desiderio-dixon - Tumblr blog

[desiderio-dixon]

Aaaaa omg i adore you so much @dixons-sunshine thank you so much for the tag!!!!! <333 (you're also definitely on the list just don't wanna tag you twice!!)

I absolutely suck complete ass at remembering usernames so there is absolutely 100% more than listed but definitely @celtic-crossbow @scudslut @1427 @dreamtofus @alyssaforevermore @maggie-atwood (sorry if any of you have gotten tagged in this too much already!!)

These people are definitely celebrities to me and I fangirl a bit when they interact with me 😭💕

When I read a fanfic I like, the author becomes a mini celebrity to me. So when an author with a work I like kudos’ or comments on my own fanfic I just-

[desiderio-dixon]

Hi! I love your writing so much! I would love to be on the tag list for Darkest Before the Dawn if that’s possible!

Hiiii!!! Tysm my love <33 you're added <3

[desiderio-dixon]

eeeeee!!! Tysm I'm so excited too!!! I feel like we're really starting to hit the climax of the story and everything so far has just been character building

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 7 : I'd Rather Go Blind

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : Leaving the CDC in the rearview mirror, the group faces further obstacles: A misunderstanding arises between the reader and Daryl, Sophia goes missing, tensions build between reader and Shane, Carl gets shot, and Glenn begins the heartbreak saga.

Chapter warnings : uhhh jealousy, heartbreak, misunderstandings, illusions to sex, shane being a creep, sophia goes missing, grief, lmk if I missed anything! <33

Word count : 2.8k

A/N : OKAY SO THIS ONE TOOK FOREVERRR I'm so sorry!! To be fair though, something super serious happened to a family member of mine so my life has just been absolute chaos the last couple weeks. BUT TRUST ME THAT I DIDNT ABANDON THIS FIC!!! Love u guys! (also there may or may not be a Dean spicy fic on the way to all those who voted yes to that poll I made hehe)

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

The next morning, you woke to a knock on your door. Groggy and hungover, you wrapped your naked body in blankets and stumbled to the door. You opened it to find Glenn, his head hung low and eyes sunken. He was equally, perhaps more, hungover. He made no effort to greet you, just groaned at you and pushed past into your room. He flopped himself down on your bed, face in the pillows. You sighed, leaving the door open and moving to sit on the bed, still only in a puddle of blankets.

"My head is gonna explode." Glenn cries out. You hum tiredly. Outside of the room you can hear everyone waking, wandering out of their rooms. Part of you wants to kick Glenn out and fall back into sleep. But you don't. You two sit quietly for a few minutes, you're certain Glenn has fallen asleep.

And then, there's a crinkle in your doorway. You look over, surprised to see Daryl. He stands, fully dressed and ready for the day, with a waterbottle clutched in his hand. He'd brought it for you, you knew that somehow. But you watched his gaze rake over your bare shoulders, and the onto the figure laid in your bed. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. For some reason you feel like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't. He crouches down, setting the waterbottle in your doorway. And then he's turning, leaving.

The CDC is a blur after that. A blur of confusion, panic, anger. Screams and explosions. And an overwhelming loss. Jacqui died, Jenner and the sanctuary you thought you'd found went with her.

You'd never seen something explode like that. What was once there, simply wasn't anymore. No longer an impressive and futuristic building, but a mess of fire and ash. It shook everything. The ground, the air, even your insides felt like they were vibrating within you.

You weren't even sure whose car you'd piled into, simply just eager for cover, but you'd realized too late that it was Daryl's truck, and this was going to be an awkward ride. Though, neither of you said a word. Not about the drunken conversation you'd shared, or him seemingly finding you and Glenn in bed together. There's an air of shock that only silence seems appropriate for. Still, when the caravan stops due to the RV hose again, you break it. Digging into your back pocket, you produce the crumpled pack of cigarettes. "Here, I, uh, found them. Figured you'd like them." Daryl grunts, slapping his hand over yours to grab the pack. Nothing else is said, so you both climb out.

The traffic build up seems to go on forever, cars for as long as you can see. Everyone drifts off into groups to scavenge through the cars. You end up by yourself, sorting through a mini van. The sight of the empty toddler car seat brings a sense of dread washing over your body. You try to shake it off. Surely there's a chance the baby lived, just moved on to another place.

You find a box on the floor, overflowing with clothes. Winter will come quicker than you think, so you begin to rifle through, looking for anything thick and comfortable. Instead, you find a pretty dress. A sundress, with wildflowers printed all over and a dipped neckline. You're not sure that it's something you'd have worn before, but something calls you to it. It's exactly your size. Something tells you to take it, even if it's not exactly practical. So you shove it into your bag.

Then you hear Glenn's laugh, an excited and relieved laugh. You decide you need a little joy in your life, so you seek him out. There, you find him and Shane, drenching themselves with water off a truck. "You guys not gonna share?" You tease. Glenn ushers you forward to stand under a spout, then he releases the cap. You squeal at the sensation, water soaking through your clothes. Your eyes are closed, enjoying the cooling sensation when a hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you to the floor.

You smell them first, the horde of dead stumbling through the traffic jam. You roll under the truck with Glenn and Shane, making panicked eye contact with each of them back and forth. Then you hear them, groaning and shuffling. And finally, you see their feet as they move past. Most of their shoes are muddied and falling apart, ankle skin falling off the bone like good barbecue. When it's finally passed, your heart shatters.

Where you expected silence, you found the cries of a distressed mother. Carol, screaming after Sophia. You crawl out just in time to watch Rick run after her, Lori holding a sobbing Carol.

You want to pull her into a hug, hold her sorrow in your hands to take it off her shoulders. But you're soaking wet, and you're sure she doesn't need a cold on top of everything. You settle instead for a hand on her shoulder, telling her a gentle, "Rick will bring her back." You're not sure you believe it. You have faith in Rick, though you're not sure about Sophia. She's a smart girl, sweet like sugar, and you adore her. It's just that a scared adult is unpredictable, let alone a scared child. Still, you want to hope.

It's only a few minutes, maybe ten. Rick emerges from the forest and you wait with bated breath for Sophia to trail after him--but she doesn't. Carol's sob sends a lightning bolt right through your heart.

Rick gathers a few people up to go look for her: Glenn, Shane and Daryl. While they gather up their things, you stand with Glenn. You feel eyes on you, heavy in their gaze. Turning, you find who'd been staring at you. Shane. He meets your eyes, and something about it turns your stomach. His eyes are dark, and he doesn't look away. You break the eye contact yourself, looking to your shoes.

"You okay?" Glenn asks. You hum, nodding your head. But truthfully, you can't shake the feeling of unease that has washed over you.

Then, just as everyone is geared up to leave, Daryl trots up to you. He tosses something at you. You catch it, unfolding it to reveal a flannel shirt. "Cover up a bit, huh?" He says, looking at you before his eyes flick to Shane. For a moment, you're confused. Then, you look down to your shirt--your soaked, white shirt that has now turned see-through. Your ears burn with a sudden rush of blood, and you hurry to throw on the flannel he gave you. It has the sleeves cut off, because of course it does. It looks ridiculous on you, you're sure, but it works well enough.

You stand, dumbfounded for a bit while the group pushes forward. Another one of Carol's sobs throws you out of your daze.

She stands, hands covering her mouth as sobs pour openly out of it, leaning against Lori. Lori has tears of her own streaming her cheeks, but she stares coldly ahead at the treeline her husband disappeared into. Although the sight of them squeezes your chest, it's the sight behind them that hammers the final nail into your heart.

Carl, a few feet behind his mother, looking sorrowful with tears of his own silently falling, but a determination in his eyes unlike any you'd seen. You walk to him, grazing your hand over Carol's arm gently as you pass. When you reach Carl, you pull him into a hug. His arms wrap weakly around you as you crouch, and he lets out a sob into your chest. "They'll find her. And if they don't--me and you will." You whisper to him, squeezing him tight.

It's not long before Shane and Glenn return. Glenn looks solemn, which quickly gives away that their leads aren't solid. Shane barks orders immediately upon return to search and move cars. You rifle through more cars, coming up mostly empty time after time. After an hour, you produced three items. A leather jacket, thick; good for winter and to stop bites. A box of granola bars, unfortunately your least favorite flavor. And an unopened limited edition Barbie.

The Barbie came from a car with no sign of children, and given how old it is, you assume it's someone's antique. You feel better taking it, given you don't think you're stealing from a dead child. It'll be nice for Sophia, you think. It's the exact thing you'd have loved as a girl. Big, poofy white dress with black polka dots and heaps of frill. A classic red lip and a pair of cute little heels. She's absolutely fabulous. You tuck her carefully into your bag, making sure to not dent the box.

As you weave through the cars to find your next hidden treasure, you spy Lori and Shane. The tension is thick in the air as they whisper-yell back and forth to each other. It's not hard to piece together the contents, despite you not being able to hear them. Surely it's about what once was between them, and what never can be now with Rick's return. Still, the sight sends bolts of unease through your spine. Especially with the way Shane slams his fist against a cars hood, fire burning behind his dark eyes.

You enter some beat down sedan, crawling into the drivers seat and letting your head drop down to the steering wheel. 'Please let Rick and Daryl come back safe with Sophia.' You think to yourself. You're beyond anxious, chest feeling as though a pile of rocks sit in your lungs. Moving on from this stupid highway with your group intact would be the greatest gift.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

It's almost dark now, though the humidity still weighs down the air, thick and heavy. A thin sheen of sweat collects over your skin as you sit and wait. "Oh, God. They're back." Glenn says. Your heart leaps to your throat. Rick comes first, then Daryl, then... Nothing. No Sophia. Just as quick as your heart rose, it sank to your feet like an anvil.

"You didn't find her?" Carol squeaks, sounding small like a scared child.

Rick shakes his head, guilt written in the way his lips draw tight and his eyes drop to the floor. "Her trail went cold. We'll pick it up again at first light." You knew they didn't find her, but even so, the confirmation feels like a hammer bashing into your heart.

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own to spend the night alone in the woods." Carol cries desperately.

Daryl glances to you, then the floor. Shaking his head, he responds. "Out in the dark's no good. We'd just be trippin' over ourselves. More people get lost." You know he's right. He's smart with these things, a natural. But you also know hearing this hurts Carol. Truthfully, it hurts you too. A part of you wants to stray from the group right now, tear the forrest apart until your hands are bloodied to find Sophia and bring her home to her mother.

But Daryl's right--so you stay.

The next morning is early, sun barely up. Dew slides over the morning grass, tickling your ankles as you all trudge through the forest. The air is damp and crickets chirp around you. It reminds you of early wakings during your school days as a child. Up before the sun so you could drown your stomach with sugary cereal before the bus called your name. It's nostalgic in such a bitter way. Sophia will never get that again, whether you find her or not.

The only two that hadn't come on the search were Dale and T-dog. Dale, to fix up the RV, and T-dog to rest. He'd landed himself a nasty gash on his arm during the herds passing. You're thankful Daryl was there.

Everyone else in the group, even including little Carl were gathered around you. Daryl, Shane, and Rick mainly led the charge-- but everyone was equal in effort of looking for signs. You'd lost count already how many times you'd crouched to inspect the dirt, trying your hardest to search for small shoeprints.

The search had been null, up until you found a campsite. Carol had called out, and you all held your breath in anticipation. When nothing came, Daryl investigated. Nothing but a man who'd been dead for a long while.

Now, you stare at Daryl. He's disappointed, maybe even frustrated. You guess he must feel pressure, feel that it's on him to do the tracking and finding. Your feet seem to move on their own, stalking towards him on shaky feet. He doesn't notice you coming, doesn't look up from his boots. But still, you reach a hand out, just mere moments away from touching his bare bicep--until the bells ring.

You freeze, catching Daryl's eyes immediately as he shoots up. And then, as if reality had snapped back into motion, you all run.

The church is a grim scene, the pews loaded with rotting corpses, staring lifelessly at the cross. When you swing the doors, they groan, turning and shuffling loudly across the wooden floors. The smell is overpowering. The air is thick with rot, moist and sickening.

It's fitting. Fitting to the soulless feeling of tearing through walker after walker, only to at the end be met with nothing but a pile of corpses; no Sophia in sight. Carol prays in front of the statue of Jesus, and you can't judge her for turning to faith in a time like this, but something about it turns your stomach.

How could a God allow a mother to be without her child? Suddenly, the air in the church feels like it's no longer air at all. You feel suffocated. You rush out, hand covering your mouth as a nauseous feeling rises. Falling to your knees in the grass, you huff breath after breath of fresh air. When will the constant loss end?

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

It's only a couple hours later when you're trudging through the forest, chatting with Glenn absentmindedly as Daryl leads your group back to the highway. And then, like a flash of lightning, a woman appears. The heavy thudding of her horse's hooves matches the rapid beating of your heart, and then she's yelling. Yelling that Carl has been shot. Then, you feel as if your heart stops at the same time the horse skids to a halt. He's stable, she says, but it's still a weight you're not sure you can handle.

You want to cry, to collapse, to give up. You want to curl into someone and share in your sorrow. When you turn to Glenn, your stomach swirls in sickness at his expression. Well, perhaps not the expression alone, but that the expression isn't being sent to you.

There, frozen in place, he stands. Awestruck eyes gazing up at the woman on the horse, jaw open. Your eyes fly between the two of them, time moving in slow motion. You can't even blame him. She's beautiful. Big, green eyes wide in urgency, tan skin slick with sweat, shining in the sunlight.

You can't blame him--but it hurts so bad.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

⤿Taglist (Open)

@celtic-crossbow @scudslut @itwasntaphasema @ryoujoking @i-wear-wet-socks313 @daryldixmedown @duffmckagansbandana @secretsicanthideanymore

[desiderio-dixon]

Haha yes!! I absolutely relate to that frustration over misunderstandings in fics 😭😭 i just can't help myself though!!

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 7 : I'd Rather Go Blind

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : Leaving the CDC in the rearview mirror, the group faces further obstacles: A misunderstanding arises between the reader and Daryl, Sophia goes missing, tensions build between reader and Shane, Carl gets shot, and Glenn begins the heartbreak saga.

Chapter warnings : uhhh jealousy, heartbreak, misunderstandings, illusions to sex, shane being a creep, sophia goes missing, grief, lmk if I missed anything! <33

Word count : 2.8k

A/N : OKAY SO THIS ONE TOOK FOREVERRR I'm so sorry!! To be fair though, something super serious happened to a family member of mine so my life has just been absolute chaos the last couple weeks. BUT TRUST ME THAT I DIDNT ABANDON THIS FIC!!! Love u guys! (also there may or may not be a Dean spicy fic on the way to all those who voted yes to that poll I made hehe)

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

The next morning, you woke to a knock on your door. Groggy and hungover, you wrapped your naked body in blankets and stumbled to the door. You opened it to find Glenn, his head hung low and eyes sunken. He was equally, perhaps more, hungover. He made no effort to greet you, just groaned at you and pushed past into your room. He flopped himself down on your bed, face in the pillows. You sighed, leaving the door open and moving to sit on the bed, still only in a puddle of blankets.

"My head is gonna explode." Glenn cries out. You hum tiredly. Outside of the room you can hear everyone waking, wandering out of their rooms. Part of you wants to kick Glenn out and fall back into sleep. But you don't. You two sit quietly for a few minutes, you're certain Glenn has fallen asleep.

And then, there's a crinkle in your doorway. You look over, surprised to see Daryl. He stands, fully dressed and ready for the day, with a waterbottle clutched in his hand. He'd brought it for you, you knew that somehow. But you watched his gaze rake over your bare shoulders, and the onto the figure laid in your bed. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. For some reason you feel like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't. He crouches down, setting the waterbottle in your doorway. And then he's turning, leaving.

The CDC is a blur after that. A blur of confusion, panic, anger. Screams and explosions. And an overwhelming loss. Jacqui died, Jenner and the sanctuary you thought you'd found went with her.

You'd never seen something explode like that. What was once there, simply wasn't anymore. No longer an impressive and futuristic building, but a mess of fire and ash. It shook everything. The ground, the air, even your insides felt like they were vibrating within you.

You weren't even sure whose car you'd piled into, simply just eager for cover, but you'd realized too late that it was Daryl's truck, and this was going to be an awkward ride. Though, neither of you said a word. Not about the drunken conversation you'd shared, or him seemingly finding you and Glenn in bed together. There's an air of shock that only silence seems appropriate for. Still, when the caravan stops due to the RV hose again, you break it. Digging into your back pocket, you produce the crumpled pack of cigarettes. "Here, I, uh, found them. Figured you'd like them." Daryl grunts, slapping his hand over yours to grab the pack. Nothing else is said, so you both climb out.

The traffic build up seems to go on forever, cars for as long as you can see. Everyone drifts off into groups to scavenge through the cars. You end up by yourself, sorting through a mini van. The sight of the empty toddler car seat brings a sense of dread washing over your body. You try to shake it off. Surely there's a chance the baby lived, just moved on to another place.

You find a box on the floor, overflowing with clothes. Winter will come quicker than you think, so you begin to rifle through, looking for anything thick and comfortable. Instead, you find a pretty dress. A sundress, with wildflowers printed all over and a dipped neckline. You're not sure that it's something you'd have worn before, but something calls you to it. It's exactly your size. Something tells you to take it, even if it's not exactly practical. So you shove it into your bag.

Then you hear Glenn's laugh, an excited and relieved laugh. You decide you need a little joy in your life, so you seek him out. There, you find him and Shane, drenching themselves with water off a truck. "You guys not gonna share?" You tease. Glenn ushers you forward to stand under a spout, then he releases the cap. You squeal at the sensation, water soaking through your clothes. Your eyes are closed, enjoying the cooling sensation when a hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you to the floor.

You smell them first, the horde of dead stumbling through the traffic jam. You roll under the truck with Glenn and Shane, making panicked eye contact with each of them back and forth. Then you hear them, groaning and shuffling. And finally, you see their feet as they move past. Most of their shoes are muddied and falling apart, ankle skin falling off the bone like good barbecue. When it's finally passed, your heart shatters.

Where you expected silence, you found the cries of a distressed mother. Carol, screaming after Sophia. You crawl out just in time to watch Rick run after her, Lori holding a sobbing Carol.

You want to pull her into a hug, hold her sorrow in your hands to take it off her shoulders. But you're soaking wet, and you're sure she doesn't need a cold on top of everything. You settle instead for a hand on her shoulder, telling her a gentle, "Rick will bring her back." You're not sure you believe it. You have faith in Rick, though you're not sure about Sophia. She's a smart girl, sweet like sugar, and you adore her. It's just that a scared adult is unpredictable, let alone a scared child. Still, you want to hope.

It's only a few minutes, maybe ten. Rick emerges from the forest and you wait with bated breath for Sophia to trail after him--but she doesn't. Carol's sob sends a lightning bolt right through your heart.

Rick gathers a few people up to go look for her: Glenn, Shane and Daryl. While they gather up their things, you stand with Glenn. You feel eyes on you, heavy in their gaze. Turning, you find who'd been staring at you. Shane. He meets your eyes, and something about it turns your stomach. His eyes are dark, and he doesn't look away. You break the eye contact yourself, looking to your shoes.

"You okay?" Glenn asks. You hum, nodding your head. But truthfully, you can't shake the feeling of unease that has washed over you.

Then, just as everyone is geared up to leave, Daryl trots up to you. He tosses something at you. You catch it, unfolding it to reveal a flannel shirt. "Cover up a bit, huh?" He says, looking at you before his eyes flick to Shane. For a moment, you're confused. Then, you look down to your shirt--your soaked, white shirt that has now turned see-through. Your ears burn with a sudden rush of blood, and you hurry to throw on the flannel he gave you. It has the sleeves cut off, because of course it does. It looks ridiculous on you, you're sure, but it works well enough.

You stand, dumbfounded for a bit while the group pushes forward. Another one of Carol's sobs throws you out of your daze.

She stands, hands covering her mouth as sobs pour openly out of it, leaning against Lori. Lori has tears of her own streaming her cheeks, but she stares coldly ahead at the treeline her husband disappeared into. Although the sight of them squeezes your chest, it's the sight behind them that hammers the final nail into your heart.

Carl, a few feet behind his mother, looking sorrowful with tears of his own silently falling, but a determination in his eyes unlike any you'd seen. You walk to him, grazing your hand over Carol's arm gently as you pass. When you reach Carl, you pull him into a hug. His arms wrap weakly around you as you crouch, and he lets out a sob into your chest. "They'll find her. And if they don't--me and you will." You whisper to him, squeezing him tight.

It's not long before Shane and Glenn return. Glenn looks solemn, which quickly gives away that their leads aren't solid. Shane barks orders immediately upon return to search and move cars. You rifle through more cars, coming up mostly empty time after time. After an hour, you produced three items. A leather jacket, thick; good for winter and to stop bites. A box of granola bars, unfortunately your least favorite flavor. And an unopened limited edition Barbie.

The Barbie came from a car with no sign of children, and given how old it is, you assume it's someone's antique. You feel better taking it, given you don't think you're stealing from a dead child. It'll be nice for Sophia, you think. It's the exact thing you'd have loved as a girl. Big, poofy white dress with black polka dots and heaps of frill. A classic red lip and a pair of cute little heels. She's absolutely fabulous. You tuck her carefully into your bag, making sure to not dent the box.

As you weave through the cars to find your next hidden treasure, you spy Lori and Shane. The tension is thick in the air as they whisper-yell back and forth to each other. It's not hard to piece together the contents, despite you not being able to hear them. Surely it's about what once was between them, and what never can be now with Rick's return. Still, the sight sends bolts of unease through your spine. Especially with the way Shane slams his fist against a cars hood, fire burning behind his dark eyes.

You enter some beat down sedan, crawling into the drivers seat and letting your head drop down to the steering wheel. 'Please let Rick and Daryl come back safe with Sophia.' You think to yourself. You're beyond anxious, chest feeling as though a pile of rocks sit in your lungs. Moving on from this stupid highway with your group intact would be the greatest gift.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

It's almost dark now, though the humidity still weighs down the air, thick and heavy. A thin sheen of sweat collects over your skin as you sit and wait. "Oh, God. They're back." Glenn says. Your heart leaps to your throat. Rick comes first, then Daryl, then... Nothing. No Sophia. Just as quick as your heart rose, it sank to your feet like an anvil.

"You didn't find her?" Carol squeaks, sounding small like a scared child.

Rick shakes his head, guilt written in the way his lips draw tight and his eyes drop to the floor. "Her trail went cold. We'll pick it up again at first light." You knew they didn't find her, but even so, the confirmation feels like a hammer bashing into your heart.

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own to spend the night alone in the woods." Carol cries desperately.

Daryl glances to you, then the floor. Shaking his head, he responds. "Out in the dark's no good. We'd just be trippin' over ourselves. More people get lost." You know he's right. He's smart with these things, a natural. But you also know hearing this hurts Carol. Truthfully, it hurts you too. A part of you wants to stray from the group right now, tear the forrest apart until your hands are bloodied to find Sophia and bring her home to her mother.

But Daryl's right--so you stay.

The next morning is early, sun barely up. Dew slides over the morning grass, tickling your ankles as you all trudge through the forest. The air is damp and crickets chirp around you. It reminds you of early wakings during your school days as a child. Up before the sun so you could drown your stomach with sugary cereal before the bus called your name. It's nostalgic in such a bitter way. Sophia will never get that again, whether you find her or not.

The only two that hadn't come on the search were Dale and T-dog. Dale, to fix up the RV, and T-dog to rest. He'd landed himself a nasty gash on his arm during the herds passing. You're thankful Daryl was there.

Everyone else in the group, even including little Carl were gathered around you. Daryl, Shane, and Rick mainly led the charge-- but everyone was equal in effort of looking for signs. You'd lost count already how many times you'd crouched to inspect the dirt, trying your hardest to search for small shoeprints.

The search had been null, up until you found a campsite. Carol had called out, and you all held your breath in anticipation. When nothing came, Daryl investigated. Nothing but a man who'd been dead for a long while.

Now, you stare at Daryl. He's disappointed, maybe even frustrated. You guess he must feel pressure, feel that it's on him to do the tracking and finding. Your feet seem to move on their own, stalking towards him on shaky feet. He doesn't notice you coming, doesn't look up from his boots. But still, you reach a hand out, just mere moments away from touching his bare bicep--until the bells ring.

You freeze, catching Daryl's eyes immediately as he shoots up. And then, as if reality had snapped back into motion, you all run.

The church is a grim scene, the pews loaded with rotting corpses, staring lifelessly at the cross. When you swing the doors, they groan, turning and shuffling loudly across the wooden floors. The smell is overpowering. The air is thick with rot, moist and sickening.

It's fitting. Fitting to the soulless feeling of tearing through walker after walker, only to at the end be met with nothing but a pile of corpses; no Sophia in sight. Carol prays in front of the statue of Jesus, and you can't judge her for turning to faith in a time like this, but something about it turns your stomach.

How could a God allow a mother to be without her child? Suddenly, the air in the church feels like it's no longer air at all. You feel suffocated. You rush out, hand covering your mouth as a nauseous feeling rises. Falling to your knees in the grass, you huff breath after breath of fresh air. When will the constant loss end?

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

It's only a couple hours later when you're trudging through the forest, chatting with Glenn absentmindedly as Daryl leads your group back to the highway. And then, like a flash of lightning, a woman appears. The heavy thudding of her horse's hooves matches the rapid beating of your heart, and then she's yelling. Yelling that Carl has been shot. Then, you feel as if your heart stops at the same time the horse skids to a halt. He's stable, she says, but it's still a weight you're not sure you can handle.

You want to cry, to collapse, to give up. You want to curl into someone and share in your sorrow. When you turn to Glenn, your stomach swirls in sickness at his expression. Well, perhaps not the expression alone, but that the expression isn't being sent to you.

There, frozen in place, he stands. Awestruck eyes gazing up at the woman on the horse, jaw open. Your eyes fly between the two of them, time moving in slow motion. You can't even blame him. She's beautiful. Big, green eyes wide in urgency, tan skin slick with sweat, shining in the sunlight.

You can't blame him--but it hurts so bad.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

⤿Taglist (Open)

@celtic-crossbow @scudslut @itwasntaphasema @ryoujoking @i-wear-wet-socks313 @daryldixmedown @duffmckagansbandana @secretsicanthideanymore

[desiderio-dixon]

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 7 : I'd Rather Go Blind

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : Leaving the CDC in the rearview mirror, the group faces further obstacles: A misunderstanding arises between the reader and Daryl, Sophia goes missing, tensions build between reader and Shane, Carl gets shot, and Glenn begins the heartbreak saga.

Chapter warnings : uhhh jealousy, heartbreak, misunderstandings, illusions to sex, shane being a creep, sophia goes missing, grief, lmk if I missed anything! <33

Word count : 2.8k

A/N : OKAY SO THIS ONE TOOK FOREVERRR I'm so sorry!! To be fair though, something super serious happened to a family member of mine so my life has just been absolute chaos the last couple weeks. BUT TRUST ME THAT I DIDNT ABANDON THIS FIC!!! Love u guys! (also there may or may not be a Dean spicy fic on the way to all those who voted yes to that poll I made hehe)

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The next morning, you woke to a knock on your door. Groggy and hungover, you wrapped your naked body in blankets and stumbled to the door. You opened it to find Glenn, his head hung low and eyes sunken. He was equally, perhaps more, hungover. He made no effort to greet you, just groaned at you and pushed past into your room. He flopped himself down on your bed, face in the pillows. You sighed, leaving the door open and moving to sit on the bed, still only in a puddle of blankets.

"My head is gonna explode." Glenn cries out. You hum tiredly. Outside of the room you can hear everyone waking, wandering out of their rooms. Part of you wants to kick Glenn out and fall back into sleep. But you don't. You two sit quietly for a few minutes, you're certain Glenn has fallen asleep.

And then, there's a crinkle in your doorway. You look over, surprised to see Daryl. He stands, fully dressed and ready for the day, with a waterbottle clutched in his hand. He'd brought it for you, you knew that somehow. But you watched his gaze rake over your bare shoulders, and the onto the figure laid in your bed. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. For some reason you feel like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't. He crouches down, setting the waterbottle in your doorway. And then he's turning, leaving.

The CDC is a blur after that. A blur of confusion, panic, anger. Screams and explosions. And an overwhelming loss. Jacqui died, Jenner and the sanctuary you thought you'd found went with her.

You'd never seen something explode like that. What was once there, simply wasn't anymore. No longer an impressive and futuristic building, but a mess of fire and ash. It shook everything. The ground, the air, even your insides felt like they were vibrating within you.

You weren't even sure whose car you'd piled into, simply just eager for cover, but you'd realized too late that it was Daryl's truck, and this was going to be an awkward ride. Though, neither of you said a word. Not about the drunken conversation you'd shared, or him seemingly finding you and Glenn in bed together. There's an air of shock that only silence seems appropriate for. Still, when the caravan stops due to the RV hose again, you break it. Digging into your back pocket, you produce the crumpled pack of cigarettes. "Here, I, uh, found them. Figured you'd like them." Daryl grunts, slapping his hand over yours to grab the pack. Nothing else is said, so you both climb out.

The traffic build up seems to go on forever, cars for as long as you can see. Everyone drifts off into groups to scavenge through the cars. You end up by yourself, sorting through a mini van. The sight of the empty toddler car seat brings a sense of dread washing over your body. You try to shake it off. Surely there's a chance the baby lived, just moved on to another place.

You find a box on the floor, overflowing with clothes. Winter will come quicker than you think, so you begin to rifle through, looking for anything thick and comfortable. Instead, you find a pretty dress. A sundress, with wildflowers printed all over and a dipped neckline. You're not sure that it's something you'd have worn before, but something calls you to it. It's exactly your size. Something tells you to take it, even if it's not exactly practical. So you shove it into your bag.

Then you hear Glenn's laugh, an excited and relieved laugh. You decide you need a little joy in your life, so you seek him out. There, you find him and Shane, drenching themselves with water off a truck. "You guys not gonna share?" You tease. Glenn ushers you forward to stand under a spout, then he releases the cap. You squeal at the sensation, water soaking through your clothes. Your eyes are closed, enjoying the cooling sensation when a hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you to the floor.

You smell them first, the horde of dead stumbling through the traffic jam. You roll under the truck with Glenn and Shane, making panicked eye contact with each of them back and forth. Then you hear them, groaning and shuffling. And finally, you see their feet as they move past. Most of their shoes are muddied and falling apart, ankle skin falling off the bone like good barbecue. When it's finally passed, your heart shatters.

Where you expected silence, you found the cries of a distressed mother. Carol, screaming after Sophia. You crawl out just in time to watch Rick run after her, Lori holding a sobbing Carol.

You want to pull her into a hug, hold her sorrow in your hands to take it off her shoulders. But you're soaking wet, and you're sure she doesn't need a cold on top of everything. You settle instead for a hand on her shoulder, telling her a gentle, "Rick will bring her back." You're not sure you believe it. You have faith in Rick, though you're not sure about Sophia. She's a smart girl, sweet like sugar, and you adore her. It's just that a scared adult is unpredictable, let alone a scared child. Still, you want to hope.

It's only a few minutes, maybe ten. Rick emerges from the forest and you wait with bated breath for Sophia to trail after him--but she doesn't. Carol's sob sends a lightning bolt right through your heart.

Rick gathers a few people up to go look for her: Glenn, Shane and Daryl. While they gather up their things, you stand with Glenn. You feel eyes on you, heavy in their gaze. Turning, you find who'd been staring at you. Shane. He meets your eyes, and something about it turns your stomach. His eyes are dark, and he doesn't look away. You break the eye contact yourself, looking to your shoes.

"You okay?" Glenn asks. You hum, nodding your head. But truthfully, you can't shake the feeling of unease that has washed over you.

Then, just as everyone is geared up to leave, Daryl trots up to you. He tosses something at you. You catch it, unfolding it to reveal a flannel shirt. "Cover up a bit, huh?" He says, looking at you before his eyes flick to Shane. For a moment, you're confused. Then, you look down to your shirt--your soaked, white shirt that has now turned see-through. Your ears burn with a sudden rush of blood, and you hurry to throw on the flannel he gave you. It has the sleeves cut off, because of course it does. It looks ridiculous on you, you're sure, but it works well enough.

You stand, dumbfounded for a bit while the group pushes forward. Another one of Carol's sobs throws you out of your daze.

She stands, hands covering her mouth as sobs pour openly out of it, leaning against Lori. Lori has tears of her own streaming her cheeks, but she stares coldly ahead at the treeline her husband disappeared into. Although the sight of them squeezes your chest, it's the sight behind them that hammers the final nail into your heart.

Carl, a few feet behind his mother, looking sorrowful with tears of his own silently falling, but a determination in his eyes unlike any you'd seen. You walk to him, grazing your hand over Carol's arm gently as you pass. When you reach Carl, you pull him into a hug. His arms wrap weakly around you as you crouch, and he lets out a sob into your chest. "They'll find her. And if they don't--me and you will." You whisper to him, squeezing him tight.

It's not long before Shane and Glenn return. Glenn looks solemn, which quickly gives away that their leads aren't solid. Shane barks orders immediately upon return to search and move cars. You rifle through more cars, coming up mostly empty time after time. After an hour, you produced three items. A leather jacket, thick; good for winter and to stop bites. A box of granola bars, unfortunately your least favorite flavor. And an unopened limited edition Barbie.

The Barbie came from a car with no sign of children, and given how old it is, you assume it's someone's antique. You feel better taking it, given you don't think you're stealing from a dead child. It'll be nice for Sophia, you think. It's the exact thing you'd have loved as a girl. Big, poofy white dress with black polka dots and heaps of frill. A classic red lip and a pair of cute little heels. She's absolutely fabulous. You tuck her carefully into your bag, making sure to not dent the box.

As you weave through the cars to find your next hidden treasure, you spy Lori and Shane. The tension is thick in the air as they whisper-yell back and forth to each other. It's not hard to piece together the contents, despite you not being able to hear them. Surely it's about what once was between them, and what never can be now with Rick's return. Still, the sight sends bolts of unease through your spine. Especially with the way Shane slams his fist against a cars hood, fire burning behind his dark eyes.

You enter some beat down sedan, crawling into the drivers seat and letting your head drop down to the steering wheel. 'Please let Rick and Daryl come back safe with Sophia.' You think to yourself. You're beyond anxious, chest feeling as though a pile of rocks sit in your lungs. Moving on from this stupid highway with your group intact would be the greatest gift.

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It's almost dark now, though the humidity still weighs down the air, thick and heavy. A thin sheen of sweat collects over your skin as you sit and wait. "Oh, God. They're back." Glenn says. Your heart leaps to your throat. Rick comes first, then Daryl, then... Nothing. No Sophia. Just as quick as your heart rose, it sank to your feet like an anvil.

"You didn't find her?" Carol squeaks, sounding small like a scared child.

Rick shakes his head, guilt written in the way his lips draw tight and his eyes drop to the floor. "Her trail went cold. We'll pick it up again at first light." You knew they didn't find her, but even so, the confirmation feels like a hammer bashing into your heart.

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own to spend the night alone in the woods." Carol cries desperately.

Daryl glances to you, then the floor. Shaking his head, he responds. "Out in the dark's no good. We'd just be trippin' over ourselves. More people get lost." You know he's right. He's smart with these things, a natural. But you also know hearing this hurts Carol. Truthfully, it hurts you too. A part of you wants to stray from the group right now, tear the forrest apart until your hands are bloodied to find Sophia and bring her home to her mother.

But Daryl's right--so you stay.

The next morning is early, sun barely up. Dew slides over the morning grass, tickling your ankles as you all trudge through the forest. The air is damp and crickets chirp around you. It reminds you of early wakings during your school days as a child. Up before the sun so you could drown your stomach with sugary cereal before the bus called your name. It's nostalgic in such a bitter way. Sophia will never get that again, whether you find her or not.

The only two that hadn't come on the search were Dale and T-dog. Dale, to fix up the RV, and T-dog to rest. He'd landed himself a nasty gash on his arm during the herds passing. You're thankful Daryl was there.

Everyone else in the group, even including little Carl were gathered around you. Daryl, Shane, and Rick mainly led the charge-- but everyone was equal in effort of looking for signs. You'd lost count already how many times you'd crouched to inspect the dirt, trying your hardest to search for small shoeprints.

The search had been null, up until you found a campsite. Carol had called out, and you all held your breath in anticipation. When nothing came, Daryl investigated. Nothing but a man who'd been dead for a long while.

Now, you stare at Daryl. He's disappointed, maybe even frustrated. You guess he must feel pressure, feel that it's on him to do the tracking and finding. Your feet seem to move on their own, stalking towards him on shaky feet. He doesn't notice you coming, doesn't look up from his boots. But still, you reach a hand out, just mere moments away from touching his bare bicep--until the bells ring.

You freeze, catching Daryl's eyes immediately as he shoots up. And then, as if reality had snapped back into motion, you all run.

The church is a grim scene, the pews loaded with rotting corpses, staring lifelessly at the cross. When you swing the doors, they groan, turning and shuffling loudly across the wooden floors. The smell is overpowering. The air is thick with rot, moist and sickening.

It's fitting. Fitting to the soulless feeling of tearing through walker after walker, only to at the end be met with nothing but a pile of corpses; no Sophia in sight. Carol prays in front of the statue of Jesus, and you can't judge her for turning to faith in a time like this, but something about it turns your stomach.

How could a God allow a mother to be without her child? Suddenly, the air in the church feels like it's no longer air at all. You feel suffocated. You rush out, hand covering your mouth as a nauseous feeling rises. Falling to your knees in the grass, you huff breath after breath of fresh air. When will the constant loss end?

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It's only a couple hours later when you're trudging through the forest, chatting with Glenn absentmindedly as Daryl leads your group back to the highway. And then, like a flash of lightning, a woman appears. The heavy thudding of her horse's hooves matches the rapid beating of your heart, and then she's yelling. Yelling that Carl has been shot. Then, you feel as if your heart stops at the same time the horse skids to a halt. He's stable, she says, but it's still a weight you're not sure you can handle.

You want to cry, to collapse, to give up. You want to curl into someone and share in your sorrow. When you turn to Glenn, your stomach swirls in sickness at his expression. Well, perhaps not the expression alone, but that the expression isn't being sent to you.

There, frozen in place, he stands. Awestruck eyes gazing up at the woman on the horse, jaw open. Your eyes fly between the two of them, time moving in slow motion. You can't even blame him. She's beautiful. Big, green eyes wide in urgency, tan skin slick with sweat, shining in the sunlight.

You can't blame him--but it hurts so bad.

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⤿Taglist (Open)

@celtic-crossbow @scudslut @itwasntaphasema @ryoujoking @i-wear-wet-socks313 @daryldixmedown @duffmckagansbandana @secretsicanthideanymore

[desiderio-dixon]

tysm for the tag @scudslut !!

Daryl is an obvious one 😭😭 but other than that I did Dean from spn, Harwin from hotd, and one of my absolute biggest media crushes : Din Djarin!! Starting to think I have a type 😭

Absolutely 0 pressure tags : @spectacular-skywalker @1427 @dixons-sunshine

<33333

"MY MAN"

four characters who make you yell "MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN" !! I'll go first !

thought this was a silly idea keep it going! tagging ; @rrairey @httpshujii @cindol @shokosprincess @seneon @cheriiyaya @accidentcache @suntoru and anyone else wanting to participate !

[desiderio-dixon]

okay so I accidentally lied when I said the next chapter would be out in a week but I promise you guys I've been working on it every chance I get!! Over 2k words down <3

[desiderio-dixon]

Hi everybody!! So sorry for the inactivity, had some family visiting and then a family emergency as well. Everything is hopefully figured out now so the next chapter of dbtd should be out within the next week! Love you guys

[desiderio-dixon]

Hey Ruby!

Would you think of writing a daryl x fem!reader, where the reader used to love ballet dance and when the group finally gets safety in alexandria, daryl catches rhe reader practising her dancing and admires her?

thank you so much! sorry if i have bad english!

💗

Hi anonnie!!! You're so sweet, and don't worry your english is perfect!! <3 tysm for the request, here it is!

[desiderio-dixon]

Pretty

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!dancer!reader

Genre : fluff!!

Warnings : none that I can think of

Word count : 400ish

Request (by anon) : Would you think of writing a daryl x fem!reader, where the reader used to love ballet dance and when the group finally gets safety in alexandria, daryl catches the reader practising her dancing and admires her?

A/N : this request was so cute!! tysm anonnie

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Daryl felt like he had never had passion before the apocalypse. All he knew to do was drift, go where the wind (Merle) takes him. He didn't have much interest in anything, just scraping by somehow. He found purpose in helping people at the end of the world.

You, though, you always had passion. He knows by the way you spoke of your time dancing, whispered stories under the stars. Your eyes always sparkled with adoration. Your love for ballet was something he'd never experienced until he met you.

For a long time, it was bittersweet when you'd mention dancing. You simply couldn't anymore. There was no music, no time, no safety. But then came Alexandria; and with it came music, time, safety.

It's hard for Daryl to blend into the suburban-esque community. He feels like an outcast, an embarrassment. But then he sees you like this.

In the middle of your shared hardwood living room floor, soft classical music pouring from the record player. You spin and twirl, move like water. You don't realize he's there in the doorway, too focused. There's a sheen of sweat glazing over your skin, bathing you with a beautiful shine. You hadn't found ballet shoes yet, so your feet twirl in flats. It's not correct, and sometimes you trip up, but he's impressed nonetheless. More than impressed, he's awestruck.

When the climax of the music hits, you twirl over and over at break neck speed, your sundress swishing in the air. It's beautiful, Daryl wants to commit the imagery to his mind forever. And then the music is fading out, and you slowly bow into a finishing pose.

The music fully ends and your head lifts. You're panting, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat, but you're gorgeous. Your eyes meet Daryl's, and you break into a smile. "Did you enjoy the show?" You tease, opening your waterbottle. Daryl watches a stray droplet slide a path over your neck.

"'Course. Pretty, always so pretty." He praises, but to him it doesn't feel like enough. There aren't enough words in the dictionary to express how godly you are to him. Still, his compliment makes you beam. 'Pretty' will have to be enough for now. He brushes his calloused fingers over you sweat-damp neck. "Come on, ballerina." He calls, turning and walking away. You trail after him with a gleaming smile on your face and a lightness to your feet. He called you pretty.

[desiderio-dixon]

KEEP UP THE WORK HONEY YOURE DOING AMAZING SO TALENTED AT WRITING i appreciate you☝️☝️☝️

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! This is such a sweet message I appreciate this so much <333 genuinely so happy to receive this <3 sending you lots of love, anonnie

[desiderio-dixon]

daryls wife coming out as negans sister how will everything unfold when she learns????

Hiiii tysm for the request!!! I hope I did it justice for you, my love <3 here it is!

[desiderio-dixon]

Seesaws and Stray Dogs

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Negan's sister!reader

Genre : angst!! some comfort and fluff

Warnings : violence, gore, the lineup, mentions of Daryl's time as Negan's prisoner, guilt, toxic sibling relationship, please lmk if I missed anything!

Word count : 1.2k

Request (by anon) : "daryls wife coming out as negans sister how will everything unfold when she learns????"

A/N : I could definitely expand on this universe more in the future! Hope this is along the lines of what anon was looking for!

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The last time you'd seen your brother, it ended in yells and tears. You were furious to find how he'd been treating his wife, the same wife that was wasting away each day. You'd told him, "Don't call me." And left his apartment. He didn't have much of a reaction, that stone cold expression, never meeting your eyes. But he'd stayed true to your request, and hadn't called ever again.

When the world turned upside down and the dead began roaming, you figured he was dead. Of course you still cared for him, had fond memories of seesaws and stray dogs. But you couldn't stand to think of the person he'd become, so it was easier to believe he was dead. To mourn, and then move on.

And move on, you did. You found a group, a group that quickly became family. To add, you even found love.

Daryl is a big heart hidden behind a gruff exterior, and he stole your heart before you even knew it. After months of pining, you finally threw in the towel and kissed him. It was clunky and awkward but it made your heart grow ten sizes. It wasn't long before he'd found a ring for you. A simple thing, a dainty band with a small green gem in the center. It isn't much visually, but it means the world to you.

Now, on the worst day of your life, you twirl the ring anxiously around your finger over and over. Beside you, Maggie trembles, pale and sweaty. A little further down the line is Daryl. He's hurt, bleeding and doubled over. You want to crawl to him, to stretch your body over his and protect him. Let his blood seep into your clothing. But you can't, you know that. Around you, the saviors keep alert, waiting for someone to act out of line. For someone to give them a reason. You won't.

And then the trailer door snaps open. "Pissing our pants, yet?" At first, you think you're hallucinating. Some sick and twisted trick your brain is playing on you. There's no way that your brother is the big bad wolf.

But then he sees you, and he laughs. A big, hearty laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes. And then he's strutting over to you, bat swinging at his side. "Holy...shit!" He exclaims, leaning down to face you eye-to-eye. You meet his eyes, searching them. In your peripheral, you see Daryl begin to struggle, trying to reach you. You want to tell him that it's okay, that this is your brother, but you're not sure that's even true anymore. Who has he become? "Definitely did not expect to see you here!" Negan bellows, a happy grin on his face.

You can feel the confused gazes surrounding you, both from your friends and his. You don't dare look away from him, eyes steely and jaw set. But still, your hands move on their own accord, twirling the ring over and over. "Now this here...is an absolute plot twist! That is my baby sister, y'all!" He looks at your hands, at the ring you obsessively touch. "Oh! Now don't tell me my little sister is married to one of these pricks!" Daryl squirms.

"I am, not that it's any of your business." You spit. Negan twirls around, giving the lineup a good once over.

"Now wait! Don't tell me! Let me guess." He walks back and forth, exaggeratedly rubbing his chin in mock-thought. He stops in front of Rick, glancing to see your reaction. You don't move. And then Glenn, but when Maggie cries out, he swiftly moves on. Right to Daryl. You swallow harsh, holding your breath as he raises his bat to him. "I think I hit the jackpot! Get up, kid. Come sit next to your husband." You stand on shaky feet, sending one last lingering glance to Maggie before stumbling your way to Daryl.

When you reach him, falling to your knees, he shuffles forward, hiding you behind his frame. Negan laughs at the display. "Well, now that we've got that settled, let's get started!"

When all is settled and done, you can't look away from the patch of dirt and leaves you're perched on. Because if you do, you'd see your friends. Abraham and Glenn, or what's left of them. A mangled mess of gore, the soil below drinking their blood and tinging a crimson red. And you'd see that he's gone. Your love, ripped from you as you kicked and cried and screamed. You're not sure how long you sit, staring at the ground. But night turns into morning.

And then Maggie stumbles toward her husband. All the girls leap up, yourself included. You, Sasha, Rosita all help Maggie. Like some kind of widows club, you think bitterly.

There's a sense of guilt too, that this blood was spilled by someone of your own. That the same evil that runs through him could be in your veins, too. Rick can hardly meet your eyes.

In shame, you exile yourself to Hilltop with Maggie and Sasha. There's nothing for you in Alexandria anymore. You knew Negan wouldn't hurt you, but everyone else was free game and you didn't want to be there to see it. Let him believe you were dead. Maybe then he'd let Daryl go.

Hilltop is where you and Daryl reunite. It was somewhere around a week after the lineup, a week of hell for everyone. Daryl was weakened, beat and starved and sleep deprived. He practically falls into your arms.

The tears roll freely as your hands roam over his back, confirming that he's really there. Really with you. You're overcome with a strange mix of gratitude and guilt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You cry into him, tears staining his shoulder. He doesn't say anything, but he squeezes you tightly. That says more than words.

That night, as you both ready for bed, Daryl tells you all that he went through at the hands of your brother. You run your hands over the fresh bruises and the aged scars. "I'm sorry. I thought he was dead." You mumble, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. The dim light of the lamp casts an intimate glow over the two of you.

"He will be." Daryl grunts, but then he timidly adds. "...if ya want him to be." You know he's no stranger to a morally gray (or rather morally black) brother. His own brother was once his enemy too.

"I don't know, honestly. He's my brother but he hasn't been the same since even before all this." You sigh. "I wish things were different." The things Negan has done, they're unforgiveable. And yet, he may be the only blood you have left in the world. Doesn't that mean something?

You settle into the bed next to Daryl, wrapping your arms around his frame. His skin is warm and comforting against your own. Familiar. You begin to doze off, feeling safe knowing he's here with you, but before you reach sleep, you hear him. "Me too."

At that, you make a promise to yourself. You won't let your brother hurt Daryl anymore, no matter the cost. No one, including Negan, will take Daryl from you ever again.

[desiderio-dixon]

to the anon that made the negans sister request : I'm working on it right now it shld hopefully be out within the next couple days <3

[desiderio-dixon]

okay so im rewatching spn for like the millionth time and im so in love with dean so I was just wondering if theres any overlap between daryl and dean lovers??

[desiderio-dixon]

Norman is truly an impressive (wo)man 😂

It was a Google glitch and it’s gone now but I nearly pissed myself laughing.

Norman can do it all, folks. Don’t underestimate this man’s talent.

[desiderio-dixon]

tysm!! hope to reach your levels of smut writing prowess one day 🫡<3

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 6 : But I'm Dreaming of You

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : The CDC proves to be a place of refuge...and wine. You get drunk, talk to Daryl, and have a dream that will linger in your mind for a long while.

Chapter warnings : OKAY!!! LET'S HOPE I GET EVERYTHING HAHA!!! Smut!!!! Reader has a sex dream that includes piv, male masturbation, fantasies including oral (f receiving), daryl is thirsting, language, drinking, pleaseeee let me know if I missed anything!!

Word count : 2k

A/N : so things are heating up now

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The CDC had proven to be some form of miracle. After being on the road, tired and hungry and hopeless, sitting at a large table filled with food and wine was a dream. You sat next to Glenn, head airy and light as you entwined your arms and sipped your wine glasses. After all the loss, this felt like a win.

Your friends gathered around, joking and laughing, sharing stories, it gave your mind and body a peace you hadn't had in months. Even Daryl, who you'd thus far known to be cold and guarded, is nursing his own glass and tossing jokes. "Keep drinking, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get!" He says to Glenn, who giggles over his glass. You laugh, giving Glenn a gentle shove. Daryl points to you next. "You too, girl." You salute with your glass, tipping it back. Daryl refills it. It's fun and lighthearted and hell, it's exactly what you need.

And then Shane ruins it. While Shane goes through his interrogation, you do your best to block out the sad tale he forces out of Jenner. Instead, you stay silent, tossing back refill after refill of your wine and spoonful after spoonful of pasta.

By the end of the dinner, you're nothing short of wasted. Prior to the apocalypse, you hadn't much experience with alcohol. That, in combination with the lack of drinking for months, had thoroughly set you on the path to slurred words and stumbled steps.

You shamble through Jenner's tour, tripping over your own two feet. He finally says something your drunken mind deems important: hot water. There are limited showers, so everyone argues over who goes first. You're too out of it to argue, but someone must state your case, because you're being ushered off in the first group. "Because you'll pass out if you don't go first." Someone says. You take their word for it. Maybe it'll sober you up some.

When the hot water cascades over your back, it feels like it takes the weight of the world away with it as it flows into the drain. You smile into the open air, careless and drunk and happy for the first time in weeks. Getting to wash the grease out of your hair with running water is a privilege you'd thought long gone. The shower is even stocked with razors, but in your drunken state you know that's not a good idea. Instead, you lather in the scented bodywash laid out, scrubbing your skin with a heavy hand. The steam surrounding you begins to smell like roses and lavender. You breathe it in greedily. There are few good smells these days. This place, the CDC, it feels like life before all the death. When you slip, landing thankfully uninjured on your backside, you acknowledge it to be time to pry yourself out from under the stream.

Leaving the bathroom, you stumble through the halls. You can't remember what room was designated to you, and your eyes grow heavier each second. You decide to peek inside one of them, finding the vast space seemingly empty.

You make your way sloppily into the room, flopping face first onto the bed, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. "Tha' hell?" Typically, the sudden voice would scare you, but you simply can't be bothered.

Instead, you don't even lift your head, mumbling out a muffled, "What?" Into the sheets.

Daryl stares at the back of your head dumbfoundedly. He sits on the couch at the opposite end of the room, nursing a bottle of liquor. He was enjoying his peace and quiet, but of course, you of all people can't allow that. Still, seeing a woman naked and sprawled out on the bed he claimed as his own was certainly an unexpected end to his night.

He thinks you must've fallen asleep in his lack of response, so he stands, approaching the bed quietly. He reaches his arm out to your shoulder, intending to shake you awake to get the hell off his bed, but before he can make contact, you turn and grab his wrist. "What are you doing?" You slur, eyeing him suspiciously. He scoffs, wrestling his arm out of your weak grip and shuffling back a few steps. Your eyes follow him intensely.

"Tryin' to get you out. Ain't in the mood to babysit!" He defends, wiping his arm of where you'd touched him. Your hand was warm, and wet with lingering moisture from the shower. Droplets still glide across your shoulders over your arms. All of your skin radiates with a dewy, clean glow. He feels a familiar burn in his ears, averting his eyes. He pretends the painting hanging on the wall to his left is beyond interesting--but he honestly couldn't give a damn about it. Despite not looking at you, he can still smell you. In fact, he's sure you've infected the whole room with your post-shower scent. It's floral and sweet and very you. He hates that he feels that way.

"...Well! Sorry, Mr. Dickhead! Couldn't find mine and you're a stupid hunter so I didn't even know you were there!" You dramatically flail, tired and drunk.

Daryl huffs, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why don't ya' go find yer damn boyfriend!" He yells. You flinch at his volume, tucking your arms around yourself. He feels a twinge of guilt in his belly.

"He's not my boyfriend." You mumble, turning to lie on your side in a tucked ball. "Prolly won't ever will be." You draw out sadly. Daryl doesn't feel bad for you. You don't need someone like Glenn. Between the two of you, the world would eat you both alive.

But he knows he shouldn't say that. You're sad, drunk, and probably seeking comfort. He's not sure how to give that, so he sighs, sitting on the very edge of the bed, far away from your body. "Why not?" He asks, glancing at you and then back to the floor, lifting a thumb to his mouth to chew.

"I like him, I think. But I don't think he likes me." Your voice trembles, small and quaint like a child. "He's all I have now." That breaks you, tears now fully streaming.

"Nah." Daryl says simply, letting the word hang in the air for a moment. "All our people-- they love ya." He looks at you when he says it, and the blue of his eyes almost shocks you. You can't remember a time he's made such intense eye contact with you, so you allow your teary eyes to roam freely over his own. Getting lost in the different shades and the flow of them into one another. You almost forget why you're crying.

You break out into a drunken, sappy smile. You lift your upper body off the bed, towel slipping down further. Daryl tries not to look. "Thank you, Daryl." You say through a smile that makes your eyes disappear, so wide that it coats your entire face. He flushes. He can't say that a woman, or a man for that matter, has ever looked at him like this. So happy because of something he said. "Will you help me find my room?" He hates the disappointment that flushes over him, but he nods anyway.

He helps you up, and practically carries you through the halls until you come across an open door with your bag on the bed. You hold your towel up as you stumble into the room, holding the door frame with the other hand. You stop before closing the door, giving Daryl a coy smile. "Goodnight, Daryl." You tell him before shutting the door. For a reason he can't identify, those words ring through his mind all night.

Hearing the click of the door shutting, you shrug off your towel. You throw yourself down onto the bed in all your naked glory, wrapping yourself in the pillowy soft comforter and drifting off almost instantaneously.

In the hazy warmth of your dream, you lay among a bed of pillows on your side. You're naked, bare skin brushing against the sheets lazily. Behind you, you feel the warmth of a lover's presence. When you crane your neck, it's Glenn. He smiles at you in that gentle way, running the back of his hand over your cheek. It's gentle, wholesome. You lean in for a kiss, closing your eyes. He meets you halfway, gripping your cheekbone softly.

But, as the kiss grows longer, his lips get rougher, his hand runs lower to caress your neck with a calloused hand. When you open your eyes, it's no longer Glenn. Instead, it's Daryl, eyes blown with lust. He pulls you back in, and you make no move to resist. He bites your lip and presses his front into your back. Bare skin on skin, you feel everything. You feel him, in all his glory. He's trailing one hand down your stomach, applying pressure to push you into him. He starts a slow grind against your backside. "Daryl," You moan out breathlessly when his hand slips between your legs. Your own hand grabs his bicep, hips starting to move against his fingers and his own hips behind you. Then, his hand moves away from you. You whine, but his hand grips your inner thigh hard. And then he's lifting your leg, placing it over his hip and notching himself on your entrance. You gasp, turning to make eye contact and nod feverishly. Just as he starts to push in--

Your eyes snap open, lungs grasping desperately for the breath you'd been holding. It's still dark, likely only an hour since you'd fallen asleep. You've slightly sobered up, but now your skin is clammy and your heart is racing. You wish you could deny enjoying the dream, but the slick you feel between your legs betrays you. Still, you feel a weight of guilt. And so, you decide to just enter back into a frustrating, restless sleep.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

When Daryl enters the bathroom, finally ready to take a shower, he's almost angry at the smell that greets him. That same smell you'd infested his room with. He undresses quickly and haphazardly, tossing his clothes throughout the room. Ever since his earlier encounter with you, he's felt strange.

Hot, clammy. With a ball almost akin to anticipation sinking in his gut. He knows what this is. Knows it when his head starts to swim in the steamy room. He hasn't felt this way in so long. The feeling in his stomach grows and tingles into his toes under the stream of water, he's getting hard. He tries to convince himself he's only feeling this way because of the sudden sense of security, and maybe the alcohol. But as he grips himself, taking a shuddering breath, all he can think of is you.

It's wrong. God, it's so wrong. But no matter how much he tries to push the thoughts away, they always come back to you. You, wet and naked sprawled over his bed. In his thoughts, he tugs the towel off your skin, revealing everything. He'd treat you right, he thinks, panting. He'd kiss your skin and taste the fresh shower water lingering, he'd quench his thirst on your skin. He'd breathe you in before kissing you senseless. Though, he doesn't have much experience kissing. Still, what he lacks in experience he'd make up for in enthusiasm with you. For you. He'd kiss up and down your legs, from your ankles to the insides of your thighs, to where he really wants to kiss. You'd be tangy on his tongue, and maybe you'd whimper out his name. Daryl's gut grows tight, so tight that his toes curl against the slippery shower floor. Maybe your eyebrows would furrow, maybe your hands would tangle in his hair, gripping and pulling. He can almost feel it.

Suddenly, he's grunting, hips shooting forward as warmth washes over him. The shower water cascades over his form, washing his acts down the drain. There's a lingering guilt, but the relief he feels from head to toe overpowers everything. He feels more relaxed than he has in weeks.

You just never have to know that he'd ever jacked off to you, and he never has to know that you dreamt of him taking you apart. Simple enough.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

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