#daryl angst

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 29

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Slightly graphic depictions of labor and childbirth A/N: Maybe a cliffhanger. Maybe not. You'll have to read to find out! ;) Daryl is definitely ooc in this. I'm sorry, I tried to get as close as I could to how he might react. Also, the saying he uses is one we use in the south that means "how is that relevant?" You'll know it when you read it, lol.

“About 4cm now. Progressing nicely.” Hershel informed, wiping his hands on a cloth that Carol had provided. 

Rick and T-Dog were out doing yet another night run in the van. It was also low on fuel but the map showed another town close by. Fuel, gloves, and other necessities were on the list. Glenn was on watch with Daryl for backup if anything happened. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it couldn’t be helped.

Thumper was calling the shots at that point. 

Before the men had left, Daryl had confiscated all the blankets except for those that were for Lori and Carl. When Glenn began to complain, one look from the anxiety-driven archer had brought the young man very close to hiding behind Rick. While some blankets were used for your comfort, others were fashioned into a tent-like structure over the bare branches of a decently sized bush. You needed some sense of privacy. 

Carol and Lori had dug through the maternity clothes that hadn’t been lost on the road and found a button up dress. It was comfortable and made things much easier than leggings. 

After your immediate needs had been met, Daryl then perched himself just beside your shoulder and hadn’t moved since. 

“S’the number we’re aimin’ for?” He asked with frustration lacing his tone, making sure the blankets were back over you and tucked tight to keep you warm. He had been muttering to himself how he wished he had made time to read the rest of the books. Daryl was not a man that liked being in the dark on anything. It made him feel helpless, as you had learned over the last several months. 

“She needs to be at 10cm and the baby needs to be in the correct position before she can push.” The old man positioned the ear tubes of the stethoscope before pressing it against several spots on your belly. “Heart beat is strong. Everything is looking good.”

You had remained quiet until that moment. “Do I just—I don’t know—lay here?”

“Walking encourages the cervix to dilate and soften. Once you dilate a little further, the contractions will likely be stronger, whether painful or not.” The calmness that man practiced really made you want to strangle him with that stethoscope. “Make sure you don’t go alone, and—”

“She ain’t.” Daryl snapped. 

Hershel shot him an admonishing look. “As I was saying, take breaks. Sleep when you can. I’ll check you periodically. You’ll need to keep timing the contractions, son.” Daryl nodded. “Sip small amounts of water, no food. Keep me informed of any changes. And as unpleasant as it may sound, if you feel the pressure and urge as if you may need to have a bowel movement, call for me immediately.”

You, as well as Daryl, reared back, lips curling. 

“The fuck that gotta do with the price’a fish?” The archer queried, not so nicely. 

“Settle down. The pressure from the baby’s head moving into the birth canal can feel similar to that.” Shaking his head, Hershel shuffled his way out of your tiny tent. 

Finally alone, you turned onto your side and scooted your upper body toward Daryl. He stretched out his legs so you could rest on his thigh. 

“Get some rest.” His hand wiggled beneath the blanket and rubbed up and down the length of your upper arm, but moved to your belly when another contraction took over. Without prompting, he slid his warm palm around to your lower back and applied the least bit of pressure, rubbing small circles. You buried your face into his thigh to ride it out, but you had to admit the light massaging helped, if only a little. 

“You’re supposed to be—” You were panting when you rolled your head to remind him, but found the watch already lifted to eye level, his gaze shifting from it to your stomach. 

“Sleep if ya can. I got this.” His brow was furrowed in concentration, your heart swelling and warm. Any worry you had entertained of him running when things got real, just gone in an instant. He was there. He was there. 

“I’ll try.” You whispered, the pain finally an afterthought. You felt him slide his hand back to the side of your stomach before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Doc says up, so up ya get.”

You let Daryl take your dead weight and pull you up by a grip beneath your arms, making it as difficult as possible so you might get to stay in your warm little nest. You were still at 4cm. Hershel had said you had to start walking to help labor progress. 

“This isn’t fair.” You whined, rubbing your back once you were upright. The pain that accompanied each contraction had lessened but was still ever present. “Can’t you walk and I dilate?”

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think that’s how it works.” He placed a careful hand on the small of your back and kept your pace, slow as it was. 

“Okay, then how about if it gets worse, I kick you in the balls and punch you in the kidneys so you can participate properly?” You were only half joking. 

“If it gets ya through this, I guess.” The archer shrugged. You regarded him with a skeptical brow arched. 

“You’d really let me do that?”

“Hell nah, but s’the thought that counts or some shit like that, right?” He didn’t even try to dodge the smack you aimed at his shoulder. 

“You’re hilarious.” You deadpanned, even as you leaned into him while you strolled in circles around the perimeter. The moonlight caught the watch in his right hand, his finger tapping against the casing. Bless him, he was taking his role of supportive partner very seriously. You gasped when the next contraction came, stopping to bend slightly and breathe through it while Daryl secured an arm around you and flipped open the watch. 

When it was clear you weren’t falling, he slid his hand to the middle of your back and massaged the length of your spine using gentle pressure from the heel of his palm. He never said much—if anything—during the episodes themselves, but kept you informed of the timing of each one. 

“Oh, goddamnit, this one sucks.” You managed through clenched teeth. You swayed slightly when it was over, grasping blindly for the man next to you. 

“Thirteen minutes since the last’un. A minute, twelve.” He was slow and careful when turning you back toward camp. “Let’s getcha back to Hershel.” 

You shook your head. “One last loop, then we can go back.” Daryl didn’t say anything but you felt him tense. “I’m sure. They’re just getting a little more painful in the stomach, less in the back.” 

He still hesitated. “Alright. One more.”

Hershel stepped into your path before you started the second loop, allowing Daryl to fill him in on the last contraction. 

“Do one more. Rest. And then again.” The old man ordered curtly. 

Once he had vanished back toward the small fire, you mocked his words. “Rest and then again.” Daryl shook his head beside you. “I mean seriously, how much help can walking actually be?”

“Fuuuuuck!” You were digging your fingers into the blankets below you, swatting away Carol’s hand when she tried to dab your face with a piece of cloth. Daryl was sitting beside you, wide-eyed and lost, the watch forgotten by his leg. Hershel was between your knees, sporting his medical gloves that had been brought back by Rick and T-Dog. 

The archer cleared his throat. “She alright?” 

“Do I look alright, Daryl?!” You hissed, making an admirable attempt at breathing the way Carol was instructing. The contraction finally ended and you fell back onto the folded blankets. “I’m sorry.” You found his worried blue eyes easily and fumbled for his hand. 

“S’okay.” He whispered, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“She’s at 6cm. We can still time the contractions but I think she may need your attention more than that watch does now.” Hershel reached for the item and placed it in his pocket once Daryl handed it over. “Keep moving but stay closer, no more perimeter walks.”

Daryl nodded, you whimpered. 

“I’ll be back soon to check again. If we’re lucky, things will move a little faster now that you’re in active labor.” Hershel left the tent while Carol fixed your dress. 

“I know it hurts, but you two will have little Thumper in your arms in just a matter of hours.” She smoothed your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “You’re doing great.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.” You murmured, ducking your head almost bashfully. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Daryl. It just—well, it hurts and it’s hard to think.”

“Ain’t mad.” He tried for a half smile but it was weak. “Better than gettin’ kicked in the balls, I reckon.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Guess we oughtta getcha up again.”

“I’ll help.” Carol offered. You could see that a refusal was on the tip of Daryl’s tongue but he never voiced it. With Carol under one arm and Daryl under the other, you were pulled upright. 

Your body already felt wrung out and sore, and the epic finale hadn’t even begun. Still, you allowed Carol to pass you off to Daryl. 

“We movin’ on? Be better to find a house or somethin’.” He looped an arm around your back, following as you shuffled your way around. 

Carol shrugged, not touching you but keeping up with your small strides. “Both vehicles have fuel but Hershel isn’t sure we should move her. He thinks the baby will come soon and she needs to be kept in one place.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration. “She is right here. And if my opinion matters, I’d rather not—” The contraction came on strong, halting you suddenly with your hand fisting into the lower part of Daryl’s vest. The archer stepped around in front of you, rough but gentle hands grasping your wrists to guide your arms to his shoulders. 

“Try to breathe. Sometimes humming or even moaning helps, like an outlet.” Carol advised while rubbing your back. 

Your head fell forward against Daryl’s chest, a deep but quiet moan muffled against the firm muscle beyond his shirt. His hands had fallen to your hips, his body followed you as you swayed back and forth. The episodes were growing more intense, coming closer together and lasting longer. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that things would be growing more difficult to handle. 

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do for ‘er?” Daryl asked quietly above you, each word blowing his warm breath over the top of your head. Carol must have answered in the negative because his fingers flexed against your hips. 

The skin of your belly was pulled so tightly that you swore it would tear open, the muscles feeling as if they would pulse right out of the gaping hole your torn flesh would leave. 

“Shit.” You whimpered, your voice finding its way back during the last dregs of pain. You almost didn’t register warm hands gliding up and down your sides, a smaller hand on your back. “I don’t want to have the baby here.” You argued weakly. “It’s too open. Things will be too chaotic, too loud.”

“I know, Sunshine, but the doc says—”

“I don’t want to risk Thumper here in the open, Daryl. With—with walkers or people.” With enough strength having returned after the pain, you lifted your head, eyes pleading. “Please.”

The archer was visibly upset. He was just as vulnerable as you were at that moment, torn between what he felt was right and what Hershel said was for the best. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he pulled it in between his teeth, looking to Carol for guidance. 

“Could lay down the seats in the van. Use the back.” He suggested. “Plenty’a room an’ if we need to move fast—”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” Carol agreed, rubbing your back in a few soft strokes before beginning to move away. “I’ll go talk to Hershel. You two keep walking.”

You watched her go, turning your gaze up to Daryl when he shifted back to your side to urge you along. “Gotta keep movin’.” You groaned, dragging your feet with your head falling back in frustration. 

You were in the middle of a contraction, when you heard it. A snarl, a raspy growl much too close. You were already clinging to Daryl and breathing through the pain that was readying your body for Thumper’s arrival, but you’d have to let him go. He had to protect the baby. And to do that, he had to protect you. 

But he didn’t move. He was nearly vibrating, rigid beneath your hands on his shoulders. He was just as scared as you were, even more so. He knew he could take the walker but that would mean letting you go. He needed to protect you but he wanted to support you. He had told you he'd never let you fall and you knew he had meant it.

“Go.” Your hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest before they released him completely to clutch your belly.

His boots disappeared from your view of the ground but you couldn’t focus after that. The pain was growing in intensity, immobilizing you with your lips tightly pressed to withhold the cries that vibrated behind your teeth for release. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t make a sound. You’d attract more, endanger everyone. You’d endanger Thumper. Daryl. 

There were scuffles. More snarls. Tears were threatening your waterline. Pain was coursing through you like a serpent, slithering around each muscle and tendon and pulling them tight. You felt disappointment and guilt over all the agony when your mouth fell open with a guttural moan, your will to cut off the scream that begged to follow barely holding true. 

“D—Daryl.” You cried out. And he was there, hands on your face, your biceps, your belly. 

“M’here. M’here. Gotta move, though.” He swept you up with the slightest strained noise. “Gonna getcha to the van. Gonna find somewhere safe for ya.” The pain was fading. You could focus on the dark blood on his face, the dirt and grime. 

“Herd?” You whispered. 

“Ain’t your fault.” His expression emanated fear and stress. “The hatch.” Someone was with him. The small hands that opened the back of the van and spread out the blankets, those were Carol’s. She sat a pile of smaller blankets and squares of fabric toward the indents on the floor where the seats had been stowed. 

“Get as many in the truck as you can! In the cab and the bed!” Rick was calling out at the same time that Hershel climbed into the van. Daryl was careful when he placed you inside, climbing over you before pulling you further in to make room for Hershel and Carol. 

Through your haze of exhaustion, you saw Rick climb in the driver's seat and Maggie beside him. That meant that five others had to somehow fit into the truck. 

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, eyes pleading with Daryl for an honest answer. 

“Yeah, they’re all good.” He nodded, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

The van was moving, though you didn’t realize when it had started. Hershel was between your knees when another contraction came. It felt like only moments had passed since the last one. In the safety of the van, though you couldn’t be bothered to consider that, you bowed forward with a scream. Daryl gingerly worked your fingers loose from the blanket to take your hand. 

“She’s at 9cm. This baby is coming soon.” Hershel didn’t move this time, he and Carol began sorting things that you couldn’t see. Panting, you leaned to the side, knowing Daryl would be there. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed. 

“What—” He swallowed audibly. “Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Just be with her.” Carol poured some water from a bottle onto a piece of fabric and passed it across you for Daryl to take. “Wipe her face, put it behind her neck.”

The archer’s hand was trembling fiercely when you felt the blessed cool cloth touch your forehead. The moan that left you was not one of pain but utter relief. “Oh, that’s nice.” You breathed. Your skin was on fire, every cell of your being felt twisted and wrong. But that trembling cloth wiping at your face grounded you, centered you around what your body was preparing to do. 

You were so close to being a mother. 

But that didn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat when the next contraction tore through you. You sat up, propped on your elbows with your eyes screwed shut. Tears leaked from the corners, the wailing cutting off into wretched sobs when you felt Daryl’s forehead fall against the crown of your head, his mantra of m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry shattering you into a million shards. 

You couldn’t tell him it was okay. You couldn’t remind him why you hurt. You couldn’t reassure him that he was the one you wanted and you were more than happy to do this with him. For him. You didn’t have the breath. 

“Don’t push, Y/N. Not yet.” Hershel’s tone was even but not cruel, his gloved hands on your knees. 

“It fucking burns!” You shrieked, squeezing Daryl’s hand until you were certain you felt the bones shift. The contraction let up, the fiery sensation dulling but ever present. 

“What’s happenin’?” Daryl sounded breathless. Terrified. You were still catching your breath when you looked up at him. His tan skin was white as a sheet, no color in his lips. His blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. From tears or fear, you couldn’t be sure. 

“The baby’s in the right position. Y/N, it’ll be time to push soon. It’ll be very important for you to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?” Hershel wasn’t looking at you, between moving around things Carol was handing to him and keeping a constant eye on your progress. Distantly, you wondered why it was Carol at his side and not Maggie. Maybe because you were close with Carol? For your comfort? 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You turned your attention back to Daryl when his grip on your hand loosened slightly. He swayed, the pallor of his skin growing more concerning. “Daryl?”

The archer shook his head almost violently. “M’good.”

“Okay, I just—oh, fuck, already!?” You grit your teeth as your stomach tightened, a visible shift beneath the fabric of your dress. 

“Maggie, can you climb back here?” Hershel requested calmly. His eldest said nothing but maneuvered her way into the back and on your opposite side. “I fear we may lose Daryl at any moment and Y/N will need support.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl snapped but it was a weak effort. He inhaled deeply and began squeezing your hand to keep you from dislocating his fingers. 

“Here.” Carol passed him an opened bottle of water. “Drink a few sips. You’re white as a ghost.”

You were barely aware of everything happening around you, shaking almost violently to refrain from bearing down until Hershel told you to do so. It was bordering on excruciating. 

“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re holding a flamethrower to my fucking pussy!” 

Hershel sighed while Maggie and Carol chuckled and Daryl snorted out a quiet nice, Y/N. 

“It’s just the birth canal stretching to make room for the baby.” The veterinarian explained coolly. 

“Just?” You mocked. “Just, he says while it’s my—oh Jesus fuck!” With all the presence of mind you could summon, you managed not to start screaming at Daryl for putting you in that position. You knew that beyond the pain and fear, you wanted Thumper in your arms more than anything in that fucked up world. 

“Okay, Y/N,” Hershel patted your bare knees just at the tail end of the contraction to ensure he had your attention. You had fallen back against Maggie while Daryl held the cool cloth against the back of your neck. His hand was vibrating your skull to the point that you nearly asked him to move away. “You’re ready. On the next contraction, you need to push.”

“God, your calm voice makes me want to kick you in the teeth.” You didn’t mean it—mostly. Hershel must have known that because he chuckled. You could feel the next contraction already building when the van lurched to a stop, throwing everyone in it. 

“We got a herd in front of us!” Rick called from the front. 

“Go ‘round it! Turn ‘round! Just keep ‘em off us!” Daryl yelled as the pain peaked. “Fuck!” He bellowed when your hand began to shake with how hard you squeezed his own. 

“Push!” Hershel shouted over the bumps and jerks of the van doing whatever Rick had deemed best. “Good, good!” He began to countdown from ten while you screamed.

You were being torn open. Thumper was going to rip you in half on their way out. Your throat was raw, surely bleeding from your wails. When the old man reached one, you fell back against Maggie but Daryl’s hand was there too. 

“Maggie, Daryl, hold behind her knees. Help support her legs. It’ll keep her hips open.” Both moved forward, taking you with them to sit you up a little straighter. Daryl had to release your hand to hold you and your leg. The archer hissed with the pressure against his abused palm. “Perfect. Alright, Y/N. A nice, strong push this time.”

You almost snarled. “Last one wasn’t good enough?”

“Easy, Sunshine.” You felt Daryl's lips against your temple and yearned to keep them there. 

“I’m sorry, Hershel.” Once again, the man simply smiled. Lori had told you that childbirth in the movies was often dramatized but so far, you weren’t seeing the truth in that statement. When the contraction reached a crescendo, you leaned forward while Maggie and Daryl held your legs steady. The pain was extraordinary. You almost wished you could see what was happening, but any train of thought was derailed with Hershel’s next words.

“The baby is crowning!” 

Gasping, you swallowed hard, glancing at Daryl—who had a front row seat to what was happening—and then back to Hershel. “Crowning?”

“The head will be out soon.” 

“All this and we don’t even have the head out?!” You screeched, just as your stomach rippled into a rigid mound and you were pushing again. This pain was different. Thumper was definitely ripping you apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! It burns!”

“S’that—” Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed, swaying on the spot. “S’that normal?”

“Perfectly normal.” Hershel glanced up at the archer, back down, and then up again. “Carol.” He needn’t say anything else. The other woman was moving to grab the back of your leg and let Daryl fall against her so he didn’t smack his head on the side of the van.

You were completely unaware, your entire focus centered on the inferno between your legs. There was no way any woman would willingly do this unmedicated. Never in your life had you wanted drugs more than you did in that moment. Thumper. Thumper, Thumper. You chanted internally, even as your vocal chords vibrated harshly with your screams. And just as you thought you would lose consciousness from the pain, it lessened. It hadn’t disappeared but comparatively, you would take that over the prior. 

“The head is out!” 

Panting, you smiled but then fell into confusion when you saw Carol beside your leg and Daryl slumped against her. “Daryl? Daryl?!” You shifted but Maggie held you still. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Hershel chuckled. 

“Who knew a man that could gut a walker without batting an eye couldn’t watch his baby’s head come out?” Carol smiled but began to act, jerking her shoulder to jar the archer. “Daryl. Daryl, wake up. You don’t want to miss this.” He stirred and started to lean back. “Think you can take a look without losing it again?”

“Shuddup.” He shook his head hard, grunting. His hand was the first thing to move, sliding beneath Carol’s to take hold of your leg. Then he was looking at you. “M’sorry. That was—fuck, m’a pussy.” Maggie was moving your hand and pulling you forward as you watched your partner. 

Then your fingers were touching a soft, albeit slimy, head. 

You gasped. “Daryl.”

The man gulped, but then sat up on his knees a little. You watched the fear and apprehension melt away into awe, his jaw loosening, eyebrows rising, and eyes beginning to shine. “S’that—”

“That’s Thumper.” You were able to say before Hershel announced your miniscule break was over. He didn’t need to say a word, your body was already letting you know. Daryl’s hold felt stronger now and he was watching with an awestruck intensity that just made your heart want to explode even as you rode out the waves of agony. You were going to be a little family.

Then, out of the blue, you could feel something was different, wrong.

“Her—Hershel—Ow, fuck—” You fingers clawed at Daryl’s chest, his wet eyes going wide with concern. The contraction ended and you were gasping and swallowing convulsively, feeling nauseous regardless of your lack of food. Daryl’s eyes were darting back and forth between you and the old man. “Daryl, something—something’s wrong.” You could tell the baby had not moved an inch during the pushing, but not only that, it felt like they had actually pulled back toward your opening. 

“I know.” Hershel’s voice had lost the calm and was taking on an emergent edge. “The baby is stuck.”

Panic flashed over Daryl’s face in the form of anger. “The fuck ya mean stuck?!”

Still trying to catch your breath, sweat dripping into your eyes, you thought for certain Daryl was going to jump across your leg and attack the old man. Thankfully, he remained at your side. Trembling and breath stuttering, but he wasn’t moving. 

“Shoulder dystocia. The baby is turned in such a way that the shoulders can’t fit through the pelvis. Carol, I will need your help, please.” You were already on the edge of the next contraction when Hershel nearly barked “Y/N, don’t push.”

“What the fuck’re ya doin’?” Daryl snapped, leaning over your leg to investigate. So many emotions were battling for dominance in his expression that you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.

“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, trying your hardest not to sob. For once, you cared nothing about being self-reliant or what the group thought of you and how much you needed Daryl. As you fought through the pain and against your body’s natural insistence to push, you just cried. Daryl kept a hand below your knee, too afraid to move unless Hershel gave the okay, but he leaned as far as he could to hold you without influencing your position.

“S’okay, Sunshine. S’gonna be okay.”

“Y/N, listen to me. I can feel the shoulder.” Now, the veterinarian’s tone was just downright frightening. “Maggie and Daryl are going to pull your legs back on the next contraction. I’m going to apply some pressure above your pubic bone. It’s not going to be pleasant, but if I’m correct, the head should come and then the baby. I need you to push with all you have, do you understand?”

You pressed your cheek further into Daryl’s chest and nodded, hiccuping through ragged, exhausted breaths. When the contraction began to tear through you, Maggie and Daryl reacted immediately, pulling your legs toward your belly while you curled inward with a guttural scream. Hershel pressed into the area just above your pubic bone, the pressure only compounding the whirlwind of pain you were already caught in. And then it was over and you let the two supporters take your weight.

The van rocked again, but was ignored. Hershel looked at Carol gravely and shook his head. 

“S’that ‘bout?” Daryl hissed, trying hard for your sake not to lose his cool.

“It didn’t work.” Before Daryl could speak, the old man continued. “We’re going to try one more time. If it doesn’t work, there are a couple of other things we can try but time is of the essence. The baby isn’t getting the oxygen they need like this.”

“Whatever ya gotta do. Just take care’a both’a ‘em.” 

Hershel nodded. “Alright, same thing, Y/N. A big, big push for me.”

You shook your head, exhausted. “I can’t.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy as hope attempted to flee and you accepted that once again, the world would take from you. It would take from Daryl. “I’m so tired.” You felt movement beneath your left leg and then Daryl’s hand was grasping your chin, firm but gentle. 

“Hey. Cut that shit out.” He wasn’t angry. He was using the same tone you’d heard him use when he had told Thumper to cut you some slack. When he had started communicating with the baby. “Ya’ve gone through hell an’ back for this an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya quit at the goddamn finish line, ya hear me?”

“I’m tired, Daryl.” Your face screwed up in pain as the next contraction began to build.

“Nu uh. Ya ain’t gonna bust into my life an’ fuck up my world six ways from Sunday, make me love ya an’ this kid, an’ then just give up. S’you an’ me an’ Thumper. S’what ya said!”

You blinked at him, slowly starting to sit up.

“I’ve seen ya be a badass before, Sunshine.” Your breaths were coming faster, the contraction nearly on top of you, but you only had eyes for Daryl. “Be a fuckin’ badass now.” His hand left your face and went back to your leg, pulling it toward you at the same time Maggie moved the right one. 

You screamed so loud that you were certain the rocks and bumps of the van were due to your wails alone. Something shifted, you felt it and it hurt. You were on fire and aching at the same time. When the contraction ended, you still felt painfully stretched and bruised and uncomfortable. “Did—did it work?” You panted, grasping desperately for Daryl’s shirt.

“The head is out, the shoulders are turned. One more big push, Y/N. Just one more.”

You breathed harshly through your nose, trying to amp yourself up. Maggie and Carol were throwing encouragement your way, but you didn’t hear them. You only felt Dary’s breath against your ear, his stubbled cheek rubbing against your skin.

He whispered, only for you to hear. “I love ya.” Kissing your temple, he moved back to his spot and when you looked at him, exhausted and crying, the corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded.

You could do this.

When the next contraction ripped through you, the world went silent. It was only you and the pain, white hot and all consuming. You were indeed being torn in half but if it meant Thumper would take that first breath, would open those little eyes to see the world—fucked up or not—then you would gladly be wrenched into pieces. 

The moment the baby slipped free of you, you felt the emptiness. You still hurt, but the worst of the pain was suddenly absent. Sound and sight came back to you in an onslaught that had you sucking in a breath like your lungs had been starved. 

“Is—Hershel, the baby?” You asked, trying to move as Daryl and Maggie lowered your legs. The archer was leaning across your knee. You couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, but his eyes were wide and darting. 

“Doc—”

The ferocious first cries of the distraught newborn echoed throughout the van. Maggie had moved behind you to keep you sitting up while Daryl had staggered backward and fallen on his ass against the interior wall, eyes on the little thing that Hershel was looking over intently. Maggie reached over your shoulder and began unbuttoning your dress, whispering in your ear as she moved.

“The baby needs to nurse, bond with you on your skin and it’ll help when you have to push out the placenta, okay?” You blinked at her, concerned. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like what you just went through. One or two small pushes and it’s out.”’ You nodded robotically, watching Hershel maneuver some sort of tape around a slimy cord.

Thumper was not happy. They were probably cold and that thought made your heart ache. Your baby should never be uncomfortable. Daryl was slowly, clumsily making his way toward you, but wasn’t taking his eyes off the baby. When he was sitting beside you, Hershel finally leaned over you and placed the squirming, slippery baby on your chest.

“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

[sleepyangelkami]

WICKED d.dixon

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - you were sensitive, daryl was hot headed. daryl often carried anger in his voice to protect you, never did you think he'd use it against you.

 ☆ WARNINGS - yelling, argument, sensitive!reader, blood, gore, fighting walkers, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

the prison had fallen, tensions were rising. it was just you and daryl on the roads now, attempting to find your group again. you should have noticed the way he shook his head earlier or the way he sighed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut.

you cursed yourself for not knowing sooner.

daryl dixon was never a man that anyone could say was overly patient. but when it came to you, he’d wait years for you to utter a mere sentence. he was suddenly as patient as they come. but that didn’t change his true nature.

you’d been separated from the group for quite a while now. it was just the two of you on the roads.

at first, you’d been silent as a mouse, wondering if everyone was okay.

soon after, you realised that it was daryl who was also just as silent. you began speaking, in hopes of raising his mood. you assured him, the group had found their way back to them hundreds of times before, this would undoubtedly be no different.

but daryl didn’t so much as glance at you, barely letting out a grunt before turning his head. obviously, your plan in trying to lift his mood only dampened it.

however, you didn’t stop there.

and you should have, you really should have.

perhaps if you’d spent less time talking and waffling on, he wouldn’t be as angry as he was. perhaps if you’d just listened to him and nodded with your head bent, he wouldn’t have snapped.

albeit everything was happening so quickly.

you hadn’t even registered the infected make their way out. it took only moments before your life practically flashed before your eyes.

daryl’s back was against yours, his own knife out as he plunged it into walkers heads. in return, you attempted to do the same, holding the knife at it’s base with shaky hands. but you weren’t strong nor brave like daryl was. when fighting, it was obvious just how different the two of you were, how different you’ve always been. and you couldn’t lie as to say it wasn’t throwing you off your game.

not that you ever really had game.

a walker grabbed at your shoulders causing you to let out a fearful whimper. you used the time you had to plunge the knife into it’s head. your eyes widened as you missed the brain, blood spurted out into your face and onto your clothes. you took the knife out and tried again, this time the walker fell limp at your feet. 

before you could so much as try and attempt to take out another walker, one practically lurched onto you from the side.

daryl felt you hit against his back and cursed you. you were so damn clumsy and usually, he was okay with it. more often than not he’d smile at you, kiss your hurt forehead and tell you that you must begin looking where you’re going but now, he was anything but comforting. if anything, it took everything in him not to spin around and yell at you then and there.

but he didn’t, merely because he was too preoccupied with killing the walker in his hands. he plunged the knife forward, hitting two walkers and piercing straight through their heads. with a separate hand, he shoved the knife into another.

he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded his veins as he took out every last walker on his side.

he rolled his eyes before readying his arms, beginning to spin around and just knowing you’d need help. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you on the ground.

foot pushing up against a walker, you attempted to get it away. while another was crawling on you, you could have let out a whimper, knowing your knife had been tossed away from you.

there were too many.

as if the ‘big man in the sky’ had answered your prayers, you closed your eyes shut at the feeling of blood spurting out onto your face. finally, you peeled them open upon the sound of groaning and gargling coming to a stop. the sight of daryl dixon came into view, he’d taken out every last walker.

and he did not look pleased.

“daryl―” you couldn’t so much as get a word out. before you could even try to defend your cause, he was speaking. 

“are you fuckin’ stupid?!” daryl was an angry man, through and through. he channelled that anger, using it for things like this, taking out walkers or any other said enemy. never, had you been on the receiving end of his bellowing voice. “you ain’ gonna fucking make it out here if you need me watching your back every other second!” 

you could feel your eyes sting, pathetically.

you didn’t want to cry nor did you want to let daryl see you cry, not like this. he’d wiped your tears a thousand times over, even if it was because someone was yelling at you. you’d claim that it’s no big deal, that you were being dramatic and he’d always swoop in, telling you that it’s not dramatic and nobody should yell at a ‘flower like you’. you wondered what changed. “i was trying.” you uttered out pathetically once more, voice all broken.

“wasn’t tryin’ enough!” his hand roughly grabbed yours, practically hoisting you up from the ground. you let out the smallest of whimpers. not because it hurt but because you’d never seen him this angry at you. “are you hurt?” but his voice was anything but caring. it seemed as though you were just another burden to him.

instead of replying, you merely shook your head, it was bent down so he couldn’t see your watery eyes.

but he took it as a well enough response, because he cleared his throat, pocketing his knife. “we have to keep moving.” you wondered if he’d fallen guilty after his words spat you in the face, you guessed he did because for the duration of the walk, he kept glancing back at you, as if to see if you were still so upset.

and you were.

perhaps it really was a silly thing to be upset about. but daryl knew how much you hated yelling. he was well aware of all the baggage it came from, the flashbacks it may have caused. he knew you better than anyone, he’d been the one to wipe your tears from the same thing many times ago. 

deep down you knew he was only yelling because the emotions were high. he was worried about the kids of the prison, everyone else. he was worried about rick and carl, carol and judith, everyone there was to worry about, he was doing the worrying. he got in his head like that a lot.

but that didn’t change the fact that he’d yelled at you so easily, as if he’d been dying to all day. 

and could you so much as blame him anymore? you had been talking his ear off. no doubt, because you thought you were doing the right thing but you tried to put yourself in his shoes. you’d get annoyed too, right? 

the difference between you both?

you never would have so much as dreamed about talking to him the way he spoke to you. 

“there’s a cabin around here, we’ll hole up for the night.” he received no response, so he turned his head. “y’ listening?” 

once again, you didn’t speak, merely nodding. he sighed before turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut. he didn’t apologise, stubborn to the end. he didn’t often apologise to you, probably because he never found himself in a position where he had to but you were the complete opposite, always apologising profoundly for everything you did, even if it hadn’t been your fault.

you wondered if he wasn’t apologising because he wasn’t actually sorry.

he used his hand to beat down on the door, waiting to hear groans and gurgles. when he didn’t, he opened the door, peering inside. it was safe.

he let you go, watching as you practically scurried inside, ready to get away from the horrid outside world. maybe you were ready to get away from him. he found guilt eating at his insides, like a walker biting into flesh. the thought of you being angry with him was worse than the thought of getting bit right about now.

but he knew you, knew you more than anyone. and he knew you weren’t angry with him, you were merely upset.

stubborn as he was, he needed to make it better for he shouldn’t have yelled at you, as annoyed as he was.

after lighting a fire, he made his way towards the kitchen, where he somehow knew you’d be. as if he could sense your presence and everywhere it loomed. he could have spotted the back of your head from a mile away. there you were, stood in the kitchen in front of the sink, you must have been checking if they had running water. surprise, surprise, they didn’t. 

he leaned his body against the door frame, head gently landing on it as he watched you. you were yet to notice his presence, your hands scrubbing dryly at the other. there was blood coating all over your hands, not your own, walker blood. you needed it off and you needed it off now.

daryl knew how you got, always fussing over getting dirty as it was but when it came to walkers, you didn’t want any of it on you. it was always a challenge when the group was willingly putting walker guts all over their coats to disguise themselves.

he’d had enough of watching you, opting to walk inside the room. “c’mere, angel.” you heard his words, freezing up and he could only feel guilt eat at his bones. he carried a cloth, slightly damp. you allowed him to take your hands in his own, cloth gently working against the dirtied skin. “y’alright?” you didn’t respond, nodding.

you hadn’t so much as opened his mouth since he’d yelled at you. 

“baby…” and then he heard it, the mere sniffle that had you turning your head. 

“‘m okay.” voice cracking showing that you were not, in fact, okay. 

he could only frown at you. he felt you try to move away but his hands kept you still, grasping your own and keeping you in place. he waited in silence until you were ready to look up at him. when you did, he almost wished you’d hadn’t. your eyes were red rimmed and watery. you’d been crying. no longer was there that judgemental piece in his eyes. instead, you could only catch the guilt swarming in them.

“‘m sorry.” was the words that you practically clung to, that left his mouth. “‘m so sorry, baby, c’mere.” you felt his arms wrap you up.

you were too upset to argue.

so instead, you allowed him to take you into an embrace, hell you threw your arms around his neck to hold him impossibly closer. there was that gentle feeling again, the one you’d longed for so much. but you couldn’t have asked, no. how could you ask for comfort from the same person that’d hurt you in the first place?

thankfully, daryl made most of your decisions for you.

“‘m sorry.” you croaked out. “i wasn’t looking and then the walker just came out of nowhere and i swear i tried―”

daryl was quick to cut you off.

your head was held in his own dirty hands. though you hated the dirt on yourself, there was almost a comforting feeling to the dirt on him. perhaps it was the familiarity. “you ain’ got nothin’ to be sorry for, alright? nobody should yell at you, ‘specially not me.” 

you didn’t know whether to agree or not.

“you did what you could ‘n i’m proud of you, y’know that?” you felt your eyes begin to get watery again, god you wished you could stop crying. as if he could read your mind, he spoke, “‘n it’s okay to cry, i was bein’ an asshole.” 

you sniffled before giggling slightly. “you were.” 

he couldn’t help the way his lips turned up at the sound he’d missed so dearly. “yeah, i was, wasn’t i? ‘m just… worried, y’know? for everyone. not everyone has a flower like you in their group.” 

you shook your head with a sniffle, ignoring his words directed to you. “they’re gonna be fine, we’ll find ‘em.”

“yeah, we will.” he nodded, as if whatever came from your mouth, he could suddenly believe. you had that effect on him that he’d never tell. “but right now, i jus’ care about you, alright? c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

and how could you deny hands once so angry, now so gentle?

main masterlist/daryl's masterlist

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"Catch any sleep?" you asked Daryl, stepping out into the living area with your fingers curled around a steaming mug of tea.

Daryl was laid out on the couch with an arm draped over his eyes. He sighed and shifted, lifting it to look at you as you sunk into a chair across the room. "Nah. 'M more likely to catch a unicorn than any fuckin' sleep these days..." He sighed heavily and sat up, planting his boots heavily back on the floor. He caught your eyes as you were giving him a perceptive and sympathetic look.

"...wanna talk about it?" you asked him.

He ducked his eyes and shook his head a little. "Not really..."

"Hey. You need to forgive yourself. About Beth. It wasn't your fault."

He let out a wry laugh and tugged at a loose thread on his pants. "Ya say that like it's easy."

"No. No... it's the hardest thing there is. Trust me. I've been there."

Daryl's eyes flicked back up to your face and he gave you a curious look. Whatever this was in your past, and he thought he knew it all, you'd never spoken of it before.

"I mean it though, Daryl. No one blames you. You did everything you could. It's not your fault."

And when you said it, he believed you.

Prompt: "You need to forgive yourself." / "You say that like it's easy." / "No. It's the hardest thing there is."

[darylmydix]

730 DAYS | daryl dixon [coming soon]

“we protect our people. we’ll protect you–i’ll protect you.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep, daryl dixon.”

summary: 2 years since you’ve been trapped with the saviors as one of negan’s many wives, and 2 weeks since you’ve made your escape into the world of the living dead, anticipating whatever fate awaits you; but when you meet unlikely hero, daryl dixon, he saves you and brings you to alexandria. it’s a paradise you’ve longed for, but how long will this freedom last until negan finds you?

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, sexual assault, mentions of noncon, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, murder, slow burn-ish, strong language, torture, decapitation, s6-11, 18+, minors dni.

author’s note: so i started watching twd again, which i haven’t watched in years but now that i’m a grown woman i’ve been feigning for daryl lmao, he’s so fine idcidcidc.

000

[taylormarieee]

~Blowing off steam~

Summary: You and Daryl have been dating for a while now. You guys are on the road looking for supplies and you guys got into a fight before the trip. You both get into an argument again but this time it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Angst- Pure Smut

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Breeding kink, P in V sex, Unprotected Sex, Daryl and reader fighting, established relationship, reader is a little insecure, Angry Sex, Dom/Sub dynamics, predator/prey dynamic, degrading, orgasm denial, oral (F), fingering, squirting, creampie

A/N: This was a request by @murdadixon girl I'm sorry this took so long! Love you💋!

You are dating the hottest man you personally have ever seen. Daryl Dixon. He is such a softie.

To most people he is big and mean and intimidating but what they don't know is when he is with you, oh god he is such a big softie. A big cute teddy bear!

You guys hardly ever get into any arguments and if you do it's over tiny, stupid petty stuff. So you never thought that your big, lovable teddy bear would be this angry at you today. Let alone get into a fight on this fine morning.

"Ya never listen! Yer hard headed! All ya ever talk about is yer self!" Daryl yells at you.

"Well you are always closed off! What do you want me to do, huh!? Talk about your goddamn favourite color? Oh wait, you never told me!" You say venomously with a frown on your face.

"Daryl you realize you never tell me anything? You never fucking talk to me! So I talk about myself instead! Your always silent so I assume you wanna hear me speak! You never tell me to shut up!" You yell getting angrier by the second.

You will admit it, you and Daryl are not the same. Complete opposites actually. He was closed off, introverted. He always strayed away from the group to be alone.

Whilst you chose to be open, extroverted. You loved pleasing people. And sometimes you thought if Daryl hated that about you.

Sometimes boys mistook your kindness for flirting and Daryl would always yell at you about it so maybe that's what this arguments about.

"Yer so dumb! Maybe you should start learnin to shut the hell up!" He yells walking away leaving you standing there.

You instantly break down into tears and cry in your room. You run to the one person you bond with the most and has a husband. Maggie.

"M-maggie" You say your voice breaking as you continue to cry.

"Oh my god. What is it hun? Who hurt ya? What happened?" Maggie asks worried.

"It's d-daryl we got in a fight and Idk what to do. he said that i never listen to him or in general. He also said that I should just learn to shut up. Am I too much for you guys? Am I not good enough for him?" You ssk heartbroken.

"God no! You are the best friend I could ever have! You are nothing but joy in this dark world! You are a reminder of beth. I see her in you everyday." Maggie says smiling.

" Daryl is just being a dick! Leave him be but he's going on a run right now if you wanna make up with him?" Maggie says.

"Ok thanks Maggie again! I can always count on you to make me feel better!" You say waving as you walk away.

You see Daryl on his bike and hop on right behind him.

He grunts and asks what your doing. You don't respond to him and just look at your fingers and wait for him to drive off. He scoffs and eventually starts the bike and rides off.

You hold on to him and put your chin on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." You say.

"Fer what?" He asks. "Being a people pleaser and being so loud and talkative. I won't talk anymore if that's what you want." You say sadly.

"Ya think that's what I want?" Daryl asks

"Well no shit! You literally yelled at me about being to talkative and how I need to shut the hell up, or does none of that ring a bell? You hurt my feelings Dar" You say sadly.

"Well I mean, maybe you should just listen and maybe I wouldn't have yelled at ya."

"Are you fucking serious?! Stop the bike." You say about ready to walk back to Alexandria.

"I SAID STOP THE BIKE!" You yell a lot louder.

He stops the bike and you get off, pacing back and forth to try and control your anger. Boy Dixon really knew how to push your buttons.

"Are you serious Dar? I'm apologizing and you have the audacity to sit here and do this shit again!?"

He just stands there staring at your hips and the way they sway when you walk.

"Daryl Are you even listening?! But then you wanna yell at me about not listening. Huh very original Daryl."

Daryl still doesn't say anything and just walks closer to you.

"Boy! You really know how to get on my ner-" You start

"Shut up." Daryl says in a low voice getting closer to you.

"Dar what the hell your scaring me a bit." You say backing up from him.

He looks at you with hunger and lust and anger. A mix you have never seen before. You kinda like it but your also scared. He's like an animal hunting down his prey.

He grabs you and pushes his lips against yours. You try to push him away as your angry your conversation isn't over. You give in as he pins you to a tree.

He rips your flannel of and then rips your shirt off. He tears the shirt off your body and now your favourite white tee is ruined, Oh well. You take off his vest and start unbuttoning his long sleeved shirt.

You slide it off his strong shoulders and run your warm hands down his back, clawing at his back leaving scratches. He picks you up from your thigh and slips your panties off.

Pretty black lace panties. He stares at the in his hand before putting them in his jeans pocket. He rips his pants and boxers off revealing his raging, hard cock aching to be inside you.

"Yer ready for me sunshine?" He asks, poking the tip at your entrance. You nod eagerly whimpering for him to slide inside you. "Yes please Dar. I want you so bad." You whine.

"Nuh uh darlin, Yer not getting anything right now. I'm gon have to tease ya a bit for your little attitude." He says smiling trying to catch you off guard.

"Uh why Dar you were the one who called me du-" You try to finish before he slams his cock inside your tight, velvety walls. You scream out in pleasure as he rams into you at a hard and fast pace, his rhythm never faltering.

You cover your mouth to make sure no nearby walkers could hear you. "Nuh uh pretty girl, I wanna hear those sounds coming from that bratty little mouth as I fuck the shit outta ya.' He grunts.

You remove your hand as tears start to fall from your face. "Please go slower Dar." You whine out.

"Sorry, can't do tha'. Gonna fuck that attitude right outta ya." He moans out. You both are panting extremely hard. His thrusts push your back against. the bark of the tree. You dig your nails into his back moaning louder.

Daryl grunts and starts letting out breathy moans and whines. "Wanna breed ya so bad." Daryl grunts out. "Want ya to be mine. Have my children." He says, his mind getting foggy by he thoughts of you having his child.

You whine out, turned on even more by daryl's dirty words. "This what we was arguin for? So I could fuck ya like the lil slut you are?" He states.

You whine, "Oh f-fuck Dar. Oh shit, fuck I'm gonna cum Daryl"

"Nuh uh, sunshine yer on punishment. Hold it." Daryl grunts out stopping his movements. You cry out as the feeling. of your orgasm is slowly fading away.

"Ya understand? If ya cum without my permission, I'm not gon be so nice after." daryl warns clenching his jaw.

You nod your head and his movements are fast and fluid like the last time. His thrusts are more erratic as he feels his orgasm approaching. You continue to cry as your trying you best to hold your orgasm.

"Daryl can I please cum now?" You whine out seeking his approval. "Yea sunshine, go ahead." he says breathlessly. "Squirt for me baby." He says dark and seductively.

"Oh fuck. fuck, Im cumming Daryl!" You scream out with not a care in the world about who or what hears.

Daryl pulls out and sucks on your clit brining you to your orgasm faster. You start shaking involuntarily and squirt all over daryls face and in his mouth. He laps up your juices with his tongue and groans into your body.

He fingers you through your orgasm as you pull his face closer to your legs. He brings you down to the grassy floor and pulls out his fingers and removes his face shoving his aching cock back inside you.

His thrusts are never ending it feels like. He groans and moans, his little noises so sweet and adorable. God you love hearing him whimper. It truly is the hottest thing in the world. "Fuck baby, I'm gon cum right inside his tight pussy. Give you a baby right 'ere." He moans out, pushing down on your stomach.

You moan out feeling his cock slide in and out of you. He whimpers one more time before drawing out a long, drawled, "Fuuucckkkk!" Daryl drawls out you kiss his neck as he releases inside you.

His warm, sticky, white cum squirts ropes inside you. You feel the warm fluid release inside you. His thrusts are slow and loving this time as he tries to ride out his high.

He pulls out of you and starts to grab you guys clothes. Once you both are dressed you walk back to his bike. Before Daryl could mount his bike, your lightly grabbing his arm.

He turned to look at you.

"Dar, can you look at me? You're doing it again. Look, I'm sor-" He interrupts you.

"No, I'm sorry. I know yer sensitive and I shouldn't have said those things to ya. I'm sorry I didn't care bout' yer feelings. I was just so angry. So I'm sorry sunshine." He says looking down.

You hug him and kiss his neck. He wraps his hands around your waist and hugs you tightly.

The drive back to Alexandria was eventful. Daryl actually opened up and talked about himself.

When you arrived Maggie was standing there by the gate. you hopped off the bike and were on your way to go see Rosita. Maggie threw a thumbs up from afar and you smiled and did one back too.

She smiled and winked at you. You all went your separate ways and lived happily in Alexandria.

Taglist: @darylscvmdumpster @murdadixon @carlgrimesenthusiast @carlsdarling @sinsandsweetness @tied-in-a-knot @loveforcarl

[xoxo-sarah]

Can't Come Back From This

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x medic!Reader

↝warning: death, blood, apocalypse, zombies, crying, angst, not proof read

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

↝⎙ 2.17.24

Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stumbled past the door, practically falling down the steps. The only thing stopping you from falling onto the pavement was the railing on the stairs.

It was as if everything was going in slow-motion.

Red. Dead. Blood.

The same 3 words kept repeating in your head. A nagging voice that wasn't your own repeating the words that would surely drive you insane.

The crimson liquid ran down your arms and hands, splattering onto the ground, weaving into the cracks of the concrete. Red liquid. Blood.

"Y/n?" Daryl slowed from his absentminded walk down the street, stopping across from you on the other side of the road. His eyes followed yours as they drifted to your hands. His body moved before his brain could process what was happening, or what had happened for your hands to be covered in blood and your expression as if you had seen a ghost. "What happened?" Daryl held your hands, asking the only question that seemed to come out, out of all the questions swimming around in his head.

"Bit."

His head shot up, looking at every inch of your face. Your face, that kept the same distant expression. He went into panic-mode. His eyes went from your face to your body, checking your arms, legs, everything. As far as his eyes could see, your hands were the only thing bleeding.

Your head shook, "Sammy."

Daryl felt his stomach drop. Any relief he felt when he relieved you weren't bleeding turned to dread.

Sammy. Sammy was a young boy, probably around 17, 18. He was a good kid, as far as Daryl knew. The kid was always offering to help in any way he could. He would go on runs and come back with more than needed. He kept the small kids of Alexandria entertained. Sammy would help teach the kids and others how to use weapons correctly. He could make a mean rabbit stew. But you could probably thank Carol for that. She taught the kid so much since he showed up. And he listened to every word.

Sammy was learning from Siddiq the same time you were. He was always one step ahead of you in asking questions. You didn't blame him. He was a smart learner, and willing to teach if you didn't understand something the way Siddiq explained it. "Want to learn how to save someone's life in the apocalypse." Sammy had told you, with a goofy grin. The same goofy grin he wore all the time.

You two were close, like brother and sister.

Losing him had to feel like what losing Merle felt like. Maybe even worse.

"Hey," Your dull eyes met his. Your eyes had never lacked this amount of emotion before, not even with what you have all been through this far. Your body fell forwards just as he touched your elbows. You laid limp in his arms. He couldn't care less about the blood soaking into his top as you clung to it. "Yer okay."

His attention was brought to the ajar door. A clattering inside seemed to only faze him. "I-" You hiccuped, "I couldn't do it. I couldn't, Daryl."

He had been rushed in late last night, bleeding so much, you were unable to find the wound at first. He was gargling on his own blood, trying to reach for his neck as you frantically cleaned him.

When you had finally found the wound under all the blood, you tried to save him. Tried to cut his leg off Before the infection traveled. But it was too late. His body went limp. You stayed by his side the rest of the night, staring at his peaceful expression, aside from all the grime.

The world was cruel, you had already known that. Way before the apocalypse. But this was a new level of cruel. One that one person couldn't come back from on their own.

The groaning continued, following the sound of your voice. The old body of Sammy growled and groaned, clawing at the door as you laid in the arms of the man you felt comfort in in other ways most nights.

Daryl moved back, holding you at arms length. "Gotta take care of it. Sit down." He helped you sit and lean against the steps.

He was quick with it. Almost as soon as he opened the door and walked in, he was walking out.

"Yer alright." He knew you wouldn't be the same again. You probably wouldn't laugh or make fun of him for a while. Hell, you might even quite working in the infirmary. He wouldn't blame you.

You had dealt with plenty of deaths before. There's just some you can't come back from.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

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

[louifaith]

Daryl is the jealous type, but not in a "everyone will know you're mine" kind of way; it's more like "you can leave if you want, I don't give a fuck," which led to too many arguments early on in your relationship.

It's always the same fight with the same ending in "Why can't you believe in the love I feel for you?" Then spending some time apart and come back together without really talking about it.

I believe that with time you will get over it and learn to deal with it better, but in the beginning, it will be a problem. (especially season 1 to 5 Daryl)

[rickgrimeswifey]

Rebellious - Daryl Dixon

—————————————————————————————

A/n: I have named the mom and dad so you can just imagine like a celebrity’s face or something. Just be prepared that the dad in this is truly something else… I HAVE NOT PROOFREAD!

Category: Really smutty, it’s like a rebel phase rule against father type trope, I threw some angst in here too so be aware of that

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Season: Not a season since this is pre!apocalypse 

Warnings: Swearing, smut, drinking and drugs, mention of abuse, Daryl’s scars :/, reader is kind of a brat from time to time, lots of arguments between the father and reader, father being extremely rude to Daryl 24/7, pinv ROUGH unprotected sex and a lot of it, descriptions of sex, semi public sex, marking, ...get ready because it’s about to go down fast and it will be one hell of an emotional roller coaster. 

Word count: 9.3k

—————————————————————————————

Y/n was at the beach with some friends, some of these friends being boys. Her father was going to pick her up at any moment. Of course she could get home herself, being nineteen she was just home from college over the summer. She was hugging her friends goodbye when her dad pulled up, giving a longer hug to her friend Jonathan who had just gone through a heartbreak. He needed the comfort more than anyone else she knew at the moment.

She waved goodbye and hurried to the car knowing her dad didn’t like waiting. When she got to the car he did not look happy at all. Y/n cautiously got inside and closed the door, not looking over at her father. If he was mad the last thing she’d want to do is trigger him. As soon as she had put her seatbelt on, he sped out of the parking lot.

“Your mom wanted us to pick up some groceries before coming home so that she can cook dinner for us all.”

“It’s like 7PM couldn’t you guys have done this earlier today?” Y/n groaned annoyed.

“Little missy I’ve been at work all day, couldn’t you have gotten a ride home yourself then? The least you can do is not whine about having to go into the grocery store for ten minutes.” Her father scolded her.

“Whatever...” She mumbled.

Both of them kept quiet after that until her dad opened his mouth again.

“Who was that boy you had your hands all over?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows not following what he just said. She hadn’t had her hands all over someone? Then it hit her.

“You mean Jonathan?” She scoffed at her fathers ignorance.

“Yeah that’s his name.” Her father confirmed.

“I gave him a hug, jeez dad. His girlfriend had cheated on him recently so he was sad and needed some comfort.” She explained, knowing her dad was gonna say some obnoxious thing back.

“Lord knows what you do to bring guys comfort.” He mumbled before turning off the car when he had parked.

Y/n scoffed, not believing what she had just heard.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She asked starting to get worked up.

“No time to argue honey, we’re here.” Her dad got out of the car.

Y/n got out of the convertible and slammed the door after her. She followed him without saying a single word. She knew it wasn’t worth arguing with a rich prick like her father because he never listens or believes he’s in the wrong. Although someone was for sure going to be arguing with him, a guy bumped right into him and then proceeded to continue walking like nothing happened afterwards.

“Excuse me!” Her dad raised his voice.

The two turned around and the one that didn’t bump into her dad caught Y/n’s eyes directly. The guy who bumped into her father looked like he was balding. Meanwhile, the shorter guy beside him had blondish brown hair that didn't cover his forehead in the front but it was normal length around his whole head. And it was outgrown so he hadn’t been cutting his hair recently.

“You couldn’t say excuse me after you just bumped right into me?” Her dad continued raising his voice.

“Look man,” the one who looked to be the older one of the two raised his hands in a manner to try and calm Y/n’s father down. “I didn’t notice, alright?”

“Didn’t notice? You rednecks can only do a few things and those things aren’t useful or good.”

The guy got offended by that and the two started arguing. Y/n started checking out the younger one who just stood there, glaring at her dad. She looked him up and down then she finally locked eyes with him. His piercing bright blue eyes made her breath get stuck in her throat. Y/n bit down on her bottom lip while still maintaining eye contact with the guy. She smiled at him and his cheeks looked like they were starting to blush. So he broke off eye contact and scanned her body instead. The cover up she was wearing had cleavage so her breasts were on display only being covered by her bikini. She noticed him staring and an even wider grin broke out across her face.

Her dad had apparently had enough of arguing with the other guy as he gripped his daughters arm to then pull her away roughly. That was when Y/n was forced to stop staring at the mysterious man. He watched her while who he assumed was her father dragged her away.

Y/n kept an eye out for this guy while her dad continued shopping, he was still pissed off. You could tell by the way he slammed the doors to the fridge and furiously went through the list of things to buy. It was actually quite sad to watch, watching him getting worked up for something as small as a little squabble. She knew her dad was a control freak and loved having power, that’s why he felt the need to push someone down over such a small thing. She caught him and the older guy standing at a self check-out, she knew she had to talk to him otherwise she’d never see him again.

She snuck away without her father noticing, with hurried steps she walked towards the two men. The younger one noticed while he looked around as the other one was paying for their stuff. His eyes scanned her up and down once again, now this time he seemed confused. He probably wondered what she wanted. Y/n hadn’t thought through what to say, maybe she should have.

“Hi,” she smiled at him, looking over at the older one as she caught his attention now too. “I just wanted to apologize for my fathers behavior. I know he’s a dick, he has this huge control freak, power obsession and low self-esteem type of thing going on.” She explained earning a chuckle from the both of them.

“We noticed, it was kind of hard to miss.” The older one laughed.

“Again, I’m sorry about that.” Y/n apologized once again, earning a nod from the guy as a way to say that it was nothing to worry about. “But I wanted to talk to you.” She turned to the younger one and smiled at him.

“I’ll wait for ya in the car.” The older one said before getting the receipt and patting the blond brown haired guy on the shoulder, he gave him a proud smile before walking out of the store.

Once he was gone the two maintained eye contact, his piercing blue eyes burning into hers again. His gaze was dangerous and she loved how he looked at her.

“I just wanted to ask you if I could get your number?” Y/n told him boldly.

She had learned to have confidence and go straight in when there was someone she was interested in. Where she went to college it was just to tell someone that you were interested and if they were you’d sleep together. This college nature wasn’t the same off campus but it was worth a shot. He seemed to get a little nervous by her confidence as he nodded shyly. She bit her lip to concede her smile while getting out her phone, she handed it to her and saw him type in his number. He handed it back to her without naming the new contact.

“And what should I name you?” She teased, raising an eyebrow at the guy.

“Uh- name’s Daryl.”

When she heard his voice for the first time, her knees instantly became weak. It was dark, had a strong accent and it was sexy as hell. Everything about him was. The muscles on his arms and how they flexed. His burning gaze, the way he scanned over her body a little now and then.

“Ya should know I don’t use ma phone that much.” Daryl explained, once again scanning over her features.

“Now you’ve got a reason to pick up the phone then.”

He nodded before asking; “What’s yer name?”

“It’s-”

“Y/n L/n you get back here this instant!” her father raised his voice for the whole store to hear.

Y/n sighed and looked over her shoulder to see her father standing there and he did not look happy. She looked back to Daryl who rolled his eyes at her fathers ignorance, making her like him even more.

“I think you and this whole store now know my name.” She giggled. “I gotta go, but I’ll text you and you better pick up Daryl!” Y/n warned him with a beaming smile on her face before hurrying off to her father.

He watched her cover-up slip up a little bit on her thighs when she sprinted over to the grumpy man standing by the vegetables. He turned around and left before she could catch him staring.

The following week went by fast. Y/n and Daryl were texting everyday, she had gotten to know him better but she was mainly flirting a lot with him. Then one day when she was laying in her bed without something to do she received a text from Daryl.

Merle is throwing a party at our apartment wanna come

She had found out that the older guy from the store was Daryl’s big brother. She hadn’t talked to him since that day or seen him so she didn’t really have an opinion on him yet. Y/n also knew that Daryl didn’t live in the nicest neighborhood, it was quite the opposite actually. Where he lived it was filled with shootings, robberies and other things you wouldn’t want to be near. Although Daryl knew if he was going to bring a girl from the rich part of town he’d have to look out for her all night long. Y/n thought it through and this was her chance to meet up with Daryl again, this showed that he was interested in her too. She needed to get out of the house, and her father had been picking on her more and more lately. All that was a problem here was fixing a ride down. She responded with;

yeah sure, i just gotta fix a ride somehow.

Daryl had sure listened to when she said he better pick up his phone because not even a minute later a reply from him came through.

i'll pick you up

She smiled at his text before sending her address. He told her to not dress too nice, just something regular. She understood what he meant with this, Y/n understood herself that she couldn’t come down there with a designer dress and a big diamond necklace. It was around 5 and Daryl said he’d be there at 8. Y/n hurried to the shower, she wanted her hair freshly washed and to smell nice when Daryl picked her up. She spent those three hours getting ready. Blow drying her hair, doing her makeup, styling her hair, picking out a perfume, putting on body lotion and picking out an outfit. As she attempted to do a 90’s blow-out look on her hair she put on a pair of semi low-rise dark blue washed tight jeans with a tight black top. The top had cleavage, she put it on for Daryl since she had caught him staring at her tits the week prior. Her makeup wasn’t anything too much, she didn’t add any eyeshadow, just some eyeliner along her lash line but no wing. She also had base makeup and some mascara. Once she was done it was almost 9PM. So she hurried to put on some sneakers and a pair of small gold earrings with a round gold bracelet.

Y/n made her way through her dad's mansion passing the housekeeper on her way out. She saw Daryl pull up when she stepped outside. He stared at her while she got into his old rusty beat-up truck. The car looked like it had been through a lot but Y/n didn’t judge. As long as she got to spend time with Daryl it didn’t really matter. It looked like he had tried to clean up the car a little before she came into it, there was a nude magazine on the floor and some crumbs from god knows what. She picked up the magazine and raised an eyebrow at Daryl while having a smirk on her face.

“Had to rub one out before you came to see me?” she teased while chuckling mockingly.

Daryl snatched the magazine from her hand and threw it behind his seat.

“They ain’t mine. They’re Merles, sorry ‘bout that.” He scratched his scalp feeling embarrassed from not noticing that it was laying on the floor of the truck.

Y/n smiled at him, she liked that he was respectful in that kind of way. Never once had he talked to her in an inappropriate way or said something disgusting like the guys back at her college. Daryl surely was something different.

“It was a long drive up ‘ere.” He said while starting the car.

The engine roared loudly, not starting at an instant unlike all of her fathers cars. You could tell this car was over twenty years old by just looking at it.

“Sorry if it caused you any trouble.” Y/n apologized not wanting him to go through too much trouble to go get her. “I could’ve gotten another ride down, it would’ve been fine really.”

“Nah, ‘ts fine. Only trouble it caused ‘s the dirty looks yer neighbors gave me.” Daryl looked over to her and smirked.

A huge grin broke out on her face. She knew multiple old people around here who were complete cunts. She already knew what type of looks they had given him, probably calling the police while they were at it. Now that they would see Y/n riding in the car her father would for sure find out and only that brought a sly smirk on her lips.

Daryl wasn’t joking when he said that it was a long drive, when they arrived down it was almost 10PM. He was parking the car while Y/n looked around. She had never been in this type of neighborhood before, in front of her was an old apartment complex that looked beat up. Graffiti on the walls and the roof nor walls looked to have been cleaned in the last decade. As soon as she stepped out of the car she could hear the booming music pumping out from one of the apartments. That must be where Daryl lives with his brother.

He motioned for her to follow him as he opened the door into the complex, he held it open for her and then told her that they had to take the stairs since the elevator was broken. The apartment they were going to was on the third floor, the front door stood open and directly when they got up by the last staircase Y/n smelled how it reeked of weed. It also smelled like vomit and dirt, but that was just the people who also reeked of alcohol.

Before they went into the small apartment packed with at least over sixty people, Daryl grabbed Y/n’s hand. She looked up at him when she felt him lace his fingers with hers. He looked at her as if he hadn’t done anything, his action earning a bright smile from Y/n.

The next couple of hours Y/n danced with Daryl. She had to force him onto the dance floor since he was a little shy and definitely grumpy about dancing. But there she was grinding against him, swaying her hips with the rhythm of the music. Daryl had his mouth by her ear pressing a kiss below it from time to time. Y/n had noticed that Daryl wasn’t much of a drinker, he only had one beer that he held onto practically the entire night. Meanwhile Y/n had two shots of vodka and a beer herself. The pair weren’t anywhere near drunk as they headed to the bathroom hand in hand. It was safe to say Daryl was bricked up, from all the grinding Y/n had been doing against him.

Once they got inside of the bathroom Daryl slammed the door shut before locking it, the loud music now more of a loud beat through the bathroom door. He immediately pressed his hips hard against hers, pinning her to the door with his body. The kiss he pressed to her lips was rough, hot and sloppy. Y/n let out a gasp of surprise when Daryl's hand groped her ass with his left hand while his right one was placed on her jaw. He took this opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, their saliva mixing. Y/n finally got a taste of Daryl and right now he tasted like beer and cigarettes. It was no secret that he smoked, it wasn’t something he tried to hide, he had already smoked three cigarettes in the short amount of time they’d been here. The clock was only like midnight. Y/n wrapped her arms around neck, bringing him closer to her body. Once he was close enough she pressed against him, in desperate need of some kind of friction.

With both hands on her ass he picked her up and carried her over to the sink. Not breaking the kiss Daryl undid Y/n’s jeans then proceeded to slide them and her panties down past her knees. He broke off the kiss before kneeling to the ground, Y/n kicked off her shoes making it easier for Daryl to take off her pants. He happily slid them off and then tossed them onto the floor. On his way up he kissed her legs all the way to her thighs. He stopped there and then stood up properly and spread her legs for him to get a good look at her pussy. Daryl groaned at the sight of her wetness, closing the gap between them at an instant he attacked her lips with sloppy kisses. He undid his belt then his jeans before letting them slide down his legs. Then he cupped Y/n’s face before pressing a long rough kiss to her lips, his teeth grazing hers.

Daryl gripped her hips and pulled her forwards so that his crotch was against hers. That’s when he pulled his erection out of his boxers, Y/n looked down at his dick and moaned at the sight of it. She instinctively spread her legs even more before wrapping them securely around Daryl. He guided his tip to her entrance, he kissed her neck before slipping into her making Y/n cry out as he bit down onto her neck. That bite was for sure going to leave a mark.

He started snapping his hips back and forth, in and out of her. His pace became intensely fast, as needy as they were for each other. There wasn’t anything romantic in the way Daryl was fucking Y/n at the moment. It was just their hunger for each other that she allowed him to ravish her. He continued kissing her neck while having a tight grip on her hips. All she could do was moan while he fucked into her brutally over and over again.

She moaned as he leaned into her ear while panting. Daryl angled his thrust and fucked balls deep into Y/n. With every thrust his balls tapped her ass making her scream out loud as he hit her g-spot over and over. Y/n tightened her grip around his neck when she felt the knot in her stomach beginning to undo itself.

“Fuck, Daryl!” She cried out, her walls clenched tightly around Daryl's length.

He grunted into her ear hearing her call out his name while clenching him firmly. The sounds escaping Y/n when she came brought another level of pleasure to Daryl. He felt himself getting close and fucked harder and harder with every thrusts, so hard that Y/n would be sore the next day. She bumped into the wall with each snap of his hips. His pace slowed down as he came closer and closer to the edge. Eventually Daryl stood still after burying his dick as deep as he could inside Y/n. She felt his dick pulsating inside of her before he filled her up with his seed. The warm sensation spread in her stomach while Daryl dropped his head on her shoulder and breathed heavily. Both of them had sweet sticking hair to their foreheads from dancing and fucking.

“Tell me yer mine…” he sighed and kissed her collarbone.

The thing he said caught her off guard, he wanted her to be his girlfriend? Y/n closed her eyes and hummed as he kissed her necks.

“I’m yours.”

That night after their intercourse in the bathroom Daryl drove her home. She was sitting in his car outside of the mansion her dad owned. It was around 2AM in the morning, they had left the party somewhere around 1. Daryl didn’t drink much so that he’d be able to drive her home safely. She looked over at her new boyfriend and smiled.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

“Feelin’ ‘s mutual.” Daryl told her before leaning in and pressing a long kiss onto her lips. “Yer so damn beautiful.” He praised while cupping her face, making Y/n’s cheeks heat up.

“Can we see each other tomorrow again?” she kissed his lips quickly before pulling back to ask the following question. “Perhaps go on a date?”

Y/n felt Daryl’s hand sneak to her waist down to her ass while they made out in the car before he pulled away and nodded. “Yea’ jus’ text me.”

She pecked his lips and said her goodbyes before watching him drive off. That’s when she turned around and walked towards the mansion, sighing when she saw her dad watching her from the living room window. Y/n knew this meant he’d heard from their neighbors what car she’d been seen in and by the look on his face he was not happy. As soon as she stepped inside the front door her father came rushing towards her.

“Do you know what time it is?” he hissed at her.

“Yeah, I have a watch on my phone.” Y/n sassed against him.

Her dad sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead at her attitude. “What were you doing with that redneck from the store and where have you been?”

“That redneck,” she snapped at him. “Has a name and it’s Daryl.”

“You ungrateful brat don’t you understand that you can’t go hanging around with those types of people!” her dad raised his voice. “I have a reputation to think of! What will people think when they see you drive around in some old shitbox with a disgusting redneck!?”

Y/n sighed at his ignorance. All he thought about was his reputation, that was all that mattered to him.

“I don’t give a shit what they think father.” She noted calmly. “It’s only you who is so superficial.”

That seemed to light a spark of anger in her fathers eyes. His chest was rising rapidly up and down while his nostrils flared.

“Go to your room! I don’t ever want to see you hanging around him ever again! If you do, you’ll be under house arrest for the rest of the summer!” he yelled into her face.

Y/n was too tired to fight with him, all she wanted was to step into her shower and wash the makeup mixed with sweat off her face and body. Without saying another word she walked up the stairs and went into her room.

The next day she woke up feeling good about life. She had a boyfriend, summer break from college and Daryl wanted to meet her today as well. Y/n couldn’t care less of what her father thought. She was an adult now meaning she could do whatever she wanted. Therefore she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Daryl;

let’s go watch a movie

Seconds later a reply came rushing onto her screen;

i dont have money

Y/n frowned at his response before coming up with a solution directly. She typed fast not wanting him to go away from his phone and read the text later;

don’t be silly Daryl I’ll pay for you or we could sneak in…

Her phone rang two minutes later, she knew Daryl wouldn’t want to accept her money at first and was probably thinking through what he was going to say to her offer.

theres an idea i’ll pick you up at 5

Y/n smiled at his text. They had a date for tonight. She was really falling hard for him, she just couldn’t help but to love everything about him. If anything he’d given her the best orgasm of her life last night, no one would compare to Daryl. He was truly something different.

The day went by fast and Y/n told her mother about her new love interest which excited her mother even though the boy wasn’t exactly wealthy. She persuaded her mother into talking her father into letting Daryl come over for dinner. Y/n knew her father would listen to his mother, he always folded when it came to her. Originally he didn’t want to have kids but her mother talked him into it. Though the after affects of it becoming the constant arguments between Y/n and her father.

At 5 Daryl was outside and Y/n hurried to his car longing to see him again, her father wasn’t home from work meaning he probably wouldn’t find out about this. Her mother had promised to keep quiet about the date and talk to him about letting Daryl come over.

Y/n told him about coming over and he was surprisingly chill about it. His only worries are her dad. She reassured him that if he did anything she would tell him off. Y/n had never and will never be afraid of her father. In her mind when he yelled at her that was just annoying. She found his whole presence annoying from time to time. She knew her dad didn’t ever want to have her in the first place because he’d made it pretty clear her whole life by the way he treated her.

Their date went well and two weeks later on a Saturday it was scheduled for Daryl to come over for dinner. Her dad was not happy about the fact that he was coming over but he did it for Y/n’s mothers sake. He dreaded seeing her upset. He didn’t seem to give less shits when his daughter was upset though.

At exactly 6PM Daryl rang the doorbell. He was really good at coming on time. She knew this would be liked by her mother, she would find him charming and adorable. Her dad was a lost cause and she just cared for her mother to get to know him with this dinner. She had told Daryl that too and he trusted what his girlfriends said about her mother. He couldn’t help but to feel his palms sweating while waiting for someone to open the door. Their housekeeper Maria opened the door and gave him a small smile.

“You must be mr. Dixon.”

Daryl felt weird, never a day in his life been called mister before.

“Yuh… that’s me.” He confirmed awkwardly.

“Please come in.” She welcomed him into Y/n’s home.

He’d never been in such a place before. The ceiling was far up, big spacing, expensive furniture and artwork everywhere, not a sign of dirt anywhere, the whole house was well-decorated and wellkept.

“Let me take your jacket, sir.” Maria offered, before he managed to react she had pulled the used old jacket off his shoulders.

Daryl had put on his newest and cleanest clothes, wanting to look as well kept as possible. He was wearing a pair of semi-loose fitted gray jeans and a black t-shirt. It wasn’t anything special but it was his newest clothes. When he stepped into the dining room Y/n caught his eye immediately. She watched how the tight fitted t-shirt hugged his muscles in the right way to get her underwear pooling. He had showered and tried to look wellkept. She couldn't help but to crack a smile at his efforts.

Y/n walked up to him before anyone else had a chance to say something or do something. She put her arm around his bicep, getting a feel of his muscles.

“Mom, dad this is Daryl. My boyfriend.” She introduced him to the two people sitting in their chairs at the dinner table.

The dinner table was big and for once her father wasn’t sitting on the end of it. He was sitting beside Y/n’s mother, who held her hand on his leg. That’s always what she did when she wanted to calm her husband down. Y/n guided her boyfriend to the table, she sat down across her father while Daryl had a seat across from her mother. Her mother inspected the guy in front of her with a smile on her face.

“We’re really happy to have you here, Daryl.” She smiled softly at him, the comment made Daryl loosen up a bit.

The moment they shared was instantly ruined by her father speaking up;

“You are, I’m not.”

Daryl shot a look his way and Y/n’s mother Adelaide immediately went to shut him up.

“Bennet, don’t be rude. He’s our guest.”

He only shook his head before calling out;

“Maria!”

The housekeeper came rushing into the dining room.

“Yes, master Bennet?”

Daryl had to restrain himself from letting out a scoff at the way she talked to him. Y/n’s dad really was the asshole she said he was.

“Go out into the hallway and count my antique sculptures for me. Make sure he didn’t steal anything.” He shot a dirty look Daryl's way immediately making him clench his fists.

Y/n sighed in frustration, she knew her father wouldn’t be able to keep quiet for just two hours. She noticed the way Daryl was clenching his jaw and fists, she reached out and put his fist in her hand rubbing it in a manner to soothe Daryl. It worked as he slowly loosened up and let go of the rude comment her dad had thrown his way.

“Let’s just eat, alright?” Y/n said as their plates were served to them by the house’s butler.

Daryl was shocked by this, never had he seen this type of luxury anywhere. The whole rich prick situation made him uncomfortable. The only reason he stayed in the room was because he didn’t want to disappoint Y/n.

They began eating and Y/n’s mother made smalltalk with Daryl wanting to get to know him better. Her father just stared at him in disgust, wondering why he let him into his house.

“How old are you?” Adelaide asked, genuinely curious.

“‘M twenty-seven.”

Her father looked like he was about to pass away. He slammed his fist on the table making everyone except Y/n jump at his reaction.

“You knew this?” he asked her.

Y/n nodded, rolling her eyes. 

“So you, a nineteen year old, think it’s okay to run around sleeping with someone who’s almost ten years older than you?” he raised his voice once again, growing angrier when Y/n shrugged carelessly. “You’re just whoring around to mess with me. Aren't you?” 

“What did you call me?” Y/n snapped immediately.

“You’re a whore. Sleeping with people ten years older? That’s disgusting, you disgust me.” Her father told her unashamedly.

Y/n looked at him coldly before deciding that she’d insult him too.

“Please, you’re only mad because he can get it up and stay hard without using viagra.”

“Do not talk to me that way!” her father yelled, slamming his hands on the table before pointing at her furiously.

“Then don’t talk to me that way either!” she yelled back. “It's okay for you to insult me and call me a whore but I can’t say anything to you?”

“I am your father!” He reminded her furiously, as if that would’ve been some excuse for his treatment.

Y/n was sick of him and how he treated her. She didn't think before she screamed at him;

“Then start acting like one!”

With that she stood up and threw her father in his face. She gripped Daryl’s hand and pulled him out of there. The pair heard her father calling after her and calling her all sorts of stuff. Daryl grabbed his jacket and put it on while he left with Y/n. He put his hand on the small of her back as they reached the car he spun her around.

“Are ya okey?” he asked in a low whisper, his accent strong from the emotions he was feeling.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him into a hug. She needed his closure right now. “I’m sorry for what he said to you.” She apologized with her face buried in his shirt.

“‘t’s fine, are ya okey?” Daryl kissed her on the top of her head and wrapped his arms tighter around her.

“I’m fine.” She sighed before pulling her head back, she looked up at Daryl before pressing a long kiss onto his soft lips. “Can we just go somewhere?”

He nodded and pressed a kiss onto her lips. “Anywher’ ya’d like.”

That evening Y/n and Daryl drove around town just enjoying each other's company. Later at night they arrived at Daryl’s apartment complex since Y/n didn’t want to go home yet. Daryl had agreed to let her stay over one night. He didn’t like it when she was in his neighborhood because it was dangerous, but it was something about the way his name rolled off her tongue in the sweet tone she used that made him give in. When they entered the apartment Merle was propped on the couch meanwhile his hands roamed a girl's body. The two of them didn’t notice Y/n and Daryl as they were too deep into their makeout session. The apartment was still dirty from the night before. There were beer bottles everywhere, puke in a corner of the living room, it smelt like shit and there were pills laying on the kitchen counter in a tiny plastic bag. Y/n had no idea what it was and something told her she didn’t want to know either.

Daryl grabbed her hand softly and led her to his bedroom. His bedroom was tiny with a bed that almost took up the entire space. It smelled of smoke and Daryl had some posters up on his wall and an old dresser. There was a window in his bedroom that you could see out on the streets through, although Daryl had the blinders shut because he didn’t enjoy having the sun burn into his room in the morning.

“Have a shirt I can borrow?” Y/n asked, looking between the bed and Daryl.

He nodded at her and pulled out a drawer from his dresser. He threw her an old metallica t-shirt, Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, Daryl had not once mentioned music while they talked.

“You into metallica?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Who?” He furrowed his eyebrows at her.

The two watched each other in confusion before Y/n let out a soft giggle. She turned the t-shirt around so that he could read what it said.

“Nah, I found that at tha thrift shop. Didn’t know it was related to music.” He explained.

“Fair enough.” Y/n said before turning her back to Daryl “Unzip me, please.” She asked him, he took a hold of the zipper and dragged it down before taking off the black dress she was wearing.

She had wanted to look pretty for the dinner at her place but that went to shit. Meaning she had dressed up for nothing, Y/n knew she wouldn’t be able to take off her make-up but that didn’t matter to her right now. She was just grateful Daryl had given her a place to sleep.

She took off her bra with her back still facing Daryl before putting on his big thrifted t-shirt. According to her it smelled nice, it smelled like Daryl. His scent was some cheap barely holdable deodorant mixed with cigarettes. That smell somehow made Y/n feel safe. Even though she was in a dangerous neighborhood, she knew Daryl was there to protect her if anything were to happen.  

After she got dressed and removed her jewelry, Y/n sat down on Daryl’s bed. She watched him stand in the same spot as before, watching over her. This managed to crack a smile on her face, knowing he’d watched her change and studied her body.

“Come on, let’s sleep.” She leant forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards her. “Get out of these clothes.” She smirked, tugging his shirt upwards.

Daryl immediately grabbed her hands harshly and took them off him making Y/n furrow her brows at him. He’d never grabbed her like that before it was almost like he panicked. A thick tension came over the room and all that you could hear was the girl in the living room moaning as Merle fucked her. No one of the two said anything, they stared intensely at each other.

She tried again reaching her hands to unbutton his jeans and this he approved of. He let out a grunt when she undid the zipper, grazing his dick with her knuckle when she did. Daryl kicked off his shoes, revealing that he wasn’t wearing any socks. Y/n tugged his jeans down until they fell off themself.

“You looked so hot today, that shirt and those jeans really showed off your body.” Y/n bit her lip looking up into his eyes.

His eyes had darkened, Daryl leaned down to press a rough kiss against her lips. Y/n allowed him to guide her body down onto the mattress. Her hands went to his hair as she gripped and tugged at it, this making Daryl let out a grunt. She slid her tongue into his mouth, their saliva mixing once again. Everytime they made out it reminded Y/n how much she loved the taste of Daryl. She squirmed in his grip when he groped her breast roughly. Y/n began tugging at his shirt once again and Daryl took a hold of her wrists and pinned them down onto the mattress.

“Don’t.” He warned in a low tone, looking her straight in the eyes.

His tone sent a cold shiver down Y/n’s spine. There Daryl went again, turning into someone she didn’t know. His strong grip on her wrists hurt her, he was holding her too tightly. She understood now that he didn’t want her to remove his shirt, she had no idea what he was hiding from her but she knew she had to respect his boundaries.

“Daryl, you’re hurting me.” Y/n whimpered, trying to squirm out of his grip.

Whatever trance Daryl was in passed in a second when he realized he was hurting her. Immediately releasing her wrists he sat at the edge of the bed, ashamed of himself. Y/n noticed and sat up behind him.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder blade.

“Nothin’... I just- I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” He explained running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know what it is that you are afraid of to show me… just know that I would never judge you or think less of you because of anything you could show me.”

Daryl turned around to face her, when he noticed her worried expression he didn’t know what he was fearing anymore. The last person that would judge him in this world was Y/n, if he showed her he’d be vulnerable and he was afraid she’d laugh at him. Making the decision to be brave and he knew he had to be honest with her if he wanted this relationship of theirs to continue.

“Okey… ‘m gonna take off ma shirt then we’re not gonna say anything more to each other today. Alrigh’? Let’s jus’ go to sleep.” By the way he explained it to her she knew he was ashamed of something.

She knew it was important that she respected him in a situation like this. Therefore she looked him in the eyes and placed her palm over his rough hand.

“Okay.” She whispered.

Y/n laid down beside the wall in the bed, she heard Daryl take a deep breath before he slowly took off his shirt. She had to restrain herself from not gasping out loud when she saw the horrendous scars on his back. It all made sense to her at that moment, why he didn’t want her to remove his shirt. She had wondered why Daryl didn’t have any contact with his dad but when she had brought it up he was quick to dismiss it. He always told her that his dad was an asshole and his mom was dead. After seeing what she had just seen she fully believed that his father was an asshole. All she wanted to do was hug Daryl and tell him how strong he is and how he deserves the world. Although he had told her not to make a big deal out of it, it didn’t feel like her place to make a big thing out of it.

Daryl had laid down in the bed with his back facing her, he didn’t want to see the look on her face because he was afraid it wasn’t going to be anything good. He jumped slightly when he felt Y/n trace on of his scar on his upper back. He wondered what she was doing until he felt her soft lips press against the mark. Daryl let out a sigh of relief, he turned around to face her. Only then did he see the look on her face. He felt the most comfort he’d ever felt in his life as she kissed his forehead before pulling him into her chest. And that’s how the pair fell asleep that night, with Daryl snuggled up against her chest while she ran her hand through his hair. Both of them trying not to cry.

Y/n was woken up the next morning by Daryl who was tracing his finger along her jawline, admiring her face as he did. It felt well having shown her the part of him no one had ever seen before. Once Y/n understood it was Daryl tracing his fingertips along her features she couldn’t hide the huge grin that broke out onto her face.

“What ya smilin’ ‘bout?” He asked, his voice raspy making him sound sexier than ever.

She fluttered her eyelashes before looking at him. She smiled even wider before kissing him passionately.

“I’m always so happy when I’m with you, you know?”

Her words made butterflies erupt in Daryl’s stomach. He felt the same though but never in his entire life did he think he was going to date a rich girl. He’d always seen them as self-absorbed and ignorant, not one girl with money had even made an effort to look his way. All of them saw him as some kind of peasant because he was poor, as someone they’d find maintaining their vegetable garden. But here he was brushing strands of Y/n’s hair behind her ear while smiling at her like an idiot, happier than he’d ever been.

“Can we go back to my place today? While my dad is at work, of course.” Y/n suggested to which Daryl scrunched his nose upwards.

“I don’ like tha way he treats ya…” he sighed.

She stared at him in awe, it was obvious Daryl cared for her a lot. But she had a plan for revenge against her dad. If Daryl agreed to it was the whole trouble of the idea she had come up with.

“He’s an asshole, let’s just forget about him and go back to my place while he isn’t there to ruin the mood.” She smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“Okey, fine.” He sighed.

Y/n bit her lip to not smile even wider, she leaned in and pressed a long soft kiss onto his lips. The two laid in his bed talking about different things and didn’t care about anything else as Y/n made Daryl chuckle. His laugh and smile was something that was rarely seen, but she managed to make him crack a smile from time to time.

Once they got out of bed Y/n got dressed in her black dress and looked at her makeup from the night before. It was smushed and looked like Daryl and her had been going at it all night although that wasn’t the case. She touched it up as much as she could with her fingers while Daryl helped her zip up her dress. He got dressed in the same clothes as yesterday because he heard what she’d said about his outfit the night before.

“Come on, you’re just doing that to tease me.” Y/n groaned at the sight of him in the t-shirt that fit him perfectly.

He just gave her a sly smirk. She rolled her eyes and the two left the room after Y/n had put her jewelry back on. They were walking into the kitchen where Merle was standing, already dressed and ready to get his day going. He caught the sight of the two, looking Y/n up and down. He grinned when he saw her face, by the look on his face she could tell what he was thinking.

“Looks like ya got lucky lil’ brother.” He chuckled. “She certainly is a nice one though, looks like an upgrade from all those dumb college bitches.”

Daryl just scoffed at him in anger while Y/n gave him a dirty look, choosing to ignore the statement of Daryl bringing home a lot of girls. This was the first thing Merle had said to her since the store.

“We got that business to take care of tomorrow so ya can’t go running off with your new fling then.” He said.

Y/n couldn’t ignore the stab she felt in her stomach. If he referred to her as a new fling maybe what she had with Daryl wasn’t anything special. Maybe he brought home new girls all the time. Those thoughts were dismissed when she heard Daryl speak up;

“What do ya mean “new fling”, I haven’t had any others, have I?”

“Whoa, calm down.” Merle smirked at him. “Ya already know this only will last a week more, like all your other relationships.”

Y/n felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach, by what Merle had said and also because of the way Daryl was staring at him. The tension between the two men was strong and made Y/n feel uneasy. Merle and Daryl looked ready to fight each other but Daryl caved after a while. Grabbing Y/n’s arm before pulling her away hurriedly. That’s when she understood his brother had a hold of him in some kind of way, he was kind of submissive to him. Just as if he was manipulated, she understood Merle had been more of a parenting figure to him than anyone else. That’s why he pulled her away from the scene and didn’t say one more word.

They got to the car and Daryl got inside without a further word. He started the car and looked out on the road as they began moving. Y/n watched over him carefully, she could tell he was angry. What Merle had just said bothered him a lot, she wondered if it was because he didn’t think it was true or because he knew it was true.

“What the hell was that?” She managed to get out after a while.

“Let’s jus’ not talk ‘bout it.” He shut her up immediately.

“Well, I want to talk about it.” Y/n pushed, making Daryl’s gaze snap over to her for a second.

“What ‘s ther’ to talk ‘bout?” He asked, looking back onto the road.

“For starters, is what he said true?” She wondered, preparing for the worst.

Daryl chewed nervously on his bottom lip, thinking through what he was going to say to not make it sound wrong. “Yea’, all my other relationships have gon’ ta shit in two months.” He looked into her eyes. “But I never showed them… you know.” Daryl averted his gaze from hers, looking down onto the floor.

Y/n looked at him with soft eyes, he must trust her a whole lot to have shown that. She didn’t know what to respond with which resulted with her staring at Daryl. This made him nervous thinking she was mad at him or something.

“Not even Merle has seen it… I dunno- I just-” he was cut off by Y/n placing her hand on his leg.

The two locked eyes again, she rubbed her thumb on his leg making his shoulder untense slowly. “It’s fine, Daryl. He doesn’t know how this will end, he doesn’t know anything about us.” She reassured him, watching as his grip on the steering wheel loosened up a bit.

He nodded and the rest of the ride to her house was silent. A sort of silence that was both comfortable and uncomfortable. They had talked about it but not talked about it all. There were still things none of them brought up, like how she wondered how many girls he had brought home. She chose not to ask him about it though because he’d probably accuse her of calling him a slut.  

Once they reached Y/n’s front porch they looked at each other with love in their eyes but also pity. They both felt bad for each other, Daryl because he didn’t want Y/n to think that she meant nothing to him. He felt guilty for being too much of a coward to tell her the truth. Meanwhile she felt bad for Daryl because he was clearly upset, and she felt like it wasn’t her place to ask him about something so personal as his past relationship or how his brother is to him. Her heart was aching for how hurt he had been in the past and it was clear now, more than ever, that Merle wasn’t making it better for him.

She opened the door for him, the house was empty this time of day. Her mother was out at the country club with some friends having lunch and her father at work. Y/n led Daryl into the living room, or one of them. The mansion she lived in was absolutely huge, Daryl had never ever seen anything like it. Everytime he stepped a foot in there he could hear Merle echoing in his head to snatch something they could sell for a lot of money. They sat down on an overly expensive white couch that her mother had bought. She was into furniture, antique or modern. It didn't matter as long as it was expensive.

“For a couch worth forty thousand dollars, it sure is pretty uncomfortable.” Y/n stated, making her boyfriend look over at her with a surprised expression.

“Forty grand?” He almost shouted.

She nodded in response. “I know.”

Daryl once again scoffed at all this rich people shit, earning a grin from Y/n. She immediately leaned in to kiss him. Quickly capturing his lips with hers, she grabbed at Daryl’s biceps while kissing him harder and harder. He took his opportunity to start groping her, her breasts, ass, anywhere he could grab onto. She gasped into his mouth and smiled, breathing heavily into his mouth. Daryl also smiled and then pulled her on top of him. With his hands gripping her ass she slid her hands up and down his chest while she pressed her covered heat against his growing erection.

Y/n squealed surprised when Daryl flipped her so that she was now underneath him. He began pressing wet kisses on her neck, latching onto her sweet spot that he found with ease. He marked her neck and her hands were rubbing harshly up and down his upper back and shoulders, desperately searching for more friction while bucking her hips upwards.

She groaned feeling Daryl's lips leave her neck and wondered what he was doing as he stopped touching her completely before hovering with his face above hers. Y/n let her hands stroke his cheeks while he looked deeply into her eyes, she could tell he was still upset. Daryl then went down to press the most soft and delicate kiss to her lips. The action so sweet Y/n practically melted by his touch.

“Ya know that yer not jus’ nothin’ to me right?” He mumbled against her lips, his mind preventing him from being able to give himself to her from the consuming guilt.

“Of course… or… I do now at least.” She searched after his eyes, he was refusing to look into hers.

“So ya believed wha’ Merle said?” The tone he used was enough to break her heart.

He sounded genuinely hurt, he probably felt very judged. When he actually looked into her eyes it was her time to break off the eye contact bashfully.

“I don’t know… I just feel naive if I don’t when you don’t even want to explain what he meant.”

This time Daryl stayed quiet and Y/n could feel his gaze burning through her. That gaze meant he was growing angry. From only the small amount of time they’d known each other it had been so easy for her to get to know and recognize Daryl’s body language, also what ticked him off and what didn’t. She gazed back softly into his eyes.

“That’s jus’ it! He dun mean anythin’.” He exclaimed while sitting up.

“Daryl, it’s okay… I won’t ever believe him again because now that you’ve explained, I know how he works. Maybe this is why your other relationships haven’t worked, because you are too afraid of your brother and also to communicate!” The last sentence that came out of her mouth was supposed to be sweet and comforting, it turned out to be anything but that.

Daryl looked at her angrily before his eyes softened after a minute. He had debated on who to believe, because Merle had always told him otherwise. That it was their fault and they wanted to separate him and his brother. The longer he thought about it the more he realized that she was right. Daryl was afraid, not of his brother but to lose him because he felt like he was the only one who had ever cared for him. Now it was different, he had a girl who had opened his eyes up to new things and who he could snuggle up against and feel safe with.

“Yer right…” he mumbled. “’M sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Daryl, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Y/n leant forward and kissed him on the lips carefully.

“I- I think I love ya…” he confessed, the words first swept her off her feet and took her by complete surprise.

“Oh, Daryl…” she sighed lovingly. “I love you too.” She jumped forward and kissed him with a huge grin on her face.

“Yer crazy girl.” He chuckled before going back to his position on top of her.

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Tag list: (click here to be apart of it!)

@slut4glenn // @nobody_somebody_me // @cherry-lovr // @daryl-dixons-left-nut​ // @bath1lda​ // @Lilith8211 // @justhurtnocomfort​ // @iwantmethgivememeth​ // @imaginethat16​ // @xjennyx2 // @Bebopsworld // @nicepeony​ // @graciepies​ // @hopefulatrocity​ // 

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[kdogreads]

Get In Line

Daryl x GN Reader Fluff/Angst

Era: Post-Wolves Attack Alexandria

Summary: Daryl and Y/N share an emotional moment outside their shared home.

Word count: 1150

TW: mentions of alcohol, cigarettes, mentions of death (nothing graphic), sad!Daryl

A/N: Soft!Daryl hurts my heart 🥺 I am rewatching and on Season 6, so early Alexandria Daryl is heavy on my mind lol. Thank you so much for reading! 💕

Daryl requests are open! Send me a message :)

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in my TWD fics! Thank you for reading.

More Daryl fluff here

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“Daryl? Ya out here?” You questioned, poking your head out of the front door to the home you shared with Carol and Daryl. The sun had set hours ago and the only light was a yellowish shade cast over your front porch by the streetlight.

A low grumble fills your ears coming from the darkened step down to the sidewalk. Daryl turns his body to face yours, a puff of smoke rolls off his lips and invades your senses.

“Hiya sunshine,” You began in a sing-song voice, eliciting an eye roll from Daryl as he drew the last pull off of his cigarette before putting it out on the concrete, “You better not leave that on my sidewalk.”

“‘S my sidewalk, too, no?” He teased in his typical southern drawl.

You raised an eyebrow at him and he raised his hands in surrender while he plucked the remains into the small ashtray by the steps you’d left there for him. A small huff escaped his throat before he spoke again.

“Need somethin’, y/n?”

“I brought you more pickles to try. I think they’re finally ready.” You stuck the glass jar out in front of you and Daryl took it as a small curl formed in one corner of his lips.

You took a step forward to join him sitting on the step.

“I like those.” He replied with a grateful nod.

“Why do you think I keep making them?” A sweet smile spread across your face.

“Thanks,” Daryl huffed, placing a hand on your knee for a quick moment before shifting both of his elbows onto his knees.

He held his head in his hands for a beat before lifting it up again to give you a squinted glance.

You looked back at him with a small smile for a long while before both of your glares turned back to the quiet street. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Daryl pulled the pack of scavenged cigarettes back out of his pocket and carefully lit one up. He took a long draw, let the smoke roll off his lips, and extended his hand towards you.

Before the world turned, you only ever smoked when you drank; guilty habit. Tonight you weren’t drinking, but Daryl’s offering served as his way to let you into his little world, and you were happy to join him.

You coughed a little as you exhaled and Daryl let out a low laugh.

“Didn’ think ya smoked,” He teased, placing a hand on your back and giving you a soft pat.

“Not for a long time,” You responded through a laugh, “And usually only when I was trashed. That shit’ll kill you, you know?”

Daryl huffed through his nose, “Get in line.”

You raised your eyebrows and nodded in agreement, laughing quietly.

Your thoughts wandered as you sat in the cool air with the archer. You looked at his weathered features - sun-darkened skin surrounded the last yellow-ish spots around his previously blackened right eye, messy chestnut hair clouding your view of the deep lines of his forehead, undoubtedly caused by the stress of the last few years.

Without realizing it, you reached your hand out to brush the stray hairs from his face. Your chilled fingers seared into his naturally warm skin.

He turned to face you with furled brows, anxiously shifting under your touch. You pressed your index finger between his eyebrows, smoothing over each of them to release the tension in his facial muscles. Daryl let his eyes fall shut under your careful fingers, now relaxing slightly into your touch.

“You have to stop blaming yourself,” You sighed and let your hand land softly on the warm skin just under his ear, “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

He scoffed and snapped his eyes open.

“None of it - the prison, Hershel, Beth, Ty,” You raised your other hand to his strong bicep, “None of it, Daryl.”

“Don’t,” He jerks away from your touch, “Just don’t, y/n.”

“Daryl,” You reached out for him, but he jumped up and took a few steps away from you.

“No, I don’ — I can’t.” He growled, pacing back and forth in front of you, “I shouldna’ stopped lookin’ for the Governor. I shoulda got ta’ Beth ‘fore — Tyreese kept Judith alive,” His hands stab into the air with each thought,” Tha’ herd was followin’ us and I just let ‘em head for home — all them people dead ‘cause I couldn’t stop those bastards. I just — I…” He finally paused long enough for you to see the tears threatening to burn down his face.

You shot up and crossed the short distance between you in one large step. Your arms snaked under his before he could continue, or protest. Squeezing his large body against your smaller one, you felt his breath catch in his throat. His chest shuddered in your grasp as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you further into him.

You hold tightly onto him for another few moments, feeling his hot tears soaking through your shirt as his head laid onto your shoulder. He pressed his face against the crook of your neck before taking a deep breath and lifting his face to meet yours.

“You can’t fix everything, Daryl,” You slipped your hands up to hold either side of his face, “You do everything for us.”

“Ain’t enough,” He whispered, barely audible even to you, eyes falling back down to the ground.

“It is,” You lifted his chin so his eyes had to meet yours again, “It is enough.”

He just looks at you through swollen lids, his hurt expression not changing.

“You gotta let go of that guilt, honey,” You rub your thumb gently across his cheek, “It’ll kill you.”

“Have ta’ get in line, hm?” He teased, the brief moment of vulnerability having come and gone in an instance.

You smiled knowingly up at him, his posture having returned to normal, but his arms stayed wrapped tightly around your body.

“Should we go inside and try those pickles?” You slid your arms up again to snake around his neck.

“C’mon,” He nodded and turned his body, one arm still holding you close to him as he took a step towards the house. He stopped only to grab the small glass jar on the step.

The two of you walked into your shared home, Daryl’s hand never leaving your lower back. You settled comfortably onto your oversized chair together, your legs draped lazily over Daryl’s while one of his arms wrapped around you. A small oil lamp alight in the corner dimly lit your faces while you shared a tangy pickle spear.

“Mm,” Daryl growled, “Ya gotta keep makin’ these.”

“Anything you want, sunshine,” You whispered back to him with a smile, tucking your head into his shoulder to fade contentedly into a quiet night.

[emeline2020]

I Understand - D.DIXON

DESC : You and Daryl have a final conversation before his departure to search for Rick and Michonne.

CONTAINS : angst, so much angst i’m in tears istg. maybe some fluff i have no idea

MOST LIKELY WILL REWRITE THIS BC I JUST DONT THINK I WROTE IT TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITY!!!

SEASON 11

You felt like a kid, hiding out behind the brick wall of you and Daryl’s-.. you stopped yourself. It was your apartment now. Because Daryl wouldn’t be returning for god knows how long. The only thing left of Daryl in the apartment were his belongings he decided he wouldn’t need for this trip.

You sat in the grass against the brick wall, head back, staring up at the sky. You were afraid to look anywhere other than up, incase the buildup of tears managed to break through down your cheeks.

You felt dumb. Your mind searched for other ways to phrase your emotions, but the only word that formulated was ‘dumb’.

You should’ve known. You should’ve pieced it together after Daryl left for 6 years when Rick went missing. The life he had with you didn’t matter, because he wanted more than you. He wanted his family. And it made sense. But just because it made sense didn’t mean it hurt any less.

You and Daryl had never officially labeled what you had. The others in the Commonwealth referred to you as a couple. Hell, for a while there, you had even thought maybe he would propose, or something like that. Make what you two had official to yourselves, and not just to the others in town.

But now you questioned if you even had anything at all. You questioned if he even loved you the way you thought he did.

The crunches of dead grass beneath heavy boots pushed you from your thoughts. You dragged a hand over your red, glossy eyes. You didn’t look at him, but his figure appeared in your peripheral vision. You didn’t want to look at him. You were nervous that it would trigger the waterworks.

He let out a scratchy sigh. Not an annoyed sigh, more of a knowing sigh. Knowing exactly what you were feeling. Knowing he caused it.

He slowly lowered himself to the grass next to you, mocking your sitting position with your knees up. His hands rested loosely on his knees while you clutched your legs to your chest.

You could hear him take a breath, about to say something. You rushed to speak first.

“It’s not your fault.” You murmured, your tone soft. Shaky. “Me being upset.”

He didn’t say anything. His expression was stiff, his blue eyes locked onto the ground. You looked up at the blue sky, holding in your tears.

“It’s mine. I should’ve known.” You elaborate your words, swallowing thickly. It took everything inside of you to not start balling tears.

“Known? Known what?” He sounded confused, but he still didn’t turn to face you.

“That this wouldn’t work. Not until you sorted out the things that are more important to you.” You sniffled a bit, taking to your nose with your sleeve.

“Nah. That ain’t-“ Daryl spoke firmly with a shake of his head, but you interrupted him.

“That is it, Daryl. But it’s okay. I understand.” You whispered, finally lowering your head to allow the stinging tears freedom.

Deep down, Daryl knew you were right. That was exactly it. He was almost ashamed that you figured you were less important to him than Rick was, because that wasn’t the case at all.

You weren’t less important. You were just as important, but Daryl couldn’t live happily with you knowing his brother was out there. Because Daryl wanted Rick to be around just as much as he wanted you to be around.

And that was the problem with you and Daryl. That was why you wouldn’t work. You and Daryl would never last. Not until Rick and Michonne came home.

“There ain’t a single word in the ‘ntire language to tell ya how sorry I am.” He sighed again, but this sigh was filled with shame.

“As long as we’re still something, you don’t need to be sorry.” You breathed, finally glancing at him. He kept his eyes on the blades of yellow-ish grass. His brown hair hid most of his face, and you could see the skull tattoo inked on his hand.

“‘Course we’re somethin’. Always will be.” He said, reaching over to place his hand on top of yours. But he still wouldn’t look at you. You weren’t sure you even wanted him to see your expression. It would probably just make him feel more guilty.

You didn’t mind, though. Even though his hand only clutched yours for a few seconds before he drew back, and even though he refused to meet your eyes, as long as you were something.

Something was better than nothing. And you didn’t want to push him, because you were teetering on the edge of something, about to fall from the cliff into nothing.

He squeezed your hand one last time, before pushing himself to his feet and leaving you behind the brick wall. His eyes hadn’t met yours once.

And then he was gone.

[celtic-crossbow]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre/early)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Mentions of canonical character death; Some verbal aggression

A/N: I had them on the run alone. I hope that’s okay!

The run had so far been uneventful. You’d even dare say boring. That was a word that wasn’t used carelessly. Life in the apocalypse was rarely boring and usually consisted of running for your life while scrounging up anything possible to ensure you could just survive. At least you were out with Daryl. He was your best friend and could usually keep you at least mildly entertained whether or not it was intentional. 

You were a survivor of the Governor’s insanity at Woodbury. It had seemed safe enough, but he had fooled everyone. Or maybe he had at one point been a kind, reasonable man that was just pushed too far by the cruelty of the end of the world. Regardless, it was there that you had met Merle, the right hand man. You had always teased him about that. Right hand? Get it? To most people, it would have seemed cruel, but not to Merle Dixon. He would ruffle your hair with a gentle shove and tell you to get lost. 

You never did.

When Merle left, you had followed and he had allowed it. He even held your arm and dragged you out behind him. That’s when you actually met Daryl. You had seen him in the fight pit, eyes wide as the Governor revealed he was Merle’s younger brother. He had never mentioned having a brother. Maybe he had thought him dead. Most would say Daryl was everything Merle was not, but they just didn’t know the elder Dixon like you did. Merle was crass, sometimes downright unkind, but below that rough exterior, he had a big heart. He was learning, little by little. You would have liked to take some credit for that.

Daryl had left his group that day, following Merle, just as you did. You remained quiet, watching the younger Dixon watching you. He looked almost wary, but there was a naked curiosity there too. When the two butted heads, you trailed behind while Daryl led the way back to the prison. Where he belonged, he had said. 

You had fit in easily. Merle, not so much. It made your heart ache for him when you could see the poorly hidden love he had for his little brother. He was absolute shit at showing it, sometimes selfish, but it was there. When he proved it by trying to be better, trying to show Daryl that he could do the right thing, it had cost him his life. You blamed Daryl for the longest time. You knew it wasn’t his fault, deep down, but you needed someone to catch the fury of your grief. The archer had taken it willingly.

When the prison fell, you had tried and failed to save Beth. Grieving yet again, right on the heels of losing Merle and then Hershel and then your home, you found a way out with Daryl, leaving the two of you stuck together on the road, alone and with a dense cloud of animosity billowing between you. It wasn’t until one night in a rundown home that Daryl had said reminded him of where he grew up, moonshine was flowing and then so were the emotions. You had both yelled, thrown things, killed the walkers that the fight attracted while continuing the verbal onslaught. In the end, drained and resigned, the two of you had talked. 

And the rest was history.

Alexandria had been a saving grace. It had taken a while to adjust. For Daryl, he had never lived in a community like that. He slept on the porch most nights, fleeing the confined spaces that left his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. You felt as if it were Woodbury all over again, destined to crash and burn and leave the group nothing but ashes. So, you slept on the porch with him, if for no other reason than to keep a fellow outsider close. You both knew it was more than that. 

Months had gone by. You had both finally moved inside a house and were even closer now than you had once been to Merle, which was surprising. Rick was confident in sending the two of you out together. You got shit done. That day in particular, things just weren’t moving in your favor.

For one, it was cold. The seasons were changing and you hadn’t adequately prepared for the chill in the air, especially when on the bike. The two of you were scouting for places that could possibly still have necessary supplies. Daryl had—as always—been quick to notice your discomfort. Though he had usually sewn the sleeves of jackets right onto his sleeveless shirts, that day, he had actually worn a leather jacket. 

“Here.” He shoved the article toward you, prompting a raised brow in response.

“What for?” You queried. It was a stupid question, but useless banter always kept things light between the two of you, comfortable even if Daryl would always claim the opposite. The space that lingered was never oppressive, not anymore.

“You’re cold, idiot.”

“Daryl Dixon is being sweet to me. This is one for the record books!” You chuckled while slipping on the jacket. The hunter scowled and bumped you with his elbow.

“Stop.”

“Didn’t hear you disagree.” You would have continued to tease if he hadn’t held up a fist just in front of you, the signal to be still and silent. The telltale groans, snarls, and shuffling feet were growing closer, blocking the two of you from the bike. “Aw, crap.”

“Yup.” He agreed, leaning around the corner of the building just enough to see the sizable herd. “Need a plan.” He mumbled, unclipping the sheath of his knife for a quick draw when needed.

“Got one.” 

“What?” When Daryl turned, you were already rounding the opposite corner of the building with a quiet shout of get the bike. “That fuckin’ woman’s gonna be the death’a me.”

There were a great deal more undead than you had anticipated. “Well, hell.” You grumbled. It was too late to turn around, several of the milky yellow eyes already landing on you. As you walked backward, keeping a safe distance but close enough to hold their attention, you could see Daryl peeking out from the corner. You exchanged nods before you began to wave your arms. “Hey! Over here! Keep your eyes on me!!” The noise ensured that Daryl’s already near silent footfalls would go unnoticed. He would get the bike, circle the herd, and you’d jump on. Piece of cake. 

Until you bumped right into a walker that led the other half of aforementioned herd. 

“Oh, fuck!” Quickly grabbing its throat to hold it back, you pivoted, walking backward toward the open area at the edges of the corpses. Daryl was shouting your name, the bike roaring to life. You just happened to choose the wrong time to glance in his direction in an attempt to gauge the distance between you. The next walker had fallen somehow, levering clumsily to its feet just beside the one you were grappling with, your knife having just sank into that one’s skull. There was no time to react. You could only watch the blade slip free as the teeth came together on your arm. It was painful but nothing like you had expected, more pressure than anything. Still, it was too late. You were bit.

“Y/N!!” Daryl shouted, grabbing you away from the dead man, your arm slipping free from its jaws to throw it off balance. That gave you a chance to climb on behind Daryl, the injured arm cradled to your chest while the other wrapped tightly around his abdomen. “Just a minute, just hang on. We’ll take care’a this.” He was rambling anxiously, the cool wind whipping and stinging as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. I’m bit.” You chanted against Daryl’s back, only barely holding back your sobs. The bike slowed to a stop, the kickstand lowered roughly before Daryl was scrambling off when you should have been the first to move. 

“Lemme see.” When your teary eyes met his, he growled through the sting at his waterline. “Lemme fuckin’ see!” He wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but he didn’t hurt you. Pulling your arm away from your chest roughly, he grabbed the shoulder of the jacket and yanked it down, ripping one of the seams in the process. You were both greeted with bruising flesh, the slightest indents of where teeth had vehemently pressed, but no broken skin. No blood. No scratches. While you stared in a shocked relief, Daryl wasn’t so graceful. His legs buckled and he went down hard to his knees. “Goddamn it, Y/N!”

“I’m okay.” You blinked, eyes transfixed on your arm. It hurt but it wasn’t a death sentence. You weren’t going to turn. “I’m okay, Daryl.” You smiled through the tears, now falling for an entirely different reason. “Daryl?” He was trembling fiercely, his shoulders moving in a way that suggested he might have been crying. You started to throw your leg over the seat to comfort him when he drew back his arm and planted his fist into the asphalt with a crunch that made your stomach turn.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid!” He roared, barreling upright to stand with his nose nearly touching yours. You were too shocked to react properly. “Ya couldn’a waited for a actual plan, just had to go balls to the wall an’ run out there like a fuckin’ lunatic!” Your eyes followed anxiously as he started to pace.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out there in one piece. I didn’t even see the—”

His uninjured hand grabbed your wrist, tight and firm but not without care. He’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not physically, at least. “Ya call this one piece? I woulda had to take your arm, ya fuckin’ useless idiot!” That sent you reeling. Daryl had been angry with you before, but for things like keeping the squirrel over the fire for too long or kneeing him in the groin while trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. But that? That was different.

If Merle Dixon had taught you anything, it was to never show how you really felt. When you began to laugh, Daryl dropped your arm and stepped back, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “My god, you’re dramatic. I’m fine, Dixon. Let’s just chalk this up to a shit day and get the fuck out of here.”

“A shit d—are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Stop it. Get on the bike and let’s go.” You pulled the jacket back onto your arm, your red flannel peering through the tear in the shoulder. Now adjusted once again and ready to go, you looked back to find him still staring at you with the same incredulous expression. You chuckled and shook your head. “Stop being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Nah.” He was stepping backwards with his own head twisting back and forth. “Take the bike and go home. M’gonna walk.”

“It’s at least fifteen miles and it’s cold. Now who’s being stupid?” When he turned his back, leaving his crossbow strapped to the motorcycle, you actually began to panic. You could drive the bike, sure. He had taught you a few months back, just in case. Still, leaving him behind with nothing but his knife was not something you would do without a fight. “Daryl! Seriously, please, let’s go.” He ignored you, stalking off into the trees until the wings of his vest disappeared. 

Chasing him wasn’t a good idea. You knew him well enough to know that much. Or did you? It had been a long time since an argument like that, one where both of you had shut down in one way or another. You started the bike, toeing up the kickstand before propelling it forward, your chest constricting tighter and tighter with every mile. 

It had taken him far longer than necessary to make the walk back to Alexandria’s gates. Granted, he’d stopped for several smokes to calm himself down. He’d slide down the nearest tree and sit there—flexing his throbbing fingers—until he had drawn the cigarette down to the filter or he heard the incoming growls of the walkers that had been tailing him. He had to take an extra half hour to put down the ones he could and lose the ones he couldn’t. By the time Sasha pulled open the gates, Daryl was bone weary and more than a little ashamed of how he’d reacted. 

“Seen Y/N?” He asked in lieu of answering when she questioned where he’d been.

“She came back a while ago. Haven’t seen her since. Sorry.” She patted his shoulder and returned to her post. You were back, so that anxiety was at least remedied. 

Still, he needed to talk to you. The way you had laughed in the face of his anger had unnerved him. It reminded him so much of his brother that it hurt. That type of behavior didn’t suit you. Then again, who was he to tell you how to behave? He had spoken to you so harshly instead of just telling you that you scared the shit out of him. He should have hugged you and been thankful that you didn’t lose your arm, didn’t lose your life. But emotions and Daryl weren’t exactly on speaking terms. When he didn’t understand why or how something made him feel a certain way, he lashed out at it. He was conditioned that way, it was in his blood. He had been trying so hard to be better. He actually thought he was getting better. Boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still a work in progress. He needed you to know that. He needed to apologize, even if it burned coming out of his mouth to admit he was wrong, to admit to feeling anything at all. 

Damn you for wiggling your way into his useless heart. He thought he had crushed and buried the thing years ago. Then you came tagging along on his brother’s heels and challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. He chose not to acknowledge it, even when people like Carol and Rick did. Often. 

Sighing, he stopped on the porch of the home he shared with you and Carol, lighting up a cigarette and leaning over the railing on his forearms. He would have assumed that you’d already spilled everything to Carol but when she didn’t barrel out of the house with a rolling pin aimed at his head, it was easy to figure out that you hadn’t. Maybe you hadn’t even been home yet. He trampled that worry down quickly, not willing to let it compound into another wave of anger he’d have to answer for eventually.

The streets were quiet with the sun now completely gone, replaced by the waning crescent moon. There was enough light for him to see, of course. His eyes were trained from years of hunting and surviving out in nature. He could hear frogs close to the pond, even hear the paper of his cigarette sizzling with each drag. But then he heard something else. Something that shattered him to his very core because he knew immediately what and who and why it was.

He didn’t bother to keep his steps light. It wouldn’t do to surprise you. You’d just be even more upset without time to even try and compose yourself. Even so, it was possible you still didn’t hear him approaching. Your sobs and sniffles continued, probably barely audible to anyone who didn’t know how to listen and not just hear.

You were perched on the bench beneath the gazebo, knees drawn up to your chest with your face hidden behind them. Even in the dark, he could see your shoulders shaking. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching you but once it was clear that you hadn’t noticed him, he cleared his throat. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the way you unfolded and nearly climbed over the back of the bench would have been comical. Maybe it still would be when the two of you looked back on this, but that was only if he could make things right.

“Hey.” He rasped, still rooted to the same spot.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Hi.” All the confidence from earlier was gone, leaving your voice but a tiny echo of the woman that had called him dramatic. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“Ya alright?” He chanced a step toward you, pausing after one when your eyes darted down to his boots and back up. God, he felt like an asshole. Were you afraid of him now?

“Mhm. I’m okay.” You sniffed again and settled back onto the seat, pulling your knees against you once again. “I hung your jacket on the doorknob of your room. I fixed the sleeve.”

Great. You fixed the thing he tore. Now he felt like a major asshole. “Listen, Y/N, I—”

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You interjected, offering him a small, feigned smile while your eyes betrayed you. “Carol has dinner ready. I put your plate in the oven.” It was just getting better and better. You had still thought of him enough to make sure he had something to eat when he got back. And the award for Asshole of the Year goes to: Daryl Dixon.

You stood so quickly that he nearly flinched. “I should—I have a new job assignment tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

That threw him. “New—ya ain’t goin’ out anymore?” You shook your head.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry, dabble in the armory too. Give Olivia a break sometimes.” Your tone wasn’t cold but bordered on emotionless. You’d asked Rick to take you off the run list, and you’d done it because of him.

“Y/N, don’t do that.” He watched as you approached, your head down. If you hadn’t seen his boots when he stepped into your path, you surely would have slammed into him. “Shouldn’a talked to ya the way I did.” Even while you looked off to the side, he could see the way your face screwed up like you were about to cry again, but after a moment, you settled.

“No, you were right. I should have waited. Things could have gone a lot differently. I didn’t stop to think about how you would have felt if I had been bitten.” Daryl deflated at the utter dejection in your voice. “Anyway, goodnight, Daryl.” 

Watching you walk away, your arms wrapped around yourself so tightly, he let himself think about it; allowed himself to think about what he would have felt if you had been bitten. It wasn’t anger then. It was loss, despair, guilt. Whether he’d had to have taken your arm or not, the prospect of possibly losing you was more than he could even think to bear. What was more terrifying was that he realized that your loss would devastate him more than his own brother’s had.

“Y/N, wait!”

He couldn’t let you think he had acted that way out of anger alone. Yes, he had been angry but he had been scared. He couldn’t say you were his closest friend. That spot was taken by Carol. You were something else entirely. Something that he would never get the chance to explore or define, fear and awkwardness be damned, if something happened to you.

His feet were carrying him toward you at a brisk pace, your eyes wide at his approach but you didn’t move. You didn’t flinch or cower, even when he grabbed your shoulder and pulled in against his chest, wrapping both arms around you to hold you there.

“M’sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You weren’t hugging him back but that was most likely because your arms were pinned between the two of you. “Ain’t no reason for me to ever talk to ya like that. Ya ain’t stupid. You’re quick on your feet an’ it ain’t fair’a me to fault ya on that just cause m’too scared to lose ya.” He felt your sharp inhale while his face and neck flushed at the admission. “I—Christ, ain’t no good at this talkin’ an’ shit.” When your shoulders shook, he knew he’d made you cry again and took a step back, his hands sliding up to hold your shoulders. While that was true, the movement was from the laughter bubbling up from your chest instead of the tears falling down your cheeks. “The hell ya laughing at?”

“I like you too, Daryl.” Goddamnit, you had a pretty smile. He’d make a fool of himself ten times over if it meant you’d give him that smile just once.

“Ain’t a thing ‘bout likin’ ya.” He swallowed hard and looked away, the pink hue on his cheeks deepening. “Don’t know what it is, but, uh—well, maybe we can try to figure it out together?” He sounded like a lovesick teenager and was two seconds away from rolling his eyes so hard that they would relocate permanently to the back of his skull.

“I’d like that.” 

“Really?” He straightened, expression embarrassingly hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.” 

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, not feeling like he’d entirely lost the right to call himself a man. “So, uh—Guess we should tell Rick that Olivia can get Spencer to help her. Maybe he’d stop oglin’ ya all the damn time if he’s cooped up in the pantry.” You reached for his hand and he let you take it. “Maybe I could talk her into lockin’ him in there for a while.” The walk back to the house wasn’t a long one and all too quickly, you were climbing the porch steps just in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want other guys checking out your girl?” 

Daryl almost missed the top step. “My girl?” He didn’t mean for it to come out quite so breathlessly. He was mostly definitely losing his man card that night. You were blinking at him, your smile slowly faltering.

“I—I misunderstood, didn’t I? Jesus, Daryl, I’m—”

“Nah.” He quickly derailed that train of thought. “Just liked hearin’ ya say it s’all.” 

“Are you—”

“Yup.” The smile was back and Daryl could breathe again. Somehow, standing there with you on the porch and him on the top step, just staring at one another was more comfortable than he could have ever imagined. 

“So,” you began, twisting your upper half back and forth, “you walked me home. Are you gonna say goodnight and kiss me now?”

Daryl’s face contorted in confusion, a dark brow arching. “I, uh—I live here too.”

“Does that really matter?” You asked, stepping a little closer. 

“Guess it don’t, really.” When you leaned forward, he didn’t stop you. Found that he didn’t want to. Even as new and undefined as whatever this was, this felt right and he’d be damned if he’d let a chance like that pass him by. 

Inside the house, Carol swirled the wine around in her glass, watching the kiss happen with a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Picking up her book, she took a sip and placed the glass down on the table before opening to the dog-eared page. “Now I don’t have to lock them in the pantry together tomorrow.”

[sleepyangelkami]

SICKENED d.dixon

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - when you don't show up to your lunch date with daryl, he suspects somethings wrong and makes his way across the commonwealth, only to find you sprawled out in your bed, temperature high.

 ☆ WARNINGS - fever, mentions of being sick, emetophobia, vomit, throwing up, daryl is mentioned to be quite a big older than reader, reader is mentioned to have hair, mention of anxiety, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

daryl dixon was something of a fearless warrior, and also a fearful worrier.

you liked the commonwealth, as much as one could when filled with the doubtful thoughts that whoever was in charge, would soon betray your people. when you got to the commonwealth, daryl was the one who seemed most worried. you were worried too, until you tasted the cotton candy they had to offer and you were sure this was a good place.

daryl became a trooper while you worked at the bakery, alongside your good friend carol. carol was possibly one of the best workers in there. you liked to think that your baked treats were nice but nothing could ever compare to carol’s sugar cookies. 

with you and carol being so close, she knew you and daryl had been itching to spend more time together. while you could enjoy the commonwealth as much as your ability would allow you to, you couldn’t deny the fact that you missed daryl. it seemed as though he was always working, always picking up shifts or being given them by the governors son. 

for some reason, he threw tasks at him like he had something to prove.

nonetheless, daryl worked tirelessly and endlessly until finally, he got a day off.

the kids would be in school until three, so you both decided that it was finally time for you guys to spend some time together, just the two of you.

you’d walked into the bakery two days early, grinning from ear to ear though carol was already changing your shifts, putting her on yours so you’d get the day off. when you’d stared at her with an open mouth, she’d only winked. “daryl told me.” she’d shrugged.

everything had fallen into place smoothly.

daryl was old enough, much older than you, he’d been on plenty dates before and he’d been with you for what felt like forever.

yet he still couldn’t stop the nerves from swarming in his stomach.

he’d arrived to the caffé early, at least he thought he was early seeing as you were nowhere to be seen.

then a couple moments went by, one of the workers walked himself outside to where he was sitting, asking him if he was ready to order.

daryl suddenly felt worry eat at his stomach, and it was nothing like the nerves from before. there was pre-apocalyptic nerves like taking your girlfriend out on a date and then there was the post-apocalyptic nerves, the sullen worry that something had gone terribly wrong.

he cleared his throat, glancing at the menu in front of him. “‘m waiting for someone.” he gruffed out to which the waiter smiled.

the man had a cloth draped across his arm, looking sufficient as ever. daryl thought he looked stupid. “right. take your time.” 

though it appeared to be you that was taking your time.

daryl worried easily. perhaps it was due to how many people he’s lost. perhaps it was because nowadays, it seemed like you were the only one that truly mattered to him anymore. nonetheless, he barely waited a half hour before slinging back on his sleeveless leather jacket, face screwed up as his boot covered feet found themselves stalking across the town.

he owned a little apartment, one that had rather noisy neighbours. you owned a large, three bedroom house, always inviting daryl and the kids over. truth be told, the kids rathered your house than they did his little apartment.

daryl didn’t know how he ended up standing in front of your house so quickly but he didn’t bother to try recall his events, instead, he brought his fist up to the grey door, knocking down on it harshly.

he received no answer.

worry ate him from the inside.

you were fine, you were fine. you had to be fine.

as fine as you may have been, it didn’t stop him from applying his body weight on the door, shoving it open. he watched as your lock fell broken on the ground, pursing his lips and making a mental note to buy you another.

the common wealth was strange and so was having to worry about money again.

the man found himself walking up your stairs. he called out your name once, then twice. 

he received no answer. 

it wasn’t until he stood in front of your bedroom door, creaking it open when he felt slight relief.

he could make out the strands of your hair that sat atop your baby pink pillow. he walked further into the room, your curtains were still closed. then, he could make out the way your brows had strewn themselves together.

your face looked uncomfortable.

he wasted no time in waking you. “baby, get up.” his large hands were placed on your smaller body, gently rocking your body. it was unlikely for you to be sleeping this late, you were the kind of girl that went to bed early and rose the same. 

you woke with an uncomfortable noise leaving your lips, a type of whimper as you screwed your eyes shut.

“wh’s wrong, hm?” instead of being angry that you missed your date, he instead sat himself on the bed, fingers brushing away the strands of your hair. his brows furrowed when he placed the back of his hand on your forehead, feeling the scorching skin. “you’re burnin’ up.” 

you offered up to response to that. “what time is it?” your voice was scratchy and broken, blinking heavily and slowly as you tried to rise from the bed. 

instead of helping you up, he practically forced your body back down to the bed. “why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” 

your lips turned into a type of pout. “did i miss our date?” you’d been looking forward to it for ages.

“no matter about lunch.” he waved you off, focusing on the more important task at hand. “how long you been feelin’ like this, sweetheart?” the way his tone seemed to rest so gently was enough for your insides to feel almost warm.

you shrugged your shoulders, feeling drowsy as ever. “a day… i think.”

a sigh left his lips. he’d been so preoccupied with his new job that he’d hardly had time for anything anymore. I mean, it was you who was getting judith and rj up in the morning, making sure they were dressed and ready for school. by the time he woke, you’d have them off and made his breakfast. 

“daryl…” his eyes snapped back to you, ridding his thoughts. “i don’t feel so good.” 

and there it was.

the sick-anxiety.

“okay, let’s get you sat up.” he helped you into a seated position beneath the blankets, your brows were scrunched together, eyes weary. 

he knew how anxious you got when it came to being ill, that was why he was thankful you never did. 

“how’s the stomach, huh? not feelin’ good?” you only shook your head at him, eyes beginning to sting. “okay, that’s okay, jus’ relax f’me.” 

your eyes were slightly wide and watery as they followed his movements. he crossed the room, grasping the bin that sat by your door. he glanced inside, taking out the single piece of plastic and placing it on the desk as a later problem. 

now that the bin was empty, he manoeuvred it towards the bed. 

“think you’re gonna be sick?” you looked a little green but shook your head nonetheless. he nodded before peeling the blankets back, sitting his body next to your own. sick and all, all he’d ever want is to be close to you. “why didn’t you tell me? could’a helped.” 

you shrugged your shoulders, placing your head against his strong arm. “i missed the date.” you spoke all pouty. 

he couldn’t help the way his lips quirked up. even in your own sickness, all you worried about was that damned date. “‘s just lunch, darlin’.” placing your hair behind your ear. “can get it any day.” 

in attempts to not look too bummed out, you glanced down to his hand which he’d interlinked with yours. “not with your job.” 

he caught on to the sadness etched in your voice right away. he cleared his throat. “‘s just for a little longer, promise.” 

it took a couple moments for your breathing to become slightly shallow. his eyes traced over you gently, waiting for any sudden movements. even though your mouth hadn’t so much as opened, his hand was still inching towards the bin that sat at the edge of the bed. “daryl.” your voice sounded much more broken than before. “‘m gonna…”

he didn’t need to be told twice.

skillfully, the man grabbed the bucket before your sentence could even finish. he placed it on the bed before you, helping your head hover over it as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the bin. he heard you half cry while throwing up, and he shushed you quietly.

“‘s okay, you’re okay.” while you held the bin, he used one hand to gather your hair, keeping it away from the sick bucket while the other hand rubbed gently up and down your back. “doin’ so good.” you could barely hear him now. his words were muffled and fell against deaf ears as you focused everything on finishing.

he waited until your head rose from the bin before taking it from your grasp, shushing you and helping you towards the bathroom.

sooner or later, he ended up flushing the contents down the toilet, using pieces of kitchen paper and antibacterial spray to wash the bin out while you brushed your teeth.

he’d been praising you the entire way while you stayed silent, sniffling.

it was no secret that the anxiety was eating you from the inside out. he knew this was the hardest part, though. the first time is always the worst but hopefully it was only a bug and it would subside in a couple hours. 

once you finished with your teeth, placing the toothbrush against the counter, you turned back to the man. he simply gave you a look of sympathy. “c’mere.” 

and you didn’t have to be told twice.

you kept your head hidden in his arms, letting the fat tears fall against your cheeks. you felt so stupid for crying, it only made you cry more. and that caused daryl to shush you. “It’s okay, it’s all over, baby.” though it mightn’t have been, he still chose to keep the positivity. he didn’t judge you for the way you cried like a downright baby, instead, his hands moved to gently caress you, lips pressing kisses against the crown of your head and sweet nothings falling from his lips. “did so good, my brave girl.” and hearing his words did help, it lulled you in a way that beat the anxiety that crawled up your throat.

he waited until you’d calmed down a little before tucking you back into bed.

it didn’t take long for sleep to succumb over you then. he sat with you for many moments after that, gently playing with the loose strands of your hair and not the ones that were stuck to your face.

with the fever that you had, he assumed a headache would only follow.

deciding to be careful enough not to wake you, he crawled out of the bed to grab you some aspirin, knowing you’d need it by the time you woke.

and he was right.

as soon as your eyes had peeled themselves open, you were whining. he couldn’t help but smile at you, such a whiner. but it was okay, because you had him to shush you and coo at you, telling you everything would be alright. 

after your relentless whines, he reached over to the television, grasping the remote and switching it on. “what’re we watching?” you asked, yawning to yourself. today had been a long day, and you hadn’t even made it out of bed.

daryl was thankful that carol was taking the kids after school and keeping them for the night. while it was supposed to be for other reasons, he was still glad that he could spend the time with you, even if you were sweating like a pig. “what do you wanna watch?” 

“you pick.” nuzzling into him even further. 

it was as if his touch could heal all. he still found himself chuckling. “you’re letting me pick? maybe i like sick y/n even more than the better one.”

you tried not to frown. “don’t be mean.”

daryl only laughed to himself, gently pressing a kiss against the frown of your head. “‘m sorry.” now you found yourself rolling your eyes. “your forehead’s still hot.” he commented, lips pressed into a thin line. “we gotta do somethin’ to bring down that temperature.”

you furrowed your brows, looking up at him with doey eyes. “how?” 

he ripped the blankets from your body.

“hey!”

main masterlist/daryl's masterlist

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,776 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, gore, violence, descriptions of flashbacks and implied PTSD, fear and anxiety Summary: After seeing Y/N freeze outside the walls a few days earlier during an encounter with walkers, Carol suggest that she needs to learn how to fight. Shortly after, she goes missing.

“Hey. Have ya seen Y/N?” Daryl drawled. “I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve been lookin’ for over an hour. We were s’posed to meet up today but she didn’t show.” Even as he said it, his stomach twisted. That wasn’t like you to miss an agreed on meeting.

Glenn shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Maggie?” Maggie shook her head, at a loss.

Carol shifted uncomfortably and Daryl picked up on it immediately, his eyes narrowing and becoming sharp. “Carol?” he prodded her.

She straightened up and met his discerning gaze. “I need some air,” Carol said. “Come on out and—and we’ll talk.” She didn’t give Daryl an option and quickly moved through the kitchen, down the hall, and out onto the porch.

Daryl burst out after her, tense and unsettled. “S’goin’ on?” he growled.

Carol spun and leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms over herself as if it would shield her from the reaction she seemed to know was coming. “I saw her earlier. We… talked.” Daryl’s eyes narrowed even further.

“Ya talked. And now she’s nowhere to be found? What the hell did ya say?”

Carol shifted anxiously again. “I just—I told her that it would be a good idea if she got some lessons on how to fight… I told her she could ask you or Rosita or—”

“Ya what?” he growled, stepping up to her. His face seemed to flare up crimson. “Why the hell didya say anythin’ to her like that?”

Carol gave him dubious look. “Daryl. She’s useless when it comes to—”

He was immediately pointing angrily in her face. “Ya dunno what the hell yer talkin’ about! Ya shouldn’ta said anythin’!” He stalked angrily back and forth across the porch.

Carol was a little taken aback by how angry he was. “Well, am I wrong? She hardly leaves the walls and when we were out last week and those walkers came in, she just froze!”

Daryl paced a tight circle in front of her. “Ya dunno what yer talkin’ about,” he growled again. “And it ain’t none of yer damn business. Why’d ya have to say anythin’ to her? Huh? Can’t ya just worry ‘bout yer damn self?”

Now Carol did scoff. “It’s my business if I want to help her stay alive!” She watched the scowl on Daryl’s face incredulously. “Or are you making that your job now?” she asked him pointedly.

He froze in his pacing, his shoulders thrown back. “Ya, maybe I am.”

Carol shook her head. “You’re gonna take on that responsibility? Do you have any idea what that—” Past feelings of guilt and grief for Sophia, for Mika and Lizzie welled up inside her. “You have no idea how it feels to shoulder that and fail.”

“Oh, really? I don’t? What ‘bout Beth, huh?”

Carol immediately went silent, her mouth hanging slightly open. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I—I’m sorry. I—”

“Ya forgot?” he growled. “Yeah, tha’s a luxury I ain’t got.”

“No, of course I didn’t forget. I just didn’t—Look, I’m sorry if you feel that I was out of line with Y/N. But I was doing it from a place of good intentions.”

“Yeah. The road to hell is paved with ‘em. Ain’t that what they say?” He shot her another sharp look and shook his head dismissively. “Forget it. I gotta find her. Ya ain’t got no idea what ya—” He broke off, shaking his head, and hurried toward his place to collect his gear.

Glenn and Maggie came out, announced by the creak of the screen door. Carol was staring at Daryl’s figure shrinking down the road. “You okay?” Glenn asked, stopping beside her. “Sounded… bad,” he mused.

“I’m fine,” Carol said. “You know how he can be,” she added with a forced smile. “Mostly bark.”

Maggie came and stood at the railing, looking after Daryl’s retreating figure too. “You have any idea what’s goin’ on? About Y/N, I mean.”

Carol shook her head. “No. Obviously there’s something we don’t know about her. All I said to her was that she should get some lesson to learn to fight. Daryl was furious. I don’t know why…”

“Well,” Maggie sighed, “hopefully he finds her and nothing else comes of it. I’m sure it’ll be alright,” she reassured Carol.

Daryl was soon at the gate and called up to Tobin who was on watch. “Hey. Ya been on watch long?”

He leaned over the railing to look down at Daryl and nodded. “Yeah. Since after the midday meal.”

“Ya know Y/N?” Daryl asked.

Tobin nodded. “Sure. She went out a few hours ago with her pack. Hasn’t come back in yet. I was a bit surprised to be honest. She hasn’t left the walls very often since Aaron brought her in.”

Daryl nodded. “Ya see which way she was headin’?”

“Straight down the road ‘til I couldn’t see her anymore,” Tobin said, straightening up. “Should we be worried?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. Tha’s why ‘m headin’ out. I’ll find her. Thanks,” he called up. Tobin waved him out and another Alexandrian rolled the gate back so he could exit. It clanged shut behind him with a noise that felt strangely ominous. Daryl set off straight down the road, just as Tobin said you had, and he scrutinized it for any sign of you. After several minutes of walking he found a small boot print in the dirt that definitely could have belonged to you. A shot of anxiety ran through him like a white-hot lightning bolt. What the hell was Carol thinking? Telling you to learn to fight… Shit. Another voice in his head answered, She didn’t, couldn’t know. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin as he straightened up and continued walking. His blue eyes were narrowed as he scanned the tree line on either side of the road and the grassy ditch beside him. You had to be alright. You had to be.

He walked for about another twenty minutes, painstakingly scrutinizing the side of the road to make sure he didn’t miss a path you’d veered off on, when he suddenly saw some dark bundle up ahead in the ditch. His heart plummeted into his stomach and his feet faltered. It was still too far ahead and partially obscured in the long grass and weeds. He couldn’t tell what it was. He took off toward it at a quickened pace before breaking into a full out run. After the first couple steps into the grass, he stopped dead. It wasn’t you. Thank God, it wasn’t you. He took a moment and bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his face from his hairline and he took out his bandana to mop at it, his mouth still open, chest heaving. He straightened up and looked down at the ragged corpse.

There was an obvious knife wound in the side of the head. A trickle of gore had run out of it and dripped down the sunken face and into the grass. It had been killed recently. He lifted his eyes to the trees ahead and squinted into the shadows beneath them. This had to have been you.

His steadiness regained, he searched back toward the road and found another boot print in some soft soil that matched the one he had seen on the road. He returned to the body and easily spotted a narrow, trampled path that led into the woods. He swung his crossbow down off his shoulder, his nerves buzzing.

He’d barely made it under the coolness of the leafy canopy when he came on another walker. This one too had been stabbed in the head with a clean knife wound. There were a few scuffs in the dirt near the body where the confrontation had clearly taken place. He struggled to find your path forward at first. The ground was carpeted in old leaf litter and scattered with patches of herbaceous plants that could easily obscure any marks left by you. But when he finally raised his eyes to look ahead into the distance, he saw more bodies… a string of walkers, unmoving heaps on the ground. He headed straight for them.

What the hell were you doing? You’d come out here after Carol’s obtuse comment to, what? Kill walkers?

Sure enough, these three walkers had also been stabbed in the head, though one must have put up more of a struggle because it had a wound to its abdomen that was spilling a putrid mix of shit and gore onto the ground. Daryl stood and continued deeper into the woods, following your trail on a mere depression here and a broken twig there. The afternoon was wearing away into evening now and he was getting worried. He needed to find you before it got dark. Tracking on this ground by the beam of his light would be far too difficult and he didn’t like the thought of you out here in the dark, alone somewhere. What if you’d gotten hurt and couldn’t get back? What if you couldn’t find a safe place? What if you’d run into trouble you didn’t expect? No. He had to find you.

After a while, Daryl didn’t need to search for the scarce marks you’d left behind anymore. He simply had to follow the trail of bodies. They were becoming more and more frequent and the clusters were varying now from single walkers to six at a time and everything in between, all stabbed. His heart was starting to race with adrenaline. He’d lost count of how many corpses you’d put down and there was still no clear sign of you. Dusk wasn’t far off. He urged himself to move faster.

Suddenly, he came on a walker that hadn’t been completely put down. It was still clawing at the earth, digging its skeletal fingers into the ground as it tried crawl toward him. This was prevented, however, but the upper body being completely separated from the lower. It looked crushed, or perhaps it had just decayed that way and fallen apart.

Daryl stabbed his knife into its skull with a swift and skillful motion and the low growls ceased. He squinted around into the trees. “Y/N?” he called out as loudly as he dared. It seemed to echo in his ears but die only a few feet away from him, stopped as if by some invisible force that swallowed the sound. The air felt suddenly thick and tense.

More growls sounded up ahead and Daryl rushed forward to meet a tall thin walker ambling his way. There was a deep slash to one side of its neck, deep enough that the head was bent at an odd angle in the opposite direction. It staggered and let out a loud snarl as it reached for him but he raised his bow and fired a bolt straight into its forehead. It fell with a thud and laid still among two other bodies.

He didn’t like this. All these bodies and then suddenly two that were left alive? His stomach twisted. “Y/N?” he called again, a little louder this time. He heard nothing in the crushing silence of the woods except for the occasional rustle of leaves overhead or in the understory.

He tried his hardest to swallow the constriction in his throat, but it didn’t seem to do much. Moving forward again, the trees began to open up slightly and the ground became grassier. In the waning daylight he first saw a looming shape that then materialized into a rundown trailer house. He quickened his pace but was soon stopped by the sheer number of scattered walkers in the overgrown yard. There was a tremendous amount, some even piled on top of one another. He felt a rush of panic. “Y/N?!” he called out, making for the house, stepping over one corpse after another. He burst in through the partially open door, which rebounded with a sharp bang.

There was a rising snarl and clattering sound and a couple still upright walkers lunged toward him from one of the rooms, but he put them down with a skillful shot from his crossbow and thrust with his knife. Please don’t let her be in here. Please. The inside of the house was putrid with the telltale signs of a long occupation by the undead. Daryl searched each room, his apprehension somehow growing with every door he opened, but he found no sign of you inside. You weren’t in here. You weren’t.

At least relieved that you weren’t in that nightmarish house, though still on edge, Daryl returned to the yard. “Y/N?!” he called again. He paused to set another bolt in the flight groove of his crossbow. When he looked up again, his eyes landed on something ahead that was entirely out of place among the bodies.

He paced over to it slowly, afraid of what he might find. He felt suddenly shaky and his hands gripped his crossbow too tight.

There on the ground at his feet was your pack.

He knelt beside it and turned it over. It was intact, but splattered with walker blood and gore. At least there was no sign of your blood—no bright, shocking crimson stains.

There was a depression in the grass beside it, just a small one, and he touched it thoughtfully before raising his eyes and scanning the ground ahead. There. A glint of silver. His breath caught between his lungs.

Your knife.

Daryl rushed over to where it was lying in the grass. It was covered with blood, and some of it on the blade seemed too red to be from the walkers. “Shit,” he said out loud, gripping the handle and turning it over in his hands. He shot up to his feet and nearly whirled around frantically. “Y/N!” Where could you be? You’d lost your gear and your knife. It was almost night. And you might be injured.

He didn’t understand this riddle… the fresh, living blood on your knife. He pressed forward, his eyes darting from one corpse to the next. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing. He was so afraid that one of the figures would be you. “Y/N!” he yelled again, the loudest yet. “Y/N, if ya can hear me—” He stopped short as he rounded the back corner of the house. There was a small garden shed in the corner of the yard. The door was shut tightly. He gulped.

Pushing down the nauseous feeling in his stomach and ignoring the tightness in his chest, he paced toward it. When he reached the door, he stared at it for a long moment. Half of him was telling him not to open that shed—that whatever he was about to find in there wasn’t something he should see. But the other half was screaming all the louder that you were going to be fine and you were in that fucking shed and he was going to get to you and fix whatever the hell this was…

He reached for the handle and popped the latch which resounded with a heavy metallic clunk. The bottom of the door scraped and groaned on the plywood floor but it finally bounced open wide enough for him to peer inside.

His breath caught in his throat and his heart jumped upward, rising, and then sinking again as he fully absorbed what he was seeing.

There you were, sitting in a tight ball on the floor among the dirty, dusty, spider-web draped pots and rusty garden tools. Your arms were wrapped tightly around your legs and your chin almost rested on your knees. Your eyes looked up at him from behind layers and smears of walker blood and dirt, wide and fearful.

Swallowing nervously, he pushed the door open wide to let more of the dimming light in. “Hey…” he said softly, as gently as he could. “Hey, Y/N. I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”

You hardly reacted. Your eyes simply dropped back toward the floor.

Daryl moved slowly and deliberately, immensely worried about the fragile state you seemed to be in. He leaned his crossbow up against the open door and swung his pack down. He crouched low so he was on your level. “Are—are ya hurt?”

You didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge the question.

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip for a long moment. “Y/N? Can ya look at me?” He edged closer to you, kneeling in front of you. “Jus’ look at me. Please?”

Slowly, your eyes lifted to his face and he saw that they were brimming with tears.

“Hey—s’okay. S’alright. ‘M righ’ here. Yer okay,” he said, nodding. He felt like a bubble had formed in his chest. “Are ya hurt? They didn’t—the walkers—tell me they didn’t—”

You shook your head, blinking to try and clear your eyes. It was then that he noticed a scrap of your shirt was tied around one of your hands.

“Can I see?” he asked, gesturing toward your hand.

You bit your bottom lip thoughtfully a moment before you nodded and held it out to him. Daryl carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage and turned your hand over to see a gash across your lower palm, extending almost to the bottom of your thumb. It was a clean cut, and suddenly the blood on your knife made sense. Perhaps in some struggle, slick with walker blood, your hand had slipped onto the blade and you’d cut yourself. Maybe that was why you’d dropped the knife. The cut started to bleed again as Daryl looked at it, holding your hand flat on his.

“I’ve got some stuff in my bag. I’ll take care’a this.” He reached behind him and tugged his pack forward before digging out the small first aid kit he’d packed. He grabbed his canteen from the side pocket and poured water onto your hand, dabbing at the cut with a clean bit of gauze and flushing it thoroughly. Then he dried it as best he could and applied some ointment before wrapping the whole thing with a fresh gauze pad and bandage. You were still as stone as he tended to you. “Anythin’ else?” he drawled softly when he was satisfied.

You shook your head, looking suddenly exhausted. “No. My shins are pretty banged up but—I’m okay. It’s just that.”

Daryl was relieved to hear you say anything, even if your voice was a little quiet and shaky. He nodded again. His eyes flitted over your figure, still hunched in front of him in a way that made you look smaller than you were. “Can—can ya tell me what happened? I mean, I followed the bodies here but—”

Your eyes dropped again and you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth again.

Daryl hesitated a moment and then steadily moved to sit beside you in that small space. He didn’t know what to say, turning words over and over in his head, trying to figure out which were the right ones. Finally, he broke the silence. “‘M sorry… ‘bout what Carol said to ya. She doesn’t know what—what happened to ya before, what ya went through outside, ya know?”

You shook your head. “It’s not her fault.”

Daryl glanced at you beside him and hated the filth coating your skin. He shifted and grabbed his canteen again, pulling his bandana from his pocket next and waiting until you met his eyes. “Can I clean ya up a bit?” he asked hesitantly.

You met his eyes for a long moment and for some reason his tension eased. Maybe it was because yours were looking less wild now, less desperate and fearful. You nodded in response to his question and he poured some water onto his bandana and began to mop gently at the splatter on your cheek and forehead. Your eyes closed at the touch of the fabric and a long, quiet exhale escaped from between your lips. His touch was grounding, rooting you back in the present in a way you hadn’t been since—

“Can ya tell me what happened?” he asked again. “ S’alrigh’ if ya can’t.” He poured more clean water onto his bandana and dabbed at a splotch near your jaw.

“Carol said that to me and I thought—she’s right. I just needed to do it. I thought I’d just prove to myself that I could still be—still be out here.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, pausing to study your expression.

“I started killing walkers. And then there were more and more and I just followed the trail. And at first I was just so angry,” you said, ducking Daryl’s gaze and running a hand over the bandage on your palm thoughtfully. “I just wanted to put them all down, you know? I wanted to kill every fucking walker in the whole world. I was just so angry.” Your voice broke slightly and you shook your head, your eyes filling with tears again that stung and blurred your vision. “Then there were more and more and I—stupidly, I just kept following them. Then there were so many.” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t know that house was full. And they broke out through the door. And it was like a—a flood of them all closing in around me.” You paused to try and gain control of your breathing again, it had grown rapid and shallow with the swelling anxiety as you remembered.

Daryl’s brow was heavily furrowed over his bright blue eyes, but they were soft. He found a clean area of his bandana and poured a little more water on it, lifting his hand again to smooth away a smear on your chin.

You stared at him during this tender moment and felt some dam break in you, some last wall came crumbling down. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you missing and he’d followed. He’d tracked you all the way here from Alexandria. Your heart swelled for him.

“I was killing as many as I could and then—I—the flashbacks hit me—I think,” you paused and drew in a staggered breath, “I don’t know if it was the blood or the smell or the sounds—but I was seeing it all over again, like it was really happening. I was seeing them ripping apart my family after the outbreak and then—they weren’t walkers anymore all of a sudden, they were those men that—that—”

“S’okay,” Daryl interrupted you. “Ya dun gotta say anymore. I know…”

You leaned your head back and shut your eyes, waiting for your heart and breathing to slow again. Daryl watched you carefully and waited until your eyes opened again and you looked at him. He gulped. “‘M sorry. ‘M sorry that happened to ya, all of it. And ‘m sorry Carol said what she said. She was outta line.”

You shook your head, your posture finally uncurling from that tense, protective ball. “No. She couldn’t know. She doesn’t. It’s not her fault. It was stupid of me to leave the walls alone. I knew this could happen, the flashbacks, you know. But what she said—it triggered something in me…”

Daryl nodded and returned to his canteen and the bandana and his gentle ministrations to clean the blood and dirt from your skin.

“I just don’t want people to think—” you broke off again, biting your bottom lip.

“Think what?” he asked, mopping gently at a smear of walker blood on the side of your neck.

“That I’m… useless. Helpless,” you said, ducking your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Daryl pulled back with the cloth and looked at you for a long moment before he sighed. “It don’t matter what people think, alrigh’? Most of the damn time they’re gonna think what they wanna anyway, with or without proof. But ya aren’t useless and ya sure as shit ain’t helpless. I dunno how many of those walkers ya killed today but it was a lot. Ya know how to fight. But none of that matters, even if ya didn’t. If ya never leave the walls again, it don’t matter. If ya freeze up,” he shrugged, “it don’t matter. Ya got people back there now who will—will protect ya. S’okay.”

You met his eyes as they searched your face and you felt a jolt of electricity run up your back.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Gabriel called down to Eric at the gate. “It’s Daryl and Y/N! Open up!”

The sun was nearly gone and darkness was falling in the deep shadows beneath the trees, but you’d made it back, walking side by side, to Alexandria. Your pack was on your back again and your knife was in its sheath. Besides being filthy, no one would know what had happened outside the walls.

Carol was suddenly there, having climbed down the ladder and waited for the two of you to step through the gate. She was wringing her hands a little nervously. “Y/N—I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m sorry for what I—”

You gave her a small smile and interrupted. “It’s okay,” you said. “But—you should know that I do know how to fight.”

“She dun need lessons,” Daryl said. “Just ‘cause somebody don’t, doesn’t mean they can’t.”

Carol nodded, a little perplexed, and eyed the blood all over your clothes and noticed the clean bandage on your hand. “Are you alright?”

“Just need a few stitches and a shower,” you said with a nod. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon,” Daryl said, nudging his head in the direction of the clinic. The two of you started off again but Carol stopped Daryl again.

“Are we… okay?” she asked nervously. “I’m sorry that I assumed—”

He put a friendly hand on her shoulder and nodded, giving her that signature little Daryl smile. “We’re good. Forget it.”

Carol breathed a sigh of relief and her eyes flickered back to you waiting for him a short distance away. “What happened?”

Daryl shrugged. “Nothin’. She was just… killin’ walkers. See ya later.”

“Well, I‘m glad you found her. It’s almost dark,” Carol said. Daryl nodded. Carol returned his goodbye and watched the two of you fade down the street. All’s well that ends well, she thought. But she knew now there was much more to this story.

Daryl stayed with you while Denise stitched up your hand and made sure there would be no lasting damage, except maybe a bit of lost sensation on that area of your palm. You were ready to be home when she was finished and Daryl walked with you down the dark sidewalks and stopped alongside you at your front door. You turned and gave him a somewhat abashed, small smile. “Thank you. For coming after me today. I might still be in that shed if you hadn’t.”

He nodded. “‘Course. ‘M just glad that yer okay. I was—worried,” he drawled. That would didn’t even begin to encapsulate his feelings. He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, trying hard to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach.

Your top teeth dimpled into the softness of your full bottom lip and you considered him for a moment. “Did you, umm, want to come in? I need to grab a shower but then I suspect sleep may be hard to come by tonight.”

Did he want to come in? Fuck yes, he wanted to come in. He managed a nod and followed you inside, the sturdy door shutting out the night behind him.

Could something good really come out of so much fear and anxiety? It seemed, perhaps, that it could.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

souls stripped bare

Happy New Year’s Eve, y’all!

When - starts maybe a half hour after ‘A measure of reverence, Part 2′ which takes place in Season 2, the morning of “Chupacabra.” This story is a bridge to the afternoon of the episode where Daryl gets badly injured and hallucinates Merle.

What - after all that goes on, you and him cannot shake the feeling that you’ve seen each other stripped bare, right down to the soul.

Relationships - Daryl x reader. You help him through a freak out, he physically carries you.

Perspective - it’s Dixon’s POV this time. We see your thoughts once, but he’s got the wheel for this one

Genre - heavier. Souls are getting bared here

Pronouns - she/her

How much time will I need to read it? - depends, but there are ~5,680 words

Should I read all the other stuff in The Slowpoke Series? - oh heck, yeah!

Which ones if I can’t binge all the chapters rn? - the ones directly referenced but not too necessary to reread are Quarter!, There’s also a bar., and Ain’t nothing..., and the stories that will help a lot with context are It was a pragmatic cigarette, and What were your nightmares about? and of course, the chapter directly before this A measure of reverence, Part 2.

(Trigger warnings are below for space)

TWs - Daryl has something of a panic attack, there’s discussion of break-in and subsequent fatalities including that of minors, discussion of killing in self-defense and of guns, foul language, fighting, mention of ‘putting down’ walkers including that of minors, reference to child abuse (Daryl’s scars), and there’s a part where Daryl recognizes the pattern that sometimes occurs in those who have been abused where they may in turn also develop abusive tendencies.

..............................

Him

The other two people got a shallow grave out back with a rock as a place marker and a simple “I don’t know how it all works, but I hope you had some kind of repentance,” out of her. He would’ve left them out to rot or maybe tossed some lighter fluid and a match on them to send them to hell faster.

“They don’t deserve even a damn hole in the ground, Y/N,” he’d said to her when he saw what she was doing.

“It ain’t about ‘deserve,’ man.” And sure enough, she’d dug their damn hole in the ground until her shoulder gave out and her side started bleeding again, so he grit his teeth and finished it for her. Why, he wasn’t sure of.

As for the family, Y/N had carried the baby out first, wrapped in a blanket, then the toddler. He’d carried out the old woman first. They kept them together. How they got the others out was a blur, but he knew that at some point he busted the side-door open and soon he was digging.

The garden had been tilled real good, so there weren’t any roots or rocks to deal with, just the overgrown vegetable plants.

When her arm gave out again and she couldn’t use it anymore, Y/N trudged off to the well to refill their water bottles.

It was right after that when he’d started fucking bawling, and by the time Y/N had gotten back, he still hadn’t stopped.

Slowly, she used her good arm to rub her hand across his upper back and rested her head against his arm.

At some point, he was sitting on his ass in the dirt smoking a cigarette. She’d given him some space for that and, apparently, was gathering up what dead chickens there were and giving them a teeny little grave, too, if her dragging each one with the shovel to that spot by the birdbath and scraping a hole with her foot wasn’t his imagination.

When he was done blubbering like a kid who scraped his knee, that’s when he finished digging the grave for the family.

She brought out a cross that had been hanging on the wall inside, a handful of those prayer bead necklace things, and a blanket that had the Mexican Mary lady on it.

She laid the blanket over bodies after putting a string of prayer bead ropes with each family member. He noticed she pocketed some extras.

Then, together, they covered the family with dirt.

Her hand curled around his and she offered some words that sounded like she was familiar with their type of praying.

Their fingers ended up laced together. Why, he wasn’t sure of.

After the people walkers were given that ‘measure of reverence’ and ‘put out of their misery,’ or ‘laid to rest,’ whatever you wanna call it, Daryl shoved the cross into the ground and secured it with some rocks before storming back into the house.

There was some kind of alcohol in there and he was gonna find that shit.

He checked all the upper cabinets to start, and the first bottle of something useful he came across said ‘p-u-l-q-u-e.’ He didn’t know what that was or why it looked like curdled milk, but it was there, so he uncapped it and chugged some down while pacing back and forth.

This thick, syrupy, sour milk and beer flavor assaulted his mouth and cleared his nostrils.

He kept pacing. Y/N leaned against the counter opposite him and gagged after having a swig of her own.

Another cigarette, that’s what he needed, fuck.

He pulled out his pack and meant to light up, but when he saw his…

His fingers.

His fingers were so…oh my God, they were covered. Shit—his hands, his forearms, his everyth—fuck, fuck, he was filthy, he was—he was covered in dirt!

Her voice sounded far away. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

Oh God, oh God, his whole body, everything was filthy, fuck, fuck, he needed to get it off! It was all over him, he needed to get it all off—

“—Whoa now, it’s all good,” her voice cut in again. “Honey, come with me, I got ya. Sweetheart, come with me, we’ll wash it off.”

When exactly he’d made his way to the sink and started trying to scrub with a dry sponge, he couldn’t remember.

“Daryl, no, no, with me. With me, baby, this way,” that gentle voice cut in again. “There’s a rain barrel outside, it’ll be nice and clean, c’mon. You got this, man, it’ll be okay, we’re gonna get all off.”

She was cooing like he was a three-year-old and he didn’t even care, he just needed to get clean!

..............................

You

You didn’t think you’d see Daryl Dixon ever panic about dirt. To be fair, you didn’t think you’d see him panic about anything. When he stumbled to the sink and started rubbing his skin raw with the dry sponge, you pried it away, grabbed a dish towel and soap, and lead him through the side-door to where the rain barrel was.

That at first he’d flinched and swatted and drew back from your hand guiding him clued you in further that he’d been treated very badly once.

After he wrenched off the rain barrel’s lid and began to frantically wash up, you gave him his space and stood guard.

You avoided looking at him because when you did, you had the oddest sensation as if his soul was being bared to you against his will.

The most fitting way you can best describe it was as if you’d accidentally walked in on him naked.

On that topic, he yanked off his button-down (one of his only shirts he hasn’t cut the sleeves off). You picked it up and shook the dirt from it.

Now, he was still wearing that worn, yellowed, stained tank that had been his brother’s, but because the straps were so thin and the tank he was in fell lower than Daryl’s do, you thought you briefly saw more tattoos and what looked like…it looked like either bruises or scarring on his upper back.

You checked yourself and avoided looking but wished you could avoid thinking about what you saw. It was just another piece of evidence to how bad things once were for him.

It truly felt like you were seeing pieces of his soul that he wanted to keep hidden, that were meant to be protected. You felt so unbearably close to him, it was insane.

Not two minutes passed before your poor Daryl bent to the side and threw up in the pachysandra.

You rinsed the dish towel in the barrel, delicately pressed it to his neck, then gave him space again.

Besides, you needed a bandage on your stitches and maybe a clean shirt and some painkillers. Going back to camp bloodstained would worry people.

And, those were some Coronas you saw hiding on the top of the fridge, right? Those would help your friend calm down and get the sick taste out of his mouth.

..............................

Him

When he stopped bugging the hell out, he saw that his shirt was folded and set on a lawn chair. He pulled it back on only to discover a bunch of buttons were missing. He stared at his hands, now clean. Scrubbed red.

That morning at the CDC when Y/N kept wiping her hand because she felt like her friend’s blood was still on it popped into his head. The sweet one, Andrea’s little sister, what was her na—Amy. Amy’s blood.

He ran his fingers along his palm to prove there was no grit on there, it was just him bugging out. He looked at his fingernails where he’d scoured every bit of grime from underneath to prove they weren’t still jammed with dirt, it was just him bugging out.

One final splash to his face and he headed back into that house.

Y/N was inside the kitchen, holding an unopened a beer (where the hell she find that, I need one) and looking at all the pictures. There were a lot of family photos. Old ones, new ones, vintage ones. A bunch of what was probably saint stuff.

She turned and sat at the table table. “My eldest sister said pulque was really good fresh, in its defense.” A nod at the beers and the ‘pool-kay’ bottle. “Sit?”

No argument there. He chugged down the can she handed him in one fell swoop before throwing it when that sumbitch decided to screw with him and suddenly be empty.

He felt like Y/N just walked in on him with his boxers down or his back exposed or something, fuck.

Ugh, then his stomach started to churn again.

That was half the reason why when, after tossing a glance at Y/N, only to see her looking at him all pitiful like he was some crying child, got him barking “How are you so—calm? You just had to put down f-fuckin’—” he wouldn’t say the word ‘kids’ and couldn’t say ‘and a baby.’

Her jaw tightened and she took deep breath.

Then another.

The ticking from Dale’s watch and the sounds of the breeze and birds outside filled the silence. Tick, tick, tick, tick.

That broken, soft answer of “I thought you knew I’ve had to do it before, man,” made him forget to breathe for a sec.

The tick, tick, tick, tick got louder.

His brain told him to crack open another beer and slide it to her.

One corner of her mouth lifted but she looked drained. “Very pragmatic.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He heard his pulse thudding in his ears.

His friend took a few gulps from the can and stayed quiet.

“Was that what made you want that cigarette and a drink?” he asked carefully, trying to sound as nonabrasive as he could swing it.

His friend shook her head. “Mama had done it for a ch…for a child, out of necessity twice before I ever had to.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if the memory physically hurt. “Remember how unreal it was findin’ out how other than a blow to the brain, injuries and conditions what no one could ever survive meant nothing to a walker? S-so even if a cure came along, they’d all be dead just the s-same?”

“Can’t forget it.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

“We—she—laid them to rest after that, once they’d died. One of our foster kids caught it early on. We kept her in a room after she’d died and turned. Then a neighbor’s kid we’d taken in ’cause his family turned, he’d been bit. When he turned, we put him in there, too, until we found out that it was just the virus usin’ their bodies, that their souls had moved on because they’d died.”

Through her shut eyes, tears made their way out. “But it was when my-my middle sister and,” she swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. Her lip wobbled. “Um, all them, my brother-in-law, the kids, they all caught it and died and turned, so Shane and Mama and I had to…” her gaze darted up to meet his for a second and she didn’t finish the statement, she just shrugged.

“But that’s not why you were tryin’ to get out of your head the other day?”

“No. That was—” Like she did when she was nervous, she started babbling and stuttering a little. “I-I had gotten reminded of a…bad thing I had to do. An, an objectively bad thing I had the moral obligation to do, you feel me?”

‘An objectively bad thing’ she had ‘the moral obligation to do.’ Sounds like something the old man would say.

“It was two, or, maybe three weeks after what we had to do for my sister. Right before we were gonna go with the Grimes to Atlanta. Tried to go to Atlanta.” She licked her teeth and huffed, a sure sign she was mad. “Can you believe they fuckin’ firebombed them? Wh-what did they achieve with that? All those lives…”

“Less of a crowd to evacuate,” he muttered back. “Fuck the fed.”

“Fuck the fed.” Y/N had another sip of beer, then slid the can back to him. “It was two days before that when, um, Shane and me had g-gone back to the house, we’d been—it doesn’t matter, but, um…”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Did she realize she was tapping the table over and over and bouncing her legs? A heavy exhale came before she mumbled, “I did promise I’d tell you, didn’t I?”

All the agitation or whatever the hell was going on with him before fell away and in its place was this urge that his friend not be hurting anymore. “You don’t have to, it ain’t like that.”

“A deal’s a deal, a promise a promise,” she tried to joke.

“M’serious, Y/N.”

“Me, too. You trusted me with your story about bein’ lost in the woods for over a week when you were a little kid, I can trust you with this. Ain’t like it’s a big secret, it’s just…what it is. We all got at least one story like it nowadays.” She gestured around the room, not really looking at anything. Her eyes looked glazed over. “When Shane and I got back to the house, it had been broken into, just like here. Mama and the dog were dead.”

His initial reaction was to push the beer back to her and avoid looking at her.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Now it made sense why she kept wanting to knock and call and wait yesterday and today before they went into houses.

The weirdest thing started to happen.

He felt as if it would be doing something wrong if he looked at her. It was as if she were, like—he didn’t know how to word it, but it was as if she were naked, so he shouldn’t look.

Like that expression he’d heard about somebody’s soul being “beared” or “bared.”

After another sip, Y/N placed the beer can to the side. “She must’ve been in the early stages of being sick when she was killed, just like some of the people here. We found her walkin’,” Y/N explained simply, avoiding all eye contact. “Had a big old wound this side of her chest.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

“The guy whodunnit had shut himself in the bathroom, turns out. Mama had got him with her shotgun, but she—not even with buckshot, she fuckin’ had it loaded with birdshot ’cause she didn’t want to kill, just fend off.”

His friend’s eyes suddenly grew wide and she covered her face. “Oh fuck, I’m insulting my dead mother for bein’ a good person, what the hell, dude?”

“Hey, nah, no way.” He sat up straight, put his hands on the table, and didn’t have to think before telling her: “You ain’t insulting your ma, you’re just mad she got offed like that.”

She didn’t move a muscle, but she did sniffle out, “Yeah, I love you, too, man.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Daryl knew she said those words to the others (and seemed to actually mean it), but that was the first time she’d said it to him. His heartbeat started to pound in his ears loud enough to drown out the tick, tick, tick of the watch.

He took another gulp from the can and pushed it back to her. That she wanted her gun out before going inside made sense now, too. “What happened to the bastard?”

She took another sip and pushed it back to him. “He jumped my brother.” Y/N was starting to sound out of breath. “It was right after Shane took care of our mom, we’d seen the mess, then saw her snarlin’ for us. We, w-we didn’t realize the perp was still in there, rookie mistake, and boom the guy was on him and, I, um—it was all over in a few seconds, and—”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

The hand she had covering her eyes flopped to her lap.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

She finally looked at him. He couldn’t tell if she was still angry at herself or just sad, but she did try to crack a joke. “Sorry, it ain’t my intention to be all dramatic. At the rate I’m baring my soul down to its skivvies, one of us will have to buy the other dinner.”

“You already owe me dinner,” he reminded her with what may have passed as a one-sided smile. Y/N probably didn’t even remember how she’d awkwardly cracked that joke back at the CDC after she, um, didn’t realize she had her damn boob pressed against his hand while getting his blood sample. “Guess I’ll cover the next one.”

The corners of her mouth did raise a little bit, to his relief.

“To finish up what happened,” she slowly said. “I reacted quick and took care of it before he offed my brother, too.”

Reacted quick and took care of it…‘Took care of it’…

Y/N killed him. Y/N had to kill somebody.

His memories shuffled back to the quarry when she was giving the kids that lesson about throwing punches and all that. “You don’t look like you should be teachin’ no fight club,” were his exact (joking) words to her when she’d asked him to help because she hadn’t actually punched someone before.

Never punched someone, yet she’d had to…damn. He took another sip and drained the last of the beer.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He hadn’t had to kill a living person yet. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but it was prolly gonna happen sooner rather than later.

Shit, he didn’t know what to say and now the beer can was empty so he couldn’t push it back.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

When he managed to look up at her, her hand was back over her eyes.

Quietly, she drove home that “It was done to protect somebody, Daryl,” as if she were defending herself. “And we buried him, we still gave him that.”

“You did what needed doin’, Y/N.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

She stared at the table and tried to nod. Looking at Dale’s watch, she sighed, mumbled “We should oughta go,” and stood up from the table, tossing the empty cans into the recycling bin in the corner (nah, really, she dead-ass sought out the bin with the little hand-drawn recycling sign).

Then, always trying to lighten the damn mood, she added, “If I unpack anymore baggage in here, I’ll have to spend the night.”

Joke’s on him, that comment made him remember what he’d found. “Wait, the shed—come with me, lemme show ya.”

Backpack on, she followed him out the door and into the yard. “What was in there?”

“Little sleeping area between some bins and the wall, had a tarp coverin’ it, too.”

“Dude, are you serious?” Y/N squealed, jogging ahead of him and throwing the shed door open with her good arm.

“Right over here, see back behind those containers?”

A swallowed groan when she moved the wrong way came before what sounded like a happy sob when she saw the little sleeping area. “Are there any more signs? A trail, a, a—”

“—Depends on if she was here before or after the damned storm yesterday. Let’s look around the fruit trees first, she woulda eaten from those and the garden.”

“Daryl, we dug up the garden.” That terrified look came back to her eyes and her voice rose and the babbling took over. “D-did we ruin our chances of findin’ her? It’s my fault, it’s my fault, I insisted on bury—”

“No, we’d still find a trail leading away from it,” he cut in, hoping to stop that shit in its tracks. “Nothin’s ruined, Y/N, and you sure as hell didn’t do nothing wrong. Trust me.” He pointed in the direction of the grave. “The family was owed at least that. One little measure of reverence. Now let’s go look for more signs of our girl.”

Before exiting the shed, she paused and got distracted at the tool display on the wall. “Guess that’s where the perps got the bolt cutters.” There was an outline around a hook that showed the same size and shape as that big pair she’d found by the hatchway. “I’m bringing ’em them back for Teddy, he said he wanted a pair. Back when he was still in the city, he almost got caught by walkers when he was cornered by a fence.”

And the two of them began the search once more.

She followed him for a while, but branched off when nothing was showing up on the property.

They scoured every damn inch of it and the surrounding wooded areas, but there was nothing concrete. The vegetables or fruits could have been eaten by animals or fallen off naturally. The long grasses and the muddy area by the well that should’ve shown something definitive didn’t show shit. Sophia wouldn’t have left heavy footprints, she took up less space, moved lighter than most.

As more time tick, tick, ticked by, it felt as if the air was turning more and more thick. Felt like it was walling him in or smothering him.

He kept looking back at the gravesite and got more and more jumpy, kept looking around the trees and expected to see another chupacabra or a herd of geeks.

Y/N’s scared look didn’t go away, either, it got worse, and she started to seem more and more out of breath, got more and more sweaty, kept bending more and more toward her injured side.

It was when they happened across another dead chicken in the wooded area by the house that she spun around and leaned with her good arm against a tree as she dry heaved.

“Daryl,” she panted, clutching her side again, “Let’s go to the ridge, she wouldn’t have stayed here .”

His thoughts exactly. “This place would’ve scared the shit out of her.”

“I just need me a sec.”

While she caught her breath, doubts and all that stuff he didn’t want to think of started to smack and hit and whip their belts and switches against his back.

You ain’t gonna find her, alive or dead.

You failed at the one useful thing you’re supposed to do.

She’s dead because of you.

You as good as killed that little girl.

The little cot in the cupboard of that farmhouse could’ve been from anybody.

The little sleep area in that shed was probably from the kids who lived there, playing.

You ain’t found shit.

Merle’s gone and you’re all alone again because you couldn’t find him, neither.

By the time they got back to his bike, he began to question if Y/N would even be physically able to climb up the ridge.

She looked awful, plain and simple. She couldn’t seem to use her injured side to hold onto his shoulders while they rode, neither, so was holding on with just one hand as he drove.

But he was getting too desperate and set on making it up there as soon as possible that he didn’t say nothing about it. Those fists and belts and switches hurt, and they kept beating at him over and over.

When they got as far as they could go on the motorcycle and needed to continue on foot, he was feeling almost postal. Getting angry was a hell of an easier emotion to let through rather than crying again.

As for passing on the blame? Saying shit he knew was cruel? That started happening whether he consciously wanted it or not.

And so, that his friend was visibly in pain started to not bother him as much as it probably should’ve.

Soon, it didn’t phase him at all.

Time was running out, so Y/N had to suck it up. She chose to come out today, she chose to dig and carry and do all that stuff she shouldn’t have, she made her bed and was lying in it.

So when she cried out in pain when trying to use her bad shoulder not two minutes into the climb, it was like a fuse blew.

“Just get on the bike!” he exploded, ignoring her trying to pass it off like nothing just happened, and rushing himself down the embankment to the point that it was basically controlled falling.

“Whoa, Daryl, what’s going on?”

“I’m gonna find that little girl on my damn own. I said I needed a horse to get up there, and a horse will be a hell of a lot less annoying and a hell of a lot more useful.”

“Why would you s—why would you say that to me? Where’s this comin’ from?”

He heard himself and how he sounded and he hated it, but didn’t seem able to control it from coming out. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, sto—“You’re slowing me down and I need you gone. You already wasted enough of my time and Sophia’s time back at that house with all that bullshit.”

Why was that annoying bitch still climbing? He almost climbed back up so he could yank her back down—and all at once, the very truth that he just considered that action scared him.

Why would that have crossed his mind?

“Daryl, just help me up there, we’re here,” she pleaded.

Why did she sound scared, too?

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop his brain again tried to tell him.

Yet, after Y/N swore, yelped, and slid onto her knees down a particularly steep bank, he twisted the knife instead. “See? I can’t babysit a fuckin’ liability, get on the bike!”

If an actual bucket of cold water was thrown in his face, he wouldn’t have known the difference when she grit back at him, “Go on, keep runnin’ your bitch mouth, Ed.”

She just compared him to—him?

Nah.

No fucking way. He w-wasn’t like...shit. Please, no. Not him, he wasn’t like him, he wasn’t like Ed, he wasn’t like his dad, fuck, no, no, no.

Daryl knew plenty about beaters but he himself wasn’t one of them, he wasn’t. Right? He wasn’t gonna turn into that.

No, no, no, no, no, he was not like him.

But as angrily as he wanted to cuss her out, his ability to respond drained. “That supposed to make me feel bad, scare me or somethin’?”

“If I wanted to do that, I’d just throw some dirt on you,” she had the audacity to spit out, but it still wasn’t as cruel as he’d just been.

That’s when he finally registered that he was watching a dark stain spread wider and wider where she’d gotten stitched up. It’s also when he realized she was wearing a different shirt than before because that one had gotten bloodstained, just like yesterday.

His mind shut off for a second.

It turned back on, he blinked, and saw that she was trying to get up, but couldn’t, not without shaking from how bad it must’ve hurt.

He had to look away after that weird feeling came back that he was seeing her without clothes on.

Y/N started trying a new tactic, inching down the incline while seated on her butt. She was being ridiculous. She was bleeding, she needed help.

“You got a bandage?” he called quietly. His anger was gone.

Hers was not. “The fuck do you care?”

It felt like a slice to his chest, but he accepted it and said nothing back at first. He let his eyes venture up to see if she was making any headway. What he found was her shaking, sweaty—it was too much, way too fucking much. He needed to make her pain stop.

Asking if she ‘wanted’ help would lead nowhere, she hated feeling like a ‘liability,’ he knew that. Asking if she ‘needed’ it wasn’t much better, but his friend liked honesty and that wording would be more likely to keep her honest. “Y/N, d’you need help?”

He heard her swallow a whimper. When he looked, he saw that she slumped where she sat on the ground.

It took her a few moments, but she admitted, “A little.”

So, he walked to the incline, feeling weirdly like he’d just blinked out of the kind of nap you take when you have a fever. He avoided looking at her for too long when reached her and crouched to help her stand. Hopefully, the angle he lifted her from wouldn’t hurt her more, the way he’d done his best to do last night and on that day at the CDC.

As soon as she was upright, she pulled away from him, he pulled away from her.

But when she tried to step down by herself, her knees buckled—and he caught her without really thinking about it. Then, he lifted her up and started to carry her without really thinking about it.

It was an almost immediate reaction for her to stiffen, wriggle, and squeal “Put me down!”

Immediately, he set her on her feet and backed off.

“I didn’t mean to fuckin’…” His anger tried to perk back up, but fell flat. “I didn’t mean to scare ya, Y/N.”

“If you throw out your back, then neither of us is any use.” There it was again, he recognized. She had this thing where she’d push herself too damned hard because she needed to feel useful or whatever it was.

“I won’t throw out my back,” he said to her.

What was the name for the emotion that was kicking his ass? It was like this really, just, unbearable…closeness. He wanted to help her. She was hurting, so he wanted to make it stop. He needed to make it stop.

“I wanna help you,” he told her quietly.

And her responses were getting weaker, which was a good thing. She needed help and she knew it. “Y-you’ll get sweat and blood all over yourself, man.”

He almost smiled when he asked her point-blank, “Think that’ll bother me?”

To that, she made half-hearted giggle, if you can believe it. And she nearly looked at him with that tiny smile on her face, but then she looked down and closed her eyes instead. Her posture slumped again.

“Y/N,” he murmured. “Please. Lemme help you.”

Her head turned to the side and she covered her eyes when she had no other option but to whisper, “Okay.”

Carefully, he walked close again and lifted her in his arms, her bad side against his chest. Using her good arm, he guided her hand to grip the back of his neck for more support.

He felt the thud, thud, thud of her heartbeat against his chest. Felt weird. Not a bad weird, but…he didn’t fucking know, man.

Carefully, he maneuvered down the steep incline.

He kept on carrying her after they reached more level ground, until she lightly tapped him and gestured to be put down.

Carefully, he placed her on her feet. Quietly, she thanked him.

They walked apart from each other. That awful closeness made it feel like there was a string tied in between them. Weird shit.

Once they got to the bike, he asked her to wrap her good arm around his waist so she wouldn’t fall off. She grabbed the sissy bar instead.

He isn’t sure why but he spat before starting the ignition and speeding off, but he knew that he wanted to both get and stay angry at her but simply wasn’t able to. That awful closeness wouldn’t let it.

In its place, the helpless feeling of desperation came back with an extra portion of guilt, plus a new feeling that was a whole lot like confusion.

Y/N had just seen him full-on crumble and need someone to help him out of it. He’d just seen her completely vulnerable and need someone to help her get up from it.

It really felt as if they’d seen each other naked. As if they were stripped bare right down to their souls, if he still believed in those.

These past few days, it’s like the two of them had somehow gotten fused or welded or maybe branded together? Jerry-rigged together with old planks and nails and zip ties was probably closer to it, but that’s what it looked like when he thought about it. It was so fucking weird.

At a sharper turn in the road, Y/N held in a groan and finally hugged his waist with her good arm and adjusted her thigh on her good side so it acted like a hook on his leg. Her forehead pressed to his back and he felt her breathing. He made a point after that to drive slower so the ride wouldn’t hurt, hopefully, at least.

They reached the farm and he slowed down to a crawl once they hit the gravel. Still, it was too much motion and she hobbled off the bike and began to walk. He tried to help her, but only ended up with his hand brushing along her forearm.

He turned off the engine and walked the bike the rest of the way alongside her in silence.

Once they were close enough, Sophia’s ma Carol waved at them from the campsite and stood there, seeing yet again that her daughter still hadn’t been found.

The air started to close in on him again.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He slammed down the kickstand and left his bike where it was. All of this was too much and he needed to get that horse and get back to the ridge, ASAP.

“Daryl, wait.”

“What?” He spun around and would’ve glared if he was able. The invisible string tugged.

She shrugged her bookbag off her good shoulder and slung it on the ground, then knelt down to unzip it.

“Take it,” she muttered, and held out one of those kid walkies. Her green one. “Glenn’s got the yellow one, she’s got the pink one,” she let him know, gesturing to Carol.

Without a word, he took it and slid it into his pocket.

“Sweetie, you’re bleeding, a lot,” came that woman’s scared, quiet voice.

Y/N visibly shrunk down in what looked like defeat. “It looks worse than it is. There’s another bandage over it, now, it’s okay.”

“It’s not from a…?”

“No, this ain’t a bite, it’s just my stitches.”

“You probably popped them.” Carol shook her head and helped her stand. “Let’s go see Hershel. Daryl, are you hurt, too?”

“He found something at one of the places we checked,” Y/N changed the subject while letting herself be escorted to the farmhouse. “It looked very plain that somebody little had been in there.”

Which seemed to do the trick because Carol gasped and clasped her hands together and pressed them to her mouth.

Daryl only grew more desperate when he saw the look on her face. He couldn’t fail that woman, he couldn’t fail her little girl. No way, no fucking way.

“I’m headin’ to the ridge now,” he told her, standing taller. “If she’s in our grid, she’s comin’ back home this afternoon.”

Tears flowed up and out of her eyes, but he wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or something else.

At that moment, he hated himself. If again he didn’t find Sophia or at least another sign…

“Please be safe!” Carol whimpered. “I’ll be praying for you.”

Y/N’s exhausted “Honey, don’t die, don’t get bit,” was the last thing he heard, and it made him feel as if the damn string was tugging around his middle and drawing him backward.

So, he booked it for the stables. It was time to steal a goddamned horse.

..............................

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[m1a-dixon]

I need someone to write reader catching Daryl ‘cheat’ on them with Leah. pls I’m desperate for angst. 🙏