, you were done with the foreplay

“Ya’ ready?”, he asked softly, you barely nodded. You were so turned on you could cum right now. He released you, accommodating himself more in between your legs. 

“Go easy, it’s been awhile”, you said with a soft smile. You shared significant looks with each other.

“Yeah”, he said softly, “‘for me too”, you smiled at each other, as he led himself home. You whimpered as his tip opened you up. “Ya alright?”

“Yes!”, you said quickly, you wrapped your legs around his waist, making him bury himself deeper a bit more

You both moaned. Oh fuck, he was big, it had been so long, and yet, it felt delicious. Daryl was the man for you, the one you wanted to be with, and that made this ten times more exciting, more pleasurable. Yes he had made you wait, but it was all worth it as you wrapped yourself around him, you adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, yer’ so tight”, he moaned, he couldn’t hold it any longer, neither could you, he sunk himself the rest of the way inside of you. Making you cry out in pleasure, hugging his shoulders until you both were so stuck to one another there was no more room between you

“I love ya”, you would have thought he meant it if he hadn't said it before, and not in the heat of the moment

“I love you too”, you said kissing his face and all you could reach, he kissed you back, and he stayed like that, inside you, until you moved yourself, begging him to fuck you. 

He retrieved himself only to start fucking slowly and sensually, it made you see freakin’ stars. 

You moved your hips too, to meet his thrusts, creating a rhythm that was driving the both of you insane. He filled you up so nicely, hitting all the right places, it had been so long you barely remembered they existed, not like you had felt so good before.

“Fuck”, it was going to be embarassingly short, for you too, feeling that know tightening inside of your lower belly, it felt so delicious you weren’t even sorry it was going to be short. You understood it… You also couldn’t believe that this was happening, you were in freaking ecstasy, being with him, like this, you had thought about it more than times than you’d ever admit. “I’m gonna cum”, he grunted against your ear

“Do it”, you encourage. You’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow, Rosita and you made sure of having options when you raided that pharmacy. He thrusted into you rougher, more messy than before, he lost it, lost the little control he was using to make sure he didn't hurt you, but you liked it a bit rough. The bed made funny noises under you, and you placed your hands on his hips, you also needed a place to hold you down to earth as he pounded into you. 

He cummed inside of you, with a whimper that made you shake even more, it was so hot, you squeezed him tightly, cumming too alongside with him. 

“Oh shit”, he whined, “Fuck”, you laughed under him, looking up at him, his deliciously thick arms rested on each side of your head. “Ya’ alright?”

“Yeah”, you said, coming out of your high, you caressed his cheek. He leaned in and kissed you, just to slip out of you, making you whine against his mouth. “That was amazing”

He got the both of you under the covers and wrapped his arms around you. You placed your head in his chest, in such a special spot you could hear his heartbeat. You caressed his skin, and you could see it now, his ample chest. Fuck, you were so attracted to him it was almost criminal, how could he ever doubt himself?

“Yer mine now”, he said, almost sheepishly, you only smiled

“And you are mine”, you then them, making him chuckle

“Alright”, he said, with a pleased smile kissing the top of your head.

PCN: I really just.. made them do it, it was enough waiting, right? I hope I got the build up right… I listened to the song and some other classic rock ones while I wrote it�� It was… different, good different I hope, then other smuts I have written… anyways. I'm a bit discouraged, not many people are reading this, only one is commenting (🤍)... and is breaking my heart, I'm so enjoying writting this... anyways... whatever, loosing hope this will pick up, but I will still post for the near future.

taglist ❤️

@crazyunsexycool @capricxnt

[d1xonscult]

Dating Daryl Dixon would include…

female!reader x Daryl Dixon

Spoilers included

slight sexual content included

————————————————————-

- Being very good, maybe even best friends for years before things started to get romantic

- sunshine x grumpy

- he remembers every little detail of the stories you tell him, which amazes you everytime he brings up conversations you two had years ago

- the two of you being in love with the other since the group found the prison and everyone noticed but you guys

- ever since Carol noticed him liking you, she wouldn’t stop teasing him, often making him almost die in embarrassment

- Daryl loves to spend time alone, but you’re one of the very few people he accepts to be alone with

- you admitting your feelings to him first, making him back off for a while because he doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions

- him accidentally admitting his feelings during an argument about you’re safety after a few days of awkward atmosphere

- you being the one to make the first move almost everytime during the beginning of the relationship

- he’s very insecure at first, especially about his scars, but it never bothered you so you try your best to show him that they are nothing to be ashamed of

- it takes him a lot of time to get used to this ‘being a couple’ thing

- you having to convince him to cut his hair because it hurts you seeing it fall into his eyes constantly

- you’re his number #1 priority

- “I’d die for you” being yours and his “i love you”

- his love language is gift giving while yours is physical touch and words of affirmation

- he almost always tries to find something to gift you during scavenge runs, mostly it’s a pretty rock or flowers if he has the luck to find them

- always going on scavenge runs together and the group always thinking you guys are doing something else which sometimes is the case

- the two of you not minding to spend days alone with just each other in the woods

- him always giving you the best part of whatever animal he has hunted

- in general, he cares a lot about you having enough to eat, even if it means him not having any food at all just for you not to starve

- Not much PDA but little kisses on the cheeks when passing each other in Alexandria or occasionally holding hands while on runs with the group

- he is the big spoon, meaning him laying on his back while you have your head on his chest

- soft kisses most of the time but if he’s slightly tensed or angry he gets more rough not just talking about kisses iykyk

- he wakes up really early sometimes, often waiting for you to wake up while smoking cigarettes by the window and trying not to wake you up

- he never lets anyone touch his hair but you do it anyways and he secretly loves

- you almost loosing your senses when Negan took Daryl

- you also being the one to almost go and get Daryl out of the sanctuary yourself (If Rick didn’t force the group to literally watch you non stop)

- always being on the same side when it comes to arguments in the group

- being called each others wife/husband by everyone

- HE IS DEFINITELY VERY OVERPROTECTIVE

- nah fr he won’t let anyone hurt you

- he would do everything, really everything to keep you save

- he has avery raspy morning voice

- you guys being uncle Daryl and aunt y/n to Judith and RJ

[lily-radiance]

Random fic headcanons and ideas:

TWD season two Daryl Dixon with an S/O who's in trouble

Both loners

MC is not from Georgia

Early 20s MC dating mid-30s Daryl

She knows how to shoot archery bows but not crossbows

Touch-starved

Andrea considers MC like another younger sibling

Everyone advises Daryl not to go for you and vice versa

When Rick, Hershel, and Glenn go to the bar, MC accompanies them. Daryl only goes when Lori tells him that you are in danger.

Carol gives him advice

Andrea and Lori warn him if he breaks your heart, he's a dead man.

RE4 Leon with a high school best friend who became an Umbrella Scientist.

MC was initially training for the force with Leon but dropped out to find another passion

She wants to help people but gets pulled into Umbrella’s dark research

Leon caught a glimpse of her at the end of RE2 but couldn't be sure if it was her.

Ashley doesn't trust MC, but Leon ignores it

Both have combat experience and have undergone physical conditioning

MC does not have Las Plagas

Krauser spars with MC, causing Leon to jump in.

Krauser asks Leon to choose between you and Ashley.

IDK if Leon would be sweet here or a Yandere.

Arkham Movie Trilogy Jonathan Crane, Harley Quinn, and Poison Ivy x Psychiatrist reader

This story is currently in progress!!!

Reader works at Arkham Asylum

Friends with Bruce Wayne

Knows about his alter ego and occasionally helps him solve cases

Reader believes Bruce should do more with his money to benefit Gotham

Combines Heath Ledger’s Joker with Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn

The reader was in the same major as Harley in college, and the two dated briefly

Harley constantly teases the reader when she catches wind of a new crush

You try to ignore her, but eventually can't as she warns you that the doctor is deadlier than he lets on

You brush it off, too fond of your coworker to accept the notion that he can hurt you

Bruce doesn't like your new counterpart, picking up a destructive energy that screams guilty

In defiance, you decide to bring your beaux to one of many parties and get on your friend’s last nerve.

A kiss is shared in front of the crowd, some murmuring complaints while others smile. You wish to stay in Jonathan’s arms, but the moment is interrupted as Bruce pulls you aside

Naturally, two upper-class socialites fighting in front of an audience calls for bad publicity, but not on your part

“If you keep this up, you'll become a sewer rat criminal just like the rest!”

Luckily, you decided to wear a few rings to accentuate your outfit. Not only do you look stunning, but you reel back and land a brutal slap on his cheek. Yet that doesn't hurt as much as your following words.

“How dare you, Bruce. How dare you scrutinize what you can never understand. Thomas and Martha would be ashamed of you, and you, of all people, know they were difficult to rattle. Next time you need anything, ask someone who gives a shit.”

Your friend has to watch in shock as you exit the home, arm linked with a man he despises. Even in disagreeable situations, you manage to exhibit grace and elegance. It's the beginning of a new era and the opportunity to forget the complex life of the wealthy.

“Is your hand alright, (Y/N)? Better yet, are you okay?”

Never underestimate a psychiatrist to get into your head. He walks you to the car, watching your lips tremble in the darkness. You meet his stare, and one thought crosses your mind: kissing him sounds lovely. The doctor is efficient at picking up social cues, leaning down to meet your lips, and extinguishing the frigid temperature.

“As long as I'm with you, Jonathan. I can do anything with you by my side, no matter the risks.”

I want to make the reader an anti-hero vigilante with the “Grim Reaper” theme. Supernatural powers in Batman don't really occur so I will brainstorm. Most villains are the work of genetic experiments gone wrong so maybe I'll work with that?

JD(Heathers 1989) dating the reader

You are friends with Veronica and the despicable Heathers

Instead of going along with their charades, you often argue and challenge Heather Chandler

She constantly threatens your social standing but knows that the campus would easily choose you over her.

Purple color coded

JD can't help but admire your tenacity as you begrudgingly follow Veronica to the table, attempting to stop the girl from doing Heather’s bidding.

When you walk over, he seems uninterested in the girl speaking to him, instead transfixed on your disinterested attitude. Unknowingly, you lick your lips, tasting lip gloss and wiping some glitter away. When you lock eyes, you swear your heart stops beating, drawn to his carefree attitude.

Veronica says a few words to you, trying to convince you to let her administer the lunch poll

As she talks, you playfully roll your eyes, causing the delinquent to smirk in your direction. He hides a chuckle from breaking out, finding your careless joking funny given the circumstances. When Veronica walks off, it allows you to sit across from the newcomer, albeit a little too eagerly.

“Mind if I ask for a smoke? I'm dying from boredom.”

“Sure, I could never say no to a girl like you. I’m guessing you’ve been trying to break from those devils all day.”

He lights your cigarette as you take it between your teeth, enjoying the visual more than he lets on.

“It's all thanks to you, my knight in obsidian armor.”

[twigg96]

Strangers like me

Daryl X Reader, Merle & Reader, Dixon Brothers

Era: PreQuarry, Quarry, Woodburry, Prison

POV: Merle's on yours and Daryl's relationship

Pronouns: They/Them. You/ [Y/N]

Summary: When Daryl and Merle find you starving in one of the houses they raid, Merle is more than willing to leave you there to die. But Daryl jumps to your rescue. Feeding you and restoring you back to health. Merle is certain that once you're better you'd leave them alone... but instead you just seemed to stick around. And Daryl seemed to cling to you in this weird way he'd never seen his brother do with anyone else before... intrigued and a little worried for his brother's safety (though he'd never say it out loud) Merle starts to pay a little more attention to the relationship brewing between you and Daryl. That is until the Sheriff arrives and everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

From the very first day you met Daryl, found starving inside one of the many abandoned houses that Merle and he searched and raided before they settled down at the Quarry, you both had been connected at the hip. Merle had thought it strange at first. Just a cute little crush for his younger brother to entertain while the world went to shit around them. A cute crush that could potentially become quite the fucking problem if you ever got in the way of their survival. "C'mon baby bro..." Merle growled one particularly rainy day when he finally had a chance to get Daryl alone. "Don't cha see they're just usin' ya?" Merle drawled a snake like grin crossing his face as Daryl shot him an uncertain and self conscious glance. But as the little stow away stumbled through the thick brush, proudly holding up a long string of fish they must have noodled out of the nearby crick, Merle watched Daryls eyes gleam and pride radiate from his very body. "Usin' me huh?" Daryl teased walking over to you, helping you wipe the mud and grime from your face in the most gentle way his brother had ever seen.

As the shit hit the fan and the largest herd of walkers the group of three had yet to see approached from seemingly all sides, Merle was certain you were going to die. That you'd be too slow to keep up. That you'd loose your balance or your weak ankles would give out. What worried Merle most was that if you did happen to trip, happen to get hurt. His moron of a brother would risk his own life again to save you. But you were faster than he expected you would be and even though you had complained before of your weak ankles swelling, a part of you Daryl had no problem touching and massaging on a normal day. Another mystery to the eldest Dixon. You seemed to be Leading the charge far in front of both men, pointing and leading them through the woods. Only for a moment did Merle think to be suspicious of your sudden athletic prowess. But it was only for a moment before you reached out and pulled Merle back from tripping over the root of a tree that would have sent him to his death over the edge of a nearby cliff. Feeling the warm squeeze of your hand in his Merle realized that even after you had safely navigated him away from the ledge you were still holding tight to his wrist, a worried look to your face and hot tears staining your cheeks. "Y-you gotta keep up old man!" You finally called back, stifling a sob he knew would have wracked you and slowed you down... Well damn. Merle followed you into a well abandonded cabin deep in the woods, one that he could tell just by lookin at it was a distillery at one point in it's life. Shoving what little furniture the cabin had up against the windows and doors the trio waited with baited breath as the herd pushed past, begging that none of them would tear through the thin walls in the night while you rested.

"Alrigh'..." Merle grumbled tossing his pack in the corner, glaring at the way his brother was doting on you, letting you lean on him for support to catch your breath. Your hand rested softly on his chest and if Merle had been a dumb man, which he fuckin wasn't. He would have missed the way you intertwined your fingers with Daryl's other hand. "Tell me." Merle growled sitting across from the two who seemingly scrambled to get away from one another in order to avoid getting caught. "Don't know wha-" Daryl tried to bullshit him but Merle could see right through his brother. "Ah! Don't try that shit." Merle growled growing more and more agitated by the minute. Agitated that the two of them thought they could just sneak around him with out him finding out. Agitated that his brother thought he was some kinda fool and couldn't figure it out on his own. But, most of all, agitated that Daryl hadn't trusted him with the truth earlier. "How long have ya known each other?" Merle hissed, gesturing between the two blushing kids. And god they really did look like kids to him now. Despite being covered in mud, walker bits and blood, they both looked so... damned young. "Well..." Merle huffed when he received nothing but silence from either his brother or you in return. "I already told ya." Daryl tried to lie once more, not daring to meet his eyes. "We just met the other day... you were there." You nodded your head a little too enthusiastically to try and convince Merle... something that didn't sit right with the older Dixon. "Bull shit." Merle huffed shaking his head. "There's somethin' more goin' on between you two..." Merle muttered jabbing a finger at his brother's chest then yours. "You two have been all buddy buddy since we picked the runt up." Merle stated watching carefully as you seemed to pull away from the crassness of his voice and Daryl... well if Daryl realized he was doing it Merle had no idea but he had shifted his body slightly to place himself between his brother and you, a deep scowl plastered on his face. "Don't you dare call them names... they just saved yer hide." Daryl hissed defensively. And there it was. Love. Merle sighed shaking his head a small smirk gracing his lips. But, who was he to make them realize what it was called before either of them said it out loud? Instead Merle slapped his knee. "Ah... shit. Thought I recognized 'em from before... must just be tired." Merle sighed, standing with a low groan to go set up his corner of the cabin.

After that long night, Merle kept a closer eye on you two from the shadows. He didn't distrust you as much anymore you were always quick to have not only Daryl’s back but his own and Merle warmed up to you coming to see you as more of a family member and less as of a threat. But that didn't mean that you got to just do whatever you wanted to his little brother in the middle of the apocalypse without someone watching your dumbass backs. Most of the time what Merle observed was tame. A small brush of the hands while you two walked further ahead than him. A bump of the shoulders while they were sitting alone by the fire. When they finally arrived at the Quarry, the three of them kept mostly to themselves finding the small group's leader that took them in suffocating and a hard ass. Shane, the wannabe jughead, was insufferable on a good day. He harassed you on a near constant basis when his own makeshift piece of ass wasn't around to keep him on his toes. "What're ya doing hanging around these fuckin' hicks?" He asked you one day while you were busy skinning the rabbits you had caught. A glare was all you graced him with before he plopped down on the log beside you. "There's more than enough room for you to bunk down next to us ya know... next to me." The perverted ex-cop cooed leaning closer to you. But, much to Merle's glee and entertainment, you looked completely appalled and disinterested. Flipping the man off you shoved the bloody skinned rabbit into his arms. "There... dinner for the young ones." You growled, walking down to the water's edge to wash off.

But, the bastard didn't give up easily. Even once the others in the camp had started to put two and two together that you might... maybe... possibly be in an intimate relationship with the youngest of the Dixon boys and were officially off limits Shane persisted. Merle watched you carefully on the days that the two lovebirds at the camp drank too much and tore into each other. It happened more often than Merle ever felt comfortable with and always ended with a very drunken Shane attempting to shove a wedge into whatever relationship was forming between you and Daryl. But Merle knew his baby brother... his self confidence was in the gutter. And so when another young buck entered his territory, Daryl tended to run and hide or duck his head. "Tell me something." Shane slurred one night, nearly sitting on Daryl's lap in order to slide between you and him. If you hadn't begged Merle to leave well enough alone earlier in the day when the arguing startled the deer the three of you had been hunting all day, he might have put the man out of his misery then and there. "Why do you go out and do all this men's work?" Shane asked drunkenly slurring his words, waving around his half empty beer bottle towards your bow and Daryl's crossbow. "You'd be much better off if you just stayed here with the women and... ya know did women work." Merle had stifle the laugh that bubbled up in his throat watching the way your face morphed from confused disgust to pure astonished hatred. "Ex-fucking-scuse me?!" You hissed. And lordy above if looks could kill Shane would have been fuckin' toast. If not only from the searing glare you sent his way but the absolute daggers Daryl was piercing into the back of Shane's skull at the sheer audacity this man had. But... it seemed that on this night Shane just wanted to test his luck with you. "Yeah... I mean." Shane grabbed your wrist flipping your hand over to look at the palm of your hand. "No one as beautiful as you deserves to have calluses this thick. Besides... you're too delicate for anything more than washing clothes." Oh yeah... that did it. Merle chuckled as you stood and brought the very hand Shane had been holding across his face. "Don't you ever touch me you prick!" You hissed. But something about the way Shane's demeanor didn't set right with Merle... He was too still. He just stared off into space. A look Merle was far too familiar with having served in the military and time in prison. It was a dangerous distant look. But before Shane could act on whatever was brewing in his mind, you stormed off into darkness of the woods, Daryl hot on your tail.

The argument that followed could be heard for a good half mile. "I said leave me the hell alone Daryl!" Merle heard you yell, frustrated and sobbing from within the trees. Merle heard his brother mutter something vaguely sad and soft. It was your first real fight so if he had to guess Daryl was asking what was wrong, or what he could do to help... the poor bastard. "You think they'll be ok?" Dale, the group's resident crazy elderly man asked Merle softly. The older Dixon shrugged, pulling the flashlight from his backpack with an annoyed sigh. "It's not [Y/N] I'm worried about." He muttered lowly, standing with a pained groan. "Fine you wanna talk so bad let's fuckin' talk!" Your scream could be heard all across the Quarry and Merle knew... Daryl was in fuckin' trouble. "I better go get his dumb ass before they kill each other." Merle sighed rolling his eyes. Merle tracked his brother and wannabe in-law down and reminding them that the walkers still existed and were dangerous even when they were pissed off at each other. You insisted that maybe... you should just sleep in Dale's RV for a while. With that said and tears rolling down your cheeks you stormed off back towards the camp. Merle watched you go for a moment before turning to his brother who for all intents and purposes was completely distraught. Daryl paced back and forth growling nonsense, punching the bark off of tree trunks, and grasping at the short hair on his head. "What the fuck?!" Daryl whined, kicking a dead tree down. Merle would have quipped back with something nasty and hurtful. He certainly wanted to... But he figured that maybe this time he should just keep his fuckin' trap shut and try listening this time. "They told me they needed space... so I walked a little slower to give 'em space. They got pissed when I asked what I asked what I could do then told me I didn't do shit so why even ask that. And now they want to sleep in the camper with Dale?!" Daryl growled huffing and plopping down the freshly made tree stump. Merle couldn't help but to laugh at his little brother rolling his eyes at Daryl's nonissue. "Wha' you fuckin' laughing at?!" Daryl hissed standing to get in Merle's face. "Got two bits of advice fer ya little brother." Merle murmured, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. "First... don't ever talk ta yer partner when they tell ya to fuck off. No matter how mad they are or what started it. Just let them be mad fer a bit..." Daryl stared at Merle like he grew a second head. "But I was jus' worried about walkers." Daryl muttered, shuffling his feet. Merle rolled his eyes. "That's the second tip little brother... grow a pair of balls." Merle teased, grabbing his own crotch for emphasis. "You say to me you were just worried about walkers but that's bull shit... you were trying to smooth things over because you know you fucked up by letting Deputy Dickface harass and touch your partner whenever he feels like it... that's why they want to sleep in Dale's camper. Not because their especially pissed at you little bro... but you won't do anything to Shane so they don't feel safe if he were to try something." Daryl flapped his gums for a moment but Merle was already headed back to camp. "Just something to chew on little bro..."

Over the next few days Merle watched you and Daryl slowly make up in the solace of the woods. If he actually gave a shit he'd say it was cute... Daryl did his very best for you. He gave you a portion of his meal every time you all ate despite your protests. He taught you how to cock and shoot his cross bow properly. Merle thought it was cute funny that you tried your damnedest to ignore the way Daryl's body pressed into your back, his left hand pressed to your tummy, explaining that if you took deep enough breaths through your stomach your aim would be less shaky. He almosted missed the way that his little brother's right hand was so gently caressing you to help you position your arms closer to your body and that his breath was tickling the back of your neck as he almost whispered the encouragement into your ear as you pulled the trigger and shot your first deer with the new weapon. But the crushing hug he gave you afterwards, the little twirl and small, “You fuckin’ did it sunshine!” That. That was not a memory neither you or Merle were willing to ignore or push away any time soon. Even though he'd never say it out loud, Merle was damned proud of the his little brother. Especially the next time Deputy Dog came sniffing around. Daryl was by your side in an instant despite having been at the other side of the camp when the ex-cop first approached you. "Heard you were takin' a break from the hicks fer a while..." Shane hummed moving his hand to brush back a piece of your hair that had fallen into your face. "The only thing they'll be breakin' is yer nose if ya don't leave them alone." Daryl growled, walking around the two of you to take your waist, pulling you close to him. Unbeknownst to you at the time. You were teaching the youngest Dixon as well. You taught him the patience to listen even when all he wanted to do was run off in a confused huff or get moody. Merle watched on a little amused as you taught Daryl to fish using only your hand, a gleam of desire shining in his little brother's eyes as he watched you rolling around in the mud bear wrestling a giant catfish to land. You taught Daryl compassion. Something that some what weirded Merle out as the two of you approached Dale and Glenn one day offering to help out at the camper.

The worst day of Merle's life thus far came the day the Sheriff arrived. He was certain that as he sat handcuffed on the roof he was going to die. Even as he sawed his own hand from his arm he was sure he was going to die. But the one thought in his mind remained the same. He had to live to make it to see his little brother again. Even if it were just a glimpse. Even if he just got to know he was ok. Days of mending his wounded stump within the confines of Atlanta turned into weeks of wondering the backroads of Gorgia as he finally made his way back to their campsite. Eating and sleeping from dumpster to dumpster became a regular occurrence and then a necessity as Merle crashed hard detoxing from his array of vices he kept in his bike's side satchel. When Merle finally made it to the campsite, only to find rows and rows of mass graves burried there, the cars, his bike, and the camper gone. Merle had never known that level of loss in his life. Not even in the midst of war did Merle feel so much pain, digging on his knees with his only good hand into the shallow graves praying for the first time in his life that he wouldn't find the faces of his little brother or his brother's lover. But when they all came up as members of their makeshift community, people he hardly knew due to his isolation, Merle wept for the first time in a long time.

Years passed. Merle was "saved" from a life off drifting by the Governor. The Governor's men had found him, starving, nearly waisted away along the side of the road one evening. They had originally tried to kill him, seeing him as a parasite within the bounds of their territory. But time after time, group after group, Merle beat them. He was either able to evade them into the shadows and tight spaces of some abandoned building, going deep withing the walker infested parts of the cities the scouts weren't willing to go. Or he killed each and every one of the bastards that cornered him. But eventually... Merle grew tired and relented. The life he knew in Woodbury was not lavish nor grand by any sense of the word. Merle was a lacky used for his strength and military training... he was used to entertain the residents of Woodbury and keep the other lackies and prisoners in check. It was his job and for a while at least... he was good at it. Why wouldn't he be? It kept food in his belly and enough booze in his system to keep him numb to the horrific things he had to do to keep his position. But to say Merle was simply taking what was given to him was a drastic understatement. No... He may have been a hard headed moron on a good day, but Merle had a plan. One that involved taking the governor down and taking him for all he was worth in the process. Unfortunately for him, he tended to run his big mouth when he was drunk. A habit he was warned would kill him one day... But, Merle wasn't in the business of listening to his little brother's dumb advice especially when he was certain he was dead. Had to be after all the time that had passed between them. So instead when he missed him... he talked about him to the only people who listened... the governor and his lackies.

When Merle found the little Korean squirt loading up baby supplies into that car, he nearly shit himself. If that twerp was still alive, you and Daryl had to be... right? He knew it was impulsive. He knew the target was the samurai. But if he lost track of the twerp now... he could loose you and Daryl forever and that just wasn't a risk Merle was willing to take. He lied to the governor told him he killed the samurai but everything was lost in the blast... a bold lie for sure but a strong one when he held a single lock of hair. The governor seemingly believed him for the mean time and even offered to help interview the girl. An offer Merle should have known better than to accept. But emotions were already high and his judgement had been clouded. However... Merle did not expect Glenn to have such a steel trap. The boy took blow after blow, ribs cracking, nose breaking, blood spilling all in the name of protecting the ones he loved and cherished. Merle tried like Hell to get him to understand. "I just need ta know where Daryl and his partner are... I'll let ya and yer lady friend go if ya just tell me already!" Merle growled finally pushed to the breaking point when Glenn spit all over him. Of course Merle knew he went too far after he threw the walker into the room with Glenn. He was just so confused and frustrated that Glenn was so loyal... Maybe the girl would be easier to break. But what he found in her cell, the governor standing behind her half naked frame with her pinned to the table sent him from frustrated to furious in an instant. If it weren't for the nagging part of his brain reminding him there was something he truly needed at the end of all of this... Merle might have gone rouge then and there. "Hey..." Merle finally got out, straining his voice to hide any emotion. "They... They need ya up top." Merle lied. This time not caring about the repercussions of this particular lie. Merle waited outside watching as the governor passed him by before walking into the room they kept Glenn in. The boy was bloodied, bruised and beaten. He had broken the wooden chair he was taped to in order to kill the walker but by god he survived. Maybe the punk had more moxie than Merle gave him credit for... Without giving the kid a chance to run, Merle grabbed him by the arm, escorting him into the next room where his girl sat covering herself. A wave of hot shame and posionous guilt washed over Merle as he shoved Glenn into the room. His only thought being... What if someone somewhere was doing this to you and Daryl... If he was willing to go this far... how far would someone else go? Tossing his vest at Glenn's girl he looked away, hoping that maybe if he was lucky he'd see his little brother again one day.

When the shooting started and the alarm was raised that prisoners were loose in the city of Woodbury, Merle knew Glenn's people had come to save them. Despite the impressive show he made of firing into the smoke, Merle did his best to miss the figures that crept and ran around. If you or Daryl were in fact amongst one of the few to be there, the last thing he wanted to do was accidently hit either of you. Instead his aim was at the Woodbury residents who dared aim a gun at the fleeing trespassers. God did he pay for it once everything calmed down... the Governor's daughter a walker he kept trapped and locked away was slaughtered during the fight and the Governor wanted blood. Placing Merle in the middle of the fighting ring, a position he wasn't unfamiliar with by this point in his career and life, Merle mentally and physically prepared himself. He expected the Walkers to be released on him. He expected to be whipped and possibly publicly shamed. What he didn't expect... was Daryl. His baby brother chained, beaten, battered, bruised, and whipped being drug into the arena with him. Worse than that, the very second he moved to step towards him, the Governor issued the very rules Merle prayed wouldn't be said in the arena. "To the death..." And so Merle did as ordered. He fought like it was his last breath. Using the governor's waning trust in him, Merle took the first blow sending an unsuspecting Daryl stumbling back. "Merle please." The words killed him as Merle stood over Daryl. But the eldest Dixon had a plan... he always did. Before he knew it snipers from the buildings above were firing down on the walkers and crowd making room for the rush of the crowd that rushed in, slaughtering whoever they had too to free Daryl.

Merle followed the group out, whether they wanted them too or not, Daryl refused to let them touch him. Despite it all Daryl was still loyal to his brother. But the group felt differently... and why wouldn't they? Merle knew he had done unspeakable acts against them... but he didn't ask to have them shoved in his face every two seconds. When enough was enough he and Daryl stormed off. Something they were good at. "Come on baby brother, your better off without them." Merle muttered, trying his damnedest to cheer his little brother up. But it all ended up just blowing up in his face... "We gotta go back to the prison. I need to go back..." Daryl muttered, more like a chant as he lead them deeper into the woods. "The prison? Why the hell do ya wanna go back there?" Merle asked, struggling to keep up with Daryl's determined stride. "Loyalty. Don't know if ya know anythin' about it... and I gotta... They need me." Daryl growled, glaring at his older brother as they ducked under branches. "I know more about loyalty than you ever will!" Merle had yelled. "Maybe you would if you had been there once fer me!" Daryl had screamed back. Merle huffed shaking his head. "Bull shit little brother. This ain't about loyalty. This is about somethin' else..." Merle mumbled trying to read the expression on his brother's face. "Whatever... this was a bad fuckin' idea." Daryl growled. Merle grabbed the back of Daryl's shirt when he tried to walk back to the road without him a familiar feeling of fear and abandonment washing over him as he did. The scars on Daryl's back were horrendous. And Merle knew exactly where they came from. "I-I'm so sorry... I-I never knew..." Merle tried to explain but Daryl was having none of it. "No... You did it's why you left... but it never stopped when you did." Merle couldn't help the pained laugh that escaped his lips. Daryl wasn't wrong. He was reading him like a book... when did he learn to do that? The two walked in silence for a while. Daryl tried like hell to get Merle to come back to the prison with him. But Merle knew deep down he never could. The people there would kill him. It was simple. When the baby's wail pierced the air and Daryl looked panicked, jumping into action without a moments hesitation. Something clicked. "They still alive?" Merle asked after Daryl finally handed the tiny baby back to it's family with a pained look to his face. "Huh? Yeah... Wha' cha mean by that?" Daryl asked, gesturing to the whimpering newborn wriggling in it's mother's arms as they all ran down the highway. "Not the baby, Daryl." Merle sighed. Daryl cocked a confused brow and craned his head. "[Y/N]? Yeah... They're still alive." Daryl huffed when he finally caught on to what Merle was asking. Pushing past his older brother Merle sighed. "You tell them yet?" Merle muttered, following Daryl off of the bridge. "Tell them what?" Daryl asked rolling his eyes at his brother's sudden interest in playing twenty questions. "That ya love 'em." Merle murmured. Watching as Daryl slowed to a stop, Merle hoped for a small second that his little brother would tell him off and send him packing. But instead for the first time since they reunited, Daryl looked like what he remembered him to be. Timid. Shy. And a little embarrassed. But still, the little shit nodded. "Ya want ta come see them?" Daryl asked softly, gesturing with his head in the direction he wanted to go. "They miss ya somethin' fierce."

Before this point... Merle had believed anxiety to be a myth. Something people made up to whine about or get out of work. But as he marched his way to the prison gates with Daryl by his side, Merle suddenly felt very small. It was a good thing that he had something to do when they first arrived... kill all the walkers they could to get in... but once they were done and the dust had settled, Merle was very aware of how many eyes were staring him down. Whispers of "What is he doing here?" and "Why did Daryl bring him back?" resonated deep within his soul. But one voice stood out above the rest. "Daryl?!" Your voice and the sound of your approaching footsteps as you sprinted to find him echoed from inside the prison walls. As you stepped into the greens of the courtyard Merle stood stalk still completely stunned. You looked stunning, your hair grown longer, your skin a little tanner than he remembered, and most shockingly of all... a little tike rested on your hip. The toddler clung to your shirt and buried into your heaving collar bone as you fought to catch your breath. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you ran to Daryl, who met you without hesitation halfway into the courtyard. "W-When you didn't come back-" You sobbed kissing Daryl's jaw before burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's ok... I just had to take a little detour." Daryl whispered taking the little one from you and kissing their face, blowing raspberries on their cheek for good measure. The tike giggle and squealed in Daryl's arms pushing his head away from their own. "Daddy stop!" They squealed. Daddy? Merle blinked rubbing his eyes with his good hand. He didn't think he was gone that long... "Merle?" Your voice called out as he looked back up at his little, growing, family. "The one and only." Merle gleamed grinning from ear to ear as you wrapped your arms around his middle. "I'm so happy you're ok..." Your tone was happy and soft but turned as dark and piercing as the glare you shot up at Merle. "Merle Dixon... you know I respect you as Daryl's brother... and you know that I owe you and your brother my life... but, you really hurt Daryl with the actions you took in your past... now you have a chance to make them right. If you don't... or if you ever hurt Daryl with another dumbass mistake that makes you get lost or separated from us again. Know I'm going to be personally searching for you to beat your ass until you apologize." Merle tried to take you seriously... he really did. But as your voice grew thick and the tears from earlier began to flow Merle just couldn't find it in himself to even attempt to look scared of you. Instead the eldest Dixon pulled you close letting you rest your head against his chest to sob. "You idiot... You absolute fucking idiot." You sobbed.

Late that night Merle stared up at the stars from the sanctuary of the prison grounds. The groans of the dean did nothing to bother him much any more. The sound of approaching footsteps however put him on edge and forced him to turn to face his potential attackers. But, it was just Daryl, coming to sit beside him in the wet grass of the night. "Hey." Daryl muttered. "Hey..." Merle whispered back looking back at the door to see if you had followed him out. "[Y/N] not coming out?" He asked softly. Daryl chuckled and shook his head. "Nah... she just got Sapphire down for the night." Daryl murmured, rolling his eyes with a laugh as he caught his brother's judgmental stare. "Look we didn't name 'er that... She knew 'er name when we found 'er and we couldn't bare to change it when it was the last thing she had of her real parents." Daryl said softly. Merle hummed in recognition. "Ya got a cute kid..." Daryl nodded, rubbing his arm. "Thanks. Try ta do right by her, ya know..." Daryl muttered and Merle completely understood because he always had and always would try and do right by his family... Even if it killed him.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 28 “You’ll have to go through me.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Injuries, blood, threatened SA

“Daryl!”

He could hear his name but the voice was distant, muted as if he were under water; distorted and echoing. He was trying to open his eyes but with the brief, blurry, and tilted glimpses he was granted, he wasn’t certain if what he was seeing was real or an image in his head. 

The metal door opening. A woman running in, moving in slow motion. In what seemed like less than a second of darkness, she was across the room, kneeling in front of him. But he was tired. Aching and bone-weary. 

So Daryl slept. 

He looked awful. He’d been beaten, that much was obvious. A deep black eye, split lip. Sweaty, yet freezing to the touch. Starved and dehydrated. 

“Daryl! My god, what have they done to you?” 

He had only looked at you for a heartbeat but he wasn’t seeing you. His eyes had since closed, head hanging. His pulse was racing, breaths were shallow bursts of air from around a bloody cloth gagging him. 

“I’m gonna get you out of here.” Your hands paused over his wrist, bound too tightly to the arm of the chair. The skin below the rope was raw and bleeding. He had struggled, tried to free himself. Daryl was nothing if not resourceful. The fact he was still there was a testament to how injured he was. 

You cut the rope from beneath on both sides before freeing his ankles as well. He was barefoot, reddened and blistered skin creeping up along the sides. They had burned the soles of his feet. Jesus. Lastly, you removed the gag and tossed it away with more force than necessary.

Your knife was placed next to your thigh, easily accessible if needed. With careful touches, you cupped his face to raise his head. “Daryl, can you hear me? I need you to wake up.” His eyes were shifting beneath closed lids as consciousness continued to attempt grasping. “Come on. That’s it. That’s it, hey.” You laughed in an exhale, so happy to see those blue eyes, muted and swollen as they were. 

“Y/N?” He coughed wetly, his voice low and rough. 

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe.” Small fingers carded through long, greasy strands of hair. “You’re safe now.”

“According to who?”

You were on your feet within seconds, knife forgotten as you drew your gun and aimed it toward the doorway. The man wasn’t even pointing his own firearm at you, his shoulder leaned casually against the doorframe. He was covered in blood and small injuries, having obviously ran from the fight with your comrades to secure his hostage. 

“Back off, asshole.” You spat through gritted teeth. 

“You weren’t gonna try to break him out all by yourself, were you?” He lazily motioned toward Daryl with the barrel of his gun. “I’m not done with him yet.”

“You want him, you’ll have to go through me.” You hissed immediately, firing a warning shot when he took a step into the room. “You don’t know me, shitbag.”

“I know you’re not gonna kill me today.” He aimed the rifle toward Daryl, but didn’t get a chance to fire. You shot first, the bullet hitting his right flank. When he continued to advance, you squeezed the trigger again only to be rewarded with the dreaded click of an empty clip. 

“Fuck!” His shoulder drove into your chest, the two of you falling back against the chair. It tumbled to the side and sent Daryl careening onto the floor. The man straddled you and sat back on his knees, aiming the gun at your face. You grabbed the muzzle and pushed it aside as he fired, your ear ringing from the proximity of the shot. 

Stunned, you couldn’t react in time to stop him from shifting and smashing the butt of the gun against your forehead. Pain sang through your head, your vision whiting out with each pulse. 

“I think I’ll keep you too, pretty thing.” You clumsily swatted at his hands when he began trying to pet your face. “I need some…relief after a rough questioning with your pretty boy over here.” He continued trying to put his hands on you regardless of your weak efforts to fight him off. “Well, he’s not so pretty now, really.”

He finally grabbed your chin roughly, painfully tight, and leaned closer to your face. You started to struggle, wide eyes flicking to the right before you settled. 

“Giving up already?” He mocked. 

“No.” You snapped. “I just wanted to tell you that you were right.”

He laughed, squeezing your face impossibly harder. “About what?”

“I’m not gonna kill you today.” The man smirked and after a moment, you mirrored it. “He is.”

He didn’t have time to turn around before a hand roughly grabbed his forehead and pulled back, baring his throat for your knife to slide across it. Blood splattered onto your face but you didn’t care, your eyes on Daryl swaying and panting behind the body that fell to the side, freeing you to get up. 

“Ya…ya alrigh’?” He asked, even as his legs buckled. You scrambled forward and caught him as he hit his knees. Even like this, he was heavy. His upper body was pressed against yours with his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“I’m okay. And so are you. You’ll be okay. I’m here now.” You rubbed circles on his back with one hand while the other cradled the back of his head. You could see the flashlights and hear your friends calling both of your names.  “I’m right here. And I’m taking you home.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Pinpoint.

Daryl Dixon x F Reader.

Notes: i'm back on my bullshit . this is set in the same universe as hierarchy of needs, giving more context to reader and daryl's relationship because they're cuties <3 Tags: Farm/prison/Alexandria era, some not SFW implications, typical TWD horror elements sprinkled throughout. Word count: 7.3k.

i.

It’s a hot, Georgian summer day, the kind that makes your clothes stick to your skin from how profusely you’re sweating. Daryl stands to his full height after putting the finishing touches on his tent. It’s a somewhat messy job, considering the frantic state he was in while working on it, but he can’t bring himself to care. He haphazardly tosses his stake hammer onto a nearby patch of grass and rummages through the rest of his belongings.

Frustration bleeds into his every movement. From his bag’s zipper getting stuck to some of his tools refusing to budge without a great exertion of force. He huffs, having half a mind to call it a night and deal with this in the morning. He decides against it when he remembers how far removed he is from the main group. Waltzing back over so he can ask to borrow supplies defeats the entire purpose of him taking up residence on a secluded section of the farm.

A twig crunching alerts him to someone — or something’s — oncoming approach. He whips his head in the sound’s direction, ready to sling his crossbow into place should it be necessary.

He doesn’t relax when he realizes it’s your figure growing closer. If anything, it adds to his tension, the knowledge you’re going to see him like this. That you’re going to witness him at his worst. Ever since Shane forced the doors of the barn open, Daryl swears the part of his brain capable of thought turned off. It had to. Otherwise, his mind would haunt him, jeering at his many failures.

You’re approaching an uncaged beast. He knows it, he figures you’re smart enough to know it too.

So that begs the question: why are you here?

“Hey,” you greet, your voice tentative. “I brought you some dinner.”

He doesn’t respond or so much as acknowledge your existence. He forces his hands to work, to find something to do, anything that’d give you the impression he’s busy and can’t be bothered with whatever this is. Mustering up the words to communicate the sentiment sounds exhausting. If you insist on hanging around, it’ll only be a matter of time until he snaps and says something he’ll regret upon later reflection. The Dixon blood that runs through his veins is akin to molten lava, boiling and ready to incinerate anything that dares come into contact with it.

He hears the clinking of silverware, you’ve set the plate down on a pushed-over log. He’d pray that’s the end of it, if he thought God hadn’t made a point of tuning him out.

“Daryl?”

Any other day, he’d bask in the soft warmth that is your voice. It’s such a pleasant sound, a dulcet tone that makes every song he’d ever listened to seem shrill in comparison. Right now, however, it’s akin to little needles pricking his skin. It hurts and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. He’s a hot mess, a ball of volatile emotions tumbling every which way. His mind’s eye conjures up images specifically tailored for his torment.

The Cherokee rose. Carol’s howl of agony upon seeing what became of her precious little girl. That awful, guttural snarling, milky white eyes set into a concaving skull, putrid, rotting flesh, and limp walk as the child Daryl swore to find hobbled forward.

How long was she out there? Did she starve? Did she curl up at night, whimpering her momma’s name, waiting for someone to rescue her who never came?

He’ll never know. The quiet pain she endured died when she did.

“The hell are you looking at?” Daryl demands, his nostrils flaring and chest heaving. “Got somethin’ to say, huh? Well, go on then. Spit it out already. I ain’t got all day.”

The vitriol pouring from his mouth has no business being directed at you, he knows that. Still, it comes out regardless, his tongue faster than his common sense. He can’t see your expression — he’s purposefully looking everywhere else — but he reckons that should scare you off. Have you running for the hills with your tail between your legs.

Whether that’s truly what he wants, he can’t say for certain. He does know it’ll be for the best in the long run. Whatever juvenile feelings he’s been harboring toward you should be crushed before they develop into something more. It won’t be as simple as ripping off a bandaid if he lets things go on this way. If he doesn’t, he’ll be too far gone; having to do without you would be worse than getting torn limb for limb. The level of dependency frightens him to the core.

There’s nothing practical for you to accomplish by taming the wild beast. It isn’t like back at the quarry, where your next meal depended on Daryl’s hunting more often than not. There’s livestock here, fresh produce, canned goods. Whatever value he had to you then is nil. It’s painful, to the degree his chest physically aches, but that’s just how it is. Merle told him so. Said the only reason you gave a redneck asshole like himself the time of day was due to some survival instinct. A pretty girl like you wouldn’t have paid him any mind otherwise.

If only Daryl had listened then, it’d make this whole song and dance infinitely easier. He could run his mouth, tell you off, whip up curses that’d make even a sailor blush.

For some reason, he just can’t bring himself to.

“I, uh, brought something else. Other than food, I mean.”

There’s a shift in your tone. It’s less guarded, more conversational, as if he were an old pal you happened upon and were just warming up to again.

Finally, he gathers the courage to get a good look at you. You’ve pulled your hair back into a ponytail, some stray strands framing your pretty face and kissing your cheeks. Your eyes are glazed over with worry, and something else too, an emotion no one has ever directed at him before. He fears putting a name to it. Beneath the dying sun, he catches the near imperceptible wetness of your cheeks. His breath hitches in his throat. You must’ve finished crying recently.

Today proved there’s plenty to cry about. If he can have it his way, though, he doesn’t want to be a reason added to the ever-expanding list.

Daryl gives you a grunt, proving you have his attention, as if you ever didn’t. The change in your countenance is immediate, if not perplexing. Why does his approval make you look like you’d just won the lottery? You shouldn’t care what some backwoods asshole like himself thinks, he knows he sure as hell wouldn’t try so hard if he were in your position. Yet here you are, approaching him with a bashful expression that has no business being as endearing as it is.

You unveil the surprise from behind your back with a little flourish, that had it not been for the events of the day, would’ve been far more enthusiastic. Regardless, it’s cute enough that he damn near smiles.

From the shape, he can determine that it’s meant to be an arrow. The dimensions are exactly the same as the type his crossbow takes, which does away with the mystery of why you asked to borrow one of his arrows earlier this week. You must’ve made it a point to replicate what he uses to the best of your ability. The wooden shaft has been smoothed out, aside from a few bumps. He can tell you used your knife to whittle the tip into a sharp point by the imprints.

When you pass it over to him, he notes the bandaids on your hands that most definitely weren’t there days prior. A consequence of working with wood, undoubtedly.

Daryl doesn’t think he could form proper words if it was demanded of him with a gun to his head. He searches the recesses of his memory for the last time someone gave him a gift — a handmade one, no less — and draws a blank. He stares at the labor of love unblinkingly. The pain that once resided in his chest cavity is made light, almost fluttery.

If you told him you’d placed him under a spell, he would’ve believed you.

“Admittedly, it’s not the best, but it’s better than my other attempts,” you laugh in an attempt to mask your embarrassment. It’s a habit you display in the rare instances you aren’t sure what to say. “I wanted to thank you, somehow. In a way that’s tangible.”

He raises his head. “Why?”

The word comes out rushed, almost abrasive, yet there’s no anger to be found on his face. You must be able to tell, for you don’t cower. You don’t treat him like a ticking time bomb, an errand boy, or some wounded animal. His older brother couldn’t have been more wrong. You weren’t nice to him back then because you stood something to gain from it — you just like being around him, for whatever inconceivable reason.

The dead rising again makes more sense to him than that.

“Well, I could prattle off a long list, but I’ll spare you the embarrassment. Hm… if I had to sum it up, I guess I’d say… you make the world feel less scary.”

He’s once again left speechless at your candor. When things are ‘normal’, whatever that word means nowadays, you’re always joking around with him. Being your little charming self that draws people in like a beacon to lost ships at sea. As much as he enjoys that side of you, he’s always felt there’s more. Some aspect of yourself you’ve made difficult to see by design. While he can’t pinpoint the coordinates exactly, he can roughly guess the location.

You take on too much of others so you can forget yourself.

The voice you used toward the latter half of your sentence, the quiet, solemn tinge that contrasts how you normally present yourself; it’s the hidden glimmer he’s been searching for.

“I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time, so I’ll be heading back now.”

While saying this, you turn around, and he finds himself wishing that he could see your face. His thoughts are too muddled to make sense of everything. He remembers the weight in his hands, how yours got scratched up so it could be there.

Daryl calls your name. You stop, looking over your shoulder with all the patience in the world. More patience than he deserves.

“… Thanks.”

It comes out more like a grunt, a rumbling that originates deep in his chest and from the heart.

“No, thank you.”

With that, you leave him be, his head feeling light and face burning up like he’d caught a nasty fever.

ii.

It’s an unusually quiet day.

The persistent rattle of the chain link fences has eased into a lull, granting a reprieve for those taking shelter behind them. The mood around the prison is a pleasant one — as pleasant as it can be, during the apocalypse — contentment cautiously settling in. The past few runs have been bountiful and earned without the shedding of human blood, the number on Beth’s ‘x days without an accident’ growing higher.

Rick details some equipment that’d aid in his farming endeavors to Daryl, who dutifully commits the tools listed to memory. While things are looking up, Daryl’s never been the type to settle or grow complacent. He wants this place to be the best it can be.

Their conversation about expanding the pen’s fence comes to a premature end when a young man named Ryan runs over. Daryl recruited him a few weeks prior, a benevolent act that’s really come back to bite him in the ass. Although Ryan acknowledges Daryl with a nod of his head, he focuses his attention on Rick.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Ryan starts, and Daryl has to bite back a rebuttal about how if he was truly sorry, he wouldn’t have done it. “Maggie told me she saw [First] headed this way. Have either of you seen her?”

If Daryl’s glowering wasn’t obvious before, it certainly should be now. Does this guy have nothing better to do than chase others around and interrogate them over your whereabouts? The man’s supposed to be a mechanic or whatever, Daryl imagines there are a thousand more productive ways he could utilize his time. Instead, he opts to follow you around like some dejected puppy, a fact that grates Daryl to no end.

Daryl turns to stare Rick down, as if in silent warning. Officer Friendly must not notice the leer, or if he does, he makes a point of ignoring it. “Actually—”

“Ain’t seen her,” Daryl interrupts, his voice more of a guttural growl than anything else.

Rick raises an eyebrow but doesn’t confirm or deny the claim.

Ryan glances between the two of them before offering a nervous laugh. “Alright, well, if you do, please tell her I was hoping we could talk.”

Daryl genuinely has to bite back a groan at this. He’d sooner take a bullet than help matchmake this nuisance with his best-friend-who-he-swears-he-isn’t-romantically-interested-in-whatsoever. Rick, always the mediator, swears to do just that. This satisfies Ryan enough for him to run off and be annoying elsewhere. Once the interloper is out of earshot, Rick turns to face Daryl with raised eyebrows and a tilted head.

“We haven’t seen her?” Rick repeats Daryl’s previous words back, though his intonation conveys disbelief.

“Nah, not if he’s the one asking.”

Fortunately, Ryan just missed you by a few minutes. Whereas Daryl looked at Ryan with nothing but disdain for interrupting his conversation with Rick, the same couldn’t be said when you were the one doing it. Hell, you could wake him up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to and he wouldn’t have a single complaint on his tongue. You came over to say that ‘you must absolutely, under no circumstances be nominated for the council’ then not so subtly threw in the fact you flunked AP government for good measure.

This whole business of forming a council to make important decisions at the prison has been the bane of your existence. Not due to any opposition to the idea on your behalf, but because people were suggesting that you should be a part of it. Daryl’s stuck in a similar predicament. In your free time, you’ve been flitting around, running what you’ve dubbed ‘an anti-campaign campaign.’ Your core tenets are as such, according to the long-winded explanation Daryl happily sat through: raising taxes by 100% (you made a face when he pointed out taxes no longer exist), working for the sole interest of your lobbyists rather than the working class, and mandatory attendance to Carol’s reading sessions for all ages.

Needless to say, you’re very passionate about not being put in a position of power.

“Why? She say that he’s bothering her or something?” Rick’s voice goes from teasing to serious in record time. Daryl’s protectiveness over you could only be rivaled by Rick’s, who has taken to viewing you as a younger sister or something. The former sheriff often expresses his gratitude for the way you can make Carl laugh and smile with ease. This quality of yours has earned you the affectionate nickname ‘Miss Social Butterfly’ amongst your inner group.

“Doesn’t need to.”

And back to teasing Rick goes. “You just know?”

Never one to back down, Daryl replies, “I just know.”

“Mhm. I'm sure you do.”

“You got somethin’ you wanna say?” Daryl challenges, although he can’t say he isn’t used to this teasing by now. If it isn’t Carol giving him shit for how he looks at you, then it’s Rick. He’s yet to decide which one is worse to endure.

Rick gives it some thought, his face morphing into one of serious contemplation. “You’d be good for another. Hey, don’t look at me like that, I mean it. You ground her. Bring her down when her head is a little too far up in the clouds. And she… she brings out the best in you. People sometimes go their whole lives without ever finding a connection like that.”

As if Rick needed to point any of this out when it’s what he thinks about all the damn time.

You mesh together surprisingly well. At first, he told himself he only put up with your presence, but that’s a lie that aged poorly. He found himself orbiting in your vicinity more often than not. It might be a bit creepy of him to admit, but just watching you go about your day is a delight. You wear your heart on your sleeve. If something annoys you, you scrunch your nose up in the cutest little display; if you’re excited, there are practically stars in your eyes as you animatedly chat about what’s on your mind. Then there’s how you sing to yourself when you’re certain no one is around, your voice pretty enough to rival an angel—

Alright, maybe it’s more than a bit creepy. Who can blame him, though, when you have the audacity to go around being as cute as you are? It can’t be good for his heart.

Daryl only responds once he’s certain there’s no one in the immediate vicinity.

“She doesn’t look at me like that, man.”

Speaking the insecurity out loud hurts no less than when it skulks about in his mind. He’ll entertain himself with thoughts of a world where he gets to call you his. Some idyllic fantasy land where he gets to lavish you with all his affection, hugging you tight and feeling your soft body against his, kissing you like parting promised instant death. Indeed, he’ll entertain these whimsical thoughts, but he’s not foolish enough to think they’ll ever actually happen.

“She doesn’t?” Rick doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. “And here I thought hunters were s’posed to have good eyesight. C’mon, Daryl. She lights up when you enter a room. She gives you those eyes.”

“Eyes?” Daryl repeats back, equal parts confused and intrigued.

“Yeah, the eyes. That dreamy, far-off look women get.”

Daryl scoffs, finding the mere notion of it inconceivable. “Quit screwin’ with me already.”

Rick puts his hands up in defense. “There’s no screwin’ happening here, Daryl. Just the truth. Don’t know why it’s so hard for you to accept that.”

He’s about to bite back by saying he can’t accept what isn’t true, but he finds himself unable to voice the words. There’s a foolish part of him that wants to believe what Rick’s telling him. Despite a rough start, he’s come to respect the man. Rick isn’t the type to tell him all of this unless it’s in good faith.

Say you do, by some stroke of luck, feel something for him. He doesn’t know the first thing about what to do in a romantic relationship. His parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example. He’s got a short temper, struggles to communicate what’s on his mind, and tends to shut people out if they get too close to comfort. Daryl knows plenty about you — your favorite color, movie, band, what your old hopes and dreams used to be, what they are now — yet he barely utters a word about himself.

Not for a lack of trying on your part. You being the freakishly perceptive woman you are, have gleaned a few things, such as his lifelong affinity for the outdoors and that he had a rough upbringing, but that’s about it. For all your impressive ability to exercise tact, he’s still snapped at you a few times. Sure, he’d immediately feel awful and try to make it up to you; that doesn’t change what he did. You don’t deserve to put up with that. Not when you could get anyone wrapped around your finger if you tried hard enough.

“Alright, alright, I’ll back off already. Doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about anything I said, though,” Rick places a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and squeezes. “Just give it some thought.”

Daryl offers a stiff nod, deciding to leave it at that.

Unbeknownst to Rick (or maybe he does know, sly bastard), Daryl doesn’t need to be told to think about you.

It’s essentially his full-time job at this point.

iii.

Daryl isn’t sure if this is a blessing or a curse.

From an objective point of view, the situation isn’t ideal, albeit falling shy of harrowing. You and Daryl are currently both situated in a closet of a pharmacy, waiting out a large gathering of walkers. Before Daryl had shut you both in here for extra safety, he surmised the miniature herd would dispense come morning, so long as they continue uselessly meandering forward. Until then, there’s nothing much to do aside from staying put and staying quiet.

He has a flashlight, but you suggested he turn it off since there’s no real need for it. He acquiesced, which leads into the present. The two of you are sitting shoulder to shoulder in the dark, your bodies still coming down from the adrenaline-induced high of fleeing from the dead.

You take a sip from your canteen and then hold it out for him. He grumbles a ‘thank you’, takes the cool container that feels heavenly against his clammy skin, and drinks far less than his body desires. It wouldn’t be wise to put a decent dent in your water supply if you’re both going to be camping out for the night. An admittedly juvenile thought occurs to him when you slide the cap back into place — how you’ve shared an indirect kiss. It hurts his pride that the concept makes him blush as if he were a starry-eyed school kid.

This isn’t helped by the fact he could taste the remnants of your favorite cherry chapstick on the bottle’s rim. You made an offhand comment about favoring the item once, and ever since then, he’s kept a sharp eye out while on runs. Putting in the extra effort was always worth it when it came to you. While he’d like to think he’s above doing things just for gratitude, you challenge the notion. When you’re grateful, you get the biggest smile on your face, the kind that highlights the apples of your cheeks. Sometimes you’ll even get so wrapped up in your enthusiasm that you’ll give him a hug (once your friendship was at a point you deemed such a display acceptable).

His traitorous mind wanders. What would it be like to taste you without a proxy? He’s studied the shape of your lips with more determination than all his years in school combined. He’s certain his imagination could never come close to capturing the bliss of the real thing, the utter softness that he’d do anything to experience for himself.

Truly, this isn’t ideal, but he’s decided to take a page from your book and be optimistic about it.

Daryl can feel your body against his. From what he can tell, there’s a touch more room to move aside if you feel so inclined; and still, you remain firmly planted by his side. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. He smells the light floral shampoo he got for you a few weeks back and the cocoa shea butter you borrow from Maggie. He gets a kick out of watching how you interact with her, and just about anyone, in fact. You jokingly refer to your close friends as your ‘underground network for trading contraband’.

He’s pretty sure you guys just trade clothes and the like, but he never has the heart to rain on your parade.

A few minutes pass, in which you’re both able to get your breaths back.

“Morning, huh?” You whisper, ever mindful of your surroundings.

Daryl keeps his volume similarly low. “Yeah. They’re all headin’ in one direction. Should be clear by then.”

You hum. While he wishes he could see your pretty face, the darkness does well to disguise his own countenance; your uncharacteristically lukewarm response has him frowning. Daryl knows you like the back of his hand, courtesy of spending the past year or so together. Something’s troubling you. It isn’t common — mainly because you try so damn hard to hide it — but he can see past your façade where others can’t. It’s times like these when he envies your ability to comfort others. You have a knack for knowing what to say, how to say it, and when to say it.

How should he help the one who is always helping others?

Daryl gets your attention by saying your name.

“You alright?”

“I’m all good here. And you?”

His frown deepens. That isn’t what he meant and he doesn’t know how to correct himself without coming off as heavy-handed. If it were anyone else, he’d give up treading this unfamiliar territory, but it’s you. The person who can make his heart race and stomach do somersaults.

“Nah, I mean…” he trails off, wincing at himself, “Are you alright?”

Great, well, that just about makes everything crystal fucking clear, doesn’t it? The ensuing silence makes him wish he’d kept his mouth shut. You’re both going to be here for at least eight hours at a minimum, the least he could do is not make the experience excruciatingly awkward. He’s not some shrink that knows how to skillfully talk about feelings, he barely knows what to do with his own. He should’ve left this to Carol or Maggie, even Rick would’ve done a better job. But no, he had to go and play the hero—

“I didn’t fail AP government.”

“Huh?” Daryl squints at you, wondering where the hell that admission came from.

“I said I did, but I didn’t,” you insist, curling both your legs up and hugging them against your chest. Daryl notices you do this when there’s something heavy weighing on you. “I got, like, a ninety-four, I think.”

He snorts, despite knowing this is a trap meant to redirect his attention. You’re good at keeping people at arm’s length when you want to. He’d be a hypocrite if he called you out on it.

“I’m sure ya did, Miss Goodie Two-Shoes.”

“It’s always ‘Miss Social Butterfly’, ‘Miss Goodie Two-Shoes’… what if I’m a Mrs?”

Daryl thinks his heart may have temporarily stopped. “Don’t see no ring.”

“It’s dark in here, Daryl.”

“Mean before this,” he rolls his eyes. He tells his stupid heart to calm down. There’s no way you’re married, you would’ve mentioned that ages ago. You’re just messing with him. You have to be. That’s your modus operandi.

He can practically hear the petulant pout in your voice when you speak next.

“Is it so hard to imagine? I’m an absolute delight.”

Damn woman, playing mind games with him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting with him. That isn’t possible, though. Absolutely not. You’re just a coy little thing. You offered to propose to Maggie yourself if Glenn kept beating around the bush (Daryl almost choked on his drink when overhearing this). Being playful with your friends is like second nature to you.

“Mhm, no doubtin’ it. When’s it gonna be your turn at the altar, then?”

“This Saturday, if the weather’s nice,” you reply without missing a beat. “You’re welcome to attend. Formal wear is required, of course. And presents. I want an espresso machine, but will settle for a Keurig.”

“Who’s the unlucky man?” Daryl asks, as if he wouldn’t trade anything under the moon and stars to be the one you promise yourself to til death do you part.

“Jesus.”

This gets a laugh from him that he has to cover with his hand. “Jesus?”

“According to Hershel, the church is Jesus’ bride, so yeah. I’m going for a literal interpretation here.”

He shakes his head. “You gotta stop attendin’ them Bible group sessions.”

“Hey, I’d like to see you turn a request from Hershel down.”

Daryl doesn’t get the opportunity to respond to this — you beat him to the punch.

“Actually, that’s just about the heart of the issue,” you mumble, the glow of your typical effulgent disposition fading. “I can’t say no to people. It’s a struggle, anyway. I’ll think of how to soften the blow and end up making concessions I never wanted to make. Hershel asked me to reconsider my ‘no thank you’ to the council thing. For some reason or another, I said I would.”

Daryl mulls over your words. There’s no lighthearted veneer to distract from the main contents, you’re baring a part of yourself to him that you normally go to lengths to conceal. It reminds him of that sweltering evening back at the farm. He was too far in his head to offer you any significant help then, a fact that’s been a perpetual thorn in his side. Almost selfishly, he wants to be the person you rely on. Your anchor when the waters get too rough. Not just for the intimate connection it’d nourish between you, but so you’ll have someone to go to when you can’t navigate matters by yourself.

He’d be that for you in a heartbeat.

Well, he’d try his best at it, at least.

“Why don’t ya wanna be part of it?” Daryl questions. It occurs to him then that you’ve never given an actual concrete reason.

“I’m not a leader,” you reply. He opens his mouth, ready to passionately disagree, but you’re faster. “I care way too much about what others think of me. It’s funny, right? Society’s fallen, there are cannibalistic corpses wandering around, and I’m still hung up over such a petty non-issue. It’s stupid.”

“… It ain’t stupid,” Daryl reassures, his voice low, emanating sincerity. He wishes he could happen upon some perfect combination of words that’d whisk your woes away, but he knows it’s more complicated than that. The way you’re talking about it tells him that this has been a grievance of yours for a long time.

He hears you exhale sharply.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

“Didn’t do nothin’,” he can’t stop the words from tumbling haphazardly from his mouth. There you’re going with that unearned expression of gratitude again. He wasn’t able to play any vital role, finding the abundance of platitudes swimming around in his head nowhere near acceptable to be spoken aloud.

You elbow his side. “Not true. I know what I said… it’s a lot to take in. There’s no cut-and-dry solution. I’m glad you didn’t try to come up with one. And that you don’t think it’s stupid. I know you wouldn’t lie to me, so… hearing you say that makes me feel better. Hence the thank you.”

Daryl has to replay your words a few times for the sheer magnitude of them to sink in. Do you really place that much value in what he says?

This grand revelation is swiftly dethroned when you rest your head on his shoulder.

His muscles go stiff at first, out of instinct, but he relaxes remarkably fast. He can feel your hair tickling his cheek, the soft warmth from your body. You want to be close to him. You actively choose to be close to him. Physically, and emotionally, you reveal segments of yourself that no one else has the luxury of witnessing. Daryl almost thinks of himself as a fool for how long it’s taken him to realize this. Merle’s mockery of his adoration for you and his own insecurities have blinded him to the truth.

His brother didn’t know the first damn thing about you.

Should this pivotal interaction be of any proof, apparently Daryl has much to learn himself.

It’s a good thing you’re his favorite subject.

iv.

Nightmares have long since crossed over into the realm of reality.

Daryl’s no stranger to the horrors that lurk in the dark and prowl in the daylight. He’d witness them before the world went to hell and after. Consequently, he could withstand a lot, witnessing scenes that’d break others without shedding a tear. It isn’t because he doesn’t feel, but because in those moments, he’s so hellbent on survival, he can block everything else out.

This isn’t one of those cases.

He can faintly register that you’re in front of him now, your glassy eyes showcasing your worry.

It’s morning. The sun is soft, the breeze softer. The terrors of the night have concluded. Men lay dead, strewn out on the road, one with a chunk taken out of his neck. It’s brutal, the stench of viscera and rot permeating in the air, even after they left the gruesome scene. It clings to his nose and refuses to leave. You’re kneeling in front of him now, murmuring words that won’t register. He hears a rip and faintly registers that you’ve torn a section of your already tattered shirt.

You raise the fabric to his bruised face, dabbing it where dry blood has gathered. In this particular instance, most of it is his.

Neither of you utters a word.

What is there to say? To do? Daryl knows he can’t remain in this stupefied state much longer, if not for his sake, then for yours.

You dab some water on your makeshift cloth. You gently follow the counters of his face, treating him as if he were made of porcelain, your eyebrows furrowing together in concentration while you work. It stings when brushing over the fresh cuts on his face, yet he doesn’t wince. He almost thinks he deserves the pain, for traveling with the bastards that did this to you. To Michonne, Rick, and Carl. When he dreamed of the slim chance of being reunited with you after the prison fell, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Never like this.

Once you’re satisfied, you pull away. You don’t stand up to leave, however. You stay right where you are, sitting on the ground, your face inches from his. Inspecting, searching. For what, he couldn’t say. He can make out each fleck of color in your eyes. They’re tired, he notices.

But they’re still you.

You raise shaking hands to cup both sides of his face. Tears gather by your lower lash line, glimmering in the morning sunlight like diamonds. Your lower lip trembles as you try to hold it in. A lump builds in his throat, the previous night serving as a reminder that he can’t always be the one to protect you, no matter how hard he tries. He wants to shield you from everything. Every hurt, disappointment, or slightest instance of pain. If he could, he’d take them all for you.

Unable to hold back a choked sob, you bury your nose into his chest. His response is immediate — he wraps his arms around your form, steadying you, bringing you closer — his actions not colored by the slightest hesitation. It’s almost an involuntary movement on his behalf. He doesn’t think, he just does. You cling to him, your hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him like your life depended on it. Your fervor is only matched by his.

Daryl rests his chin on top of your head, running a hand up and down your back while you ride out your emotions. The world itself could crumble and fall to pieces by his side; he’d pay it no mind. Not when you’re here, in front of him, alive. Your skin is warm. Your heart beats a steady rhythm. Your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath. It’s a fight to live and you’re still in the ring, determined to trudge on.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you mumble, over and over again, chanting it as if it were a prayer. “So glad… so, so glad…”

He’s practically squeezing you by this point, but if you mind, you don’t mention it. He keeps expecting your image to fade away like a taunting mirage in the desert. To wake up in a cold sweat and with the knowledge that having you was nothing but a dream.

No such development occurs.

You’re here, he’s found you, and you’ve found him.

“Don’t go. Don’t ever leave me again,” your pleas penetrate deep into his soul where he locks them away for safekeeping.

“I won’t,” he promises. Perhaps he shouldn’t, given how uncertain he is of his ability to keep it, but he does anyway. “‘S alright, [First]. I’m here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s gonna be alright.”

He’ll fight like a man possessed to ensure it.

v.

You’re standing over a marble countertop when he finds you.

Daryl didn’t have to exert a great amount of effort to track you down, he figured you wouldn’t be going far after yesterday’s events. The past twenty-four hours have been surreal to him. The world had denied him much but offered you as recompense. This expiation almost has him wondering if everything he’d endured was worth it to get to this point.

He’s suffered for you, bled for you; now he wants to live for you.

Starting here at your quaint home in Alexandria.

It’s easy to catch you by surprise when you’re so fixated on your task; rereading piles of cards from yesterday. His Mrs. Social Butterfly is as well-loved as ever. He takes care in sneaking up on you from behind, allowing his eyes to wander over the shapely expanse of your bare legs. You’re wearing an old flannel shirt of his, the fabric enveloping you. This fulfillment of one of his many you-related fantasies frays his brain. You’re a damn dream made manifest.

His ploy is successful — you don’t sense his encroaching presence until he’s behind you, large palms settling on the lovely swell of your hips. You gasp and attempt to twist your torso around. He holds you firmly in place, not ready to give up on having you like this just yet. Recognition eases you into a sense of security. You laugh at your own expense, shaking your head and leaning back into his chest.

“I was about ready to clobber you,” you sound so carefree, so content. “Now that wouldn’t do. I can’t have you filing for divorce less than a day after our marriage.”

Daryl pays special attention to your neck, adoring it as a painter would his canvas. Fading love bites litter the skin. He retraces his marks with his lips. It appeases the primal part of him that wants nothing more than to showcase that you’re his woman, that those sorry bastards who eye you up don’t have the slimmest chance. Your heart belongs to him just as much as his belongs to you. The organ has your name embedded so deep within it, its presence is integral to keeping it beating.

“Ain’t getting rid of me that easily,” Daryl’s voice is deep and gravelly with sleep. He watches the goosebumps forming on your skin with amusement, knowing full well what his voice in the morning does to you. The ticklish sensation of his stubble rubbing against you has you unsuccessfully fighting back laughter.

“H-Hey, that should be my line. I take it you’re not fed up with me yet then?”

“Nah. Never.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

“And the day after tomorrow? Any buyer’s remorse then?”

“Difficult fuckin’ woman,” he spins you around with ease, the sight of your pretty smile making his body feel like it’s floating. He genuinely can’t fathom that you’re actually his wife. “Sounds t’ me like you’re tryna back out.”

You secure your arms around his neck, tilting your head in that playful way which nearly drives him mad. “Oh, you caught me!”

He rolls his eyes at your typical theatrics. “Ya liked me enough last night.”

“I’ve been told I’m an excellent actress.”

“Really? That’s what that was?” Daryl raises an eyebrow, challenging you. “All that moanin’ and beggin’ for me to fuck ya?”

Watching how you squirm with embarrassment at his unfiltered comments almost makes him forgive you for the infraction. Almost. His pride as a man is on the line.

“Hm… maybe we need to do it again so I can remember for certain?” You accentuate the suggestion with a wink.

You’re a little vixen alright. He can’t bring himself to complain, not when you’re looking up at him like that from beneath your eyelashes. For some reason or another, this line of thought causes a ripple effect, taking him back a ways.

“Huh. This must be what Rick meant,” he mutters, more to himself than you.

“Pardon?” You question. The sharp change in subject is unlike him, that’s more your style. Heat creeps up his face and to his ears. He can utter the most filthy talk with no inhibitions, but confessing to how long he’s been whipped for you is another beast entirely. Knowing you, you won’t let the topic go until your curiosity has been sated. For this reason, he relinquishes himself to his fate.

“A while back… I was talking about ya with Rick. At the prison. He was tryna convince me you felt the same… said ya gave me ‘the eyes’. Thought he was spoutin’ bullshit.”

You throw your head back and laugh that melodious laugh of yours, the one he swears sounds better than an angelic chorus. “Well, seeing as Rick walked me down the aisle yesterday, I guess he was onto something. Took you long enough to notice.”

He grunts in agreement. “Yeah. Sure did.”

“I thought you said the man who’d marry me would be unlucky?”

“Nah, I’d be the unlucky bastard then.”

You rise on your tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. “So would I.”

Daryl wonders when exactly it was he fell in love with you.

Was it when he overheard you defending him to Shane back at the quarry? When you gave him that arrow that cut up your pretty hands? Or maybe when you sat in a dark closet together, opening up about your fears to him? Then there was the time he caught you singing lullabies to baby Judith, when you got drunk and passionately debated Eugene over which Star Wars movie is the best, seeing you in that indigo dress (you did indeed correct him when he called it blue) looking so fucking lovely beneath the moonlight?

Truth be told, it’s damn near impossible to narrow it down to one specific instance. You have this stupidly unfair ability to make him fall for you over and over again.

“Hey, handsome,” you coo, drawing him out of his thoughts like the Pied Piper. “You doing anything today?”

“Can’t. It’s my honeymoon. Think Rick’d throw me in that cell if I was stupid enough to leave.”

“What a coincidence, my schedule happens to be clear as well. I guess Virginia’s the new Fiji.”

Figures you’d be the type to want a honeymoon in Fiji. That’s his preppy princess alright.

Without further ado, he scoops you up, his veins thrumming with pride over how easy the task is. You happily latch onto him. You used to yelp when he picked you up, but you’re so used to it by now that you know he’d never drop you. He uses his muscle memory to traverse the house — your house — heading up the stairs and back to the bedroom.

Realizing his route, you throw in a coquettish comment. “We going back to sleep, old man? It’s a bit early in the—”

You yelp when he gives your thighs a firm squeeze, effectively shutting you up.

“Mouthy woman. Nah, we ain’t sleepin’ anytime soon. Not ‘til I get you makin’ them noises again. ‘Actress’ my ass.”

That earns him another bout of laughter from you, which in turn makes him grin. You’re a delight, an addiction he won’t ever quit; his best friend and wife.

And if those eyes you’re giving him are to be believed, he knows you view him the same way.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,145 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: language, sexuality, nothing else really in this one but get ready for the next one haha A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 8 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List! Summary: Alexandria tries to figure out how to survive. Daryl and Y/N explore their closeness and keep filling in the gaps of their lives. Daryl and DJ bond some more.

Previous Chapter - Part 7

“Except for losin’ you, it was the lowest I’ve ever been, I think… Every fuckin’ day I thought ‘bout givin’ up. Woulda been easier to,” Daryl drawled softly. You were tucked in against him with his arm around you, your hand resting on his bare chest, head on his shoulder, looking up through your lashes at him. His fingers were trailing over the bare skin on your shoulder and your upper arm. “When I was in there,” he paused, wondering if he should even tell you this, “I—I was hallucinatin’ at one point. I dunno if it was the lack of sleep, or dehydration, or hunger but—” He gulped. “I saw ya in there. In the cell with me—crystal clear as if I could reach out and touch you.”

You leaned up on your elbow, your eyes wide and sad and striking. “Daryl…” There were tears in them.

“I just remember askin’ ya where ya were… Screamin’ it. I just wanted to know where ya were…” he trailed off. A shadow fell over his face for a moment, before he grabbed your hand that was resting on his chest and held it gently in his, his thumb moving over the back of it. This grounded him in this moment instead of in the torture he was reliving as he told you. You were still looking at him sorrowfully. You could hardly believe what he’d been through. They’d fed him fucking dog food. He’d been beaten and starved… humiliated. You felt sick. You saw the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth together. He finally looked over and caught your eyes again. “You’re the reason I didn’t give up. I just—I still believed ya were alive and out there… somewhere.”

You sighed, pain aching in your chest, that canyon created by your worry and sadness wedged between your eyebrows. You’d spent the last couple hours going through so much of it, just talking, but you knew there was far more. The thick scar on his leg, the “X” that looked like a brand burned into his back... more. A lot more. And that was just him. You hadn’t even talked about any of your darkest moments. You figured he’d read about them soon enough in your journal. “The next time I see Negan, I’m gonna punch him in the face.”

Daryl actually chuckled. “I’d like to see that actually. But if he talks to ya again, I’ll probably beat ya to it. He ain’t the same as he was but…” He shook his head.

You leaned up and kissed him, brushing away his hair from his forehead. You placed another kiss near his jaw.

You’d been surprised when you woke up that Daryl was still asleep with you in his arms. He was usually the earliest riser. You’d been unable to resist placing a gentle kiss on his jawline then too, and he had stirred immediately, blinking open his bright blue eyes and tightening his arm around you. “Part of me thought this was all gonna be a dream I’d wake up from today,” he’d said, his fingertips dimpling into your softness.

You’d shaken your head, giving him a sleepy smile, your fingers splaying out on his chest. “Nope,” you’d said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You ran your fingers through his wavy brown hair and he leaned into the touch of your fingertips. You chewed your bottom lip nervously for a moment before speaking what was on your mind. “Daryl?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, hardly moving, and certainly not opening his eyes. He was that comfortable with you tucked in against, stroking his hair. It was like a dream.

“Did you ever—” you broke off, and Daryl sensed perhaps some stress in your voice, because now he did open his eyes and looked right at you. You bit your bottom lip nervously. “Did you ever tell her about me?”

“Leah?” he asked, though it wasn’t necessary. Daryl gulped and felt an unpleasant tightness in his chest, as if someone was tightening a belt around his diaphragm or pushing a weight down onto his lungs. He avoided your eyes as if he still felt guilty over this other relationship despite the fact that you’d tried to relieve him of any such notion. He nodded. “I did. But I also didn’t…”

You leaned up on your elbow. Curiosity tugged at your brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I had the tattoo already. She asked me about it. I told her that I’d lost you. She knew—I mean, she could tell that it was—that you were—” He struggled to find the right words. He finally gave up and just cleared his throat. “But I never told her anythin’ else. I dunno why really…” His hand drifted up to your bare shoulder and his index finger drew absent circles on it. “It just felt—sacred.”

Your heart ached at his words and you leaned up and kissed him softly, the pillow of your lips against his as light as a breeze. You felt his blue eyes on you and now he was the one who looked at you with a questioning glance. “Hmm?” you prompted him, sliding your fingers down another wavy strand of his brown hair. It was soft and shiny from your shower together the night before.

“What’re we gonna do about the kids?” he asked. “I mean—‘bout DJ mostly? Are we gonna tell him that we—uhh… are we—?”

This almost made you laugh. “Together?” you finished for him. He nodded. “What do you want?”

His eyes flickered over your face for a moment. The early morning light had the halo of fly-aways around your face glowing. “I dun ever want this to end,” he said softly.

You smiled at him, small at first and then growing and blooming like petals opening in the daylight. You were staggering—how much light you still contained. “Me neither,” you agreed. “But about DJ—mmm,” you nodded thoughtfully, leaning against his broad chest. “I think we need to take it slow. It’s been a lot lately—losing our home, finding Maggie, finding his dad, all these new people, a new community… I want the two of you to build a bond naturally, you know? Day by day.”

Daryl nodded in agreement. “Me too. Alrigh’. But, uhh—I’mma have a hard time keepin’ my hands off ya, too,” he drawled. You grinned at him.

“Same.”

He suddenly swept you over so you were caged beneath him again. You let out a surprised laugh and draped your arms around his neck. He was just kissing along your collarbone when you both heard a distinctive bark outside and then a knock on the front door.

“Ah, shit,” Daryl murmured, pulling back and hanging his head. “S’Maggie and the kids.” He hastily climbed out of bed and tugged on his pants. You slipped out from under the sheets and he tossed your clothes to you, before grabbing his own shirt and pulling it on.

Another loud knock. “Daryl?” Maggie’s voice came through the front door.

“Comin’!” Daryl called out. You started to make a dash for the room you’d been sharing with DJ but Daryl caught you around the waist in the doorway and pulled you in for one last deep kiss. You smiled up at him, a little lightheaded almost, before darting down the hall.

Daryl unlocked and tugged open the door. Maggie was there with RJ, Jude, DJ, and Hershel, giving him a curious look. “Everythin’ okay?” she asked.

Daryl nodded, avoiding her eyes, feeling his face and chest flush involuntarily. He wondered if she could sense that something had happened between the two of you. Was that the real reason why’d she’d suggested he patch you up and the kids stay put last night? To give the two of you some more time alone? Hmm. If she had been that devious or clear-sighted, he ought to fucking thank her. “Yeah. Good. All good,” Daryl drawled, scruffing a hand through his hair.

Maggie nodded. “How’s Y/N doin’?”

“Uhh—oh. Yeah, she’s fine. Got her all—all fixed up last night.” And then some. “Gash on her arm didn’t need stitches. Should heal fine,” Daryl nodded. “We were just gettin’ ready to head up to the meetin’ house,” he said, avoiding Maggie’s eyes again, still afraid she’d be able to see what had happened somehow. Dog barked happily and came bursting into the house, pushing past Daryl followed by a stampede of the kids. He managed to give DJ’s shoulder a fond squeeze as he ran by and he looked up from beneath his wavy hair and smiled. “Hey! Where’s my hug?” he called after the others. Jude and RJ circled back and Daryl knelt down to grab them into his arms. “Missed you,” he said, smiling at them.

“Missed you!” they both said back, smiles on their faces and light in their brown eyes. It warmed Daryl through and through.

“Alrigh’, go on in and play,” Daryl drawled, ruffling RJ’s hair.

“Is Aunt Y/N still here?” Jude asked, her brown eyes big and bright.

“Mhm, she’s right inside,” Daryl said, pointing toward the hallway. DJ was already headed straight toward you. You met him halfway, now in a fresh change of clothes.

“Mom!” he called, hurrying to accept the hug you were offering with a broad smile on your face.

You squeezed him tight and breathed in his smell. “Oh, I missed you. How are you? Alright?” He nodded, and then noticed the bandage on your arm. “Oh—it’s just a little cut. Nothing to worry about,” you said, catching his expression. “Sleep okay? Have fun?” He nodded.

Judith and RJ came bounding up behind DJ grinning. “Are you alright?” Judith asked, eyeing the bandage now too.

“Completely fine,” you reassured her. “Daryl fixed it up for me as good as new.” She seemed satisfied with that answer.

“How did the supply run go? Did you find some food for everyone?” she asked.

You cocked an eyebrow at her. “We did. And we all came back safe and sound, so I’d say that’s a good trip, yeah?”

“How much food did you find?” Judith still seemed worried.

You gave her a long look and then reached for her hand with both of yours and smoothed it between them. “Are you worrying about that?” you asked her gently, a rhetorical question. You could see it in her eyes. “We found enough for now. And we’ll go find more.”

She glanced over at RJ, who had run off to play with Dog in the living room. DJ had gone into the spare room to change into some clean clothes. “But that means you and Uncle Daryl will have to leave again. And Aunt Maggie and probably more. And we just got you and Aunt Maggie back.”

Your heart was breaking in your chest. You nodded again. “Yeah, I know. And we wish we didn’t have to leave so much. But once we get this place up and running again, things will be better. You’ll see.”

Judith ducked her head a little, adjusting the sheriff’s hat that had been Carl’s and her dad’s before that. “Everyone leaves… and what if no one ever comes back?”

“Oh, Judith.” You opened your arms for a hug and she leaned right in and you squeezed her extra tight. “I’m so sorry about your mom and dad. I miss them too. I was hoping to find them here with all of you.” You pulled back just enough to look into her sad brown eyes. “But me finding all of you after all this time should tell you that they aren’t gone forever. And I just know they are doing everything they can to get back here to you and your brother. It’s okay to be sad about it, or mad, or lost, or sometimes to feel nothing at all. But I know you’ve got so many people here who love you and would do absolutely anything for you and RJ. Including me.”

Judith managed a small smile for you and you were relieved to see how it brightened her face.

Daryl appeared at the end of the hall, and you didn’t know he’d seen and heard the whole exchange you’d just had with Judith. His chest was aching, but at the same time he felt filled with a wholesome warmth that had been previously rare in this life, but was becoming commonplace now since having found you again. “Ya ready?” he drawled.

“Yeah,” you said standing up. “Let me just say bye to DJ fast. You’ll all be okay here for a bit?” you asked Jude, and she nodded. You went down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door. “DJ? I’m heading out for a bit, just up the street, okay?” The door opened and there he was, his hair a little wild with static since he’d just pulled a different shirt on.

“Are you gonna tell me about the supply run? About what happened to your arm?” he asked, his expression quite serious.

You nodded slowly. “Sure. If you really want.” He nodded again. “Okay. It’ll have to wait until after I get back though, alright? Gimme another hug.” He obliged and you kissed the top of his head before he flitted off to rejoin everyone out in the living room.

Soon, you and Daryl were accompanying Maggie up the street to the meeting house. Hershel had stayed back at Daryl’s. Judith’s worry and DJ’s grim question were on your mind. “When did they turn into such—little people, you know?” you asked, glancing over at Daryl. “Worrying about this place, worrying about us just like we worry about them,” you said.

Maggie nodded her agreement. “I don’t know. But I guess it means we’ve taught them right,” she drawled in her sweet southern accent. “Though I know we all wish they didn’t have to worry about anything.”

The core of Alexandria’s leadership was already gathered inside the meeting house when the three of you arrived. The mood was tense as Gabriel explained that all the MREs you’d managed to procure from the military base would only last one week. Considering the close call it had been, it was like a slap in the face.

You swore under your breath and leaned forward on your hands on the table in front of you. Daryl shifted beside you, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his posture stiff. He wished more than anything that he could just reach for you, rest his hand on the small of your back, but this was all too new, too precious still for him to do that so blatantly in front of everyone. “That’s it? A week?” he drawled, disappointment and anxiety increasing the gruff quality to his deep voice.

Gabriel nodded.

“We can make it work,” Aaron said, though you noted that he looked thoroughly worried too.

Carol voiced her skepticism, and you had to agree with her. You straightened up and shook your head. “We don’t have time for the usual solutions,” you said. “We need a windfall of food and we need it now. We need it yesterday.” You locked eyes with Maggie and Daryl caught onto it immediately.

“What?”

“I know where we can find food, and a lot of it. The place we lived before this. Meridian. It’s got plenty of food, water, crops, and animals. Backstock. All of it.”

“Yeah, and now it’s gone,” Elijah said.

You shook your head, your gaze still fixed down toward the rough wood table in front of you. “It’s not gone. Not exactly. At least, not in the same way that my home, Fox Hollow, is.”

The trauma behind your words hit Daryl as if he was permeating the air around you, like it was bleeding out from you. He tried to study your expression more closely but it was difficult to read your profile.

Maggie sighed heavily. There was a tense moment before Rosita asked the question on everyone’s minds.

“So, what happened out there?”

Your eyes shut for a long moment and then you murmured a quiet “excuse me,” and headed for the door to step outside into the open air for a moment. Carol straightened up as if to go after you and Daryl did the same, on his feet first, but Maggie stopped them. “It’s alright. She just needs a second. She’ll be alright.” Maggie had, of course, already heard you recount the fall of your home several times. But that didn’t mean it got any easier.

And then came the story of how Meridian had fallen to The Reapers. Its people—slaughtered.

“What exactly happened to Y/N’s community, Fox Hollow she called it?” Carol asked. “She made it sound—worse somehow, though I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

You were coming back in as Carol asked it. You seemed steady again and Daryl gave you a glance as if to ask if you were okay. You nodded and resumed your place next to him, standing at the table again. “My people weren’t caught off-guard in quite the same way Maggie’s were. We had scouts who had seen some sign of these Reapers in the days before they showed up, not that we knew exactly who or what they were after... In fact, one of our scouts had gone missing. We were ready for something, but we didn’t know exactly what was coming. We’d doubled the watch and taken more precautions. Stocked ammunition at the guard posts and the walls. They came. My people fought.” Your eyes shut for a moment again as you steeled yourself against the images wanting to surge forward in your mind’s eye. “Those people—they burned everything to the ground, destroyed the walls to get inside, killed everyone, and took what we had. But they couldn’t stay there. There was nothing left to live in by the time it was over. I don’t think that was their original plan. They didn’t expect a fight. So, instead, they took all the supplies and looked for a new place to take.” “Meridian,” Maggie said, nodding. “Though we’re not sure exactly how much time there was between the two.”

“How’d you survive?” Aaron asked you, amazement on his face mixed with deep empathy.

A far-off look grew in your eyes and they were blurred with tears you had to blink away. “Luck. DJ and I had been out on a hunting trip, pretty far away. It had been his choice to go. Otherwise, we’d probably be dead too. We came back and—Fox Hollow was gone. Everything was gone.” Your voice sounded haunted. There was no other word for it.

“They’re at Meridian now. We just need to take it back,” Maggie said. The faces around the room were grim.

Rosita shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Maggie, this sounds like a suicide mission.”

You were leaned back against one of the pillars now, your jaw set. “Anyone have a better idea?” The silence was deafening. “We aren’t asking anyone to go who doesn’t want to. Aaron’s right too, Alexandria does need people here to help it hang on until we can get back. But this plan is the way we make it until we can rebuild. It’s the way we make it past next week.” You stood up with your feet firmly planted. “So, I’m in.”

Daryl was on his feet next. “Me too. Anybody else?” There were more than you expected. Only Carol, Rosita, and Aaron wanted to stay behind. And you couldn’t blame them.

After the meeting disbanded, you walked back to Daryl’s. He stayed close beside you and you could feel that something had shifted and a weight was on his shoulders again that hadn’t been there since you’d kissed him the night before. Maggie and Carol walked alongside you both. You discussed preparations for leaving. Carol said she’d look after the kids while you were away, and for that you were grateful. You knew she’d protect them with her life if it came to it.

Daryl looked particularly grim after Maggie and Carol had departed and the two of you were alone again in the kitchen of his little townhouse. That weight you’d noticed was practically dragging him toward the floor now. The two of you were standing in the kitchen alone. The kids had taken Dog outside for some exercise, giving the two of you a few moments to talk. Daryl was leaned back against the counter with his blue eyes fixed on you across the small space.

“I can see you thinking it,” you said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“You want to tell me to stay here, just like you did with the supply run to the base.”

Daryl ducked his head and gulped at the tightness in his throat. Of course he wanted you to stay here. He knew for a fact that with this mission they were heading straight back into a potential shitstorm of danger and death. He’d seen how these people operated in the woods that day when you’d found each other again. “I just keep thinkin’ that if somethin’ goes wrong, which seems goddamn likely, the kids could lose a lot of us. DJ could lose both of us.” The uneasiness on his face was plain. It was bordering on fear.

You sighed and he watched your lips tighten into a thin line for a brief moment. “If something goes wrong, in all likelihood most of our people back here are gonna starve. Including our kids, our son.” Daryl felt a jolt like electricity at those words. Our son. “I’m not staying behind. I’m going along to do every damn thing I can to make sure that doesn’t happen. You can’t ask me to sit on the sidelines of this one.” You crossed the kitchen to him and your hands landed on his sides lightly. “And the last thing I want right now is to be separated from you.” Your eyes searched his face. “After everything we’ve been through, I’m not doing that by choice, not for something like this. We do this together. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Daryl felt a burst of heat in the center of his chest that slowly crept upwards toward his face. “I dun want that either. I just got ya back. But—” he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “—I want ya safe too. Or at least safer. And these assholes—sounds like they kill first and ask questions later.”

You nodded gravely, but your expression was strong and determined. “They do. That’s why I’m going.”

Daryl sighed. You were resolved. He nodded. “Alright. If tha’s the way it is, tha’s the way it is.”

You clasped his face with one hand, your thumb moving lightly over his jawline, and one corner of your mouth twitched up slightly. The effect was a sad sort of smile. “It’s gonna be okay.” It came out in a whisper.

Daryl gulped and you felt his hand alight on your hip. The other landed gently on the graceful curve of your neck. His eyes flitted over your face for a moment and then he leaned in and found his lips softly with yours. You could somehow feel his anxiety and his yearning in that kiss… You gave way beneath him softly, melting under his touch, and Daryl only wanted to keep you safe all the more desperately. The thought of this disappearing from him after having just found it again was almost unbearable, almost paralyzing.

You pulled back and just then there was a stampede of feet in through the front door, accompanied by the tapping of Dog’s paws. You smiled at him now, and it warmed him, lessened the sick feeling that had remained in the pit of his stomach despite your reassurances that everything would be fine.

Daryl straightened up as RJ burst in through the kitchen doorway and ran to hug Daryl around the middle. You grinned at the scene and Daryl committed that to memory—you in that little kitchen of his, grinning. DJ came in next and gave you and Daryl a smile that reminded you of Daryl’s; no teeth showing, but that curve of the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I gotta go check out that truck Aaron mentioned. We can at least take a vehicle part of the way,” he drawled. You nodded.

“Alright. I’ll make myself useful around here,” you said.

“Can I come?” DJ asked, directing the question at Daryl.

“Ya wanna? Would be good to have some help. Ya know yer way ‘round a tool box or an engine?” he drawled, a small smile on his face at DJ’s desire to spend time with him again.

DJ shrugged. “Not really. But I’m a fast learner. Can I, Mom?” he asked, glancing at you eagerly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Of course,” you said, smiling. You kissed the top of his head. “Just stick with Daryl, okay?” DJ nodded.

The two of them set out down the sidewalk, side by side, and you watched them from the window until they disappeared around the corner. Jude and RJ were coloring in the living room with Dog lying beside them on the floor. You meandered down to the spare room and picked through you and DJ’s meager belongings. You really needed to track down some more clothes for the two of you.

“I’m gonna pop next door to see Carol, okay?” you said to Judith and RJ. “You guys good to hang here for a bit?” Judith nodded. “Okay. Don’t go off anywhere without telling someone, alright?” She nodded again and then went back to her drawing.

Just a block or so away, Daryl and DJ arrived at Aaron’s where the truck in question was sitting half in the garage. “Alrigh’,” Daryl drawled, walking around and opening the driver’s side door to pop the hood latch. There was a metallic clunk noise and he returned to stand in front of the grill beside DJ. “Well, open it up,” Daryl said, a half-smile on his face. Daylight’s burnin.”

DJ gripped the hood and lifted, but it caught on the latch still, as Daryl knew it would. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he tried again to the same effect. “There’s still a latch hooked,” Daryl explained, feeling with his fingers under the edge and finding the flat metal piece. “Right here. Ya gotta push it to the side and then lift. Feel it?”

DJ felt for the latch, followed Daryl’s instructions, and the hood rose up and stayed propped open. Daryl pulled over a 5 gallon bucket and DJ stepped onto it so he could better look into the engine compartment. “Yer mom never taught ya ‘bout hood latches? About engines?”

DJ shook his head. “We haven’t used cars or trucks much,” he explained. “Seems like we walk everywhere. Or—” he broke off suddenly, looking sad.

“Hmm?” Daryl asked, leaning on one elbow on the edge of the engine compartment.

“Well, we—we had horses… for a while. At home,” he explained.

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed. “‘M sorry. We used to have some here. They’re gone now too.” DJ nodded. “Yer mom never was great with mechanical stuff anyway,” Daryl went on, a fond smile on his face. “I taught her enough to get by when I could but—I don’t think she liked it much,” he said with a laugh. “But somebody should teach ya. I’ve got an important job for ya,” he said, changing the subject. “Hold this flashlight for me so I can see in this damn thing.” Daryl clicked on a sturdy silver flashlight and handed it to DJ. “Point it right here. See this? This is where the oil dipstick is. That’s how we check the oil level. Too much or not enough oil can be big trouble,” Daryl explained, pulling the dipstick free, wiping it on a spare rag, and replacing and withdrawing it again. “All good,” he said, leaning over to show DJ. “See right there? Level’s gotta be between those lines.”

This is how the two of them went along, side by side, for quite a while. Daryl explained everything as he worked and had DJ actually replace a bad hose with him. They checked the tire pressure and tread, the radiator, heater, bypass hoses, the belts… And all the while they talked comfortably a lot of things—about fishing and hunting, about holidays, about things DJ and you had seen and done, about Daryl living in the woods, about Rick and Michonne and others who were gone one way or another. There was a comfortable lull for a while as Daryl spliced together some wiring to fix what looked like mouse damage. Then DJ broke it again.

“What should I call you?” he asked suddenly.

Daryl looked over at him and then withdrew his hands from his work, facing DJ and leaning one arm on the edge of the engine compartment again. He sighed and nervously chewed on his bottom lip, considering the pensive look on his son’s face. He scruffed a hand back through his hair. “Well—‘m yer father. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. But—‘dad’ is somethin’ else. Tha’s somethin’ tha’s earned. Ya can call me Daryl if ya want, and if someday ‘Dad’ seems right to ya, if I earn it, well…” he nodded, “then alright. But tha’s all up to you about if and when.”

DJ seemed contemplative still about Daryl’s answer and only nodded, before resuming his role as Daryl’s assistant.

It was moving toward evening when there were footsteps around the side of the truck and you appeared with a sparkling light in your eyes and a happy smile on your lips at the two of them side by side with dirty hands. “Am I interrupting?” you asked.

“Nah,” Daryl said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just finished up actually. Couldn’ta done it without DJ. Got a future mechanic here, I think,” Daryl said, taking the flashlight back from him.

“Oh, good to know,” you said, watching your son leap happily down from his perch on the bucket. “That’s certainly something I always need help with,” you laughed. You brushed DJ’s hair back from his face fondly. “Wait outside for me for a sec, bud?” DJ nodded and stepped around the truck to stand on the driveway.

“Ya alrigh’?” Daryl drawled, still wiping the dirt and grease from his hands.

You nodded. “Yeah. Carol helped me track down some more clothes for me and DJ. We hardly have anything after being on the road again.” Daryl nodded. “Anyway, I’m gonna take DJ for a quick walk before it gets dark, talk to him about the run and what’s coming next. See you back at the house in a bit?” Daryl nodded, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He still worried sometimes that you were a mirage.

“Yeah,” he drawled. His voice was soft and sweet, like warm maple syrup. “See ya in a few.” Walking the perimeter of Alexandria beside DJ, you were battling your own nerves. Leaving him again so soon was going to be hard, especially with such a dangerous and grim task ahead. He peppered you with questions about the supply run to the base, about the swarm of the dead soldiers, about why you didn’t get the guns and ammo too, “could we get a tank?!”, about how your arm got hurt, about Daryl and his crossbow and his two knives that helped keep you and Carol alive… and still he was bursting with more questions. You answered them all patiently. He seemed to have run out finally and you walked silently beside each other for a few minutes, your arm draped around his shoulders. until he was looking up at you. You smiled down at him and brushed aside the curtain of his long wavy hair that was hanging in his eyes. Just like his dad, you thought tenderly.

“You’re leaving again,” he said seriously.

You drew in a long, deep breath slowly, held it, and then let it out. Your eyes were fixed toward the gap in the wall. It was shrinking slowly with the repair efforts, but not fast enough. The outside world was visible, peeking through, and if you all weren’t careful it would start to leak in. You nodded in response to DJ’s question. “Yes.”

“It’s to go after them?” he asked.

You looked down at him and met his worried eyes. “Not exactly. It’s more about food and supplies than it is about them,” you explained.

“But you’re going to kill them. Right? They killed almost all of us. And then they hurt Aunt Maggie and her family.” You thought you could hear a tremble of anger in his voice and your brow furrowed. You bent down in front of him, your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s likely that you’re right, that it will come to killing. But you need to remember that isn’t always the way things need to go. It’s not always the way things should go. But we do what we need to, to survive.”

He nodded and you brushed the back of your fingers over his cheek and gave him a fond look before straightening up.

You walked for another minute before DJ spoke up again. “Is Dad going?” he asked.

You snapped over to look at him so fast you thought you might have tweaked something in your neck. You felt tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. That was the first time he’d referred to Daryl as just “Dad.” You tried to pull it together and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s going with.”

DJ nodded and looked thoughtful. “It’ll be okay then,” he said. “I don’t think he’d ever let anything happen to you.”

That was too much for you to handle and a few tears escaped out onto your cheeks as you grabbed DJ in a tight hug and kissed the top of his head as you straightened back up, hurriedly swiping the tearstains from your cheeks. “Yeah. It’s gonna be fine,” you agreed. “Love you.”

DJ looked up at you again. “Love you too, Mom.”

That night, you and Daryl settled all the kids down together in the spare room and then collapsed back on the couch, finally alone again. Daryl’s blue eyes were studying the shape of you next to him. You leaned back more heavily into the cushions and sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “Do you think they bought it?” you asked, leaned up on your elbow on the back of the couch, your chin propped on the heel of your palm.

“What, that I’m sleepin’ on the couch?” he laughed. He paused for a moment. “Prob’ly. ‘Cept Jude. That girl sees every damn thing.” You laughed softly but then your mind turned to the next day’s journey.

“Are we insane? For trying this?” you asked him.

Daryl nodded. “Prob’ly.” There was extra grit and gravel in his voice now. “But ain’t no way ‘round it.”

You rubbed at your tired eyes. “Yeah… I just wish there was a way to know that we’re doing the right thing beforewe do it.” You laughed wryly. “Isn’t that the truth about all of life?” You glanced over at Daryl beside you.

“Some things it’s easy to know are right,” he drawled quietly, even a little shyly again, ducking your gaze for a moment. You had the distinct impression he was talking about you. “Hey—” Daryl’s hand found you gently and his fingers laced in between yours. He tilted his head toward his bedroom. “C’mon. Let’s steal a little time for ourselves.”

A smile came back to your lips. You nodded. “Please. That sounds perfect.”

You fell into bed together again, pulling away the layers of the day’s clothes until both of you were just skin. Your worries drifted to the floor with the folds of cotton and denim for a time. Daryl seemed softer than the night before when the two of you had collided, but it was no less intense or fiery. Instead, it burned slowly but heated you to your core in an instant. The roughness of his palms over your skin as he ran them from the flare of your rib cage down the indent of your waist and then to the prominence of your hip was intoxicating. You were biting down on your lip to stop yourself from waking the entire house as he kissed nearly every part of you. Your heart pounded as the muscles in his back, taught and strong, rippled and tensed under your fingertips. His name escaping you in that breathy gasp had him nearly over the edge in an instant and when the two of you finally hit your peak together it was pure, extended bliss which didn’t lessen when you collapsed down beside each other, spent and bleary with happiness and afterglow and waiting sleep.

Daryl had tossed one of his t-shirts to you when your flushed and overheated skin cooled and left you chilled and you tugged it on and settled down against him, his arm tightening around you securely. You looked into one another’s eyes, still smiling coyly occasionally, eyes heavy with impending sleep. Daryl bent toward you and kissed your forehead and another wave of happiness and pure contentment that had been entirely absent for a decade crashed over you again.

He chewed on his bottom lip nervously. “I meant what I said yesterday, ya know.”

“Hmm?”

“I never stopped lovin’ you. And I never stopped lookin’.” He still sounded vaguely like he was trying to convince you. You looked into his bright blue eyes again and nodded, pressing a hand to the center of his strong chest, knowing that your initials were there in black and white, in ink, beneath your fingers.

“I know. I love you too,” you whispered back, and then you tucked in against him and closed your eyes and sleep took both of you gently and quickly.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Your breath rose in a cloud as you stepped down off the last step into the subway terminal. It was eerily quiet compared to the thunder of the storm overhead. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you moved farther inside. Daryl was beside you and you exchanged a glance with him. He could read the unease on your face. Before long, Negan was speaking what you were feeling.

“Not to sound like a broken record, but I think we ought to take a breath, hunker down, wait for the storm to pass,” he said. His tall frame was stiff and rigid.

“Ain’t what I asked,” Daryl drawled. “I asked which way. Tha’s the only damn reason yer here. So which way is it?”

Maggie chewed him out next when he didn’t answer fast enough. “You don’t wanna go in there?” she asked, referring to the gaping darkness ahead in the tunnel.

“No. I don’t,” Negan admitted.

“I don’t give a shit,” she snapped at him. “Which way?”

This time he answered, and the group started to move off. Daryl whistled to Dog and glanced over at you, some concern growing on his face at your expression. “You good?”

You stared again at the long, dark tunnel ahead. You let out a wry laugh. “Not to sound like an 80’s cop movie but—I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Maybe Negan’s right.”

He was standing close enough to hear that. “God Bless America,” he chuckled to himself. “Somebody else with a fuckin’ lick of sense. Daryl—you can’t ignore that,” he insisted, “considering the source. You and I both know you’ll put plenty of weight on that opinion. Me not wanting to go in there? It ain’t ‘cuz I’m a chicken. It’s because if we go in there and bad shit goes down—walkers, tunnel collapse, flooding—we are up shit’s creek without a paddle. This is a genuinely bad idea,” Negan said. “And you want to just walk the Love of your life, with a capital fucking L, right in there? Really?”

“Negan, shut the fuck up and stop fucking listenin’ in on my goddamn conversation. And don’t. talk. about her,” Daryl growled. Negan threw his hands up and backed off, pacing a tight circle up on the platform. Daryl gulped and sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He caught your eyes again. “We ain’t got time to burn here. Shit is desperate back home and we dun even know how long this whole thing is gonna take, not to mention gettin’ the supplies back if we even manage to get 'em. I think we gotta go ahead and work with what we can,” he drawled.

You eyed the tunnel one more time but the sick feeling in your stomach remained the same. Your hand strayed to the hilt of your knife and you loosened it in your sheath. “Alright,” you conceded.

The last few members of the party who had remained on the platform hopped down, following Maggie. Several of them purposely bumped into Negan on their way. You were left standing there a few feet from him and happened to catch his eyes once the two of you were alone.

“You see that shit?” he asked with a dry laugh and a roll of his eyes.

“What, you think you don’t deserve it?” you said coldly. “Look, just because you and I happen to fucking agree about the creepy tunnel—that doesn’t make us friends.” You left him standing there and accepted Daryl’s waiting hand to help you down off the platform onto the tracks and into the dark.

[selfcontrolskey]

“Hit me with your threat, sunshine.”

❗️The end is my idea the rest isn’t ❗️

ONE SHOT DARYL DIXION IMAGINE.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

If you squint your eyes hard enough you can see the tiniest bit of smut..

"Are you impressed by me, sunshine? Watching me like a hawk? Following every move I make with those puppy eyes of yours?" he ask's mockingly and with a touch of annoyance.

With a confident smile and a step towards him, I reply, “I'm not impressed in the least, Darl." I give him a nickname like he did me. "I just like seeing you fail."

A surprised laugh escapes his lips. He takes a long step into my direction, his eyes never leaving mine. He comes almost close enough, for our feet's to touch.

"Oh yeah? And what do you believe I am falling?" he murmurs, eyes scanning over my face, making his attention on me even more intense.

"You seem to have a lot of questions." I mark.

His eyebrows arch. "And still you haven't answered a single one of them honestly." he shoot's almost instantly.

"Tell me." he leans down until our faces are on the same height.

"Why the fuck are you watching me.” he doesn't formulate it like a question, more like a threat. As if I don't answer right away, there are going to be consequences.

But I don't back down. I don't like being threatened. Instead, I anger him even more. "I am not watching you, dumbass. Your sight makes me want to vomit." I turn around to print his taken aback face into my memory.

But he collects himself faster than I'd firstly thought. He grabs ahold of my arm, pulling me right back. His lips brush the shell of my ear when he darkly murmurs, "Careful. You might have just made yourself an enemy."

I react in seconds. I turn around, grab his arm and twist it until his hands are behind his back. "Threaten me again," I say on a low whisper. "And you are going to regret it."

I believed him to growl at me. Hiss insults into my face, or even try to get out of my hold. But instead…fills his laugh the space between us. Warming every cell in my body and washing me with a breeze of goosebumps.

His laugh is majestic. It is low and almost deep enough to cut of any oxygen supply. Maybe that is why I suddenly can hardly breath.

"What will you do?" his voice is amused but rough. I didn't even realize my grip has losend when he suddenly frees himself, and uses the moment to push me against the wall. "Will you punish me? Watch me some more?" my breathing is completely out of control now.

He watches every reaction of mine like a man starving.

"Hit me with your threat, sunshine. What. Will. You. Do."

I swallow. His closeness irritating my senses. "If l'd told you, where would be the surprise in your reaction?" I reply dryly.

"How much I love a good challenge." he says almost to himself. He leans in close, his breath hitting my mouth when he whispers, "What would you do if I'd kiss you right now?”

"I would kick you in the balls." I reply almost instantly, my heart beating a beat faster than normal. He hums in response, the sound deep and animalistic. "Let's test that theory, shall we?" he murmurs, his lips only inches apart from my own.

My mind went blank I’m usually one top of everything that comes out of this man’s mouth but once he said that I went to open my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue now?” His amused smile turning into a slight smirk.

Before I could even fight about him being an ass. His lips stopped me from saying anything next.

My body froze as I felt his lips on mine but after a second I relaxed and wrapped my hands around his neck pulling him closer if that was even possible.

He smiled against my lips as he deepened the kiss.

I took this as my chance and grinded against him sending my body into haze as I felt his hard on in his jeans.

He loosely put his hands around my waist holding me in place as he groaned into the kiss and pulled away. “Don’t start something you can’t finish..” He whispered into my ear.

Hope you enjoyed 😉

[slvtforoldermen]

Fluff February 2024

29 Days Of Fluffy Drabbles

Navigation List

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Coming Very Soon…

Day One: Tangerine x GN!Reader

- Finding The Other Wearing Their Clothes -

Day Two: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

- Accidentally Falling Asleep Together -

Day Three: Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

- Patching Up A Wound -

Day Four: Clay Sandford x GN!Reader

- Having Their Hair Washed By The Other -

Day Five: Arthur Harrow x GN!Reader

- One Falling Asleep With Their Head In The Other’s Lap -

Day Six: Josh Hutcherson x GN!Reader

- One’s Reaction To The Other’s Tiredness -

Day Seven: Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

- Shoulder Rubs -

Day Eight: Luke Castellan x GN!Reader

- Comparing Hand Sizes -

Day Nine: Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

- Kissing The Others Scars -

Day Ten: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

- Embracing Each Other After A Long Separation -

Day Eleven: Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

- Spooning -

Day Twelve: Clay Sandford x GN!Reader

- Lying On The Couch Together, One Between The Other’s Legs, The Other Combing One’s Hair With Their Fingers -

Day Thirteen: Arthur Harrow x GN!Reader

- One Is Sick, The Other Takes Care Of Them -

Day Fourteen:

- Valentines Day With Tangerine -

Day Fifteen: Sam Wilson x GN!Reader

- Slow Dancing In The Kitchen -

Day Sixteen: Tangerine x GN!Reader

- Getting Ready For Bed Together -

Day Seventeen: Chef Luca x GN!Reader

- Baking Together -

Day Eighteen: Luke Castellan x GN!Reader

- Both waking up in the middle of the night and then going on an adventure to find the perfect snack -

Day Nineteen: Gally x Fem!Reader

- Childhood (Glade) Sweethearts -

Day Twenty: Ladybug x GN!Reader

- Moving In Together -

Day Twenty One: Clay Sandford x GN!Reader

- The Other Finds One Crying -

Day Twenty Two: Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

- Play Fighting -

Day Twenty Three: Tangerine x Fem!Reader

- The Kids Aspire To Be Like One, The Other Stands Near And Watches Happily -

Day Twenty Four: Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

- Stargazing -

Day Twenty Five: Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

- Unusually, One Wakes Up Before The Other And Makes Them Coffee -

Day Twenty Six: Ethan Hawke x Fem!Reader

- They Have To Film An Explicit Scene, One Is Extremely Nervous But The Other Comforts Them -

Day Twenty Seven: Charlie Dalton x GN!Reader

- One Is Extremely Overprotective Of The Other -

Day Twenty Eight: Adam Warlock x GN!Reader

- Height Difference -

Day Twenty Nine: Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

- One Is Touch Starved, The Other Has Just The Cure -