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softc0reearts · 3 months

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OC Pride Month 2024 | TWD OC | Daryl x Fem!OC

( Late submission because I was on vacation Teehee )

OC Pride Challenge (Day 4): Trans

Make something for an oc that is trans!

Yvonne Tawnie : The Song

Daryl set down the final scavenged bag from his share by the entrance of the pharmacy. It was a small building with four shelves, a register counter, and a small pharmacy at the back. This was nothing; it should have taken them no more than 30 minutes. In and out. But Yvonne was still in the pharmacy after an hour.

Daryl was more patient than usual, understanding she was looking for something important. He glanced up from the bag and watched her, moving medicines and containers around on the shelves of the pharmacy. It looked like she was reading every word on the bottles, she was in her own world.

Yvonne was complex, and he didn’t know what to think of her, but she was just as determined as he was to find Sophia, so there was a kind of mutual understanding between them. When he first laid eyes on her in Atlanta, he didn’t think much of her. She looked like some college girl who shouldn’t have lasted more than a week. To his surprise, here she was standing metaphorically side-by-side with him.

He continued to watch her. He’d moved closer and was now in the first lane of shelves. Normally, he would have scoffed at her and expected that she’d need to be pampered like some princess, but she spent more time trying to help the group, so much that even he found himself leaning on her from time to time. That was the only reason he was standing there, patiently watching her search.

At the other end of the pharmacy, Yvonne was so focused on finding her HRT meds that Daryl’s gaze had gone unnoticed. She examined every bottle and collected anything that would work, from her own prescription to a common menopause prescription. She divided the general medicine for the group into a plastic bag and her personal medicine went into her backpack. She suspected that at least one person from the group had an idea about her identity, but she wanted to avoid any questions from those who were in the dark.

“If you’re lookin’ for anything stronger than an old person’s pain pill, you’re probably outta luck.” Daryl’s voice caused her to jump; she was far too focused. “Places like this don’t got the good stuff.”

Yvonne turned her head in his direction, realizing he assumed she was looking for prescription drugs to abuse. She was not above using pills to get through the night, but today, her attention was solely on her HRT. She didn’t know what to say; she wanted to keep anything unnecessary to herself. She wasn’t at college with people from all over the East Coast anymore. Daryl was a country boy whose brother was a described bigot.

Could she take him on if he found out what she was looking for and decided to make an example of her?

While things had never been easy for her, the world used to have a glass barrier that prevented most people from attacking her out of disgust, confusion, or ignorance. That was no longer the case, and she was now face-to-face with her own presumptions about how Daryl would respond. She didn’t trust him any more than she trusted her ability to protect herself against him.

“Nah, I’m not looking for anything like that. I’m looking for my prescription from before everything fell.”

But maybe she was wrong?

“I’m transgender.”

The words came out and she immediately wanted to shove them back deep inside herself. She was too comfortable with the group and had started to wonder if maybe she could tell them about herself.

“Meaning if I’m not careful and collect as much of my prescription as I can find, I’ll probably end up as handsome as you. I could probably grow a better beard, too.” Despite the joke, her face showed just how nervous she was about coming out to him.

While she confessed, Daryl walked from the aisle to the doorway and leaned against the frame. His expression didn’t change. He may have been a country boy, but he wasn’t an idiot. He understood what she was saying; he didn’t need any context outside of “I’m transgender.” His brother had quite a few opinions about a person like her. He’d heard his share of rants while the pair watched TV or heard about the very political subject on the radio.

But he had never met someone like that.

“Listen, I get that being on the outskirts of society is fine to some people, but I prefer to be smack dab in the middle of the safe bubble of fitting in.” She expected him to respond right away, and when he didn’t, she started to ramble.

He just watched as she set the bottle in her hand back down on the shelf. The comment about society got an amused sigh out of him.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but there ain’t no society left. You can fit in just by not being one of those biters out there.” Daryl gestured towards the front of the store. “You’re worried about something that don’t matter no more.”

Maybe he was right, but it was her own life she took a chance on, not his. She took a deep breath, turned away from the shelf, and headed for the same doorway Daryl leaned against. She stood against the opposite side of him, so the two were face-to-face. They stood at the same height, so she could look in his eyes easily, even when his eyes darted away from her gaze and then back.

“Right now, we may be a bunch of people camping in the woods trying to survive one more day together, but one day, society is going to come back, rebuild, or whatever happens after something like this.” She said, explaining her mindset a bit more.

Every time he averted his gaze, she moved her head to meet it. It wasn’t successful every time, but finally, he stopped and just looked at her straight on.

“It may not look like it from where you’re standing, but you and I both stood on the outside of society before shit hit the fan. But for you, when shit hit the wall, it just showed how strong and capable you are. When everyone who pushed you on the outside fell, you stayed standing and even offered some of them a hand. You went from lurking on the outside to being a vital part of whatever is going to happen next.” Her words showed just how much she observed him.

For the first time since standing across from him, she averted her eyes. Something Daryl picked up on immediately.

“If every person I met knew about that part of me, it may not matter what I bring to the table. I could end up on the outside watching the world pass me by. They may not know how to react to me, and that confusion could turn into anger and scorn.” She said, the words flowing out like a broken faucet. “Just like before the end of the world.”

With that, she finally looked up and met his gaze. He could see the thin line of moisture hugging her bottom eyelid. He didn’t respond, and just stared into her eyes because there was nothing he could do to change the outcome of what had already happened.

“So, if you happen to see either of these meds or any menopause meds, please keep me in mind and grab them.” She held up two bottles, both required for her transition.

She gave him a few moments to look, which he did. After some time had passed and with nothing left to say, she stepped away from the doorway, going in the opposite direction of the pharmacy. After only a single step, Daryl reached out and grabbed her right wrist. She snapped her head around, looking at him as if afraid of what he was about to do or say.

“I didn’t get a good look at this one.” He raised her arm up just a bit.

He held her wrist as he read the bottle again. Once he was done, he looked up at her face. They stood there in silence, just staring at each other. It was so quiet that she feared he might hear her heart thumping against her chest. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but the words were stuck in her throat.

His grip on her wrist loosened until her hand fell to her side. He didn’t say anything and just walked past her. She didn’t dare watch him as he walked away, instead just stared at the place he had walked away from. She heard the sound of him rustling with the bags, and then the door opening and closing. She finally looked towards the door, seeing Daryl’s frame as a blur beyond the dirty glass.

Outside of the store, Daryl put the bags inside the back seat of the driver’s side. Once the car door was closed, he turned towards the storefront, expecting Yvonne to come out any moment. While he waited, he realized he had been gripping the same hand that he used to grab Yvonne’s wrist so tight it started to hurt. He immediately loosened his grip, which came at the perfect moment because Yvonne came walking out of the front door.

“Ready?” He asked, opening the car door on his side.

“Sure am.” She responded, doing the same.

For a moment before sliding into the car, they looked up at each other. Their mutual eye contact caught them off guard, not expecting the other to be doing the same. Neither said anything and got in the car.

Not even their sharpened knives could cut through the awkward silence in the car during the ride home.

#opc2024 #twd oc #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #ocappreciation #queerocs #twd #daryl dixon #opc24 #Ch: Yvonne Tawnie #ImmuneTWD #softc0ree!writes #Trans oc #fanfic #twd fanfics

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heathermason6060 · 27 days

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Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.1

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: The little boy you patched up in the trailer park grows up, your paths finally aligning to bring you together. The man who was once only a rare source of comfort becomes your other half, only to pull back when you need him the most.

Notes: Based off of this post. Basically an angsty story detailing your relationship with Daryl and the group over the years, and when Daryl starts to grow distant from you.

Growing up was hard. Growing up without your loving father was even harder.

You accepted the cigarette pressed in front of your lips from his hand and took a deep pull, holding it in your lungs until you felt your heart finally slow from its painful pace. He took his hand away from your face and took an equally long drag.

“When's Merle getting out?” You asked as you absentmindedly scratched the dry blood off your fingernails, your nose still throbbing from your mother's fist.

“Next week.”

You were young then. God, way too young to be smoking cigarettes. Most kids your age stole them from their parents, bringing them into the eighth grade classrooms to sell or trade.

Merle did come back the next week, but not for long. He eventually abandoned the two of you for the military, something his younger brother was really torn up about. After Merle left, said younger brother spent a lot of nights on your back porch couch. Your mother didn't mind, in reality she didn't give a shit at all, normally too high to care, or going through withdrawals so bad she only wanted to beat on you and blame you for your father's disappearance.

You began to deeply miss Merle and the comfort he would bring, mostly in the form of alcohol or illegal substances. He'd always make you promise not to tell anyone, and you'd always say you weren't a fucking idiot. You were lucky you'd grown up on the same street as the Dixon brothers, it had inadvertently caused the older to view you as an estranged little sibling, sparing you from his foul advances.

The Dixon brothers eventually became a rare sight. You all were just too busy with your own bullshit. You had a little brother to look after, and you did your best to shield him from your mother's antics, but one day the teacher saw that big bruise on his back and CPS took him away. You really missed Merle then, because at least he had the decency to sell you drugs instead of asking to trade for sexual favors. That made a substance induced escape a lot harder, forcing you to go into the city to find a decent dealer.

You were sitting on your back porch crying with blood all over your face when you saw them again.

They were frantic, tearing into your driveway with their dad's truck, shouting at you to get your shit and get in. Your mother was too doped up to understand what was happening, slumped on your dirty living room sofa with a bloody straw still on her lap. Merle had tried to get her to get up and come, shouting about ‘goddamn dead people eating everyone’(using a less kind word than people), but in your post-beating rage you left without her, leaving her on your couch to succumb to either an overdose, or whatever the hell the Dixons were warning her about.

You begged Merle to go by the foster home to look for your brother. Begged, cried, and eventually screamed, and he screamed right back at you. Daryl barely managed to calm the two of you down with a hopeful explanation that the building that housed your brother was the safest place he could be. That didn't stop you from trying to steal their truck later that night though, which only ended up in another screaming match and a bloody spat with the undead.

“Turn left here. Left, here!”

“Well shit, give me more than a goddamn two second warning fucktard!” It was a wonder Merle hadn't lost his voice from the near constant shouting, at Daryl and you. This time it was the former, attempting at giving his brother directions to the safe zone in Atlanta, reading off a dirty crumpled map with text made for ants to read.

You rubbed between your eyebrows and continued looking out your window as Merle turned around in the middle of the road to take the left into the highway.

The sound of your name being called had you internally groaning. “Hey,” Merle snapped again, looking over at you in the passenger seat. “I said get my bag.”

You all but slung his plastic baggie into his lap. He took out a pill bottle with the label ripped off and fished out three pills, dropping them into his green pill grinder as he drove with his knees.

“Just let me drive, man.” Daryl complained after having to correct the wheel for the elder brother.

“Ay! Keep your stupid fucking hands off my wheel before you lose ‘em.”

Most of the drive was like that. And it was even worse when after seeing Atlanta fucking napalmed. You were all close to losing it, and thankfully right before your Mexican standoff ensued, you found a group.

You couldn't stand most of them. Most were too soft, too nice, too stupid or too weak. The strongest men were pieces of shit, and the men that weren't despicable were either weak or insane. Glenn didn't bother you too much, especially after you witnessed his weasel-like skills. He was like a roach, always surviving, even when a building fell on him.

The majority of your time was spent hunting.

The first day you went out with your recurve bow, which had once belonged to your father, Shane had questioned you.

“You know how to use that thing?” He asked as he watched you flip your raggedy leather quiver over your shoulder.

You bent down to tie your boots and nodded.

“You ever use one of those before?”

“Yes. You got a light?”

Shane took a second before fishing out a lighter from his back pocket, moving intentionally slow as if to show you he was your superior. You snatched the green bic from his hand and lit your cigarette, shoving it back out towards him.

“Dixons are already out hunting. Left this morning. Why don't you just stay here and help out? We could really use the hands. Women of the camp are sometimes more important-”

You walked off into the woods before he could continue.

It was satisfying bringing your doe back to camp, even though dragging the thing back was a cruel and grueling process. You asked T-Dog and Ed to help you string it up, making sure to be as noisy as you could, a thick middle finger to Shane. You drained and gutted the carcass, making sure to ask Shane with a smug smile what he wanted to do with the intestines.

“Take it away from camp.” He spoke with his fingers a lot, rough pointing in an aggressive manner. “That shits gonna draw those things near.”

“Makes good bait for fish.”

Andrea and her sister Amy backed you up, even though they cringed and grimaced taking their share down to the quarry.

Merle and Daryl had finally settled down after a while in camp. Merle wasn't seconds away from murder anymore, and Daryl found peace in his hunting. Eventually Glenn got you your own tent, which you were ecstatic about, no longer having to share one with the two men.

Merle called your name through a mouthful of stewed deer meat. “Sweetie, hand me a beer why don't ya.”

Lori looked up over her bowl. “Would it kill you to say please?”

You tossed the warm bottle to Merle, not acknowledging her attempt at sticking up for you. He didn't bother you, his insults or disrespect never did, growing up with someone like that sort of makes you blind to it, especially when you were used to so much worse from your mother.

“Would it kill you to suck my nuts?”

Shane stepped in and you groaned, rolling your eyes and taking your stew back to your tent.

After Daryl's mother passed you saw him more and more. You were about eleven when it happened, you remembered the house fire and the day they moved into the trailer closer to yours. Daryl was almost constantly covered in bruises then. Always a black eye, always a purple bicep, always dried blood under his nails. He didn't smoke with you much after that, his mother having died from a cigarette induced house fire. That was when Merle had left, but your memory of the timeline was foggy. It had been so long ago and so much was constantly happening that you might've misremembered a lot of it.

“Sleep good?” Your groggy voice caused Daryl to look up from his task of sharpening his knife.

“Nah. You?”

You yawned and sat next to him in front of the fire, stretching your sleepy limbs and taking a sip of his water. “Now that Merle's farting and snoring aren't waking me up every ten minutes, yes. Thought he would shit himself with how bad that tent stank.”

Daryl let out a knowing chuckle and tossed his whetstone in the open flap of his tent. He slipped his blade back in its holster on his belt before grabbing a crooked cigarette from his shirt pocket.

“Fuckin' hate this place.” He muttered around the filter as he cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter. He snapped his zippo shut and put it back in his jeans pocket. “Me and Merle been talkin’.”

“About what?” You began crunching on a handful of almonds you stole from Lori the night prior.

“These people, they're… they're fuckin’ idiots.” He sighed as he blew out a stream of smoke, waving his hand around for enunciation. He held it to your lips for you to take a drag, watching as you pulled in a lungful before he took it away. “We should just leave 'em. They probably want us gone anyway.”

You observed him, not responding, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Well? You comin’?”

“Course I am. But I don't think we should leave.”

“Why the hell not? You hear the shit they say about us?” He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Inbred hicks with their ‘trailer trash whore’. Y’know, they think we all fuck each other when we go off huntin’. Good for nothin' bastards. Should just rob ‘em and leave.”

“I don't give a shit what they think. I give a shit about my odds of survival, which are higher with guns.”

“We got guns. N’we can jus’ take theirs.” He argued, referencing the duffle bag of stolen guns in the hidden compartment of their truck. “Besides, chances are we're safer on our own than these dumb shits, catching frogs with the kids in the damn quarry.”

“Hey, I'll come if you leave. I couldn't care less about these people. But they keep that RV locked up real tight. It's gonna be a bitch to get into, especially with the rifleman wannabe on top and his gun slingin’ daughter, or whoever the fuck she is to him. Shane's already watching us too much. Let's just wait a while till he stops following me around like I'm some sort of violent nutcase.”

You had unknowingly sealed the fate of many lives with your argument.

“Gonna go in the city.” Merle said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, jumping out of his truck bed, careful to not knock over his bike in the process. “Y'all need anything? Tampons?”

“No.”

“Was askin’ Darlene.”

“Shut the hell up man.” Daryl grumbled and finished preparing his crossbow for his hunt. “An’ no, don't need a damn thing.”

“Get some SlimJims.” Your favorite low cost snack. Growing up in a trailer park gave you a superior taste in snacks, SlimJims and Funyuns being your favorite.

“Why you want that when I got all the meat sticks you need sugar?” Merle laughed crudely, nearly bumping you over with a sloppy kiss goodbye to your cheek. You smirked and playfully pushed him off, watching as he left with the rest of the supply group.

“C'mon. Let's go before all the damn squirrels get eaten.” Daryl put his crossbow on his back and you picked up your weapons before following him off into the woods.

You had good luck that day. Daryl had a rope full of squirrels and you were tracking down a deer he'd sunk a few arrows into.

“Not gonna need SlimJims no more.” Daryl breathed as the two of you crept silently through the woods, following the trail of bubbly blood.

“As much as I love your roasted squirrel, it just doesn't have the same kick to it.”

“Never heard you complainin’.”

“Yeah, it's ‘cause I'm not a bitch.”

“You? Not a bitch?”

“Only to people who deserve a good bitchin’.”

“Seems like everyone these days needs a little of that.”

“Hah, yeah. We better get that deer before the dead do, Merle's gonna be hungry as fuck when he gets back.”

You didn't react when Rick Grimes told you he'd cuffed Merle to a roof. You didn't react when it was revealed T-Dog, one of the only people you liked in Shanes group, had dropped the key and left him up there. He'd profusely apologized and you just stared at him, doing everything in your power not to punch him in the throat.

You did react when you saw Merle's hand on that roof, his body nowhere to be seen. You cursed and shoved Rick so hard he hit the metal side of the fire escape with a bang, and Daryl, eager to jump in, ran to your side with blazing eyes. If it wasn't for the other people there and the guns they held, you would've killed him that day. Mauled him like the animal you were and left him there just as he did Merle.

In the absence of his brother, you found Daryl had seemed to subliminally put you in his place, a figure to follow and learn from. Not that you had too much to teach him, but knowing you were the eldest sibling in your family had you fitting into place with him perfectly.

You guessed you could call Daryl your friend now. You never had many friends, only in elementary school, sticking to yourself most of the time. The kid going to school smelling like cigarettes with the same clothes they wore the day before was never a popular choice for companionship. You never minded it though. The abuse you suffered at the hands of your mother had turned you into a cold and calloused human. Daryl was simply an object of mutual benefit for you back then, a source of company, cigarettes, alcohol. Whatever he could get his hands on. And he was easier to relate to than Merle, who had a good ten years on you.

But now, he was the only person you had left. Your mother was gone, your precious baby brother God knows where, and your male mentor was still missing, out there with one hand, his state of existence unknown to you. He was most likely dead. Shane's group had quickly become “Rick's group”, and you still held no fondness for any of them. Andrea had formed an odd one sided relationship with you, she craved your status. The group saw you as on level with the men, you never needed gun training like the rest of them, you got to keep your own gun, and no one ever tried to prevent you from doing something you wanted to do.

It was clear though, none of them really liked you all that much. They treated you like more of an outsider than they had Merle. You couldn't blame them, you wouldn't like someone like you. You were a mean and cold bitch, always keeping to yourself and only viewing them as a transactional business. They provided safety in numbers and you provided fresh kill and a gun.

One of the only times you behaved like a friendly human being was when you arrived at the CDC. It was hard to recognize you after you showered and cleaned up, washed your clothes and didn't smell like cigarettes or blood anymore. While your clothes were washing you had to borrow some from the former employees, a deep purple sweater and black slacks that somehow fit you perfectly. You caught Shane watching you walk down the hall, and you quickly responded with a snotty face of disgust.

A stomach full of hot seasoned food and wine loosened you up a bit. You sat next to Daryl and smiled, even laughed a few times, much to the shock of the others.

“C'mon, one more glass.” Daryl grinned as he filled your cup with more wine before you could object. “Don't be a baby.”

“Sure thing Darlene.” You snorted as you took a sip, earning an eye roll and a scoff from Daryl.

“Yeah, keep it up.” He feigned aggression as he downed his third glass. “Won't be so funny when you got teeth in your throat.”

“Not before I lose my boot up your ass.”

The banter was refreshing. The trip out of the quarry had been exhausting. It felt like you were admitting to failure when you were forced to give up your search for Merle, and oftentimes you debated on stealing his bike out of the back of your truck and going back to find him. But there was always something stopping you, every single time.

Sleeping on an actual mattress felt amazing. You'd offered to take the couch as a joke, and when Daryl made his way to the bed you dove into the sheets before he could plop down on it.

“You really are a goddamn bitch.” He slurred and slung his bag at the foot of the couch, falling back dramatically.

“Drink some water before you get a hangover.” You tossed him a fresh bottle from the room fridge, and he begrudgingly downed it. You turned the light off and climbed into bed, groaning at the feeling of the soft and dry mattress.

“You think Merle’s alive?”

You blinked, opening your eyes and looking towards the couch. It was dark, you'd assumed he'd been asleep by then, there had been several long minutes of silence.

“Yeah. I know he is.” You were surprised by his question. Daryl had always been the one reassuring you of Merle's status, claiming he was impossible to kill, and that he could feel in his bones that his brother was alive. It also made you a bit uncomfortable, you'd never comforted anyone before that wasn't your little brother. Let alone Daryl. The most you'd done for him was offer him sanctuary on your porch and cleaned his wounds if they were bad.

“Go to sleep Daryl.”

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams (wasn't sure if you guys wanted to be tagged since its eventual smut but here u go)

@hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @10hrs26mn @adribarbie (those who asked to be tagged if someone wrote this in the original post)

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d1xonss · 8 months

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Hi!! Could I request a one shot where reader and Daryl are like complete opposites?? But he realizes eventually he’s grown to love her or something like that?? Thank you!

Enchanting

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5/6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.6k

AN ~ Thank you so much for this request! I’ve been writing some pretty sad stuff lately so I’m glad to have something on the lighter side lol. I tried my best with this considering I haven't been writing much outside of the series I've been updating. But I'm always up for the practice. Hope you enjoy!

He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. How someone so fragile, so delicate, so perfect, survived this long in a world as shitty as this.

Alexandria as a whole felt like a dream within itself. Arriving with his family at the giant gates after living a life of hell on the road, it was something he would call a miracle. Though he hardly believed in such a thing, he thought this was as close as it was going to get. Houses lined up down the road, running water, electricity, it almost seemed too unreal to him to even want to stay in a place like this.

It took him some time to get adjusted, some of his people having to drag him out of the house by his hair to actually give this place a chance. They wanted him to open up, socialize a bit more with some of the people in the community seeing as they were planning to stay in this dream-like place.

Carol was the most persistent of them all. She poked and prodded at him for days to get out of the house and actually give this place a chance. He would argue and say that he had left the house since their arrival, but in her mind, going out for hours to hunt was hardly the socializing she had in mind. All she wanted was for Daryl to be able to thrive here as the rest of them were slowly doing, not wanting to see him completely shut himself out.

So, after a whole week of trying to coax him out of the secure home, he finally agreed to a party.

Did he enjoy parties? No, absolutely not. He didn’t know what to do at those types of events, not knowing how to really talk with others freely as it wasn’t exactly his strong suit. He would most likely just awkwardly stand in the corner by himself until enough time passed for him to be able to leave. And at least then he could say he tried.

When the day finally came it was safe to say he was a little nervous. He hadn’t talked to really anyone outside of his close knit group in what felt like forever. He had no idea if he would even be good at the whole “small talk” thing as he never once was to begin with. But still, he promised he’d try.

So, after getting back from a hunt he went on earlier that day, he headed towards the lit up house as instructed. Though the closer he got, the more nervous he became. His palms began to sweat a little as he wiped them a few different times on his jeans, trying to swallow whatever anxiety was creeping back up to haunt him. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but it was. To him, it was.

He eventually forced himself to open up the front door with almost instant regret, seeing a few turning heads to notice his presence in the room. Though he tried to ignore it for the most part, only nodding to the familiar faces he saw in different areas of the mostly filled house. He already grew uncomfortable at the watchful eyes that managed to follow him, purposefully looking away as he kept his head down while he moved.

Alright, time to find a corner, he thought to himself as he subtly scoped the place out, preparing to be alone for most of the night.

“Daryl!”

Damnit.

He reluctantly turned his head to see Carol approaching him rather quickly with a wide smile on her face as she quickly brought him into a hug, “Oh, I’m so happy you made it.”

“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod as he patted her back awkwardly before she finally pulled away, “Said I’d try…so m’ tryin.”

“And I’m very proud of you.” she said sincerely as she placed a hand on his cheek for a moment, before pulling back with an even larger smile, “You want something to drink?”

He dipped his head in a nod of appreciation as she tapped his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.” she promised, before turning around to maneuver through the sea of people.

Daryl patted the sides of his legs nervously as he waited for her return, scanning over different things in the house that caught his attention. One was the slightly flickering light above his head, another was the music playing somewhat softly in the background of people’s loud conversations. And the third was a laugh. A quite delightful laugh that had his attention from the second it hit his ears.

Daryl’s head whipped in the direction of the sudden delicate noise, his eyes catching sight of a woman he had never seen around the community before. Over the past week he had managed to see a few other residents of Alexandria when he traveled outside, sending them a polite nod when he passed through. But he had never seen you before.

He watched intently as you interacted with someone else from right next to you, whispering something close to your ear as you let out another light and enchanting laugh. His eyes moved over the features of your face, seeing your eyes crinkling at the corners and dimples forming on your cheeks from how wide you smiled. His lips parted a little at the sight, his head even tilting a bit to the side as he continued to study your movements.

You occasionally tucked a piece of hair behind your ear everytime it got in the way of your eyes, your hand effortlessly falling back down to grasp the cup of the drink you held in your hands. Your nose occasionally scrunched up a bit as you spoke, clearly about something that brought you joy and it intrigued Daryl more than he was willing to admit. A part of him wanted to get closer to hear the delightful story you were surely telling. He could in fact almost make out the sound of your voice from where he stood-

“Here’s your drink.” Carol’s voice quickly cut into his thoughts.

He practically jumped out of his skin at her arrival, glancing down to see the beer bottle in her hands before swiping it in his own grasp with a quiet thanks. Her brows furrowed in slight confusion as now all Daryl could seem to focus on was the ground, but curiosity got the better of her as to why he was so jumpy. Her eyes glanced behind her shoulder and did a scan of the surroundings…before a smirk was brought to her face.

“She’s pretty.” she commented casually.

Daryl’s eyes flew up to meet her smug expression with a scoff, “Dunno what yer talkin bout.” he brushed off as he raised the bottle to meet his lips.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “I’m not dense, Daryl, and neither are you…” she trailed off before glancing back once more to catch you laughing yet again, “I think you should go talk to her.”

A scoff was the only response he could come up with, a reddened pigment covering his cheeks at the suggestion. You were already having a good time, why the hell would you want to talk to someone like him instead.

“I’m serious.” Carol pushed, “I think it’s the right kind of socializing you need.” she finished with a wink.

He gave her a pointed look as he took another swig of the liquid, his eyes panning back over towards you as the person whom you were once talking with, suddenly walked away. So now you stood alone, swaying back and forth a little to the music in content as you occasionally took a sip from your own drink as well.

“Well, would you look at that…a spot seemed to open up.” Carol teased as she nudged his side a little to which he just brushed her away with an annoyed grunt.

Though he couldn’t argue as he continued to casually glance at you still standing alone, though it looked like you didn’t mind too much. You looked almost too peaceful in a cramped party filled to the brim with people. Maybe he should take a chance. Just this once in his life maybe the leap of faith would do him some good, giving him an opportunity to talk to you.

After having an eternal inner debate with himself and a loud sigh left his lips, he finally pushed himself to move forward. He tried to ignore Carol’s wide smile in encouragement as he passed by her completely, but it truly was hard to ignore. He huffed as he moved further, awkwardly squeezing by a few people lingering in the way before he could reach you.

Although it happened all too fast, now standing in front of you with somewhat of a blank expression as you now looked him in the eye. Daryl swallowed thickly as he stood frozen upon seeing your gaze match his, your eyes were beautiful as they seemed to hold something much more than he was expecting. Everything about you seemed to make time stop for him.

“Hi.” you greeted politely after a few seconds of silence, sending a smile his way that almost caused him to melt.

He cleared his throat, “Hey.” he responded dryly, now almost panicking as he didn’t think this through as much as he should’ve. He was suddenly rendered speechless, not knowing what to say next as you looked at him almost expectantly.

Though your eyes narrowed the smallest bit, the smile still remaining on your face, “I recognize you, you’re new.” you stated with a raised finger, “Apart of Rick’s group, right? Daryl?”

“Uh huh.” he mumbled as he continued to stare, almost in disbelief that you had recalled seeing him before, enough to recognize him and even know his name. He’d almost wished you would repeat his name again so he could hear you say it just once more.

Your smile widened even more if that were possible as you suddenly held out your hand for him to take, “I’m (Y/N).”

And just like that, after hearing your name for the very first time, he could never seem to get it out of his head. He didn't necessarily know it then, but you would soon become a person that Daryl cared very much for. Someone he would give up his life for. Someone he would grow to love.

He was infatuated with you, slowly finding the time to leave the house more and more so he could have a chance at catching you outside as well. Normally he would never be so bold as to plan something like this just to get a chance to talk to you, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something so special about you that he couldn’t ignore.

Months in the community went by just like that, getting countless chances and opportunities to spend more time with you on multiple occasions. You were honestly flattered that the stoic man wanted to seek you out whenever he got the chance, offering to help fix something in your house or inviting you out on one of his hunts, you were always excited upon his arrival.

In exchange you would always have something to give him in return for his countless acts of kindness. Whether it was giving him something you had baked or his worn jeans you offered to patch up and sew, you wanted to give him something. He always seemed to deny your persistence, wanting nothing in return as he thought you were the best gift he could ever receive. But still you pushed, batting your eyelashes at him until he finally agreed to take whatever you presented, leaving you smiling at his bashful state.

You knew of his growing feelings towards you, of course you did. You picked up on it after he stopped by your house about three different times to make sure the bathroom sink he had fixed was still working properly. Daryl however was still painfully oblivious as he failed to realize that after all this time, you too found yourself growing feelings for him.

“I think you should just bite the bullet and ask her.” Carol advised as she mauvered around the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of them.

Daryl’s constant resort was to just scoff at her words as he held his head in one of his hands at the kitchen island, “Alright.” he mumbled sarcastically.

She whipped around with slightly widened eyes, “I’m being serious!” she said as she stirred something heated on the stove, “And you better do it fast before she gets swept up by someone else.”

His eyes quickly snapped up towards her at the possibility, “Ya think that’ll happen?” he asked, not even trying to hide his worry.

He cared for you deeply, unlike anything he had ever felt before, the last thing he wanted to see was you with someone else. But at the same time he was scared. Scared to ask you out for some kind of date if you didn’t see him the same way he saw you. He didn’t want to ruin what he already had with you, he didn’t want to scare you away. But the suggestion of you being with someone besides him now made him worry further.

“I think that it could happen.” Carol corrected, “She’s very kind and pretty, it’s hard for me to believe she hasn’t found someone yet.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing…” Daryl said as he trailed off, “Better then endin up with some asshole like me.”

The woman sighed heavily as she dropped the wooden spoon in her hands and turned around fully to face him, “Daryl, that girl absolutely adores you. You might not be able to see it, but I do. I think you should just…take a chance. Like you did with that party.” she spoke knowingly.

He sent her a glare through his lids, earning a small laugh from her as she turned back around. His mind seemed to wander for a long moment as Carol’s back was facing him now, thinking if now was really the time to make some type of move. He wanted nothing more than to just confess what he’s been feeling for so long, wanting to sweep you off your feet and never let you go. But it wasn’t that easy.

He had thought about this situation before in the past, a lot more than he was willing to admit, but everytime he seemed to always talk himself out of it. He didn’t know how you would react, if you would be offended or flattered. If you would turn him down easy for leave him brokenhearted. There were too many possibilities for him to ignore, too many scenarios to think through.

But in the end you were the kindest person he had ever met and he felt safe with you, safer than he had ever felt before. Perhaps that was the only reason he needed to finally take a chance.

Before he could even process what he was doing, he suddenly stood up from his seat and headed straight towards the front door, trying not to talk himself out of the sudden decision he just made. He was fast and light on his feet as he walked down the porch steps, nearly falling on his ass as he missed the last one in a hurry. But he hardly let it bother him, looking like a man on a mission to others he was passing by on the sidewalk.

The walk to your house felt fast and slow all at once, his heartbeat rapidly pounding in his chest with each step closer he got. He felt his hands begin to sweat a bit as he trudged up the steps to your pretty yellow house, noticing the arrangements of flowers you had on either side of the porch that matched your personality perfectly. He was inches away from the front door now as he stood back and hesitated to knock on the wooden frame to your home. His eyes glanced down for a moment to your welcome mat below his feet, scraping off his dirty boots as he would never wish to track mud into your house.

With his boots clean(ish) and a huff passing from his lips, he finally raised his fist up towards the door to give it a firm and heavy knock, waiting for you to answer. The seconds seemed to go impossibly slow as he waited, wondering to himself if you were even home. You loved to head to the gardens this time of day, picking your share of the fruits and vegetables being grown. Perhaps he had missed you completely, contemplating if he should just turn around and head back seeing as the seconds turned into minutes.

But then he heard it. The faintness of your voice calling through the house that you were coming, followed by the pitter patter of your light and delicate footsteps. He swallowed thickly before the door was suddenly swung open, revealing your smiling face that seemed to light up even more at just the sight of him.

“Hey!” you greeted cheerfully as you bounded forward to close the distance between you two, bringing him in for a tight embrace.

He grunted at the sudden impact, but smiled a bit to himself as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you softly. He feared that he would break you if he squeezed a little too tight.

You pulled back with a smile just as wide as your eyes lingered a bit over his face, “What’s up? You need something?” you asked politely.

He couldn’t help but think that he needed you and only you, but it felt a little wrong to be that blunt right away so he settled with a shake of his head, “Nah, just…just wanted ta see ya.” he spoke honestly.

Your eyes twinkled at the sweetness of him as you laughed lightly, “I’ve been wanting to see you too.” you admitted, “It feels like it’s been too long since we’ve hung out.”

“Yeah,” he grunted as he cleared his throat a little, “Shit’s gettin busier round here.”

You nodded in agreement, a little sympathy on your features as you knew how much he did around here for the community, “But- uh…” he quickly corrected, “I’ll always make time for ya…no matter how busy it gets.” he admitted nervously.

Your heart warmed as you smiled at him sweetly, “You sure?” you asked a bit playfully, “You sure you’re not too busy?” you poked as you ventured out to take his hand softly in yours.

He smiled down at you as you intertwined your fingers with his, as you normally would do, “Never.” he promised.

His eyes then took the time to take in your appearance as he normally would do. Your hair was pulled back a bit as it was tied up with a light pink ribbon, framing your face angelically as a few strands fell from the front and landed just above your cheekbones. He then noticed the sundress that fit your figure beautifully, finding himself loving the many skirts and flowy dresses you constantly wore. And then the jewelry that hung around your neck, a tiny pink diamond that was shaped into a heart as it sat in the middle of your chest.

It was actually a gift he had given you weeks ago, something he had found on a run that just reminded him of you. It was so soft and delicate, and the heart seemed fitting to your style.

“Did you…want to come in for a bit?” you asked as you noticed him grow a little quieter than usual.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your sweet voice, “Oh- uh- nah…I just came over here ta…ask ya somethin.”

“So ask.” you prodded gently with a soft squeeze to his hand that made his knees feel like jelly.

You knew that Daryl often had a hard time with things like this, seeing it made him uncomfortable to say or ask something out of his comfort zone. But you were always so patient with him it blew his mind, always willing to wait for him to just come out and say it.

“Alright, so uh…” he cleared his throat before swallowing thickly, “I was just um…just wonderin…if ya wanted to maybe…go on a ride with me sometime…?”

Your eyes brightened a little as you went to open your mouth to answer, but he quickly cut you off, “Nah, I mean- n-not like just a ride, but like…out together sometime…just the two of us...kinda like-”

His rambling went on for a few more seconds before you decided to cut him off instead. He suddenly clamped his mouth shut in a split second when he felt the softness of your lips brushing across his cheek, leaving a light peck before you pulled away with a smile.

“I’d love to.” you said.

The man was stunned to silence, feeling his face get hot and the burning of his cheek becoming more intense as he tired to process your actions. You couldn’t help but laugh a little to yourself as you gave his hand another comforting squeeze while gazing up at him through your long lashes.

“I’m free tomorrow at noon…if that works for you?”

He stood there in bewilderment for a moment or two before frantically nodding his head, not counting on his words in this moment in time. You nodded back before venturing your hand out of his hold and up towards his face to move some of the hair that had fallen over his eyes. He almost quivered at the feeling of your fingers gently touching his hair, silently wanting more though he would never ask.

“I can’t wait.” you admitted gently and quietly, lulling him back into the same enchanting trance he was hit with the moment he caught sight of you for the first time all those months ago.

~ Thanks for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x oc #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader

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yanxidarlings · 7 months

Text

YANDERE TWD

REUNITED (yandere! big brother! merle dixon x male reader x yandere! big brother daryl dixon) (yandere! gareth x male reader) (rick grimes x male reader if you squint) NOTES: fair warning, this is some descriptive disturbing shit merle dixon counts as a warning on his own as well. this went in many directions i originally set out for yandere headcanons for the two, then got into the terminus arc, and ended with some pretty vague alluding to yandere. might write a part two)

imagine obsessive! possessive! big brothers! merle and daryl dixon. the dead begin to walk and they keep the darlin safe, meeting up with the atlanta camp. but the brothers won't let anyone get close to the darlin, not dale, not carl, certainly not shane or lori.

somehow, the darlin ends up going with glenn into the city on a supply run, only for it to go horribly wrong. the darlin insisted they head into a chemist to "look for medications" in case anyone in the camp needed them. but it was a lie. the darlin just wanted to find something to help merle with the inevitable withdrawal he'd go through once his supply of drugs ran out. the chemist is overrun by walkers but the darlin insists. "we can clear it!" they say to glenn "it'll be worth it for m- everyone" the korean gave the other a skeptical look. in the end, there was just too many, glenn thought he saw the darlin go down and reluctantly returned to camp.

"oi! shitface, you think you're a big boy now? can do whatever you want now everything's gon' to shit!" the raspy, harsh voice of merle dixon echoed through the camp. the redneck tramped over to the SUV glenn was parking. he remained silent as he turned the engine off. taking a deep breath, the young man exited the car, staring at the grass.

the older dixon stormed over, aggressively opening every door of the vehicle until he reached the boot. filled with supplies. "where the fuck is m/n" he growled, coming closer to the asian "he better be pullin up in another car" merle spat out. "i- it was" glenn stuttered out, looking like he was about to piss his pants "it wasn't my fault, m/n was being reckless, i had no cho-" CRACK glenn's face was soon bloodied and bruised, merle now on top of him, yelling out profanities as he beat the younger man. "merle!" the others quickly ran to pull the redneck off glenn.

"you fucking ch*ng-ch*ng bastard i'll rip-" merle was pried off glenn, who was now rolling around in agony, his face a bloody mess. "what the fuck happen'd" merle rasped out, although to glenn it sounded like a croak "where is he" merle was still being held back by t-dog and shane as he continued yelling. glenn avoided the rednecks furious gaze "the walkers got him" he finally spoke, looking down.

for a moment it looked like merle was about to cry, for a moment merle himself thought he was going to burst into tears like a sissy. "no he ain't" but instead he picked up his shotgun, and got into the drivers seat of the SUV.

that was how andrea, t-dog, jackie, glenn and morales ended up in the city. that was how merle got handcuffed to a roof by "officer friendly" and that was why daryl yelled in agony on that same roof. in the course of a day, he had lost the two most important people in his life.

but merle had survived by cutting off his left hand, and the darlin had survived by covering himself in walker guts.

"china- no- glenn- don't- help!" the h/c-et screamed, the sound of his own gun firing defeaning his ears. as one went down, another lunged at him, rotten teeth clanking together, desperately trying to knaw into his flesh. but he wouldn't die here. he couldn't. not when merle was 'relying' on him to get drugs. maybe then, the dixons would start to treat him as less of a clueless child and more of an equal.

after taking down a few, m/n jumped behind the counter, rummaging through the medications, looking for anything that might help with the withdrawal, or better, give merle his next fix. more of the dead came at him, but he just kept shooting, stabbing, hitting, anything to cause the fatal damage needed to end the dead's miserable 'life'.

BANG one was down BANG another BANG BANG BANG .. the slide didn't move forward as he shot his way through another round. shit. he was out of ammo "glenn!" he yelled out as a walker fell on top of him, wrestling it's way closer to his skin. all the korean could hear was m/n's screaming. which only attracted more walkers. he saw the medicine that m/n had thrown over the counter before going down, stuffing it into his bag, he creeped up closer to the group of walkers that had acculumated, following the sound of m/n's scream. until it stopped. "m/n?" he uttered under his breath, but the pile of walkers on top of each other told him the other was dead. with tears in his eyes, glenn ran out.

m/n struggled against the strength of the walker. it was freshly turned, he could tell. otherwise it wouldn't be so strong. kicking, punching, reaching for his knife, anything to save himself from becoming one of them. plunging his blade into the side of the walkers head, he quickly slit the once-man's throat. covering his face in the blood. before moving down to the abdomen. cutting it open, letting the walkers rotting insides pour out all over him, the ones that had piled on top soon couldn't distinguish the smell of living flesh from rotting blood.

he went silent, breathing shallowly, hoping, praying, they'd move off him and he could silently slip out. but when he was finally free of the chemist, glenn, the supplies they had gathered, and the SUV were gone.

he walked the dead-ridden streets of the once bustling city, covered in blood, hidden in plain sight. he kept walking (which then turned into a limp after getting hit in the ankle by a flying bullet) becoming weaker with each step, hoping to make his way back to camp. only to come to the end of the trainline leading into suburban atlanta. TERMINUS the building read "those who arrive survive" he heard a feminine voice call out from the speakers. maybe they have gauze. he glanced down at his leg, the sleeve of his shirt he had tied around it now dyed red.

"community for all; sanctuary for all" he saw a young man- perhaps just a little older than m/n was, staring down at him from the window. something felt amiss, off, but m/n had lost so much blood he didn't care. he stumbled towards the train station, stopping and starting as he debated his decision.

daryl, merle.. they'll be wondering he thought to himself, stopping for the 5th time, but i won't make it back he began walking again but they'll be looking for me he stopped, nearly tripping but the sudden lack of motion if i found this place they'll find it too he picked up the pace again, frantically moving towards the gates but- as he stopped himself once more, he finally tripped over. right onto the walker trap the train people had set up. his left ribcage was pierced by the sharp metal pole sticking out of the ground, causing the h/c-et to let out a loud screech.

before he knew it people had come out, the same man that had stared at him through the window moments earlier put his hand on the wound, causing m/n to flinch "we're you trying to get yourself killed?" the man mused, seemingly unphased by the active bleeding out that was happening in front of him. the man spoke more words that were muffled as m/n fell out of consciousness.

it was pitch black when he opened his eyes. not a shred of light to allude to the location. pitch black. m/n's hands brushed her his torso, feeling the gauze that was tightly wrapped around his chest. it all came back to him. the chemist, the walkers, glenn, the train people. he shifted his arms, feeling the thin material he was lated on, and the cold metal it covered. attempting to hoist himself up, pain shot through his body.

letting out a groan, he laid back down, closing his eyes. is this death. it certainly felt like it. the nothingness, the pain, it was all he had ever imagined death to be like. what felt like hours passed, the nothingness was almost comforting, how long had it been since he could lay like this and do nothing with no worries. it was all ended when the creaking of the door signaled to m/n that he was not in-fact dead.

the sudden brightness was blinding "you awake?" a masculine voice spoke. m/n's eyes began burning from the light, "i guess" he replied quietly, his eyes closing. "good" the male put down a plate next to where m/n laid "eat up. i know this isn't the warmest welcome, i would have liked to show you around first" the man chuckled, leaning down, seemingly to get a good look at m/n.

the man- who introduced himself as gareth, began speaking about the community- terminus. that they did whatever they had to for survival, that m/n would have to prove himself loyal if he wanted to become apart of the community. he wasn't sure how to tell this gareth guy that he was leaving as soon as possible to find his group.

the discussion started off normal as m/n finished his food, until gareth started talking about how lonely he was, as the leader of this terminus community. it only got creepier as gareth started to call m/n pretty boy, edging closer to him. m/n doesn't want to know what would have happened if that middld aged lady (gareth's mother), hadn't called the man away.

it quickly became evident to m/n that he was never going to leave. gareth locked him in the pitch black train car for hours on end, opening the door when there were armed men to prevent m/n from trying anything. gareth would sit with him and talk, running his hands over the male's body, stealing kisses, it was a reprehensive routine m/n had become forcibly accustomed to.

it all changed the day the hunters attacked. m/n was in his train car, as usual, listening to the outside screams, wondering if the attackers were dead or alive. he knew they were alive when one pried open the train car door, and threw them self on him. he was then thrown into a cramped train car with other terminus residents, where the hunters hand picked who to assault and slaughter each day. he and gareth spent their days huddled up together, talking about their lives before. had m/n not accepted the hunters offer to leave the train car if he worked for them, gareth wouldn't have lost his mind. but m/n was desperate to get away. from the train car. from terminus. to find his family.

but the hunters caught him trying to leave. they did their absolute worst to him and then threw him back in. when the termites took back terminus, gareth locked the leader of the hunters and m/n into the same train car. "this is what you deserve" he told him, before locking the door shut.

perhaps it was years, perhaps it was months, maybe it was only a few hours. the horrors of the train car began to unfold, as the man who had once led the attack on terminus lost his mind: pouncing on m/n at random, screaming for hours straight, trying to eat m/n alive when they'd be deprived of food, ripping his ear off in hungered insanity. as m/n laid there bleeding from his ear, he decided either i escape or i die. had running worked before? no. was he willing to die trying? not really, but a man would do anything for freedom, and that's what m/n did.

the hunter had fallen asleep, a fatal mistake, as m/n wrapped his hands around the mans unshaven neck and squeezed. within second the man awoke but m/n was relentless, not letting go until the other went limp. i just have to wait now he cried to himself, hands shaking. calming, he began to strip the man of his clothes and use the fabric to restrain his limbs.

waiting for the termites to open the door with the meal made of human flesh felt like an eternity. the familiar sound of metal scratching and creaking filled m/n's ear, who quickly sprung into action.

grabbing the reanimated hunter by the hair, he guided it in the direction of the door, throwing it towards the woman holding their plates. she screeched as the hunters corpse sank it's teeth into her flesh, blood pouring from the wound.

m/n grabbed the woman's gun and bolted as the nearby workers aimed their guns at the walker, taking it down swiftly, but m/n had already gotten out of the train car. hiding behind what once was his cage, he shot at every person who came into view. eventually making his way to the fence, through the woods, he didn't stop running until the sound of gunshots stopped entirely. even then, he kept running. he ran for what felt like hours until his lungs couldn't take it anymore. collapsing onto the dirt, heaving in and out.

woodbury had fallen, it's entire population now living in the prison nearby. rick had relinquished his leadership, insisting the prison be governed by a council. he often went on runs by himself, to get away from it all, to look back on his actions, to find lost survivors. it wasn't everyday rick grimes came across a twenty something perhaps younger male covered in blood, breathing like he had never tasted air before. well, usually the young men were walkers. but this one was very much alive.

"please don't" the male groaned out, eyes wide, as rick approached with a knife. "who are you" he drawled out, kneeling down to get a good look at the other. the young males face was bruised, his hair covered in blood, an ear was missing, and the male was emaciated. "uh" the male seemed to have to think about it, as if he hadn't spoken to another human in years "m/n" he finally puffed out, bringing his hand up to his head, where the left ear once was.

rick's hands brushed m/n hair out of his face, causing the male to flinch away "how many walkers have you killed" the older man finally asked after several moments of silence. m/n just stared at him, as if to say he hadn't been keeping track "how many people have you killed" still, the same look. "water" "what" rick narrowed his eyes. m/n used his free hand to shakily point to the man's bag, where a bottle of water was latched on to the side.

rick was silent as m/n chugged the water down "do you have anything sweet?" "no i don't" "oh" something about the boy felt familiar. didn't glenn mention originally going into atlanta to find a boy with a similar description? maybe it was just that the male reminded him of his own boy in a way, or maybe he had already developed a fondness for m/n. "i have a camp" rick looked m/n in the eye "we have walls, food, a community, a doctor that can look at your wound" he added.

the h/c-et shook his head "not again" rick furrowed his brows "what" the boy started to pick himself up "i gotta, um" he started feeling around the ground for his gun, "gotta go" he finished as he felt the handle of the gun. stuffing the weapon into his belt, he stood up, using a tree as a crutch. "c'mon kid, you're going to die out here" rick leaned forward and took the gun out of the others hand "no im not! give it!" m/n lunged forward, only to awkwardly fall into rick's chest, sinking down back to the ground.

"you've got two bullets left" m/n looked up at rick with a glare "either you come back to my camp with me or i just wasted my water on a dead man" m/n held his glare until the sun got into his eyes. "whatever" he looked down, hoisting himself back to his feet with the help of rick's hand.

daryl squinted his eyes as the evening sun glared down, merle had stolen his motorcycle. again. the older dixon was always going off on fun runs without informing anyone beforehand. perhaps because the redneck had never really been accepted into the group like daryl was.

taking another bite of his pork chop, daryl grunted at carol who told him to go in and get some rest. but why would he want to rest when all he could think of when his mind was unoccupied was his baby brother, the boy he had pretty much raised, who was now probably a rotting corpse in atlanta. but daryl still held out hope that m/n had gotten out, that he was safe, that he would find him oneday. this was why he never rested, these thoughts would creep up in the younger dixons head.

the sound of his motorcycle rumbling told him that merle was back. the older dixon sauntered over to daryl, a cigarette sat between his thin lips, "look what you're big brother merle got you, darylina" he pulled a pack of cigarettes out his pocket, sliding it into daryls pocket. daryl said nothing, staring into the distance; was that rick? the figure was too far away to discern.

"dad!" carl called out, jogging down. "look what i- m/n?" the young grimes exclaimed as he came closer to the pair. rick carried the half-conscious boy through the gates "you know this guy?" rick looked at carl, who flicked the hair out of m/n's face to get a better look "he was with us back in atlanta, we thought he died on a run"

daryl's heart stopped, did he hear carl right? they were pretty far away. standing up, he threw the pork bone aside and marched towards the two- three. when he finally came close enough to see the persons face, he had to stop himself from tearing up in front of carl and rick "m/n" he uttered out quietly. the father and son came to a halt as he approached "you knew this guy back in atlanta" rick nodded at daryl "'course i did. he's my brother" daryl was quick to take m/n off rick. he wanted to cut the mans arms off just for touching his precious brother.

daryl rushed m/n into the prison, settling him in his cell, "go get hershel" he told carol, who looked just as perplexed as merle did as he walked into the cell. "m/n!? i thought you was dead" he breathed out, shoving daryl out the way, who was quick to push back, both wanting to be as close to their younger brother as possible "where'd you find him" merle looked over at rick, who was standing out front the cell "in the woods, looked like he'd been running"

rick moved aside as hershel came in, merle reluctantly stood up as hershel sat to access m/n's condition. "he's lost a lot of blood" hershel examined the ear hole where the flesh and muscle had been ripped from "we should have bob look at him, but from what i can see he needs bandaging and antibiotics" daryl grunted "i ain't letting no stranger touch him" he ushered hershel away, taking m/n's hand in his own "i found antibiotics on last weeks run, that gon' be enough" merle looked over at the old man, who nodded "we'll have to see how he reacts"

neither daryl or merle left m/n's side whilst waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. it was strange. no one in the prison had ever seen either of them so worried for or attached to someone. but for the six days and nights m/n spent unconscious, his body fighting off the infection from his wounds, recovering from the months of maltreatment.

when m/n finally opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, daryl was leaned against the wall at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the boys face "sleep well?" was the first thing he said after the two had stared at each other for what felt like an eternity "yeah" m/n spoke softly.

"i should have never gone hunting that day" "am i dead" the two spoke in unison. daryl breathed out "no, never gon' let that happen" he shuffled closer, laying down next to the youngest dixon.

daryl stared at m/n intensely, until merle was roused from his sleep "m/n, i told you not to go out of my sight" he grumbled, sitting forward. m/n looked up at the metal frame of the top bunk "i just wanted to get you some narcan" merle stared at him, blinking away tears "didn' have to risk your life for it" he pursed his lips "i ain't worth you dyin'" he added quietly, sitting back, his eyes not leaving m/n's.

the room went silent for a moment "maybe not, but you're my brother" m/n closed his eyes for a moment "do you guys have pop or candy here?" he questioned hopefully. merle let out a chuckle "i found a can on my run today" he chuckled out, before going quiet "i chugged it on the spot"

"you piece of shit!"

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optimist-pine · 7 months

Text

When Skies Are Gray (Ch.1)

Summary: You cross paths with someone from your past on the worst day of your life (which is saying a lot).

Warnings: Typical TWD content! Injury, death, suggestions of SA, language, etc.

Word Count: 1,661

Era: Between seasons 3 & 4, before Rick stops going on runs

A/n: I convinced myself that Daryl Dixon and coffee shop AU could totally go together...

One mistake. Very likely your last one at that. However, judging by the look in the man's eye, you may have just enough time to squeeze in another before your life comes to a permanent close. A grand finale of utterly screwing up. Seems fitting.

Despite everything, you don't actually desire the finality of death yet. The adrenaline surging through your bones reminds you that hope isn't completely gone until your body starts walking around, y'know, without your soul attached.

Past the end of your revolver, the man's pistol aims back at you, a cruel, sordid smile crawling across his face as his gaze roams around your figure. "Came in here lookin' for somethin' to ease our appetites... Looks like we found ourselves some dessert instead." He sounds quite pleased with himself, and you can only imagine what terrible thoughts are filling his mind.

You can't withhold the cold shiver that slips down your spine, cursing inwardly. Stupid. There were so many things you should've done differently to prevent this exact scenario from happening, but you'd gotten comfortable.

The small shop held the slightest promise of ammunition; that's the only reason you'd even risked investigating it with the encroaching threat of dusk at your heels. But you'd been sloppy in scoping the place out, and careless enough that when a cold hand grabbed you from behind you'd shot without a second thought.

Now you're reaping the repercussions of your foolishness. The lump of a body lay bleeding on the dirty linoleum floor. And you stand trapped between two men with guns who have worse intentions than using them on you.

"Dammit, man, she shot Jed!" The second man cries from behind you.

The first man doesn't even spare a glance. "If he let some bitch shoot 'im, then he d'serves it." He spits

"Duke, I dunno man." His boots shift nervously. "Let's just get tha' hell outta here." Please, please do your mind pleads.

The man named Duke begins to saunter towards you slowly, toying with you. "My pal an' I here are gonna have a fun night courtesy of you, doll. Then, after, we'll kill ya." Your arms are beginning to feel the strain from holding out your own gun for so long. You readjust your grip, but what's the point? He's almost to you now. "How's that sound?" Your thoughts are swirling, there's no way you can escape without getting at least seriously injured. But if that's the only option besides giving up willingly... well, you'll take that chance. You have to.

On the count of three... one... tw

BLAM!

You drop to the ground in a crouch, expecting the inevitable overwhelming pain of being shot to take over your body - but it never does. You lift your head to find Duke... dead. You whip around to see the other man with an arrow through his eye. Your gun's back out in an instant, aimed at a new target that emerges from behind a rusty shelf.

The new man holds a crossbow, posture rigid and shoulders sturdy. A good portion of his face is blocked by the bow except for feathers of brunette hair shrouding a blue eye.

"Whoa, there." The sound of a hammer being cocked at your back sends a rush of fury through you. Was this some sort of sick joke? Held at gunpoint by two men, then being rescued only to be held at gunpoint again by two different men? If you were honest with yourself, it wasn't all that surprising though. As far as luck went you were permanently scraping the bottom of the barrel.

The crossbow in front of you lowers suddenly. "Lav'nder?"

Now that you can see both of them clearly those blue eyes look awfully familiar. "Dixon?"

BLAM!

A blinding pain floods through your right shoulder so quickly that you collapse, sharp waves of heat blooming and spreading and taking over your whole body. You can see your gun lying in the dust and dirt. Huh, you hadn't realized you'd dropped it. You study the weapon as the daylight dims; the sun must not be wasting any time in its descent this evening. You think someone is talking but their voice is fading, the pain is numbing, the darkness is turning to black. There's never been a colder place than the floor of this cursed little shop.

One last stop before heading back home. An old hole-in-the-wall gun store on the off chance they'll find anything to help replenish the resources depleted in the fight against the Governor.

What little promise the place does have dissipates the moment a solitary gunshot rings through the air; all senses immediately on the alert. It isn't hard to discern the situation, the lead man's intentions are unmistakable. And so, they do what they've had to do too many times before.

But when the woman turns around, what he sees takes him a minute to process. You. He knows you. The word sounds stupid, but it escapes him nonetheless. Then again, maybe not completely stupid because you do remember him.

BLAM!

"Dammit!" Daryl shouts, unleashing his arrow into the skull of the third man. The man they'd mistakenly presumed was already dead. He rushes to your side, inspecting the wound. Clean through the shoulder. Good. He removes his vest and sheds his long-sleeved shirt, tying it around your shoulder, holding pressure. By the time he manages to bring himself to look you in the eye, you're already out of it.

Rick rifles around the men's belongings, gathering up their weapons and anything else that's useful. "You know her?" He asks, skeptical, with that particular cock of his head.

Daryl nods. "M'yeah. I did." He replies softly. You looked so different now; ragged, weary... alone. But still, he would recognize you anywhere. "C'mon, we gotta get 'er back to Hershel and Dr. S."

Rick's checking out your belongings now, snatching your gun off the floor to inspect it. "D'you trust her?" He asks.

Daryl hefts you up into his arms - it's easier than it should be. "She's a good one." An understatement.

"Heh, yeah." Rick chuckles, holding your gun out for him to inspect. "Cylinder's empty. Held off four men with a gun that wasn't even loaded." He gives Daryl a nod. "Let's get 'er home."

Daryl sits with your head in his lap, the rest of your body carefully draped across the backseat of the truck, hair spilling haphazardly across his pant legs. His fingertips hover nervously above your face, the overwhelming urge to physically reassure himself that you're really here growing by the second. He's terrified though. Why? Jus' do it. Rough fingers ever so gently brush dirty locks behind your ear, revealing sun-worn skin gone pale.

It's like he can't look long enough or hard enough at your face to make it feel true. To make you feel real. Are you? Out of anyone who could've found their way here from his past... Out of all the deadbeats and scumbags he would be unsurprised to find thriving in the lawlessness...

It was you.

The town had one lonely cafe, which was unfortunately sandwiched smack dab between the tattoo parlor and the pub - aka, Merle's playground. Once Merle had left for the military and then landed himself in prison, Daryl had kept to the same old routine more out of habit than desire.

He was on his way to the tattoo parlor late that afternoon - he can't remember why he was using the front entrance because he almost always went in through the back - but that day he had to walk past the happy little cafe to get there...

It's a warm spring day, the air beginning to fill with the scent of flowers instead of just dirt and cold. Which also means that people are sitting out front of the little coffee joint straining to soak up the last rays of sunshine. The shop windows are open to let in the fresh air, making the place seem noisier than usual.

"Lavender latte!" A barista shouts around the clamor from inside.

The screech of metal on cement to his left as a girl pushes out her chair. Just as he's about to walk past, he hears the scuff of a foot against the sidewalk and suddenly she's falling toward him. He reaches up to brace himself and stabilize her shoulders as her palms thud against his chest.

She pulls back, quick as a whip, eyes huge as pink begins to sprout on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry!" She blurts, gaze flickering around. It's weird, but he can't help but notice that she smells good, like really good. Flowers and citrus and earth, real things, not just some overpowering canned perfume like he's used to being around at the bar. She's cute too, feminine but not girly or gaudy, hair wind-whipped, hands and feet with remnants of dirt like she's been outside working. The pages of a paperback flutter in the breeze on the table behind her, the stem of a flower peeking out the bottom of the book.

"Are you okay?" She asks, eyes focused surely on his now, irises deep and unwavering and... Idiot. He's staring and he hasn't said a thing and you're waiting for a response.

"M'fine." He says with a grunt, crossing his arms. He almost tells you off for being so clumsy but the barista shouts again:

"Lavender latte!"

She brushes her hair behind her ear as if it's a nervous habit. "Oh, okay. That's good... I'd better go get that." She laughs, the corners of her lips just barely pulling up. She starts to walk away but then quickly turns back around. "Thank you!" A full smile this time, and then she disappears behind the door.

He shakes his head. Entertaining thoughts about a girl like that is ridiculous. At least, that's what he tells the rapid drumming of his heart. Shut up.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #optimist pine #twd season 3 #twd season 4 #when skies are gray

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coolstoriesbro · 2 years

Text

FOR THE ONES WE LOVE | CH. 1

FANDOM: The Walking Dead

SERIES: For the Ones We Love

STATUS: Ongoing

ERA: Prison

PAIRING: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)

CHAPTER ONE: Backseat Driver

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Daryl Dixon gets much more than he bargained for when his motorcycle breaks down while out on a run. Miles from the prison, he has no other choice but to hot-wire a car he comes across on the side of the road, only to discover that he wasn’t the first person to get there.

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Language, Mention of Attempted Sexual Assault, Symptoms of PTSD

A/N: While I’m not new to writing fanfic, this is my first attempt at Tumblr fanfic, which is somewhat different than what I’m used to. I have a whole backstory dreamed up for this character (she’s a nursing student who escaped from Grady Memorial after it was overtaken by Dawn and Gorman), but I know from what I’ve read of Tumblr fanfic, self-insert fics are preferred. This is my first attempt at that, so any constructive criticism is welcome. Please let me know your thoughts on the story as well. I have several chapters already written, just trying to decide what format to proceed with/if there’s an audience for it.

“Wow, thanks for that.”

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from behind him, Daryl Dixon’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror as you sat up from where you’d been lying in the backseat of the car he’d just hot-wired. The all too familiar noise of a hammer clicking into place sounded as you lifted your arms, aiming a revolver directly at the back of his head.

With the way you trained the gun on him, combined with the intense gaze in your eyes, he knew that you’d shot it before.

Of course you had.

A woman, alone in this world?

There was no way in hell you could’ve survived as long as you had not knowing how to use a gun.

Daryl cut the engine and raised his hands. “This your car?”

You shrugged. “No, but I was here first.”

“I got it runnin’; makes it more mine than yours.”

“I was getting to that.” You said defensively.

“Bullshit.” Daryl scoffed. “Ya don’t know how to hot-wire a car.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause ya ain’t that kinda girl.”

The stranger’s assumption pissed you off, but what pissed you off even more was the fact that he was right. Before he came along, you’d been close to having a full-on meltdown when finding the car just a few minutes earlier, only to discover that the keys were missing from the ignition. There’d been a hell of a lot of abandoned cars that you’d passed during your travels over the past couple of weeks, because apparently even after a goddamn apocalypse, nobody left their keys behind.

And who was he to pass judgement on you? With his Harley Davidson vest, greasy hair and the ability to steal a car in the first place — this guy was lucky you’d given him any warning at all. Although you hadn’t spoken to another human being since escaping the hospital, and were beginning to think you were missing even the most trivial of conversations, you had quickly come to the conclusion that human interaction was entirely overrated.

Especially with this particular human.

“How the hell do you know what kind of girl I am?” You practically growled.

Daryl hesitated, knowing that he ought to tread lightly, yet somehow his mouth decided to run off anyway. “Just do.”

Your eyes widened as you lunged forward to press the barrel of the gun to the back of his skull. “You don’t fucking know me.”

Dumbass, Daryl scolded himself.

What was he thinking, arguing with someone who was pressing a loaded gun to his head? After all this time spent fighting to survive, did he have a death wish all of a sudden?

With his hands still raised, Daryl nodded, his senses finally returning to him. “We can change that. I’m Daryl.”

Suddenly, a memory of your mother warning you not to talk to strangers appeared as the man introduced himself, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. After a few seconds, you lowered your gun and laughed out loud, no longer able to keep it inside.

The entire situation was absurd. You were running on zero sleep, hadn’t eaten anything in days, and hadn’t spoken to another soul since you’d left Atlanta. It was the most inappropriate thing in the world to be laughing in your current situation, and yet you couldn’t stop.

Daryl hesitated. He thought he might be okay at handling a pissed off woman — but a crazy, pissed off woman?

Might as well shoot myself now.

“Ya crazy or somethin’?” Daryl found himself asking.

You laughed harder at his question, leaning against the backseat as your sides started to ache. “Or something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ya gotta name or not?”

Once regaining your composure, you peered over the passenger seat and noticed the large crossbow that he’d laid down while working on getting the car started. You also noted the backpack slung over his shoulder with several arrows sticking out through the flap. “Give me your arrows and any other weapons you have. Maybe I’ll tell you then.”

“Don’t wanna know that bad.”

“Hah.” You rolled your eyes, aiming the revolver at his head once more. “Wasn’t asking.”

With an irritated grumble, Daryl shrugged off his bag and handed it over. There was a brief pause while he rummaged around in his pants and pulled out a pistol, extending it to you handle first.

“No knife?” You asked suspiciously.

He cursed under his breath, but a few seconds later you had a hunting knife to add to your collection as well. Finally satisfied, you met his eyes in the rearview mirror and told him your name.

“You alone?”

“Looks like it.”

The silence between the two of you clung in the air like smoke. Daryl kept his eyes glued to you now that you had all of his weapons, minus his crossbow, which was useless without the bolts.

He didn’t pride himself on much, but one of the few things that he’d always felt he excelled at was being a good judge of character. The woman in front of him was young, probably mid-twenties, and pretty. In Daryl’s experience, pretty women were absolute bitches, but not necessarily dangerous. Even so, he couldn’t brand you with that particular title just for pulling a gun on him. You were only protecting yourself.

“Mind lowerin’ that thing? I did give ya all my weapons.” Daryl reasoned.

You paused, but reluctantly lowered your gun, your eyes locked on his as you sat it down on your lap.

“How’s that?” You asked.

“Depends, can I turn around without havin’ to worry ‘bout ya blowin’ my head off?”

You stilled at his words but found yourself slowly nodding your head in agreement.

When Daryl turned all the way around to face you, you held your breath. The last time you’d been this close to a man, it was Gorman, and he had tried to assault you.

The world had been a dangerous place for women far longer than it had been for men. Men may have recently had to learn what it was like to fear strangers now that the world had ended, but it had aways been something to fear for women, which made it twice as frightening these days.

As you studied Daryl, you noticed that he had lighter facial hair than that on his head, and pale blue eyes. With his intense gaze and bare biceps, he had a rugged air about him that you had a feeling he’d always possessed. He seemed like the kind of man who didn’t need an apocalypse to know how to fight for his life.

The two of you remained as you were, staring at each other for a tense moment, sizing each other up and down as you both tried to decide whether or not the other was a threat.

“Lay down.” Daryl grunted.

“What?” You blanched, your hand moving towards the revolver once more.

“Down!” He hissed.

Jumping over the partition dividing the front and back sections of the car, Daryl slid to his knees, tucking himself in the floor space behind the passenger seat, his hands clutching you by the elbows as he pulled you down, tugging your body flush against the backseat cushions.

When Daryl grabbed you, your first thought was a vile one, but your grip around the gun relaxed ever so slightly when he landed beneath you rather than on top of you.

“What the fu—” You cried as you both lurched forward, a series of bangs sounding at the rear of the car. Rather than finish your crude sentence, you cut yourself off when Daryl’s hand covered your mouth. Feeling your jaw tense against his palm, he raised a finger to his lips when his eyes met yours, slowly easing his hand away as a horde of walkers appeared from a clearing in the woods by the side of the road.

You both remained that way for what truly could have been hours, the only sound being your heavy breathing and the groans of the horde as they trudged along either side of the car like cattle. When the noise finally died down some time later, Daryl held a hand out to signal for you to wait, then eased up on his haunches ever so slightly, peering out the front windshield to find that the horde had wandered off up the road.

Once given the all clear, you slowly lifted your body from the backseat, your hand instantly going to the side of your neck as you attempted to work out the kink that had formed there from laying in such an awkward position.

“Jesus.” You muttered.

Remaining where he was for fear that you’d think he might try something now that he was in close proximity of his weapons, Daryl kept his eyes on you for a few silent seconds.

“Look, I know all about wantin’ to be alone, but no one can make it alone now. You can keep my weapons, even hold your damn gun on me while I drive, but I have a camp a few miles back. My bike broke down, s’why I was lookin’ for a ride, but I can take ya someplace secure. I’m with a group of people back at a prison.”

“A prison? Really?” You asked curiously.

Christ. Was that actual hope in your voice? Had the last year not completely crushed you of that?

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. “There’s eight of us. Men, women, a boy, and a baby.” Nodding towards his backpack, he continued. “Open it.”

Cautiously moving your hand to his backpack, you unsnapped the top and drew back the flap to reveal several tins of powdered baby formula. Running your fingers over the lids, you hesitated, your eyes slowly returning to Daryl. If this was some kind of trick to get you to come along, it was pretty elaborate.

“I just gotta ask ya three questions first.” He said.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you shrugged your shoulders. “Go for it.”

“How many walkers ya killed?”

“Walkers? You mean, the living dead freaks that have taken over the world?”

Daryl nodded.

“I don’t know. Who keeps track of that shit?”

Daryl had to admit, at least to himself, you had a point. But it was one of the questions that Rick insisted on asking newcomers, and he wasn’t about to start breaking his rules for anyone.

Seeing that Daryl wasn’t willing to budge on the question, you sighed as you thought about it. “A dozen, at least.”

“How many people ya killed?”

Your mind instantly went to the lifeless eyes of Gorman and Dawn.

“Two.” You answered, without a hint of remorse.

“Why?” He asked.

You stared at him, expressionless. “I’m a woman and I’ve pretty much been on my own since the world ended. Why do you think?”

Daryl stared right back at you, and in his fierce blue gaze, you knew that he understood you completely.

“All right, let’s go.”

“That’s it? I passed?” You asked, surprised.

“Looks like it.” He grunted, using your choice of words from earlier and earning a small smile from you because of it.

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll ride back here, and I won’t hold my gun on you . . . unless you drive too slow.”

“Pfft.” Daryl scoffed as he climbed back over to the driver’s side and began to work on restarting the car. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.”

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the-name-is-z · 7 months

Text

SKELETONS | ch. 1

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: After the apocalypse took everything Iris held dear, a new opportunity presents itself in the form of a bag of guns. Little does she know, that bag of guns starts something much bigger than she ever could have anticipated. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; gun violence, gang violence, offensive terminology for gang members and daryl, salty language

Chapter 1 - The Bag

It was Iris' favourite word lately. Repeated like a mantra, over and over. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The repetition gave her a little bit of comfort, but not enough. Nothing was ever enough. During trying times such as these, Iris took comfort in whatever she could. But it was hard to feel comfortable with blood on your hands. And face. Neck. Clothes. The butchered end of what was once a sledgehammer. The actual hammer part had been gone for a while, but a big stick covered in blood was as best as you could do these days.

Iris sat panting against the door to the bar, trying to ignore the smell of rotting human flesh that seemed to follow her around. A few hungry fists beat against the wood at her back, but the door held strong.

The bar was once a cheerful place, as cheerful as it could be when it smelled like stale beer and the old velour barstools it was soaked into. The wall to her left was decorated in frames filled with leather vests, the biker gang logos on the back dating back a few decades. The most recent one matching a small patch Iris kept in her pocket.

A few months ago, there were still people milling about the bar. Stu, the bartender, kept the place as tidy as he could while people took shelter from the infection. Now Stu was laid out all pretty behind the counter with his throat in shreds and a bullet hole between his eyebrows.

Corpses, memories infested the bar. Ted's reanimated body was impaled on a chair, his wiry, blood-covered arms reaching out toward Iris as she scanned everything. He was too weak to lift a pint when he was alive, nevermind pry his lifeless body up off the broken furniture. Iris used to be the only one to ever beat him at darts.

As the dead gave up with the door behind her, Iris stood up, pushing the jukebox in front of it. Her footsteps were too loud on the creaky wood, following beer and blood stains up to her little camp. Other sleeping bags were left abandoned around the small apartment over the bar, hers the only one left who's occupant had a heartbeat. She was the last one.

Carefully, and sparingly, Iris poured a bottle of water onto her hands, washing them clean of their daily sins. She never was religious, but extinction events such as this were too often associated with the wrath of God.

There had been a bag of guns out there today. Iris had made a habit of hopping rooftops across Atlanta. It was the only real way to get around when the dead flooded the street below, mindlessly wandering. She remembered the day the tanks came in, blowing up cars, shops, banks filled with people, living people dying, dead people getting back up.

There was one tank in particular that she ran past every time she went out. But someone living had been there on that roof. She'd climbed the ladder, eyes immediately drawn to the pool of blood and a pair of handcuffs. One cuff was locked to a steel bar, which had been welded to the roof, and the other was covered in fresh gore.

The door was open, but Iris had no intention of entering the department store building, not when a severed hand lay halfway between her and the door. He'd been living when he cut his hand off. But he did it well, considering the little amount of blood and flesh covering the hacksaw a few feet away.

In addition to the severed hand, there was a dead horse on the road. That was unusual only for the fact that they were in the city, and the horse was wearing a saddle. Someone had ridden it in, expecting... not this, probably. Making the point to a triangle involving the horse and the tank was a black Sheriff's duffel bag with a few gun barrels poking out of the top.

That was what she really needed, even though she appreciated the few cans of food she'd taken out of a food bank box. The city was good for scavenging, but dangerous, and unsustainable. There was a part of Iris that didn't want to leave, despite every nagging instinct telling her the opposite. The bar she inhabited had been home to her for a long time, way before the dead started walking. She didn't want to leave it behind.

But self-preservation overruled the internal argument, and Iris wrote out a small plan in her mind. Tomorrow, she'd go and get the bag of guns. She didn't need a whole lot, given she was alone, but one could never be too prepared. At least, that was what she thought to convince herself.

After another restless night's sleep and a mediocre breakfast of canned pineapple, Iris gathered her things. The small collection consisted of her lucky patch, a bandana that she wore over her face, a leather jacket three sizes too big, a .22 she'd snagged from a dead cop, and her prized possession: a set of knives.

While it was completely impractical prior to the world's destruction, Iris had stumbled upon a very fancy set of knives post-apocalypse and had finally found a use for her deadly aim. Knives were not the same as darts, but they worked a hell of a lot better. She'd used Ted's hands for target practice.

The bag was the priority. Other scavenge-able items could be obtained later. Iris began her trek into the city. She made it by the afternoon on foot. It would have been faster if she'd driven one of the bikes from the auto shop beside the bar, but they were loud.

She made it to the right street, ducking from alley to alley instead of her usual comfortable path along the rooftops. The bag was on the ground, and the walkers were surrounding it, but not on top of it.

Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears as she sprinted past the dead, the bandana stifling the stench as much as it could. They growled in her direction as she brushed past them, gurgling in interest.

Her fingers wrapped around the handles of the bag, but quick-paced footsteps halted her movements. Iris' head snapped up as she met the gaze of a young man, his eyes panicked. He was unarmed. She took the opportunity and ran, leaving him to keep running.

"Wait!" He hissed, running after her.

Glenn swore under his breath as the woman took the bag and ran. He grabbed Rick's hat, strewn across the road, and ran after her.

"Ayúdame! Ayúdame!" Someone yelled, their voice echoing off the walls of the city. He ran after the girl, who was running toward the alley where Daryl waited.

"Fuck." Iris mumbled, stumbling into the nearest alley. Only, instead of a clear escape route, she found four guys with violent looks in their eyes. Well, three. The fourth was lying on the ground, fighting against a man with a crossbow pointed between his eyes. The other two started beating the crossbow guy with pipes, looking up as they noticed her. The kid from before skidded into the alley behind her, only for his eyes to blow wide at the sight.

Iris shoved the kid forward, retreating. She'd find another goddamn alley. He yelped as one of the other guys grabbed him by the shirt collar.

"That's it! That's the bag, Vato! Take it!" He yelled. Iris made it only a few steps before she was tackled to the ground. She wrestled with the guy on top of her, the bag of guns digging into her spine.

"Let go of me! Let go! Daryl! Daryl!" The boy from before screamed as one of the guys dragged him from the alley. A rusty car pulled up quickly as the walkers started to close in. The man on top of her and the guy holding the kid got into the car, tires squealing as they retreated to wherever they came from.

"Fuck." Iris repeated as she pulled a knife from the sheath at her waist, killing the nearest walker with a grunt. She made to kill the next but a coloured arrow speared through its skull, the corpse collapsing in front of her. The man from before, albeit bloodied and bruised, grabbed the bag, still strapped to Iris' back, and hauled them both behind the chain link fence blocking off the alleyway.

"Where'd they go?" He spat, pointing the crossbow in her face as he pinned her against the wall. The fourth man, less of a man than a kid, saw his chance and ran down the other end of the alley, only to come face to face with the barrel of a pistol. Two men, the one with the gun in a sheriff's uniform and the other unarmed, marched the kid back to the mouth of the alley, where the crossbow was held to Iris' forehead. "Where are they?" He repeated.

"I'm not with them." Iris hissed, pushing the crossbow away and taking a defensive stance. Daryl grunted and made to attack her, but the sheriff grabbed him, pulling him away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop it!" He urged, holding him back. Iris was clearly trapped between the fence and the rest of them, but the ladder to the rooftop was close. The other guy, holding the kid, saw her eyes shift and moved to guard it. The guy with the crossbow snapped like a rabid dog, going for the kid, who was now closer.

"I'm gonna kick your nuts up into your throat! They took Glenn. This little bastard and his little bastard homie friends! I'm gonna stomp your ass!"

"Guys, guys! We're cut off!" The guy holding the kid yelled, gesturing to the fence behind Iris. She glanced back at it, the chain links wavering against the growing mob. Iris narrowed her eyes at the obstacle between her and her freedom.

"Get to the lab, go!" The sheriff instructed, the unarmed guy taking the kid to wherever this lab was. He picked up his revolver, pointing it at Iris. "Come on."

"Damn, let's go!" Crossbow guy snarled. The sheriff grabbed his hat from the ground, nodding his head at Iris when she didn't move. It was between them, and the army of dead things behind her. If she was honest, she might've preferred the latter. She started after the man with the crossbow, flanked by the sheriff, regretting this little adventure with each step.

They rushed into the back door of a building, the inside torn to shit. Iris followed to one room in particular before she was shoved toward a wall. She whipped out her knife with a flash, angling it toward the hunter's neck. He grimaced, backing up a step. The sheriff walked in, an air of dominance in his step. It was clear he didn't know what he was getting into.

"Those are our guns." He said, looking to the bag pointedly. The hunter tried again to grab the bag from Iris, but she angled the knife toward him again.

"Haven't you heard of 'finders keepers?'" She asked tauntingly. "Or are you gonna arrest me for stealing?" The sheriff didn't react, just looking between her and the kid.

"Those men you were with. We need to know where they went." He stated.

"Like I said before, I'm not with them." Iris grumbled.

"I ain't telling you nothing." The kid said through his split lip. He had a weed tattoo on the side of his neck, a silver chain hanging beside it. It looked stupid.

"Jesus, man, what the hell happened back there?" The strong guy asked, shaking his head.

"I told you. This little turd and his douchebag friends came out of nowhere and jumped me." The hunter replied. "Then she comes out of nowhere with our guns."

"You're the one who jumped me, puto." The kid drawled. "Screaming about trying to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"They took Glenn. Could've taken Merle too."

"Merle? What kind of hick name is that? I wouldn't name my dog Merle." The kid muttered, the hunter lunging at him. The sheriff stepped in, hauling his ass back.

"Damn it, Daryl. Back off!" He huffed. The hunter, Daryl, huffed in frustration, going to his bag and grabbing something wrapped in a bandana. Iris watched the exchange carefully.

"Wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?" He asked, unwrapping the bundle and throwing a severed hand into the kid's lap. Iris' eyes narrowed in recognition. The kid screamed, stumbling away from the hand as Daryl unsheathed a pocket knife, pointing it toward the kid. "We'll start with the feet this time."

"Would your brother happen to have been handcuffed to a roof?" Iris asked, drawing his attention away from the stupid kid. Daryl spun on his heel, nothing behind his eyes but rage.

"You fucking--"

"He was gone when I saw the handcuffs. The hand." She explained, nodding to the hand as he aimed his knife at her.

"You know where he is?" Daryl asked, a small tweak of sadness cutting through his voice. Iris shook her head slowly. The sheriff sighed, kneeling down to the kid.

"The men you were with took our friend. All we wanna do is talk to them, see if we can work something out." He explained. The kid looked down at his feet before he opened his mouth and told them everything.

Iris watched the trio argue amongst one another when deciding what to do. The sheriff sighed, turning toward her and approaching slowly.

"You alone?" He asked.

"No." She lied.

"Those guns belong to us." He insisted, gesturing to the large 'SHERIFF' label on the side of the bag.

"I don't know which cop you skinned to get the uniform, Officer--" She glanced at his metal name tag. "Grimes."

"I'm Rick. Alright? We need those guns to get our friend back." He explained.

"Yeah, I know. I'm standing right here, I heard you. Your little negotiation idea won't work." She replied, narrowing her eyes. "Gangbangers don't really do diplomacy."

"Hey, shut up, bitch! We're not gangbangers!" The kid protested, only to shrink back at the sight of a crossbow in his face.

"Don't look that way to me." Daryl murmured.

"What's your name?" Rick asked Iris, drawing back her attention. She regarded him closely for a moment before pulling down her bandana.

"Iris." She replied. Rick put his hands on his hips as he nodded.

"Well, Iris, if you really are alone, as I suspect you are, then we might be able to cut a deal." He offered slowly.

"Alright..." She nodded for him to continue.

"You don't need all those guns yourself. Take a look inside the bag, see for yourself. You give the bag to us, we give you a cut, them a cut, and we get a cut. And we can all go exchange our people."

"Got anything to sweeten the deal?" Iris asked after a moment, raising an eyebrow. Rick nodded in understanding, glancing nervously back at his two companions.

"Well, you could come back with us to our group." He reasoned. The two others exchanged a small look of protest, but said nothing. Iris looked back to Rick.

"What makes you think I want that?"

"Strength in numbers? Self preservation? Get out of the city? Safe place to eat, sleep..." He trailed off, analyzing her reactions.

Iris considered. She really did. And Rick was right, for the most part. Being alone in this was hard, but making friends was harder. And living was impossible without guns. So, she agreed.

"I'll go with you." She said quietly. "I got your back. But I won't promise to stay with your people."

"Alright." Rick nodded, content with her answer.

#thenameisz #skeletons #daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon x original character #twd daryl #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon x oc #Daryl Dixon x f!oc

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greatfandom · 2 years

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Daryl Dixon Re-blog Masterlist ;)

SUBMIT YOUR FAVORITE FANFICIONS HERE

OR CLICK THE 3 DOT BUTTON AND CLICK SUBMIT

Keep reading

untitled by d-dixonimagines

Baby Talk - Daryl x Reader by Ficnation

Never Do This Again by Attentionplease 18+

How Much Can Ya Take? by Attentionplease 18+

Happy Birthday Smut - The Lake - Attentionplease 18+

You shouldn't have follow me! by attentionplease 18+

Handjob - Daryl Dixon by attentionplease 18+

Blowjob - Daryl Dixon by Attentionplease 18+

(Pre-apocalyptic) Daryl Dixon - Hangover by Attentionplease 18+

Fluff Alphabet - Daryl Dixon Attentionplease

Ya should've told me by Attentionplease 18+

Kink - Sensory deprivation by attentionplease 18+

Kink Edging - Daryl Dixon by attentionplease 18+

NSFW Alphabet Daryl Dixon by Attentionplease 18+

untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

Don't Leave me Daryl Dixon by sickoherd

How TWD Characters Adapt to the real world again by matstwd

untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

my breath of fresh air part four by duckmania127

You Deserve My Love by Madstwd 18+

Father's Day by theteasetwrites

I just ride - episode 2: writer by dreamdaryl

untitled by sublimecatgalaxy

shades of cool by svtts

nosebleeds by yourbiggestfear88 18+

untitled by duckmania127

untitled by sublimecatgalaxy 18+

untitled by sublimecatgalaxy

untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

Adult Toys and Lace by Madstwd 18+

untitled by daryl-dixon-dayreams

Panic Attack by Madstwd

Our Past. by littlegodzilla 18+

A New life - Daryl Dixon x reader by noellawrites

Fearless Pt 1 - Daryl Dixon x reader

Scars and sitches, Ch 8: Well, shit. by minervadashwood

untited by minervadashwood

untitled by aceswritingcase

The caged animal - Part 1 by onlydarylnormanfic

the caged animal - Part 2 by onlydarlnormanfic

Always in My way by onlydarylnormanfic 18+

First time by onlydarylnormanfic 18+

Wattpad Recommends #1 (Daryl Dixon x OC) 18+

Untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

taken by daryl-dixon-daydreams

untitled by sublimecatgalaxy

Heels by green-eyedladywrites 18+

untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

friends with(out) benefits by writings-of-a-British-fangirl

Spagetti & wildflowers by darylsgirl

Afraid of something Daryl Dixon x reader by dnaddymaro

untitled by sublimecatgalaxy

That damn dress by madstwd

Fight the dead; fear the living by milkywaybottles

Warmth by thejuniperoffcial

Broken Trust by sourwolf-sterek32

untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

Part of the fun is possibly getting caught by madstwd 18+

Vis a vis by littlegodzilla

I was claimed by daryl fucking dixon by darylsgirl 18+

The farmers daughter by darylsgirl 18+

He's just like the sun by darylsgirl 18+

He's just like the sun part 2 by darylsgirl 18+

There ain't no competition Darlin by darylsgirl 18+

You know you want this by darylsgirl 18+

Spaghetti & wildflowers Part two by darylsgirl

I will not kiss you by partlystiles

You snooze, you loose by green-eyedladywrites

When the water is cold, you make it hot by madstwd 18+

one and only by green-eyedladywrites 18+

Ask me again by anyotherwriter

Back me by magicalqueennightmare

The last man by green-eyedladywrites 18+

your day by bartxnhood

untitled by sweetpeapod

My sanctuary by green-eyedladywrites

side by side by magicalqueenightmare

miscommunication by magicalqueennightmare

here's to the future by magicalqueennightmare

untitled by sweetpeapod

Squirrels by green-eyedladywrites

Scars and stitches, chapter 25 by minervadashwood

Always in my way by onlydarylnormanfic 18+

invictus by heliophobek

lie to me by the-artistic-animal

untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

magic by green-eyedladywrites

you found me by darylsgirl

your name. by littlegodzilla

that was close by moonwritesblog

from the beginning by sleepywriter84

haunting memories by madstwd

darling, won't you talk with me? by dixonlvr-online

absence makes the heart grow fonder by dixonlvr-online

untitled by sublimecatgalaxy

bubbles by green-eyedlady writes 18+

lucky charm by dixonlvr-online

shot in the dark by cultofdixon

a close call by holdmytesseract

The grimes girl by green-eyedladywrites

conversations -daryl dixon by collecting-stories

love like this by pastanest

my boy by fosterspalaceofstories

untiled by dixonsquirrels

untiled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

untitled by daryl-dixon-daydreams

untitled by sublimecatgalaxy

untitled by bluelangel 18+

untitled by minervadashwood

kisses in bed by mehidktbh

pretty in pink by ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused

reunited at last by moonwritesblog

I'll do anything for you even if you won't love me back by crazylilad

restless sleeper by dixonlvr-online

NOTE SPONSORED TO PROMOTE

Ill fix it later I just wanted to get this up.

THANK YOU FOR 250 FOLLOWERS!

I know this is late guys but it takes a lot of my time to individually link each reblog.

Please let me know if there are any broken or double links comments below. I also want you guys to know I do see your comments, but this is a secondary Tumblr page and I prefer to say anonymous but for some reason, Tumblr won't let you comment with your secondary Tumblr page.

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#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #dad! daryl dixon #daryl dixon breeding #daryl #twd fanfiction #twd #twd negan

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redcoralpot · 1 year

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Masterlist:

The Walking Dead (TWD)

• Acula! (Pt. 1 + 2) - Daryl Dixon X Male Reader

• Glenn Rhee X Male Reader (Smut)

Dead Man Walking (PT 1. ONLY, REMAKE ON AO3) - Daryl Dixon x Walker! Male Reader

Attentu - Daryl Dixon x trans male Reader

Upcoming TWD Requests:

• Malu Tiempu - Negan Smith X Male Reader

The Courage to Get What the World Cannot Say - Daryl Dixon x Male Reader (Angst)

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (TASM2)

• Peter Parker (AG) x FTM Reader (Smut)

Upcoming TASM Requests:

N/A

Sally Face (SF)

N/A

Upcoming SF Requests:

[NO TITLE] Ch. 5 Sal Fisher X FTM! Reader (Fluff, comfort)

[NO TITLE] Ch. 5 Travis Phelps X Male Reader (Smut)

#twd #lgbtq #gay #transgender #male reader #x male reader #the walking dead #negan smith #male y/n #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon #spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #tasm 2 #tasm #tasm peter parker #sally face x male reader #sal fisher #sally face

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xradiant · 11 months

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He does have to wonder whether or not it was a good idea that he would go with him. It could be dangerous, it could even be a bit much given what the kid had just recently gone through. Daryl wanted to be there for him or, maybe, he just wanted to make sure that he was alright. Things were a mess at the prison, near suffocating what with Rick losing half his mind to sorrow. "Yeah, yeah, I'll go with you." He answered with a nod of his head, a quick gesture given out towards the doors so that they could make their way out there. "Just gotta promise me that we're gonna come back in one piece. Don't need Hershal or your dad havin' to come all the way out there lookin' for us."

@tothedevilsshow xxx

#interaction ; daryl & carl #tothedevilsshow #ch: daryl dixon

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drewmoll03 · 5 months

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Ok guys I need your help!

I finished reading this awesome fancic: (I felt like the ending was a bit rushed, I needed wayyy more of the angst and slow burn and all thatt) and I tipically don't even like AU stories!

If you don't know the fic.. There's no zombies, Hershel dies and Beth gets assigned to undercover agent Daryl Dixon for safety reasons lol (also why Daryl being an agent is so sexy for literally no reason) 💀

But anyway just wanted to ask if you have any other recommendation similar to this story!! 🥹

#bethyl #beth and daryl #team delusional #beth greene #beth is alive #beth x daryl #daryl x beth #bethyl fanfiction

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softc0reearts · 4 months

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OC Pride Month 2024 | TWD OC

( Late submission because I was on vacation until yesterday Teehee )

OC Pride Challenge (Day 3): Bi

Make something for an oc that identifies as bisexual and/or biromantic!

Yvonne Tawnie : The Song

It was late enough that Tamika became suspicious when a knock came to her door. She stood at the side of the door with a gun pressed against it as she cracked it open. She let out a relieved sigh when she saw Yvonne standing on her porch, the darkness masking her face.

“Hey, what are you doing wandering around at this time of night?” Tamika asked, her voice softening.

Yvonne, a frequent ignorer of the community curfew, had been reprimanded before but it never deterred her from wandering the empty streets in the dead of night. Tamika, on the other hand, loved hiding away in her house with her doors locked and a warm cup of tea. It made her feel normal, like the chaos of the world wasn’t allowed past her locked door.

When Yvonne didn’t answer, Tamika fully opened the door and waved her hand to invite her longtime friend inside. After everything they’d been through, she wasn’t about to turn her away. Yvonne didn’t say anything when she walked inside; the light finally showed her expression.

Yvonne had been crying, her cheeks were wet, and her mascara had traveled down her face. Tamika just watched as she stood there, her frame slumped in a way that made her look so fragile. Tamika closed the door and took a moment to ponder the random visit, her mind racing with concern.

Once the door was locked, she took Yvonne’s hand and guided her to her room. She had one of the smaller homes within the community. The living room doubled as her studio and was normally bathed in soft natural light streaming through large windows. Easels in the corner where a tv would normally be, paired with canvases in various stages of completion. Paint brushes and palettes were arranged neatly on a small wooden table, alongside jars of vibrant acrylics. It was clear she didn’t normally entertain.

As they moved into the bedroom, it had a similar decor style. The walls were adorned with a vibrant mix of her own paintings and a diverse collection of art she’d collected or traded from other communities. The room also housed lush, green plants in mismatched pots, adding a touch of life and color to an otherwise bleak world outside of her home.

Once in the room, Tamika tossed Yvonne a shirt to change into. She didn’t wait to confirm Yvonne was changing before she turned away to grab a bottle of water and a rag from her bathroom. Once Yvonne was changed, Tamika wiped the mascara from her face.

“I thought I’d understand. Thought it would be just like before,” Yvonne’s voice was pitiful. “That I would be okay, but I’m not.”

“What?” Tamika asked, confused.

“Daryl. I thought I’d be okay after he left, but I’m not.”

Now that Tamika realized what Yvonne was talking about, her heart broke. She immediately wrapped her arms around the other woman and squeezed. Memories of Yvonne and Daryl’s relationship flooded her mind, the love they shared in a world of despair that seemed to pull them apart at every turn. After a few long moments of hugging, Tamika pulled away and guided Yvonne to the bed. She didn’t know what to say, so this was the best comfort she could offer.

In comparison to Yvonne’s long-term on-and-off relationship with Daryl, Tamika hadn’t had more than a fling in years. She didn’t know how to console someone with a recently broken heart. Instead, she held her friend while wrapped in her comforter.

The two lay facing each other on their side, staring at one another in complete silence. Tamika caressed Yvonne’s cheek, wiping away the freshly fallen tears that formed. She wanted to tell Yvonne how badly Daryl had screwed up leaving like he did, how lucky he was to have a place in Yvonne’s heart, but none of that would help the pain.

Tamika started to zone out, losing herself in her own thoughts. So when Yvonne placed a hand on her cheek, she was forced to come back from her thought. There were no more tears to wipe away, so Tamika let her hand rest against Yvonne’s arm. There were still no words shared between them, just the sound of a light breeze outside of the window above Tamika’s bed.

Tamika's presence was like a bandage to Yvonne’s wounded heart, a reminder that not all was destroyed. In the dead of night, a heartbroken Yvonne made the decision to leave her relationship where Daryl left it. After nearly 10 years of back and forth, broken hearts, wedding dresses that never got to see the light of day, and letters explaining some greater cause that took precedence over the other, Yvonne was tired. Her eyes moved between Tamika’s eyes and her lips a few times.

“Stop me before it’s too late,” she whispered, breaking their silence.

Tamika looked confused until Yvonne leaned in, and it immediately clicked. She didn’t stop her, and instead leaned into the kiss. Tamika closed her eyes; the feeling of Yvonne’s lips was something she fantasized about years ago, but it had been a long time since she put her crush aside to focus on the friendship. So this was just as shocking as it was a welcome surprise.

The kiss was gentle at first, an exploration, but quickly deepened as years of unspoken feelings and recent heartache blended together. Yvonne held Tamika’s cheek as she adjusted her own head, as if she needed to be closer to Tamika despite their lips being connected. What was once an innocent embrace had now become a fervent release of pent-up emotions.

The hand resting on Yvonne’s arm slid down her side to rest against her hip. Tamika didn’t want her to feel trapped, so she refrained from gripping her. Her fingers played with the edge of Yvonne’s shirt; Tamika was not confident enough to push further.

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end, which came in the form of Yvonne pulling away. She didn’t say anything, instead let go of her friend and lay flat against the bed. Tamika watched her as she stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her to speak.

“I don’t know what came over me…” Yvonne shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Tamika didn’t know how to react. Should she be hurt?

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I do. I don’t want you to think I’m using you to feel better,” Yvonne finally looked her way. “Because I wasn’t.”

Tamika nodded; she knew that this could have been the result of a recent breakup, but the rekindling of her crush gave her hope this was more.

“We’ll take it slow, see where it goes.” Tamika moved to lay flat on her back too.

With that, the pair lay quietly. Yvonne reached out and intertwined her hand with Tamika’s. Neither knew what to say next.

Everything had changed.

#opc2024 #twd oc #daryl dixon #ocappreciation #twd #queerocs #bisexual oc #opc24 #Ch: Yvonne Tawnie #ImmuneTWD #softc0ree!writes

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heathermason6060 · 22 days

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Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.2

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: Reader gives friendships a try, and the first signs of Daryl changing start showing after unexpected tragedy.

Notes: I love writing Merle and early season Daryl, I hope they're in character!

"I'm ten seconds away from blowing his goddamn brains out."

"Not worth the wasted bullets." Daryl watched as Shane stalked back up towards the Greene house. You scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him stopping himself from slamming the door, at least needing to respect Hershel gave him some restraint from being a complete piece of shit. You weren't sure how long that would last though.

"Can't fucking stand these people Daryl. He looked like he wanted to kill me."

"Ya called 'em a homewrecker. The hell'd you expect?"

The days would go by without pause, no matter how you all screamed and cried for just one minute, one minute to get it together and breathe. Everything was constantly changing, and it ended up making you colder.

The Greene farm was a nice place. You enjoyed the chores you took on there, you got to work with the horses, the cows, and the old barn cat. He'd end up passing away after a while, which would have really upset you if it hadn't been such a peaceful death, he just fell asleep with a stomach full of deer stew and never woke up.

Andrea's strange half admiration and half disturbed likeness to you strengthened at the time on the farm, which you didn't know how to handle. You'd always wanted a girlfriend, ever since your first one in 6th grade ended your friendship. Your mother had shown up to pick you up from school, so high on Percocet she could barely keep her eyes open. She rear-ended the father of your friend, he got pissed, she spit in his face, and he called the police. ‘My daddy says I can't hang out with trailer trash like you anymore.’ She'd told you the next day.

You secretly liked the way Andrea looked up to you. It was nice having a woman think highly of you, or any adult for that matter. She would often ask for shooting practice, and you even let her try out your bow a few times.

She kind of fucked up your budding friendship when she shot Daryl. If you hadn't been so busy helping him get up into the house you would have shot her in her foot, and that's not an exaggeration. You wanted to stay up in that room with him until he fully healed, willing to sleep on the floor just so you'd be with him at all times, but the insecure fear of being seen as weak and clingy prevented you from doing so. You were out in the woods most of those days, hunting or killing any dead you ran across.

It was almost humiliating the way people would update you on Daryl’s condition. At first it was just Rick letting you know he’d be okay, but then it was Maggie and Hershel updating you on his eating habits, how much he ate, when he ate, he was only in bed for a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. Each time someone would tell you the miniscule details of his day you’d respond the same way, ‘Why’re you telling me? I’m not his mamma’. If you could look past the embarrassment of feeling like a worried child, you would be grateful.

Andrea unknowingly made it up to you when you heard her bitching at Lori in the kitchen once, apparently having enough of her ‘a woman's place is in the kitchen making life worth living, leave the guns to the men' spiel. You complimented her afterwards.

“Been real sick of that shit.” You had said as you loaded your Ruger pistol. “She's lucky it was you who said it, I think I would've punched that bitch in the face if she said that bullshit to me.”

Andrea was almost too stressed over the Beth situation to fully appreciate the gravity of your praise. She nodded as she looked over the field, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sun, her arms crossed over her chest. “All my life I've heard that kind of thinking from men. It's different when it's a woman telling you that you're not worth the same as a man. Especially when said man lied about her husband being dead and got in her pants right after.”

You smirked, stuffing your gun into the back of your jeans as you looked her over. “Wanna go kill some dead people?”

“Oh, god.” She groaned dramatically. “That's the best idea I've heard all week.”

After you lost the farm, you wound up at an old prison. That was one of the rare times you had allowed yourself to try and be positive, and forced yourself to make friends, although it was obvious all your relationships were strained. Andrea was the only person who had ever made an effort to get to know you, and she was gone.

Shane’s death didn’t affect you much, truthfully you were glad Rick killed him. The constant tension and heated arguments drained you just as much as Dale’s annoying humanitarianism. You attempted being friends with Lori, Hershel, Carol and Beth, despite the young girl being your polar opposite. She was soft, pretty, sweet and bubbly, you were hard, mean, vulgar and distant.

Which might be one of the reasons your relationship with her had started to work. Beth saw you as a challenge, like a mean feral cat, and deep down you saw her as a possible redemption. If you could become friends with Beth, the sweetest girl with the kindest heart, you could do it with anyone.

Lori never trusted you, so you never got far with her. She would look at you with this look on her face, like you were always seconds away from cutting her baby out of her stomach or some twisted shit. You had cursed her out once for said expressions, calling her a stuck-up bitch who thinks every woman that isn't her is beneath her. She died a couple days later, and a part of you that you couldn't push away felt like shit about it, for a very long time.

The whole Governor shit was a pain in your ass. But it was a blessing in disguise, because he was the reason you were reunited with Merle.

“I want to come.” You stood your ground, grabbing your Ruger AR-15 from its spot on your cell wall.

“I said no, we’ve got enough concerns, we don't need to be worrying about you.” Rick tried to speak in a hushed tone, his intentions good, not wanting you to feel embarrassed if the others heard you being denied. They knew you seethed at the prospect of being told what to do. You didn't work well with others, that was glaringly obvious.

“I don’t need you to worry about me.” You hissed, tugging the heavy gun over your back so the strap dug into your shoulder.

Rick repeated your name, using his angry father tone, and that seemed to work. Your shoulders drooped and you growled out a few insults under your breath. You missed when the group members had more say in the way things were. Rick had become more authoritarian after Lori died, and it never affected you until that day.

When they got back you were waiting at the door, pacing like a mother in those movies whose children had stayed out too late. Your eyes brightened as they filed into the prison, you saw Maggie and Glenn were back, and Michonne had returned as well.

Your anxious smile slowly faded as the door closed behind them, counting two missing bodies.

“Where…?” You breathed, looking between Rick and Maggie, your heart racing.

Rick started having a goddamn mental breakdown after that, screaming at the walls and pointing his gun at things only visible to him. Tyrese, the newcomer, and his group fled, and a part of you considered it as well. If Daryl and Merle were dead, you had no reason to stay. Especially not with Rick behaving like a fucking maniac and no one speaking to you.

True to your nature, you abandoned the prison in search of the Dixons. You knew they couldn’t have truly left, they would never do that, they'd never leave and forget you. Especially Daryl. He had promised to you one night after you fully secured the prison, that he was the one thing in your life that would never change. He’d never die, he’d never leave, he would always be there. Not in those exact words, of course, but in his own way.

He had stayed true to his promise. You found the two of them on their way to the prison, traveling through the same trails you’d originally used to find the place.

“Thought I’d never see you two assholes again.” The apocalypse had made you more skilled at hiding your true emotions. You came off as playfully irritated, a contrast to the way you were barely keeping tears at bay.

“Awww,” Merle teased in a condescending tone, faking a pout, “You miss us?”

“No. Rick’s group makes you seem like a peach though.”

“Our group.” Daryl’s voice had taken on a strange edge as he walked ahead of you down the trail. “Those are our people now.”

You glanced at Merle to see he was outwardly displaying your same reaction, rolling his eyes and silently mimicking his brother's words.

No matter how happy you were to see the two of them, Daryl’s reply echoed in your head for a long time. He meant what he said, you could tell by the way he spoke. He was changing, you hadn’t noticed it until that day, he wasn’t the same Daryl from Atlanta, the Daryl you knew. You swallowed your retort and followed him back to the prison.

The Governor shit was really a pain in your ass after that day, making your earlier experiences a walk in the park. Through the tense days you found yourself around Merle more, the two of you discussing the prospect of just getting the fuck out of there in hushed voices, despite you both knowing Daryl would never abandon Ricks group. It was like he had some sort of unknown obligation to them, something you couldn't decode for the life of you, no matter how hard you tried.

“You're gettin’ real close to bein’ a bonafide pussy, boy.” Merle had said one day, shoving his finger in Daryl’s face. You stayed silent as they argued, biting at the soft skin inside your cheek.

“Why? Cause I ain't jus’ lookin’ out for myself no more? Cause I actually give a shit about these people?” Daryl standing up to Merle wasn’t a familiar sight, and it made you feel emotions you really weren’t comfortable with.

“It’s making you weak, brother.” Merle urged, nearly slicing his own scalp when he went to put his hands on his head, the heat of the moment causing him to forget his right hand was now a weapon. “Can't you see it? I ain’t gonna let you die for these sheep.”

Daryl would soon come to regret his last interaction with his brother. You, on the other hand, were lucky enough to have had some peaceful final moments with him before he vanished.

“Dude, that's my fucking bed!” You shoved Merle away from your mattress, groaning when you saw it shredded and ruined. You’d have to go to the other cellblock and get another, if he hadn’t already paid those cells a visit.

Merle sat on the floor breathing heavily through his mouth, resting an arm over his propped up knee.

“The hell you do that for?” You grumbled, kicking a chunk of bedding out of your cell and into the hallway.

“Hopin’ to find some contraband.”

“Dude, you could’ve just asked me. Holy shit.” You grabbed one of your bags from the corner of your room and began to dig through it, finally pulling out Merle’s old stash bag. HIs eyes lit up and he practically jumped for joy, snatching it out of your hands.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He grabbed your face with his hand and noisily kissed your cheek, making you groan and shove him off. “Oh sweetheart. Whooo! Daryl know about this?”

“No, didn’t want him to know. I’m better at making shit last than him.” You replied. Daryl didn't like drugs the way Merle did, he had his run in with meth and its consequences and he was strong enough to quit and not touch it again. Other drugs were a different story though, you suspected the speed and painkillers would be gone by now if he had known you were the one who stole it.

He fished out the group of smaller baggies he was looking for, full of various shades of white in different textures. He groaned like he just creamed his pants and leaned over, planting another dramatic smooch to your forehead.

You stayed with him on the floor of your cell as he got high, and eventually he left to go ‘clear out the walkers in the tombs’, something you were happy to sit out on. He told you to stay back and you laughed, teasing with a ‘it's all yours, tweaker’.

Even though your last moments with him were pleasant, you never forgave yourself for not accompanying him.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

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zillobeastbait · 1 year

Text

Till the End - Ch. 1 - Pt. 3

Chapter 1

Endings and Beginnings

photos from Pinterest, moodboard by me

“Why are you in my house?” Comes a voice from behind him. Daryl spins around and aims towards where the voice came from. He sees a sharp movement from lower towards the ground and aims his bow lower till her can see. “P-please don’t hurt m-me.” A small girl has tears running down her face and is hugging a stuffed cow close to her. “Your ‘ight. I ain’t gon hurt ya.” Daryl lowers his aim off of the girl and looks her over for a minute. “Where's your parents kid?” Daryl looks around the corner to see if someone is about to come in after her. “They left a couple of days ago and haven't come back.” The girl sniffles as she talks, making it take longer for her to respond. “Sorry kid but they're probably gone.” Daryl decides to talk to the kid since he doesn’t think she’s going anywhere else, at least not for a while. “You mean they're not coming back?” The little girl looks like she’s about to start crying all over again and Daryl is too busy taking cans and jars out of the girl’s pantry to realize it. “Nah kid, they’re-” Daryl stops when he hears the girl start crying again, this time harder. “Ah, shit. Look I’m sorry. I’m not used to kids.” Daryl kneels on the ground in front of her in hopes that he can calm her down. He doesn’t know what else to do, yet before he can come up with anything the girl leans her body onto his. Daryl’s body tenses and freezes on the touch. He sits like that for a moment before he cautiously moves his arms around her. “What's your name kid?” Daryl speaks as softly as he can, realizing that his voice may scare her. “Crimson.” She says through her sniffles. “Daryl Dixon.” he simply says back to her. “Oh, Crimson Mills. That's my full name.” She pulls out of the weird hug slowly, just enough to see his face. Daryl keeps his hands on her shoulders, as if she may run away. “Alright Crimson Mills, would you like to come back to where I’m staying? I hate to break it to you, but your parents probably aren’t coming back. But I’ll tell you what, we can leave them a note so they can find you if they do come back?” Daryl tries to sound as nice as he can, and he tries to read her face but he can’t tell if she's going to start crying again or not. Instead of replying, Crimson just nods her head. “Alright, do you want to write the note?” Again, Crimson just nods in response before she runs off. Daryl sits for a moment, lost in thought. What the heck were they going to do with a kid? He only wastes a second more before packing up the rest of the kid’s food. By the time he’s brought the bag out to his bike, he sees that the girl has left the note on the counter. She had come down a little earlier to ask where to put that her parents could pick her up. He told her to just write the prison, and they would know where it was. She came out the door with the backpack on, full of the things that Daryl had helped her pack. Some clothes, her coloring book, her string that she used to make bracelets, and she held her stuffed cow, who he has learned is named Moo Moo, in her arms. “Ready? I ain’t wain all day.” She only nods yes in return and shuts the door to her house behind her. When she sees that none of the monsters are close, she walks to the gate. She glances up at Daryl, sending him a worried look. “ ‘Ts alright, they won’t get ya” He opens the gate for her and lets her through before closing it behind her. He lifts her up and sets her on the motorcycle seat, in front of where he will sit. He shows her where to lean forward slightly and hold onto the handlebars. “Ready?” Daryl looks down and expects her to only nod, but to his surprise, she responds. “Yes, I love motorcycles.” He sees the giant grin on her face and almost smirks himself. As they take off towards the prison Crimson doesn’t even realize that her parents are with all the other monsters watching as they drive by. Her thoughts stuck to the fact that she was riding on a motorcycle. She is only six.

-----

Part 1

Part 2

I promise it gets better, this is kinda just the sucky intro chapter

Thanks for reading though and as always support your artists by liking, commenting, and re-blogging!

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #fanfic #daryl #twd #fanfiction #jowrites #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x daughter #daryl x reader

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