xoxo-sarah

[xoxo-sarah]

My man hasn't had a second of peace in his entire life. ☹️

(not my video. Found on tiktok.)

[xoxo-sarah]

A Chance

My Wife part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

↝pairing: Season1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: things are rough between Daryl and Reader, death, cursing, arguing, walkers, ect. The usual twd stuff, angst, reader wears Daryl's clothes ( but as a big girl myself, we can just ignore how he's a twig and that's most likely unrealistic 🫡), not proofread

↝⎙ 1.30.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Daylight broke and Andrea hadn't moved.

Daryl grumbled about Amy turning, but you quickly shot him down each time. People grieve in different ways. Andrea knew what she had to do when the time came.

"Y'all can't be serious." Daryl huffed, watching Andrea through squinted eyes, "Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time-bomb." He seethed.

"Daryl," You glared up at him, rubbing the scratch on your upper arm. "Don't be insensitive."

"We ain't got time for this." He seethed, glaring back at you.

You stood, "She lost her sister, not her smarts. She knows what to do."

He stepped closer, putting his weight on one leg, slightly slouching to be eye level with you. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, but it didn't work. You had seen the dark, sad parts of him. He will never be able to scare you or berate you with actions or words. "And if she don't?"

"What do you suggest?"Rick questioned Daryl, stopping the oncoming argument.

Daryl stepped closer to Rick, bringing his fingers to his temple, "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori spoke up, "For God's sake, let her be."

Dary scoffed before walking off. In turn, you eyed the back of Andrea's head. She knew what she had to do, right? You hoped so.

Pulling your eyes away from her, you looked around at all of the bodies. Most were people who you had just seen, laughing and eating. Others were the dead that had wandered from the city.

Shutting your eyes, your hand automatically went to your wrist, the tightly woven thread helping to ground you. Your fingers traveled down to your left hand, the wedding ring soothing against your fingertips, a contrast to the thick thread of the collar/ bracelet on your wrist.

Daryl looked up as he helped drag a body across the ground. He watched you, watched your movements; a desperate search for comfort.

- time skip -

Daryl stomped away, not understanding why Amy and Jim were not being taken care of. They were "ticking time bombs". They were liabilities. In the new world, there was not time to grieve. Sneering at the thought, he yanked the tent flap back, watching you jump, immediately wiping under your eyes.

His eyes trailed over you in the silence of the moment. You needed comforting. He wanted to comfort you. He really did. But he had a feeling those tears were his doing. He shouldn't have taken his frustration out on you, knowing you had witnessed something horrific.

The tent opening fell down as he walked away.

Your hands instantly went back to your face, muffling the sobs that raked your body.

-

Sweat had mixed with the dirt and grime, caking your skin as you helped bury the bodies. The bright sun beat down, causing you to squint.

Daryl kept an eye on you from a distance. Neither of you had uttered a word to each other since the morning. You were both too stubborn.

Backing his truck up, bodies in the bed of it, Daryl caught sight of you looking up through the side mirrors. Just as quickly, you looked away and got back to digging, ignoring Rick and Shane's argument to your left. Turning the truck off, Daryl jumped out, slamming the door.

He made his way to where you, Rick, and Shane were digging holes for the friends you had light the night prior. "I still think it's a mistake not burning these bodies. It's what we said we'd do, right? Burn 'em all, wasn't that the idea?"

"At first."

Daryl scoffed, "The Chinaman gets all emotional, says it's not the thing to do, we just follow 'em along? These people need to know who the hell's in charge here- what the rules are."

"And who the hell's in charge, Daryl? It sure as hell ain't you."

Daryl scoffed again, watching as you glared at him, waiting for him to reply, from where you had jumped down in a freshly dug hole.

"There are no rules." Rick countered Daryl's statement.

"Well, that's a problem." Lori walked past Daryl's truck, children and their mothers behind her. "We haven't had one moment to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do." With that, she turned and walked away, not caring to hear what anyone thought about that.

-

Feeling disgusting, you had made your way back to the tent. Not having any clothes, you opted for something of Daryl's. His cut shirts weren't ideal, but they were cooling and non-restricting. His old work pants fit loose, but that's not anything string couldn't fix.

Buttoning the second to last button of the dingy shirt, you heard the opening of the tent begin to unzip. You moved to cover yourself, but ultimately relaxed when Daryl stepped in. He looked up, scanning your body before glancing behind himself, making sure nobody had seen you changing from over his shoulder. He zipped the flap back up, before simply standing there. He was slightly hunched over, as were you, thanks to the small tent.

It was silent.

Your fingers went back to the button, as you ignored your husband's presence.

Daryl moved closer, standing behind you. The air around you two changed. His head fell to your shoulder, his own grime mixing with yours. He stayed there, vulnerable. This was his way of apologizing.

Your body relaxed further, sinking back into him. His arms snaked around your middle, holding you close.

"It's okay." You whispered, only loud enough for him to hear, and not to disturb this newfound peaceful atmosphere. He nodded, moving his hands to your hips, turning you around. His fingers made quick work of buttoning the last button for you.

-

The next morning, everyone was getting ready to leave for the C.D.C. Rick was out in the field, talking to a man named Morgan, the guy who had saved Rick’s life. Lori, Carol, and the kids were helping to load everything into cars. You helped Daryl load up his truck. Hopping onto the tailgate, you helped pull Daryl’s bike up, gently laying it on the truck bed.

“Are ya willin’ to put your life in his hands?” Daryl helped you jump down, glancing at Rick in the distance. Daryl was looking to you for answers. You were always the more level-headed of the two. Daryl would follow you into fire, he’d follow you to the end of the world. And you just might be doing that.

“I think you have to hope there’s a safe place out there. If we don’t hope for it, then we won’t get it. Hope is all we’ve got.” You patted his chest, before walking by him. He watched you, before slamming the rusted tailgate closed.

-

The wind blew through your hair, cooling your face. Daryl drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other near his mouth as he nipped at his fingernails. The leg that was not being used for the gas and brake pedals slightly shook, a trailer to his nerves. You rode in silence.

“”M sorry–‘bout yesterday.” He spoke up first, biting his thumb nail. You turned your head, looking at his side-profile. He didn’t dare to glance at you.

“I know. I am too. We were both on edge; said some things. It’s alright.”

He nodded, pulling his thumb from his mouth. “Ya think Merle’s alright?”

You thought about it. Daryl had told you what they found on the roof and what they had run into.

“I think he’s a tough fucker to kill.” Daryl let out an entertained huff, “He had enough energy to steal the van, so there’s a high chance he’s okay…maybe.”

Daryl let your words marinate. Letting out a deep exhale, he swapped hands on the wheel, placing his right one of your knee. You moved closer to him, placing your hand over his.

-

Guilt was eating at you.

You had all left Jim under a tree. Sure, it was per his request, but that didn’t stop the shame bubbling in your gut. Even miles from where he sat, you had a frown on your face, thinking of him. The turning was inevitable. But the thought of him having to sit there and deal with the feeling of his bones being made of glass, cutting into him with the slightest move, having to deal with that all on his own, hurt you.

Daryl felt the tension in the truck. You sat closer to the door, hands in your lap.

His hand moved toward the radio, before cursing himself. That wouldn’t work in the apocalypse

Grumbling, he leaned over, opening the glove box and blindly digging through. Pulling a cassette tape out, he plucked it into the truck, twisting the volume knob.

It’s what Jim wanted, you kept reminding yourself. But it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself. You just hoped he wasn’t in pain for much longer.

-

Daryl tapped your arm, watching you blink awake. The melody had settled you to a light slumber. Still groggy from sleep, you took in your surroundings. For a moment, you forgot that the world went to shit. The sky was turning a dark orange, sun setting in the distance. But as you sat up in the seat, you could see the bodies on the ground, bugs buzzing above them.

“Wanna get out?” Daryl stared at you as you looked at the huge building through the windshield. Even more bodies laid in front of the building, flies swarming them. Some bodies were mindlessly wandering around.

This was the C.D.C?

Without giving a response, you opened your door, jumping out. Daryl followed, grabbing his crossbow and a shotgun from the floorboard. Walking around the truck, he pressed the gun to your side, getting your attention. You grabbed it and began following everyone to the building.

The stench alone almost had you hurling.

“Alright, everybody,” Shane began whispering, “Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let’s go.”

The constant buzzing of flies and the horrible smell of decay just might be your own personal hell.

Finally, you were a few feet from the building. Rick and Shane beat on the roll-up doors.

“There’s nobody here.” T-Dog swayed on his feet, turning to look over his shoulder every few seconds.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick was holding onto hope; he had to.

“Walkers!” Daryl pulled you by the arm, putting you behind him.

Children screamed, guns cocked, feet shuffled.

“You led us into a graveyard!” Daryl turned, making his way toward Rick. His nostrils flared. Fury behind his eyes.

You stepped in front of him, separating him and what he wanted to do out of anger and frustration.

“He made a call!” Dale interjected.

Daryl rounded you, “It was the wrong damn call!”

Shane stopped Daryl. “Just shut up. You hear me? Shut. Up. Shut up!” He pushed Daryl back, pointing at him.

You quickly walked over, grabbing Daryl’s shoulder before the whole thing could escalate.

Shane turned, walking back to Rick, who still stood at the shutters. “Rick, this is a dead end.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Carol held onto her daughter, but was ignored.

Night was blanketing the sky–fast. You could barely see where the cats were parked from where you stood.

Shane continued, “Do you hear me? No blame.”

Lori acknowledged Carol, “She’s right. We can’t be here, this close to the city after dark.”

“Fort Benning, Rick-still an option.”

“On what?” Andrea stepped forward, glowering. “No food, no fuel. That’s 100 miles.”

“125. I checked the map.” Glenn corrected.

Carl clung to Lori’s legs. She stared at her husband, “Forget Fort Benning! We need answers tonight, now.”

“We’ll think of something.” Rick tried, not meeting his wife’s eyes.

“C’mon!” “Let’s go!” “Let’s get out of here!” Everyone began to make their way back to the vehicles, “Alright, everybody back to the cars. Let’s go, move.”

“The camera– It moved!”

“You imagined it.”

“It. Moved.” Rick didn’t think anything of Dale’s words, walking closer to the camera near the doors. “It moved.”

“Rick, man. It’s an automated device. It’s gears, okay? They’re just winding down. Now come on. Man, just listen to me.” Shane grabbed Rick by his upper arm, trying to drag him away. “Look around this place. It’s dead, okay? It’s. Dead. You need to let it go, Rick!”

Rick pushed Shane off, going to the shutters and beating against them again. He stared up into the camera.

“Rick! There’s nobody here!” Lori yelled.

Rick ignored her, “I know you can hear me!”

Shane began ushering everyone back to the cars. “Everybody get back to the cars, now!”

Rick didn’t budge. “Please, we’re desperate. Please help us.” He begged, “We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left.”

Lori thrusted Carl onto you, seeing as you were the closest to her, and ran over to Rick. She grabbed him. “Rick-”

“We have nowhere else to go-”

“There’s nobody here.”

Rick continued to pound on the doors.

Carl clung tighter to you.

“Keep your eyes open.” Shane ordered.

“If you don’t let us in, you’re killing us! Please!” Rick yelled at the top of his lungs.

Shane went over, pushing Lori away and grabbing Rick by his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Carl pushed himself closer to you, hearing his father so desperate but to no avail.

Rick fought against getting dragged back, still staring into the camera, “Please help us.”

People shouted. Carl’s tears soaked into your /Daryl’s/ pants.

“You’re killing us! YOU’RE KILLING US!”

Shane shoved Rick away, watching his face crumble.

“You’re killing us.”

Your eyes widened, holding Carl closer, as a bright light nearly blinded you. The shutters opened, rolling up slowly. A hissing echoed. Everyone gawked, not knowing what to do.

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered. Carl let go, running to his mother.

You cocked your gun, joining Daryl. He glanced at you, a questioning gaze set on you. You simply blinked at him, in shock.

Everyone walked toward the light, looking around and gawking at the interior. It smelt clean, a contrast to the horrid, rotting smell outside.

“Hello? Hello?!”

“Close those doors.”

“Watch for walkers.”

“Hello?”

A gun cocking had the group readying themselves, wildly looking around for the source.

A man stood in the shadows, gun in hand. “Anybody infected?”

“One of our group was. He didn’t make it.” Rick answered the unknown man.

“Why are you here?” The man stepped forward, “What do you want?” He put the gun down, looking at all of your grime-covered faces.

“A chance.”

Part 4 (TBA)

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

The Walking Dead; Alone

"Well, lookit here." - Joe

[xoxo-sarah]

hey i just found you account and i know this was a long time ago and totally fine if you don’t have plans for it but is there going to be a part two to friendly? i really loved the angst and picture you wrote out, it was written really well with all the emotions

Thank you, honey! 🩷🩷

I'm going to be completely honest with you, I forgot about that fic. I read it for the first time in probably almost a year and I was really proud of how I wrote that. I really do like the idea so I might make a part 2. I haven't really gotten a lot of people wanting a part 2, so it might depend on how wanted it actually is, you know?

Feel free to let me know what you would like to see if I do decide to write it.🩷

[xoxo-sarah]

normalize wanting to hold men like babies and kiss their foreheads <3

[xoxo-sarah]

If the Roles Were Reversed

My Wife part 2

Part 1

↝a/n: I have been given so much love for the first part and I can't express how grateful I am for it. It fills me with so much joy when people express how much they like my work. I have been asked to make a part two and who am I to say no?

↝pairing: season 1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: season 1 episodes 3 & 4, angst, death, arguing, gore, zombies, typical twd stuff, not proofread, Ed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 1.25.25

Daryl Dixon masterlist

“You can't go, Daryl. Listen to me-” You threw your hands around, watching Daryl pace in front of you. The peaceful expression he once had, when he had reunited with you, was wiped clean off of his face.

He was told the news about Merle and instantly became furious. No matter how much you tried to calm him, it was no use.

His brother was out there. Daryl argued that Merle would be out there looking for him if the roles were reversed.

“Listen, there are too many.” You stepped closer, trying to make him understand, “After the racket everyone made trying to leave, I bet there’s even more now.”

“They left my brother on a roof.” You could tell he was trying his hardest not to yell at you. He was never one to take his anger out on the one person he loves more than anything in the world. He was always gentle with you, just like you deserved.

Sighing, you didn’t know how to counter that. As much as everyone who was waiting on the other side of the R.V wanted you to talk some sense into your husband, Daryl had a point. After all, he had gone out to find you, even against Merle telling him not to.

If it had been Daryl who they had left behind, you would’ve already been in the city, searching. Even if you had to go by yourself, it wouldn’t matter.

None of that changed the fact that it’s dangerous. You couldn’t let him go.

You just got him back.

“He was out of control, you know how he can get. I don’t think they had a choice.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

Daryl’s nostrils flared, as he tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to lash out on you, he never did. But he was about to break. “Merle is a prick, but he’s my brother.”

With that, Daryl walked around the R.V, shoulder checking Shane, who looked disappointed that you hadn’t helped de-escalate the situation. Daryl was stubborn, there wasn’t much you could do.

Carol quickly went back to what she was doing, not wanting to seem like she was being nosey. Which didn’t do much considering everyone in the camp was waiting. After the brawl that had happened when Daryl was told about Merle, everyone was interested in how this whole situation would turn out. Everyone else tried hiding their obvious interest as Daryl came into view. You walked behind him, head hung low, defeated and slightly scared.

Daryl walked toward the box truck, ready to leave.

Rick walked over to you, “So?”

“You shook your head, “He’s not gonna change his mind. I tried.”

He nodded in understanding. Lori looked on at the interaction. She had been the one to offer Rick showing Daryl the way to Merle. She was adamant on it, but at the same time mad at him for leaving. It was almost like she was testing him, seeing if he would actually leave his family to be the heroic cop from before. She wanted him to choose her and Carl over ‘the right thing to do’.

Rick cleared his throat, “It’ll be alright,” he nodded fiddling with the gun holster before turning back around.

Glenn backed the box truck closer, Daryl impatiently standing in the back. You walked toward him when the vehicle stopped. He squinted down at you against the beating sun, watching as you climbed into the truck.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Going with you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Four’s enough.”

You didn’t care if Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were also going. You had stayed in the city for a while, you knew your way around. Plus, you would be going for a different reason than the rest. They were going for Merle, you were going for Daryl.

“Stay here.” His voice was softer now. Truthfully, he didn’t want anything to happen to you. You were safer at the camp, with people you had grown comfortable with in such a short amount of time. “They’ll need somebody who knows how to hunt for somethin’ to eat. Fish is gonna get old fast.” You cracked a smile at his slight humor at the situation. Still, you didn’t want him to leave.

Daryl stepped closer, bringing you into his arms, his head resting on yours. The stench of sweat, dirt, and god knows what else didn’t bother either of you. He didn’t care that you didn’t smell like the sweet shampoo he loved, and you didn’t care that he didn’t smell like the body wash that you had bought him the last time you had gone to the store, or the cologne you loved.

“Keep an eye on everybody,” He kissed your forehead, mumbling against the skin, as he stayed close. “Don’t let anyone mess with ya.”

“When do I ever?” A smile threatened to make an appearance. But it wasn’t the time. He was worried about his brother.

Rick walked by, casting a glance back at the two of you, nodding. Inhaling deeply, you moved away from Daryl, jumping down from the truck. He sent you one more look before pulling the roll-up doors down. You stood there, listening to the box truck’s engine start. You continued to stand there even after the truck faded into the distance.

-

Dale watched as you fiddled with the rag he had given you to wipe the sweat off your brow. You kept fidgeting; ever since Daryl left.

He was quick to offer you to help him keep watch, but you were elsewhere ever since you climbed onto the roof of the R.V. You were trying, Dale could tell. But he saw the gears turning in your head, greased with the terrible thought of what could happen to your husband. The thought of Daryl always overpowered any other thought.

His greyed eyebrows raised as you shot up from your seat.

“Think i’m gonna go help with the laundry. To keep myself busy.” Dale didn’t say anything, only moving out of your way so you could climb down.

Making your way to the quarry, you focused on the voices in the distance and the sharp rocks under your feet. You walked past Ed, who sat comfortably in the back of the car, smoking while keeping an eye on Carol. He glanced up, taking a drag of his cigarette. Ignoring him, you carefully navigate your way down the rocks toward where Carol, Jacqui, Andrea, and Amy sat.

“Can somebody explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?” Jacqui grumbled, watching Shane and Carl fail at catching frogs, their laughter echoing.

“The world ended. Didn’t you get the memo?” Amy wrung the water out of a shirt, flicking hair out of her face. Carol glanced back, looking at Ed. She saw you walking toward them. Sending you a small smile. “It’s just the way it is.” Her eyes fell back to her husband.

“Care for some help?” You squinted at the group through the sun beating down into your eyes. Jacqui motioned to a turned over bucket, “Please.” Giving a tightlipped smile, you sat down ,grabbing a scrub brush and a piece of clothing.

The way the women conversated put you at ease. It was familiar. People at the office that you worked at, were exactly like them.

“I do miss my Maytag.” Carol said, scrubbing clothes against the old washboard.

“I miss my Benz, my Sat Nav.” Andrea added.

“I miss my coffeemaker with that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey.” Jacqui smiled.

Amy pouted, “My computer…and texting.”

“I miss my t.v. And wine. Especially after a long day.” You groaned, remembering the days after work; where you would come home, take your shoes off and get wine and a movie ready. Daryl would come home a little later and join you.

Your reminiscing was cut short by Andrea, “I miss my vibrator.”

Stopping your scrubbing, you looked up at her, a surprised chuckle leaving your lips.

“Ohhhhh.” “Oh my God!”

Carol glanced back at Ed, “Me too.”

You laughed harder, along with the others.

“What’s so funny?”

Just like that, the atmosphere was ruined. Ed walked down, instantly taking the joy out of the air.

“Just swapping war stories, Ed,” Andrea looked back at him, before looking over at Carol. “Yeah.”

Ed walked closer. From your spot beside Carol, you could feel Ed looming behind. Carol instinctively folded in on herself, head sinking into her shoulders.

“Problem, Ed?” Andrea glared at him.

“None that concerns you,” He took another puff of his cigarette, “and you ought to focus on your work. This ain’t no comedy club.”

Andrea huffed, plopping the brush in the tin bucket.

“Just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.” You looked at him, face blank. He stared down at you. You waited for him to say something else. Surprisingly he only blew the smoke out, throwing the butt away. He stepped back, lighting another. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the laundry. Andrea stood, walking toward him.

“Ed, tell you what, you don’t like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here,” She threw the soaking wet piece of clothing in her hands at him.

He threw it back. Andrea gasped. “Ain't my job, missy.”

Amy stood, wanting to de-escalate the situation. She touched Andrea’s arm, “Andrea, don’t.”

“What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass, smoking cigarettes?”

You glanced at Carol, who sat quietly, still working.

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch. Tell you what,” He motioned for Carol, who was out of her seat in a second. You grabbed her arm before she could fully stand up. You could see the fear and timidness in her eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He continued to beckon her.

You stood, keeping a soft but comforting grip on her arm.

“I don’t think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed.” Andrea continued.

Carol glanced up from the ground for a split second, meeting your eyes. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble. She would be dragged back to camp by Ed if that meant nothing else would happen. She knew Ed, what he was capable of.

“And I say that’s none of your business.” Ed beckoned for Carol again. “Come on, now. You heard me.”

Carol moved away from your grip. Andrea turned to her, “Carol,”

“Andrea, please. It doesn’t matter.”

Ed glared at the interaction, “Hey, don’t think I won't knock you on your ass, just ‘cause you some college-educated cooze, alright?”

Andrea scoffed at the audacity of the male in front of her. You stepped forward, grabbing Carol by the shoulder. You weren’t about to let her go with him when he was clearly becoming hostile.

“Now you come on now or you gonna regret it later.”

You softly said her name, ignoring her husband’s glare, and stepped closer to her in a protective manner.

“So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?” Jacqui piped up for the first time since Ed walked over. “Yeah, we’ve seen them.”

Ed chuckled, “Stay out of this,” his harsh gaze pierced through his wife. “Now come on! You know what, this is none of y’all’s business. You don’t want to keep prodding the bull here, okay? Now I am done talkin’. Come on!”

You cringed at his words, moving in front of Carol as he walked closer. He ignored you, reaching around to grab at her arm with a harsh grip. The embarrassment was clear on her face. He pulled, knocking your balance slightly off as he yanked Carol from behind you. Her shoulder crashed into yours, feet moving in a jumble over your own.

“No. No, Carol. You don’t have-”

Carol muttered something under her breath, ignoring Andrea.

Ed swung around, spitting in Carol’s face. “You don’t tell me what! I tell you what!” His grip tightened, jagged nails biting into the soft skin of her upper arm. She whimpered quietly at the force. He raised his hand, striking her against the face. Gasping, you caught her as she fell back, grabbing her reddening cheek.

Everyone clamoured; Andrea hitting and pushing him away, you cursing him as Carol started crying. She fell further into you, as you held her protectively, hauling her away from him.

Ed was pulled back and thrown to the ground, before being dragged by the back of his shirt. Shane threw him further into to the ground, before throwing a punch, and another straight after.

“No!” Carol cried, trying to get away. Shane kept throwing punches, more skin breaking every time his fist hit Ed’s face. Carol covered her mouth, body swaying.

“Shane, stop!” “Enough! Enough!” “Just stop!”

Shane stopped, pointing a finger in Ed’s swollen and bloodied face. “You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me?” He grabbed Ed’s face, squishing it in the process. “Do you hear me?!”

Ed slurred, “Yes.”

Shane let go, pointing again. “I’ll beat you to death, Ed.” With one final punch, he stood, kicking the man on the ground and walking away.

“God!” Carol cried, using strength you had never seen from her before, to break from you, running over to her husband.

-

The tension in the camp was suffocating after that. There was a tiny victory after Andrea and Amy went fishing and brought back dinner, but it was short lived. Jim had been found digging graves, which disturbed a lot of you.

Night fell and everyone began eating the fish-fry.

You smiled at Sophia as she passed the pan of fish. She was well-mannered; all thanks to Carol. She was a shy girl, but became a seemingly different kid when she was around other kids. She found friends in a world that would probably take them away before you could blink. She, along with the other kids, didn’t understand what was out there, all of the bad. They held an innocence that would be demolished in front of your eyes.

“I gotta ask you, man. It’s been driving me crazy.” One of the men that you met in the city, Morales, spoke up, directing it at Dale.

“What?”

“That watch,” he pointed at the watch on Dale’s wrist.

Dale smiled, “What’s wrong with my watch?”

Morales continued, “I see you everyday, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass.”

“I’ve wondered this myself.” Jacqui smiled.

Dale threw his hands up playfully, “I’m missing the point.”

You looked between him and his watch, the fire casting a warm gleam over it, brightening the brown leather.

“Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while.” Jacqui shrugged her shoulders.

“But there’s you, everyday, winding that stupid watch.” Morales raised his eyebrows at the old man.

“Time- it’s important to keep track, isn’t it? The days, at least. Don’t you think, Andrea? Back me up here.”

They shared a knowing look, their faces glowing in the fire from where you sat. She sent him a seemingly warning glare, but his smile didn’t falter.

“I like- I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said “I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, not that you may forget it for a moment now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.””

Huh,” Morales nodded at the answer, not really expecting it.

Everyone sat in silence around the fire, before Amy broke it, “You are so weird.”

Laughter echoed as you took a swig of beer. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t pure water so it would do.

“It’s not me. It’s Faulkner, William Faulkner.”

Amy rolled her eyes at Dale.

The older man chuckled, “Maybe my bad paraphrasing.”

Amy stood, walking away from the fire. Andrea stopped her, “Where are you going?”

“I have to pee.” The younger sister raised her brows, “Jeez, you try to be discreet around here.” She quickly walked off, toward the R.V.

Dale turned to you, “What about you? You fiddle with that on your wrist.” You looked down at the bulky thing around your wrist. “Was my dog’s collar.” Dale’s smile turned sad. While rushing out of your house, you had grabbed the collar from the leash you would walk her around the block with. Her name was embroidered; a gift from Daryl when he first surprised you with a puppy.

You tightened it into a bracelet, holding her memory close. Truthfully, you had forgotten about it being on your wrist. You didn’t notice how much you fidgeted with it. Dale did, when you were on watch with him.

You didn’t think about the dog for long.

The R.V door opened, and Amy stepped out. “We’re out of toilet paper?” She yelled. Before she could get an answer, a hand grabbed her forearm from behind the other side of the door. She stood in shock as a walker moved closer to her. She screamed, feeling the walker bite down.

Your head instantly snapped up, eyes growing wide at the sight. More walkers came from each direction, limping forward. Everyone screamed, jumping up. Parents grabbed their kids, others grabbed weapons. Gunshots echoed, making your ears ring. You were quick to instinctively reach for your gun. Unfortunately, that gun was still in Glenn’s bag with no bullets.

A hand on your shoulder had you swiveling around, pushing the walker that simply snarled at you. Pushing with all your strength, you didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before you were running.

Another walker stumbled toward you from behind, dirty nails digging into your skin. This walker was closer, a stench wafting into your nose before you could push it away. You tried, but from the angle in which the walker had grabbed you, you could only push its head away, fingers avoiding its snipping teeth.

You screamed, still hearing Shane unload his gun in the distance.

Andrea wailed, watching another walker bite a gash out of Amy’s shoulder, right where her neck meets it.

The grip tightened on you, making you hiss. Their nails were long and had the bite to prove it. One final hit had the walker staggering back, grip falling off. You turned, running toward the R.V, where Shane, Lori, Carol, Morales, and their families were. More gunfire rang out.

Making it to the vehicle, you turned back, seeing Daryl and the others coming out of the woods. He was the first out, head snapping in ebery direction. The other were soon to follow.

Daryl spotted you. He looked around, making sure no more walkers were around, before running toward you. Your bodies collided, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He pulled back, “You hurt?”

“No, i don’t think- I don’t know.”

You were in shock, your jumbled words and wide eyes proving it. You couldn’t think. You rubbed where you were scratched.

In your time since the world ended, you had hidden in the top floor of a building. If you were ever met with danger, you always had a gun or knife handy.

Tonight, you were completely unprepared.

In the dark, you couldn't tell if the skin of your arm was broken. Clinging back to Daryl, you turned your head to where Andrea laid beside Amy. Blood pooled around them. Amy’s body went limp, sending Andrea to sobs. Closing your eyes tightly, you turned back to Daryl, pushing your face into his neck. He held you close, hiding the shake in his hands.

He had heard your scream.

That’s what had him running through the woods with only you in mind, leaving the other behind.

Part 3

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

Tags from the last chapter who wanted part 2: @notmirnda @vomiting-blood @i93jjk @multifandomfan @gaudesstuff @cymbalta-slut

[xoxo-sarah]

Bone Gnawing Guilt

↝a/n: first post of 2025 and we're starting this year off with angst I guess.

↝pairing: season 7!Daryl Dixon x reader

↝warning: ANGST, Negan, the line up, season 7 episode 1 (I think), possible spoilers if you have watched season 7 yet, death (Abraham and Glenn), guilt, gore, crying, the usual twd stuff, not proofread, self hatred?, mention of Daryl's childhood

↝⎙ 1.2.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl could only watch.

There wasn't anything else he could do. He couldn't get himself to stand, to walk over to you. He watched as you crumbled, all of your emotions laid out for everyone to see. Face scrunched up, lip quivering, face getting more red by the second, as sobs rattled your body. Blood coated your right cheek; blood that wasn't yours. But, that of a friend you held so close to your heart.

Your own sobs layered with Maggie's, making everyone's heart clench with a devastating feeling.

Daryl had felt guilt before. It was beat into him at a very young age. Everything was always his fault. With his father being an alcoholic, there was always something that was wrong, that the abusive man could take out on Daryl, who was only a kid. After Daryl's mother died, that was a reoccurring instance that was brought up, followed by getting yelled at and kicked around.

Maybe the guilt started there. Either way, it sprouted in his developing brain and grew until it took over his body, the roots trapping him in his body that he hated so much.

Daryl fought against the men trying to drag him to a truck. No amount of fighting -to get to you- helped. He was shoved into the truck, still being able to hear the sobs. He threw his head back, time after time. Maybe if he hit hard enough, he wouldn't be able to hear your heartbreak anymore.

-

The roar of the Savior's trucks echoed as they got further away.

No one moved. They couldn't. Their bones felt like jelly, their hearts thumping in their ears. Maggie stood on wobbly legs.

The rest was a blur in your peripheral vision. Your eyes were planted on the dirt below, crimson weaving in between the mix of dirt and rocks.

Rocks dug into your legs, leaving an imprint

It didn't matter.

Everything was numb, you felt numb. Even after the bodies were picked up or dragged, you stayed, kneeled beside the puddle.

Rick stood beside the truck, watching as your body involuntarily swayed.

A walker stumbled out of the woods, snarling.

You didn't seem to notice.

Rick started toward you, grabbing you by the forearm. He didn't have the energy to kill the walker, or have to carry another dead body to bury.

Your body was dead weight under his hip You didn't notice the walker stumbling toward you. Tears lefts tracks down your face, mixing with the blood and dirt seeping into your pores.

You only looked up when Rick tugged one final time, dragging you to your feet. The look in your eyes was almost as awful as the sight had been with Negan just a little while ago.

Words lefts your mouth in a hopeless whisper, stating what Rick already knew. His eyes softened as your voice broke in the middle of your sentence.

“They took him.”

-

The sound of the wooden bat against skull was heard all round the group. The lineup watched in horror, even Negan's men were in shock. This whole thing was gross. Blood splattered with every harsh movement. Abraham laid lifeless. Muscles and nerves twitched.

It was too much.

Daryl stood before he knew what he was doing.

The moment played

over and over in Daryl's head as he sat on the cold floor, pushing himself into the corner of the small, dark room. The gruesome pictures were a reminder of what he had done. What finally broke you. You lost yourself when Glenn, a friend you had made in the beginning, died right beside you. It could have easily been you. God knows the 'what if's swam around your head after the tears had stopped. It wasn't fair.

You weren't with the group when they had hijacked the satellite outpost. You didn't have any part of it, yet you had the blood on your cheek, the trauma of seeing what happened with your own eyes.

If he hadn't stood up and punched Negan, Glenn would still be alive. He would be there for his and Maggie's baby. He would be there to tease you, like he had done since the quarry. The two of you acted like siblings. Now, he was dead. The reason Daryl had first noticed you, as you laughed and pushed Glenn away as he picked at you, was gone. Your laugh caught Daryl's attention, the laugh that Glenn caused. You wouldn't ever laugh like that again, not in this world.

The evidence was strewn across the concrete in front of him. The Polaroids of Glenn's remains were a cruel reminder.

You probably hated him. You probably blamed him. Daryl wouldn't be mad if you did.

You most likely hated him. It would be easier if you did.

If Daryl were to see you after all of this, if he were to escape, he was unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. It would be easier to live with the hate than with the guilt.

He would feel the guilt until the snake that was death struck its fangs into his heart, the venom seeping throughout his veins, throughout his body until it paralyzes him, causing his body to give up in the long run. The guilt would run through his veins as long as his blood stayed warm.

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Dating Robin Buckley | Moodboard

“Red is the color of love. Beating hearts and hungry lips. Roses, Valentines, cherries.” — Mary Hogan

[xoxo-sarah]

Snowball Fight

↝a/n: the groundhog is a lying whore.

↝pairing: Magna x fem!reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Magna, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 3.27.24

Magna grumbled as she trudged through the snow, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She never was a fan of the cold weather, and today was no exception. The wind whipped around her, sending a shiver down her spine. But despite her displeasure with the winter chill, she couldn't help but smile as she looked over at you. You were practically skipping through the snow, your laughter ringing out in the air.

"Come on, Magna, it's not that bad!" you called out, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Kids ran around you, smiles on their faces. "We're supposed to be having fun!"

Magna tried to maintain her usual grumpy facade, but it was hard to resist your infectious energy.

Before leaving the house, you had insisted on wrapping a colorful scarf around her neck, despite her protests, and she couldn't help but feel a warmth growing in her chest as she watched you. She had tried to not break a smile as she watched you step over the piles of snow.

"Fine, fine," Magna relented with a smirk. "But don't think this means I like the snow." She has repeatedly told you she wasn't a fan, but you insisted, wanting her to get out of the house.

You chuckled and then, without warning, gathered a handful of snow and swiftly molded it into a perfect snowball. Before Magna could react, you launched it at her, hitting her shoulder dead on. She glanced at you, a mischievous glint in her eye, before scooping up snow of her own.

What started as a lighthearted snowball fight soon turned into chaos. Laughter filled the air as snowballs flew back and forth between you and Magna. The people around were quick to join in. You, RJ, and Judith teamed up against Magna. For a brief moment, everyone forgot about the world outside their winter wonderland. No zombies, no dangerous missions, just people enjoying a carefree moment together.

As the snowball fight came to an end and the sun began to set, Magna found herself smiling more than she had in a long time. She never thought she could enjoy the cold so much, but with you by her side, even the harshest weather seemed bearable.

"Alright, you win," Magna said, brushing snow off her coat. "I'll admit, maybe the snow isn't so bad after all."

You grinned triumphantly, knowing that you had succeeded in bringing a little light into Magna's day.

Walking over to her, you went to put your arms around her waist, in return getting a face full of snow. Magna laughed, pulling her hand back, snow falling from between her fingers. She watched as snow fell from your cheek, some of it sticking in place. She wiped at your cheek with her other hand, kissing the coldness away.

Together, you walked back to the safety of the community, hand in hand- mostly to keep warm, of course.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

"good things come to those who wait" except my beta readers have been waiting three years for me to finish this draft, and honestly, they deserve reparations for their patience.

[xoxo-sarah]

The Walking Dead; Indifference

"Those douchebags in the vines took themselves out, holding hands. Kumbaya style." - Daryl Dixon "They wanted to go out together same as they lived. That make them douchebags?" - Bob Stookey "It does it they could have gotten out." - Daryl Dixon "Everybody makes it, till they don't. People nowadays are dominoes. What they did maybe it's about not having to watch them fall." - Bob Stookey

Carylering On<333333333333333

[xoxo-sarah]

That last look says “I will take you apart piece by piece if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”  Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon at Terminus - The Walking Dead S4 E16 - A gifs by @daryl-dixon-daydreams | follow for daily drabbles + more!

[xoxo-sarah]

Bone Gnawing Guilt

↝a/n: first post of 2025 and we're starting this year off with angst I guess.

↝pairing: season 7!Daryl Dixon x reader

↝warning: ANGST, Negan, the line up, season 7 episode 1 (I think), possible spoilers if you have watched season 7 yet, death (Abraham and Glenn), guilt, gore, crying, the usual twd stuff, not proofread, self hatred?, mention of Daryl's childhood

↝⎙ 1.2.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl could only watch.

There wasn't anything else he could do. He couldn't get himself to stand, to walk over to you. He watched as you crumbled, all of your emotions laid out for everyone to see. Face scrunched up, lip quivering, face getting more red by the second, as sobs rattled your body. Blood coated your right cheek; blood that wasn't yours. But, that of a friend you held so close to your heart.

Your own sobs layered with Maggie's, making everyone's heart clench with a devastating feeling.

Daryl had felt guilt before. It was beat into him at a very young age. Everything was always his fault. With his father being an alcoholic, there was always something that was wrong, that the abusive man could take out on Daryl, who was only a kid. After Daryl's mother died, that was a reoccurring instance that was brought up, followed by getting yelled at and kicked around.

Maybe the guilt started there. Either way, it sprouted in his developing brain and grew until it took over his body, the roots trapping him in his body that he hated so much.

Daryl fought against the men trying to drag him to a truck. No amount of fighting -to get to you- helped. He was shoved into the truck, still being able to hear the sobs. He threw his head back, time after time. Maybe if he hit hard enough, he wouldn't be able to hear your heartbreak anymore.

-

The roar of the Savior's trucks echoed as they got further away.

No one moved. They couldn't. Their bones felt like jelly, their hearts thumping in their ears. Maggie stood on wobbly legs.

The rest was a blur in your peripheral vision. Your eyes were planted on the dirt below, crimson weaving in between the mix of dirt and rocks.

Rocks dug into your legs, leaving an imprint

It didn't matter.

Everything was numb, you felt numb. Even after the bodies were picked up or dragged, you stayed, kneeled beside the puddle.

Rick stood beside the truck, watching as your body involuntarily swayed.

A walker stumbled out of the woods, snarling.

You didn't seem to notice.

Rick started toward you, grabbing you by the forearm. He didn't have the energy to kill the walker, or have to carry another dead body to bury.

Your body was dead weight under his hip You didn't notice the walker stumbling toward you. Tears lefts tracks down your face, mixing with the blood and dirt seeping into your pores.

You only looked up when Rick tugged one final time, dragging you to your feet. The look in your eyes was almost as awful as the sight had been with Negan just a little while ago.

Words lefts your mouth in a hopeless whisper, stating what Rick already knew. His eyes softened as your voice broke in the middle of your sentence.

“They took him.”

-

The sound of the wooden bat against skull was heard all round the group. The lineup watched in horror, even Negan's men were in shock. This whole thing was gross. Blood splattered with every harsh movement. Abraham laid lifeless. Muscles and nerves twitched.

It was too much.

Daryl stood before he knew what he was doing.

The moment played

over and over in Daryl's head as he sat on the cold floor, pushing himself into the corner of the small, dark room. The gruesome pictures were a reminder of what he had done. What finally broke you. You lost yourself when Glenn, a friend you had made in the beginning, died right beside you. It could have easily been you. God knows the 'what if's swam around your head after the tears had stopped. It wasn't fair.

You weren't with the group when they had hijacked the satellite outpost. You didn't have any part of it, yet you had the blood on your cheek, the trauma of seeing what happened with your own eyes.

If he hadn't stood up and punched Negan, Glenn would still be alive. He would be there for his and Maggie's baby. He would be there to tease you, like he had done since the quarry. The two of you acted like siblings. Now, he was dead. The reason Daryl had first noticed you, as you laughed and pushed Glenn away as he picked at you, was gone. Your laugh caught Daryl's attention, the laugh that Glenn caused. You wouldn't ever laugh like that again, not in this world.

The evidence was strewn across the concrete in front of him. The Polaroids of Glenn's remains were a cruel reminder.

You probably hated him. You probably blamed him. Daryl wouldn't be mad if you did.

You most likely hated him. It would be easier if you did.

If Daryl were to see you after all of this, if he were to escape, he was unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. It would be easier to live with the hate than with the guilt.

He would feel the guilt until the snake that was death struck its fangs into his heart, the venom seeping throughout his veins, throughout his body until it paralyzes him, causing his body to give up in the long run. The guilt would run through his veins as long as his blood stayed warm.

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon in The Walking Dead S5 E10 - Them 🥵😍 gifs by @daryl-dixon-daydreams | follow for daily Daryl content!

[xoxo-sarah]

Red

↝a/n: I didn't quite execute this though the way I wanted to :// reader is in the band with Eddie.

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

↝warning: slight innuendo ?, not proofread , Steve is down bad ngl

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.28.24

"C'mon, man." Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie's pleading, honestly tired of hearing the man's voice. It was the same question every Friday. "It'll be fun, I promise, man." Eddie glanced at his band setting up in the garage, Steve's eyes following. You stood in front of the drums, your legs blocking the words "Corroded Coffin" made out of tape on the bass drum. You pushed your hair out of your face, placing some of the teased hair behind your pierced ear. "You need to loosen up, bud."

Steve eyes traced your figure, the way the white tank top hugged your curves. Bright red could be seen through the thin fabric. He hasn't talked to you much, but he couldn't help his eyes lingering every time you were around. He wanted to talk to you. He just never got around to it. Maybe he was intimidated. Eddie would say so.

Eddie could pinpoint when Steve had taken an interest in you. It was the second you met. Eddie had introduced you as "Red". The nickname settled on Steve's tongue, tingling like poprocks. You had been nicknamed that because you always has to have some sort of red on. If the outfit is all black, there's a red bracelet or earrings. You had a pair of red converse that you wore all of the time. Steve took notice of how warn out they were getting, feeling the urge to buy a new pair for you.

Eddie patted Steve shoulder, getting his attention back.

Steve reluctantly agreed. He tried to get Robin to go with him, so he wouldn't have to suffer alone. But she always found an excuse. He silently cursed her under his breath as bodies pressed against his in the small bar. He tried to make it to the backstage, looking for Eddie, the person who got him into this mess. Just as he got to the stage, the lights went dark. many of the drunk people continued to talk amongst themselves as the band came on stage.

Steve's mouth fell agape at your stage presence. Eddie watched as Steve watched you walk around the stage, captivating everyone's attention just by your voice.

Steve couldn't help but watch your every move. The rest of the band were tuned out from his mind; you and only you clouding his mind.

You went from banging your head back and forth with the music, to standing walking around the stage, eyes with a hazed look.

You eventually got so into the song that your hand roams your body, pulling up the black tank top, showing everyone the red, lacy bra. Steve swears he felt his breath hitch. He could practically feel the fabric against his fingertips.

As the song reached its climax, Steve felt his heart race in sync with the pounding drums. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, mesmerized by your energy and confidence. The way you commanded the stage was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

Days after, Steve makes his way to the house where the band practices, standing around awkwardly. The guys look at him, amused. "Here to see Red?" Eddie chuckled, yanking the guitar pick out from his amused lips. Steve ignored the looks from the group around him. He wasn't here to be judged, he simply wanted to see you- he needed to see you.

"Where is she?"

Eddie nodded towards the door that connected from the garage to the house. As if on cue, you opened the door, stepping out in an all black outfit. It was more comfortable than what you wore at the show, not as snug on your figure. Your face was bare of the dramatic make-up from a few nights ago. Steve couldn't tell which look he liked more.

He couldn't help the way his mind went to what exactly you wore that was red. Was it the same bra? You didn't seem to have anything else that was visible. Your earrings are small, little silver moon crescents, no necklace decorating your neck.

"Harrington." You acknowledged, before handing out the cans of soda.

"Red," the nickname fell from his lips like he had been the one to make it up. It felt natural spilling from his mouth. "Can I, uh, can I talk to you?"

You looked up, feeling multiple pairs of eyes on you, anticipating your next move. "Sure." You threw the last can of soda through the air, having Eddie curse you as he caught it.

Steve felt a rush of excitement as you agreed to talk. The way you tossed that can to Eddie was so effortlessly cool, and he couldn't help but admire you even more.

You walked further down the pavement, leading away from the open garage. Steve stuck his hands in his front pockets, mind whirling.

"I saw you at the show the other night." Metal and Rock music wasn't something Steve usually listened to, but that might very well change.

Steve quickly nodded, hoping his face wasn't as red as your bra had been. "Yeah, Eddie forced me to go. I can't hate him for it, I had fun."

You smiled, biting your bottom lip lightly, "That's good. You should come to the next one."

"I'll think about it." God, of course he'll be there. Will he be paying attention to the words and music? No. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

You raised your brows, encouraging him to continue.

"Uh," suddenly, the concrete under his shoes was interesting. "I was wondering if you're free this Friday."

Your mouth opened, eyes searching his shy ones. "We actually have a show."

"Oh, yeah. Okay," He nodded, trying to play it off.

"But," you stepped forward, "I'm free after the show. Maybe you should come watch and we can go somewhere after."

Steve's face lit up, his heart racing as he processed your words. Relief washed over him, mingling with a surge of excitement. He couldn't believe his luck. "Yeah, I'd like that," he managed to say, trying to keep his voice steady. He admired how your face looked with no crazy eyeshadow and lipstick to distract from the color of your eyes. The natural pink of your lips captivated him. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips.

You smiled, standing on your toes to bring your face closer to his. Your lips plants a quick peck on his crimson cheek.

As he walked away, his mind was a blur of thoughts about Friday. The anticipation of spending more time with you made his heart feel light, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. The concrete under his feet didn't seem so interesting anymore; all he could think about was you and the possibilities of what might happen after the show. God, he hoped you wore that red, lacy bra again.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]