#twd

[adoregrimes]

Happy 9 years of Richonne

[ava1dixon]

He would call you babe 100%

(I’m delusional)

[rememberwhouare]

The Walking Dead x 🖕| Memories

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane’s Girl [11]

Part Eleven | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh is the worst, angst, canon violence, mentions of tobacco use, chapter follows “Tell it to the Frogs” but dialogue and events are paraphrased.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: Felt inspired while rewatching the Walking Dead for the thousandth time. I'm excited now that the reader has broken up with Shane, they can have more moments with Daryl. Let me know what you all think and if you want to be added to the taglist.

You finally convince Daryl to change out of his two-day-old hunting clothes, and while he’s gone, you try to make yourself useful; however, Glenn and T-Dog assure you that they can handle packing up the box truck with what little supplies the five of you need in order to survive in the city. Your eyes scan the camp, searching for any other tasks that need to be completed before you leave; however, your gaze lands on Rick and Lori, who are having a hushed argument by the RV. She’s unhappy with him, which you don’t find surprising — she just got her husband back, and now he’s agreed to leave to rescue a man he barely knows. But you know Rick, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew he left a man to die handcuffed to a rooftop.

Shane and Lori may be able to live with that guilt, but Rick can’t — you can’t. There’s no way that you would be able to look Daryl in the eye if you didn’t go back for Merle. He may not be your favorite person in the world, but he still means the world to Daryl. And you know that if you had someone important in Atlanta — someone you needed to save — Daryl wouldn’t hesitate. He’d be the first person to volunteer to help you, followed by Rick — that’s simply the type of men that they are. Reliable. Dependable. Kind.

Suddenly, another set of eyes lands on you as someone notices your interest in the conversation happening between Rick and Lori. Based on the way your skin crawls, you know you shouldn’t look over, but your curiosity gets the better of you. Your blood runs ice cold in your veins as you lock eyes with Shane who is leaning against the RV, arms tightly crossed against his chest. His gaze, which you once used to find comfort in, is like daggers piercing into your soul. Jealousy is an ugly feeling, and it is written all over his face. But unlike the past several weeks, you make no move to comfort him. Instead, you tear your eyes away from him and return your attention to Glenn and T-Dog. Your hands rub against each other anxiously as you watch the two men bicker with one another. The scene would normally make you laugh; however, you can’t seem to find joy in the interaction when you can still feel Shane’s eyes on you from across the camp.

You jump as a hand suddenly grabs your shoulder from behind, but you relax as your head twists, and you spot Daryl standing beside you. His face twists in worry at your response to his touch, and you feel the familiar sting of guilt creeping into the forefront of your mind.

“You ‘lright?”

You manage to nod at his question, but you can still see Shane’s imposing figure over his shoulder watching you intently. Daryl follows your gaze and moves to block your view of the former deputy. He ducks his head slightly, meeting you at eye level. Unlike Shane, Daryl’s gaze is overflowing with warmth and sincerity.

“He say anything to you?”

You shake your head in response, but Daryl doesn’t seem convinced. You don’t blame him for his skepticism as he takes in your shell shocked state.

“He’s just been watching me.”

You say it in a nonchalant tone because you know that it shouldn’t be affecting you as much as it is. After all, you’re the one that broke up with him. But you still can’t seem to shake off the feeling that you’re not safe around him anymore. Daryl throws a cold look over his shoulder at the other man, who seems to get the warning and finally turns away from you. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as your body automatically relaxes now that you’re no longer being watched.

“You ain’t gotta worry about him anymore.”

You nod at his words, but Daryl can still tell that you don’t fully believe him. And he doesn’t blame you. He’s worried about what Shane would have done to you if you had broken things off with him in private. The fact he escalated that much in front of everyone is concerning, to say the least. And he didn’t miss the way that Rick’s face twisted into surprise as he watched his best friend treat you with such disregard. He doesn’t know the man well, but from what little he’s seen and from what you’ve told him about the sheriff, he knows that Rick cares for you. It makes him feel a little better knowing that at least one other person in camp has your best interests in mind.

“You ready for this?”

Daryl won’t admit it, but he feels conflicted about you joining them on their little ‘rescue mission’. On one hand, he doesn’t want you to have to face the horrors that are out there in the city. You’ve been pretty sheltered from the reality of the situation you’re in by staying at the quarry camp; however, he knows that at some point, you will have to come face-to-face with this new reality, and he’d like to be there when that happens, to ensure your safety. On the other hand, he doesn’t want you here with Shane — not when both he and Rick are leaving. He knows that you are strong, and if you told him to ‘fuck off,’ he’d listen, but he doesn’t trust Shane. And if he were to do something to you when he was in Atlanta, he’s not sure he’d be able to forgive himself. But the last thing he wants to do is make decisions for you — he doesn’t want to control you. He doesn’t want to be Shane, but he wants to keep you safe. This is all new to him — having someone to care about and protect.

“You okay with me coming?”

Daryl’s brow furrows at the question.

“Don’t need my permission to do nothin’.”

A small smile graces your features, and before you can respond, Rick finally joins you both. He gives you a kind smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s exhausted — you can tell by the way he carries himself.

“We should talk after this.”

You give him a nod. He’s right — you have a lot to catch him up on. He then switches his attention to Daryl, who is still standing by your side and watching your interaction with the former sheriff.

“Ready to go get your brother?”

Daryl scoffs while adjusting the crossbow slung across his back.

“Bout damn time.”

Rick’s brow furrows as he watches Daryl jump into the back of the box truck. You laugh and give him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“He grows on you.”

Rick looks down at you with a weary expression before shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You hop in the back with Daryl and T-Dog while Rick gets into the driver’s seat and Glenn navigates from the passenger seat. It takes a little under an hour to make it to the outskirts of the city. Daryl spends the ride sharpening his crossbow bolts beside you. His shoulder bumps into yours every so often due to a sudden pothole or turn; however, neither of you makes an effort to move away from the other. When the box truck finally comes to a stop, Glenn looks back at the three of you nervously.

“We walk from here on out.”

Daryl nods and gets up before extending his hand down to you. You grab his hand, biting down a smile as he pulls you to your feet with ease. To your surprise, Daryl doesn’t immediately release your hand. Your brow furrows — from what you know about Daryl, he isn’t necessarily comfortable with physical touch. Your breath catches in your chest as you look up at him and notice he’s already looking down at you. You’ve grown accustomed to the callousness in Shane’s gaze, so you’re taken aback by how Daryl’s steely features soften as he regards you.

But, before you can think twice about the moment, T-Dog clears his throat. You pull your hand out of Daryl’s gentle grasp and take a step away from him as you both look at T-Dog, who is still sitting on the floor at the back of the box truck. T-Dog raises his hand expectantly towards Daryl. Daryl scoffs, rolling his eyes at the man before exiting the box truck. You try to laugh off the awkward encounter before you grab T-Dog’s hand and pull him to his feet. He looks down at you with a playful expression.

“So, are we going to gaze into each other’s eyes as well or…”

You shove him away, making him laugh.

“Shut up.”

T-Dog raises both of his hands in surrender, and you both hop out of the box truck, joining Daryl, Rick, and Glenn. The laughter between you and T-Dog dies as you take in your surroundings. You haven’t been to the city since before the dead started walking. It’s worse than you imagined. Daryl looks at you, noticing how your expression shifted once you exited the truck.

“C��mon.”

He motions for you to follow him as Glenn and Rick take the lead. And you fall into step beside Daryl as you become acquainted with the new world. 

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[daeneryxx]

I WANT HIM TO PUT ME IN A HEADLOCK.

Oh. My. God. His. Arms.

[malleus-and-leonas-wife]

Daryl Dixon headcannons

kinda nsfw + mainly sfw

not proof read sorry

He is good with his hands (I mean what do you expect he works on his motorcycle all the time)

he is shocking good with kids

Daryl definitely is a switch like he can be dominant and wanting to be in charge but in some days he’s the submissive one and wants you to tell him what to do

he finds it so hot when you are covered in walker blood or when you are all sweaty in those Atlanta heats

This adds on to him being a switch. He will never let ANYONE know he can be submissive since yall are in the apocalypse he might k!ll anyone who knows 🫣

I’m sorry this is really short I ran out of time

[rickydoodahgrimez]

𝞋𝞎 ─────── 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: after you have given birth to your beautiful baby girl, you start to be insecure about your body, comparing yourself to other women. rick shows you how much he adores you.

warnings: pet names, swearing, dirty amount of fluff, insecurities, mentions of postpartum body

word count: 1.0 k

a/n: the last one shot of my valentine's day special :)) hope you guys like it. if one of you are feeling insecure about your post partum body, do not because you brought a beautiful child into the world with your beautiful body, so do not be ashamed :))

The world had ended years ago, but here you were, cradling the beginning of a new one in your arms. Your baby—your beautiful, perfect little girl—slept peacefully against your chest, tiny fingers curled into your shirt. 

She was everything, all the love and light you had left in this cruel world, but as you sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, an ugly feeling crept in.

Your reflection stared back at you from the cracked mirror across the room. The soft swell of your stomach, the faint stretch marks that traced your skin like delicate lightning bolts, the way your body had changed in ways you hadn’t expected—it all left you feeling. . . less. 

Less than you were before. Less than the other women in Alexandria, the ones who still seemed untouched by the burdens of motherhood and survival.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to silence the thoughts, but they only grew louder. You loved your daughter more than anything, but why couldn’t you love yourself the same way?

A quiet knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and then Rick was there. His blue eyes softened the moment they landed on you, taking in the baby tucked against your chest, the tired slump of your shoulders.

He approached slowly, careful not to wake her as he settled onto the bed beside you.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” His voice was low, thick with concern. His hand came to rest on your thigh, thumb stroking absentmindedly over your skin.

You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with something that felt so small, so vain in comparison to everything else you’d survived. But the weight of it was suffocating.

“I just…” You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes trained on the baby instead of him. “I don’t feel like myself anymore, Rick. I look at myself and… I don’t know who I am. I see the way other women look, how they seem so—so whole. And I just feel… different.”

Rick was silent for a moment, and it made your chest tighten. You expected him to tell you you were being ridiculous, that there were bigger things to worry about.

But then, he reached for your hand, cradling it between his own, calloused and warm.

“You brought our baby into this world,” He said, voice thick with something unshakable. “You carried her, kept her safe when nothin’ else in this damn world is. And you think I’m gonna sit here and let you doubt how beautiful you are?”

Your breath caught as he cupped your face, tilting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no doubt—just the unwavering love that had kept you both standing through the worst of times.

“I don’t give a fuck about anyone else,” He murmured, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your forehead. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but before you could say anything, Rick carefully took your baby from your arms, cradling her against his chest. His movements were so gentle, so full of love, that it made your throat tighten. 

He walked across the room, lowering her into her crib with the utmost care, brushing a thumb over her tiny cheek before stepping back.

And then he turned to you.

“Come with me.” He said softly, holding out his hand.

You hesitated, but the warmth in his eyes made it impossible to refuse. You placed your hand in his, and he led you to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. 

Your heart pounded as he guided you toward the mirror, positioning you so that you were standing in front of it, your reflection staring back at you.

Your first instinct was to look away, to focus on anything else, but Rick was behind you in an instant, his hands coming to rest on your waist, holding you firmly in place. His lips brushed against your ear, voice low and intimate.

“Look at yourself.” He murmured.

You swallowed hard. “Rick, I—”

“Shh,” He hushed you gently, his lips pressing against the side of your neck. “Let me show you what I see.”

His hands moved slowly, reverently, skimming over the curve of your waist. “This body carried our daughter,” He said, his voice full of awe. “Kept her safe, kept her warm. That’s beautiful.”

His lips trailed lower, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. His fingers traced the faint stretch marks on your skin, as if memorizing them. “Every mark, every change… it’s proof of what you’ve done. What you’ve given me. What you’ve given her.”

Your breath hitched as he turned you slightly, his lips finding the inside of your wrist, pressing a soft kiss there. “These hands? They’re the same hands that held me when I was broken. The same hands that take care of her, that hold her close every night. And they’re beautiful.”

His hands moved again, sliding down your hips, gripping them gently as he kissed along the column of your throat. “And this?” His voice was rougher now, filled with something deeper. “These hips, this stomach, every part of you—you think I don’t love this?” He let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Darlin’, I worship this.”

A shuddering breath escaped you as he turned you fully toward him, cupping your face in both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears you hadn’t even realized were falling.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” He whispered. “You always have been. You always will be.”

And then his lips were on yours—slow, deep, full of everything he couldn’t say with words. He kissed you like he was afraid you’d disappear, like he needed you to understand just how much he adored you.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

“You see yourself how I see you, just for a second?” He asked softly.

You nodded, unable to speak, and he smiled—a small, rare thing, just for you.

“Good,” He murmured, pressing one last kiss to your lips. “Because you’re perfect to me. Always.”

i'm fucking crying over this, rick is so husband material. this is the last of my valentine's day special :)) i hope you guys liked it, i'll be making a separate masterlist on 'valentines day specials' :))

[dvrylgal]

⋆༺𓆩 kehetu: chapter two 𓆪༻⋆

synopsis: the camp gets overrun thanks to the new sheriff in town... and you and daryl come to a shaky agreement over a newly infected member of the group.

cw: canon typical violence, gore, profanity, mature themes, cannibalism (zombies), zombies (obviously), racism (Merle), reader is black, reader is from jersey, reader is a mechanic, reader was raised native (ish), reader's a bit of an atheist

"Pass the goose, please," Sophia asked, politely.

"Here you go," Carol doted, plopping some more onto her plate.

"Man o' man, that's good," Shane nodded, approvingly. "Whew, I missed this."

"(y/n), this goose is delicious," Dale commended, taking a large bite of some breast meat. "I don't know how you do it."

"That's what I'm sayin'," Jacqui agreed, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as she licked her fingers. "Never woulda touched this stuff in the real world. But this is one of the best things I've ever eaten. How do you do it?"

You faintly grinned into the mouth of your beer bottle, taking a quick swig before putting it back down.

"Watch a few things, pick up a few tricks," you shrugged, adjusting the fire with your crowbar.

"Y'know, I've gotta ask you. It's been driving me crazy," Morales piped up, staring at your neck.

"What?" you asked, cocking a brow.

"That cross," he pointed.

You sat up a little straighter, fingers rising instinctively to fiddle with the golden chain.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Not to mean any disrespect... but you don't really come off as the religious type," he elaborated. "You Christian?"

"I've wondered this myself," Jacqui agreed.

You shook your head, leaning back. "No... m'not."

"Catholic?" Morales tried again.

"Nope."

"Orthodox?" Andrea chirped.

"Not the right cross for that," Dale corrected.

"No... m'not anything," you denied, glancing down at the ground. "S'just a necklace."

"Oh, come on," Morales scoffed with a chuckle. "It's gotta be something for you to be wearing it if you're not religious."

"Honey..." Miranda whispered. "Why don't we leave it be?"

"Memento?"

"Family member's?"

"Just thought it was pretty?"

"S'a gift..." you stated, carefully twisting it between your fingertips. "From Sister Martha."

At that, the group went silent, the crackle of the fire filling the empty, slightly uncomfortable space.

"When I was a kid, I ran with a bad crowd. Was always gettin' into shit with the cops, or gettin' in trouble at school... After a while, my folks got fed up. Sent me up the river to a boardin' school called Saint Eloise's... for wayward girls."

Glancing into the fire, you let out a dry chuckle, allowing the kindly face of your supervising nun to drift through your mind.

"You can guess my behavior didn't change much... and I made it about a solid year before they were ready to kick me out, too... But there was one woman that didn't give up on me."

Lifting up your cross, you looked at it proudly, swiping a reverent thumb over its face.

"She gave me this right before I left... said God would be with me and all that junk... But since then, I haven't had the heart to take it off."

Allowing silence to settle once again, you lifted your head, expecting to be met with judgmental looks.

But to your surprise, they were all filled with warmth and understanding.

"That's... sweet," Andrea smiled, kindly, just like a certain someone you knew. "Y'know, I think you're sweeter than you make yourself out to be."

You scoffed, letting out a stronger chuckle as you took another swig of your beer.

"Don't push it."

At that, the group broke out into laughter, amused.

"Hey!" Amy called, exiting the RV. "We're out of toilet paper?"

But as the others continued to joke, a walker emerged from the shadows, getting the jump on the poor girl and taking a large bite out of her forearm.

Taken by surprise, she let out a blood-curdling shriek, abruptly grabbing everyone's attention.

'Shit!'

The whole entire group screamed in terror, eyes widening as even more walkers began to appear, gnashing their teeth as the stalked forward.

Panic ripped through the camp like wildfire—bodies scrambling, children crying, tents tearing open.

Quickly, you snatched up your bow and quiver, slinging them over your shoulder before kicking up your crowbar and catching it.

"Lori, get him down!" Shane exclaimed, nodding to Carl as he aimed his shotgun.

She snatched him up without hesitation, and Shane fired, managing to take out two of them

While he defended the campfire, you ran to assist Amy, whacking out three biters on the way.

"No! No! Noo!" Andrea shrieked as she watched the undead devour her sister, taking chunks out of the young woman's throat and shoulder.

Rolling your lips, you wound up your swing, using your momentum to knock the walker's head clean off its neck.

But you didn't have time to celebrate, and allowed Andrea to rush to her sister's side as you ran off to assist the others.

Coming across a woman about to be snatched up, you quickly drew your revolver, shooting two out of the three biters in the head before stabbing the other.

"Thank you!" the woman sobbed, launching forward to cling to you.

"Don't thank me! Get to Shane and the others!" you barked, yanking her off and shoving her behind you as another five walkers emerged from the trees.

Running forward, you let out a traditional war whoop, charging toward them with murderous intent as you smashed in their faces.

It was a blood bath the way you tore through their numbers, ripping through them like a wild animal hellbent on its prey.

'Those fuckin' morons! That stupid wailin' car Glenn rode up here must've drove the biters north!'

"Everyone, work your way to the RV!" Shane shouted, his voice barely carrying over the screams of horror. "Morales! (y/n)! Work your way up here!"

"Fuckin' dammit!" you spat, taking out a walker's leg before drawing your revolver, shooting it in the face.

Working in tandem, you shifted to striking with your right and shooting with your left, the new efficiency allowing you to take out the undead quicker.

You were so preoccupied, you didn't even notice the rescue team that left for Merle had come back, guns blazing.

Instead, you focused on your own—and by your own, you meant yourself— continuing to slaughter all the surrounding corpses.

Letting out another war cry, you beat down three more walkers, now taking out your fury on the creatures.

It was all that new guy's fault...

The sheriff.

He rode in on his high horse—literally—walking around like his shit didn't stink and barking out orders like he was still a cop and this was still the real world.

And because of that people were dead.

People that wouldn't be coming back.

Oh, you were gonna tear him a goddamn new one...

As the dust settled, you finally allowed yourself to catch your breath, chest heaving as you looked down to realize you probably looked terrifying.

Dripping in walker blood... 

Crazed look in your eye... 

Crowbar drawn...

But you didn't give two shits.

What you did give a shit about, however, was the man in the sheriff's hat, standing among the other survivors in the dim light of the RV.

Rage flooded every cell in your body, and without hesitation, you stormed up the small hill, objective set in stone.

Nearly half your camp was gone.

Esteban. Clint. Maria.

Micheal. James. Louis.

Edna. Tucker. Ed.

They didn't deserve to die.

Not like this.

Materializing out of the darkness, you finally reached the group, winding up your arm as you approached Rick.

"(y/n)—"

You didn't let Dale finish his sentence, slamming your fist into Rick's cheek with a killer hook, sending the man straight to the ground.

"Whoa! Hey!"

"Whoa, whoa, come on!"

"Dad!"

"Rick!"

The men quickly scrambled to hold you back, despite your intense struggles.

"You fuckin' moron! It's barely been a goddamn day!" you shouted, completely livid. "A goddamn day since you fuckin' showed up!"

"Back up, (y/n)!" Shane barked, gun at the ready.

"None of this is on Rick!" Dale defended.

"Oh, yeah?! Who's bright idea was it to drive a wailin' sports car back to camp, eh?"

At that, the crowd went silent, but you pressed on.

"You've been survivin' for what? A few days? A week? And all of a sudden you think you know everything?" you spat. "People are dead! People that woulda survived had you not decided to play cop and cuff someone to a goddamn roof!"

You scoffed, incredulously, finally looking around to see that Merle wasn't even part of the surviving group.

"You didn't even bring the bastard back!"

"We got the guns..." T-Dog chimed.

"Yeah, with no one to use 'em! Now we got half the hands and twice the weight!"

You huffed, sharply shrugging off the hands of the others, before sizing up the sheriff with another glare.

His guilty expression only pissed you off more, and you knew you'd have to walk off soon before you got mad all over again.

"This blood's on your hands, officer... Your hands."

"Y'all can't be serious... Let that girl hamstring us?" Daryl scoffed, pointing at Andrea—who was still hunched over Amy's corpse. "The dead girl's a time bomb."

"What do you suggest?" Rick asked.

Daryl stepped forward, resting his crossbow on his shoulder.

"Take the shot," he made a shooting motion. "Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes at this distance."

"No," you denied, arms crossed over your chest.

"For God's sakes, let her be," Lori sighed, taking a seat on a stump.

Silently, Rick and Shane shared a look, before Daryl sucked his teeth and waved the rest of you off, leaving to assist the clean-up effort.

"C'mon, Jimbo, we got work to do."

At first light, you'd left to secure the perimeter, surveying the woods in every direction about half a kilometer out.

Luckily, there were only a few straggling walkers, which you dispatched of easily.

When you came back, it was around noon-time—if the sun was anything to go off of—and the camp was still hard at work mourning your dead.

Discreetly, you glanced at Andrea, a heavy feeling settling at the bottom of your chest.

Some... more than others.

"You reap what you sow!" Daryl suddenly barked, dropping another body in the human pile with Morales.

That pissed you off...

"Hey, do you ever shut the fuck up?!" you spat, brows furrowed as you turned toward him.

"Fuck you! Y'all left my brother for dead! You had this comin'!" he fired back.

"Fuck you! Your brother had it comin'!"

"Whatchu say to me?!"

"You heard me, asshole!"

"Hey, hey, hey! Cut it out, you two!" Shane ordered as you both began to charge for each other, he and Rick getting ready to hold you both back.

"A walker got him!" Jacqui exclaimed, stealing everyone's attention. "A walker bit Jim!"

At that, you and Daryl shared a look, him shifting a grip on his pickax and you drawing your hunting knife as you both moved toward the man.

"I'm okay... I'm ok—"

"Show it to us," Daryl ordered, nodding to the man's shirt.

Whipping around, Jim quickly picked up a shovel, holding it at the ready.

"Jim, put it down!" Shane exclaimed.

"Put it down, man!"

"Easy, Jim!"

"Grab him!"

Lunging forward, T-Dog grabbed his arms from behind, Daryl quickly moving to lift the man's shirt, where a bite mark sat nice and pretty on his stomach.

"I'm okay... I'm okay," Jim continued to mutter, seemingly more for himself than for you. "I'm okay... I'm okay... I'm okay."

Quickly, Shane and Rick pulled all the adults into a huddle, allowing Jim to sit next to the RV as you held a council deciding his fate.

"I say we put a pickax in his head," Daryl chimed, sharply. "An' the dead girl's, an' be done with it."

"S'that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah, an' I'd thank ya while ya did it."

"Can't we just use a gun?" Carol asked, nervously.

"And have a repeat of last night?"

"I hate to say it—never thought I would—but I think Daryl's right," Dale sighed, somberly.

"I can make it quick," you suggested, genuinely. "Quick stab to the brain. He won't feel a thing. No need for a shot."

"Jim's not a monster," Rick stated, resting his hands on his hips. "Or some rabid dog."

"We're not suggesting—"

"He's sick. He's a sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be," Daryl countered.

"What if we can get him help? I heard the C.D.C was workin' on a cure."

"Yeah, that was before the world went to shit," you scoffed.

"But what if it's still up and runnin'?"

"Man, that is a stretch right there," Shane shook his head.

"Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the C.D.C at all costs, wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection—"

"Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do, too, okay?" Shane sighed. "Now if they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning."

"That's a hundred miles in the opposite direction," Lori shook her head.

"That is right. But it's away from the Hot Zone. Now listen to me, if that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there."

"Military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We've all seen that," Rick denied. "The C.D.C is our best choice and Jim's only chance."

"You go lookin' for aspirin, do what you need to do," Daryl scoffed, turning around and running toward Jim, winding up his ax. "Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!"

"Hey, hey, hey!"

Quickly, you moved to step in front of him, acting as a shield as Rick aimed his gun, stopping the man dead in his tracks.

"Look, asshole," you caved, arms outstretched to cover Jim at all angles. "I agree with ya. This problem's gotta be dealt with now... but this... is not the way."

Gazes meeting, you and Daryl exchanged another look, a flicker of something flashing behind his eyes.

"We can find another solution besides hackin' each other to pieces."

Calming down, his breath began to steady, his grip on the ax's handle loosening ever-so slightly.

"So just drop the weapon... and we'll figure out somethin' else."

He waited another moment, seeming to war with himself before finally letting out a frustrated huff, tossing the ax.

He grumbled, quickly swiping his nose before storming off.

"Whatever..."

[onlyxmcbride]

this whole conversation makes me want to smash my head into the wall and sob simultaneously. why are they so fucking difficult w each other 😭

You gonna tell me why you really came? What? Can’t I bring a friend a gift?

[ricktator]

[milkluvr333]

Scripting impractical but super cute clothes and pink weapons in my TWD cause I'm literally just a girl

[daeneryxx]

fingered me too hard and broke his arm xoxo.

sorry papi chulo..

[guardian-angel12]

finally getting back into TWD (season 8) and can I just point out how cold Daryl has become since Beth died?

[kkniffy]

I will never get why some people shipped Daryl and Beth together. They have a sweet brother-sister like dynamic.

[rememberwhouare]

The Many Faces of Rick Grimes

Andrew Lincoln in The Walking Dead | The Ones Who Live