#daryl dixon fluff

[lunajay33]

Missing🖤

Summary: You and Daryl got separated at the started and now you’ve just been wandering hoping to find a secure place will you find Daryl again?

Pairing: Season 2 Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

You and Daryl have known eachother since you were kids, growing up right next to eachother, along the way feelings grew and you got together right before graduation, you became a teacher and he worked at a mechanic shop, life was nice and simple together, you were even thinking about having a family but then things change, the world ended when you were teaching and you haven’t seen Daryl since, you search everywhere for him until eventually you had to leave down because of the walkers and venture out on your own, hoping you meet him again

Along the way you came across a barn, you scavenged for food finding some cans and as you looked out the window a horse was grazing the field, you packed up the rest of the food and ventured out finding a saddle approaching the horse steadily trying not to spook it away, thankfully it was friendly and approached you with ease letting, you strapped the saddle around her and hopped up, leading the horse as it trotted north

You’d be alone on your own for about 5 weeks now and it’s been lonely, you just wanted to see Daryl again just needed for him to hold you, you were on the horse walking through trees when a clearing opened up showing a farm house with people walking around, you were a bit wary since you’ve run into some shady people along the way but for some reason you were drawn to this farm, you lead the horse, you named Pixie, slowly as to not scare the people

As you and Pixie walked up the dirt road people started to gather, you hopped off Pixie holding her rope and waiting for the others to do or say anything and not just ogle you

“Who are you?” A man in a police outfit asked

“I’m y/n, I’ve been alone since the start, until I found pixie here” you said as you pet her shiny black hair

“Where’d you come from, who’d you find this place?” Another man asked he seemed a little crazy

“I’m from outside of Atlanta, I’ve just been wandering until I found something, I lost someone at the start and I’ve just been looking for him”

“Sorry to break it to you, he’s probably dead”

“Shane!” The officer glared at the man

“I still have hope, but do you guys have room for one more, I know how to hunt and I can help out”

“Of course, we could use another hunter, got one out hunting right now”

“Thank you”

The officer who introduced himself as Rick, showed you around introduced you to everyone even the owner of the farm, the sun was setting by the time all that was done

“We don’t have anymore tents we’ll have to go out tomorrow and get you one”

“Oh that’s no problem I can sleep out with Pixie” it was the normal for you now

“You sure?”

“Yeah it’s no problem…….shouldn’t your hunter be back by now?”

“Yeah oh there he is now” he said looking over you shoulder at the dirt road

A man with a crossbow and plaid shirt with ripped sleeves, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, you sprinted off towards him your heart racing, tears streaming down your face

“DARYL” you screamed as he looked up dropping his crossbow just in time to open his arms and wrap himself around you as you threw yourself into his arms

“Is it really you peach?” He asked in such disbelief it broke your heart

“It’s me, I can’t believe I found you I thought I’d never see you again, I looked everywhere for you I waited at our house hoping you’d come back but……I had to leave I had to find you” you said quickly your eyes not believing you found him having to tell him everything you’ve been thinking these 5 weeks without him

5 weeks may not seem like a lot but in the apocalypse there was no guarantee about anything so everything was precious

You held his biceps as he traced his fingers over ever features on your face completely forgetting others were around you both

“So I’m guessing you two know eachother?” Glenn asked

“She’s my girl” Daryl stated not taking his eyes off of you

“Thee Daryl Dixon got a girl?” Andrea laughed, you turned and glared at her

“You bet your ass I’m his”

“And ya ain’t ever leaving my side again”

[starshipsofstarlord]

honey suckle

summary. daryl gets lost in eating his favourite meal between your legs

warnings. smut, oral (female reader receiving), fingering, squirting, swearing, pet names (babydoll, darlin’), some and implied aftercare

divider credits. @cafekitsune

It was one of those excruciatingly delicious nights when Daryl had returned home from a long run with Aaron, he was ravenous to be as close as possible to you, and so here he was, large hands splayed on your thighs as his head lay between your legs. His hair was tousled to a haphazard degree, the waved brunette locks splaying in every direction as your fingers sunk into their roots, tugging at the strands in your grip, which only egged him further on.

His face was practically buried in your centre, tongue sliding relentlessly through your folds and swirling with educated concentration around your throbbing clit. You were sure his cheeks were smothered in your aroused essence, however you couldn’t see as he didn’t lift his head once, caring not for breath, his only priority was to taste you for as long as you could handle it.

If he had all the options that rotated the planet at his hands, he would never let up, he would die a happy and breathless man from suffocating himself in your addictive cunt. But even then, after he was a corpse from being delirious to be drowned in your sweet juices, you would be angry at him, needing more from his chapped lips and sinful tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The fall was enclosing at your dispense, your heightened pitch indicated so, as did the clenching of your walls that his tongue thrusted in and out of.

Each of his taste buds were consumed with your aroused honey, and even as you came, he lapped without hesitancy, cleaning up your wetness only to create more to flee from your slick entrance. Your mouth was agape in sensational and pure distress as you thrashed your legs around like a maniac, until you wrapped them around his head, feet locking at the back of his neck.

“Need one more from ya babydoll.” His gruff voice that carried the dry lustre from his smoking habits vibrated against your lower lips, causing you to release an elongated squeal. You weren’t entirely sure if you had one more in you, this felt like it had been going on for hours, and although you were never complain about such circumstances, your body was growing exhausted.

But you would do it for him; one more couldn’t hurt, so as he settled three fingers into your walls, your hips bucked at the intrusion. He’d only been using his tongue the entire time, although it seemed you were drenched enough for them to slide in without much effort, he held them still so that you could adjust to the full feeling, peppering languid and wide kisses against the heated skin of your thighs.

His kisses moved left, closer to your stuffed mound, as he began to rotate his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist as your eyelashes involuntarily fluttered, and deep mewls of pleasure surpassed from your bitten lips. Until finally, his mouth transcended you to another planet, far beyond the reality that you had harshly adapted to, as his lips suckled around your clit, his fingers scissoring in and out of you.

You were hypnotised in the sensations that were floating from your head to your curling toes, you were starting to feel dizzy, a heavy feeling that left you practically unconscious, as you faded in and out of your surroundings. Even when you opened your eyes, straining them to do so, the bedroom was blurry to your sights, and you bit at the air, failing to warn Daryl of the pressure that was growing by the second.

“Ah fuck.” Daryl groaned as a gushing stream that you hadn’t been aware was on its route to escape from your aching cunt, the liquid bursting in Daryl’s direction and coating his face. However he didn’t let up, even as he removed his fingers, leaving your walls clenching from the empty feeling, as he stroked his tongue in long lines up and down your pussy. “Gotta clean yer up.” He muttered almost to himself, as he dared not waste a drop.

You just laid there, breathless and cross eyed even as he finally removed himself, leaning up to stroke your face. “Yer did real good darlin’, so fucking good for me.” The starving man spoke, licking his lips as he started down into your eyes. He reached down, grasping your hips that had invisibly restrained themselves against the bed, as he picked you up, treating you like porcelain as he carried you in his big arms to the shower. He turned the water on, grasping a cotton rag from the side as he sturdied your weight against his, your back facing his front as he began to clean you up whilst the water was warming up.

[xoxo-sarah]

Ms. Perfect

↝a/n: this is an old idea that I had in the back of my notes app. Oops.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝warning: death, widow!Reader, apocalypse, mean! Daryl, swearing, not proofread

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

↝⎙ 4.23.24

Daryl wasn't sure why he hated you so much. You were nice to everyone around you, even understanding. But the sight of you makes the blood in his veins boil.

It became a routine; you and him sniping at each other, digging up trauma neither of you really wanted to. He just got under your skin. Like now.

“Sorry, in case you haven' noticed, the world ain't all rainbows and sunshine anymore. We don't shit money to buy the newest thing. Life is different, Doll. Get used to it.” He drawled, his eyebrows scrunched together.

There he goes again.

You weren't even talking to or about him, but he had heard you. That had been enough for him to butt in, apparently.

Ever since you had stumbled your way into Daryl's group early on, Daryl had had it out for you. At the creek, he would be pointing out how your hair had to have been done recently. Your jewelry, clothes, how smooth your skin looked from the expensive moisturizers and night creams you had to use, your newly manicured nails- ignoring the dirt and blood underneath-, and the shine in your eyes. You didn't have the shine at first, but when you would hang out with Carol, you would smile, and the recent glazed look was gone.

Your eyes shone brightly like the stars in the countryside. Not that you would know. You probably never had the chance to see how bright the stars shone in the city.

You were unbothered by the people at the campsite, keeping to yourself. You didn't have to worry about anything when the world was built for your liking and convenience.

Daryl despised you and that god-awful rock on your finger that could feed him for probably 6 months to a year. He glared at the ring every chance he got—so much so that you eventually yanked it off, throwing it in the murky pond.

Even after leaving the campsite, you stayed with the group, arguing with Daryl along the way.

“I get it, you're used to having people do everything for you, but we're not always going to be with you, Princess. Sorry life now is so much different from your perfect life before.” For a quiet guy, he always had so much to say to you. All negative.

You bit your cheek, glancing from Maggie—who you were originally talking to—to the dirty man in front of you. "Yeah-I had the perfect life. I had the fiancé that I couldn't wait to marry. I had the apartment that I had the luxury to design with my mother, gushing about the difference wallpapers." You smiled at the memory. Your mother had been so happy for you. "I had the fluffy dog that had its own room. I had the dad who would always talk about playing catch with his future grandchild. I had the money where I didn't have to worry about anything in life." You didn't falter as you felt behind your eyes begin to burn. " I did, alright? I had the life that almost every little girl dreams about. But it was yanked out of my hands, like everyone else's. One day, I didn't wake up to my fiancé kissing me, or the smell of burnt toast-- cause he didn't know how to cook. I woke up to him nowhere in sight. Instead, I heard yelling outside the door, car horns honking outside of the windows. When I opened the door, I saw my neighbors with white eyes, growling and clawing at the skin of the man I was going to marry and grow old with. His screams will haunt me 'til the day I die. But you will not ever hear me feeling bad for myself. I did have the perfect life, but that doesn't matter now. So, get over -yourself-, cause I am just trying to survive just like you."

Daryl watched your eyes gloss over, your nostrils flare. You were rightfully pissed. And right. He hadn't heard you weep for your past-- ever. You had jumped right into survival mode as soon as he laid eyes on you. You had held your own too- most people called you a badass, Daryl wouldn't let himself verbally agree. With that, you turned and walked away. Maggie shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Daryl. She wore a disappointed frown.

Weeks. You ignored his existence for weeks, 2 weeks to be exact. Everytime he would go up to you, you would walk away. Even if you were in the middle to a conversation. The person you were talking to wouldn't mind, really. They would've known about your bitter back-and-forth. They wouldn't think anything of it.

Daryl just wishes you would give him a chance to at least try to apologize. After you had let your walls down and told him about what the end of the world was like for you, he felt bad - pathetic, even. He was so jealous about how you lived before the outbreak, he didn't care about how it had affected you. He should've.

The moonlight led him towards your house, his hands fidgeting. The streets were silent, everyone already in bed. He hadn't been able to sleep. The thought of you kept him up in a different way than before.

His knuckles hovered over your door. You had to be in bed. Was it worth it? You would probably be too tired to yell at him. He knocked.

It took a minute for the door to open. You stood, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a sleep frown on your face. At the sight in front of you, your hand dropped, your sleepy eyes immediately rolling in annoyance. "Oh my god-" You tried to close the door, but his boot caught it before it could close all the way. "Move your foot, Dixon."

"Listen." His eyes were pleading, something you weren't used to. You kept the door open when he reluctantly moved his boot. " 'm sorry."

You scoffed, Sure, you are."

" 'm serious. " He looked at the floor as he brought his hand up, turning it and showing his hand. "Not sure why I kept it." At the sight of your ring, tears bordered your eyes. Your head pressed against the side of the door as your body shook with a silent sob. Daryl didn't look at you. He let you grieve for whatever you wanted to in that moment. He let you have that moment. After your sobs died down, his calloused hand took yours, opening your hand and dropping the ring into your palm.

"You're a dick." You hiccupped.

"I know." 

•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!]

[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

[dixonzzgirl]

ok sorry but i can see daryl pissing you off for the first time and just not having a clue what to do so he RELUCTANTLY goes to carol for advice

but she wouldn't give him any and would assure him that he knows you better than he thinks and that he can resolve it on his own

i can just see the poor man being so shy and worried about doing or saying the wrong thing and making you MORE upset 😭 i think conflicts would be a hard thing for him to approach with a partner at first

ugh this is actually so sad because his anxiety would stem from him never getting an apology from anyone in his life. y'all think his deadbeat ass father ever apologized for the things he put daryl, merle or his wife through? i don't. do you think merle ever apologized for all of the times he'd torment daryl to make him more 'manly'? not a chance. he's never received an apology, so he wouldn't even know where to start when it came to giving one. he'd get sick over it because he wants you to know how sorry he feels for upsetting you. every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is the way your expression fell when he spoke those harsh words, the hurt on your face.

eventually he'd gather up the courage to find you and make things right. he'd fidget with his hands, shift his weight from one foot to the other, and feel like he's gonna throw all at once. his bottom lip would curve downwards in a frown as he spoke. " 'm sorry.. 'bout what i said earlier. i didn't mean it." it wouldn't be extravagant, but it was enough. the moment you forgive him, he'd feel the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. suddenly he didn't feel so sick anymore, but he was slightly confused. he was preparing for the worst, preparing for you to end things. why would you stay with someone who says such mean things like that? why would you stay with someone like him? because you knew who he was, not who he pretended to be, but who he truly was. you knew that his hard exterior was a deception. you knew daryl cared. you knew how deeply he felt things.

taglist: @yarrystyleeza @malg333 @Bigbaldheadname @projectaurus @lilgoblinbitch @Daryldixonlover @vana @musically--declined @ufo-believer

[gutsby]

Grow a Uterus and We'll Talk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff, an absurd amount of baby rabies, and fluff. Don’t blame me if y’all get pregnant.

“You lay one finger on me and I’ll bite it off, Dixon.”

You’d done the same damn dance once a month, every month for the past two years, and you were starting to grow annoyed with your boyfriend’s advances.

“Would it really be tha’ bad if we tried it out…just once?” Daryl huffed.

“I don’t know,” you answered, shrugging, “Grow a uterus and we’ll talk.”

The archer playfully lunged at you from across the couch, but you easily side-stepped and took residence at the far end of the room. You reached for a stiletto to throw at his head if he came any closer.

“Still on the baby business, huh?” Carol called as she strode past the living room toward the kitchen.

“Ya know we’d make some damn cute crotch goblins,” Daryl yelled back. You rolled your eyes.

“That isn’t for you to decide, Daryl,” Carol’s voice seemed to toughen, even give him a scolding look from a distance away, “And if you knock her up before she’s ready, I’ll string you up by your balls and feed you to the walkers.”

The woman did not fuck around—and you loved her for it. Presently, you stuck your tongue out at Daryl as if to say, ‘See? I told you so’ and the man simply scowled. Flopped down on the couch and propped his dirty boots up on the coffee table.

“‘Course I wouldn’t try if ye weren’t ready,” he grumbled, “Jus’ wanted you ta consider it.”

You joined him on the couch and nudged his feet off the table.

“Is that why you’ve been parading every baby in Alexandria in my face for the past six months? Hoping I’d ‘consider’ things a little more?” you quipped, raising both eyebrows.

Daryl paused a beat, seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment or two. Then he offered you a sheepish grin and said,

“Rick and Michonne really need the free childcare.”

You were itching to grab that high heel again. Before you could, though, a sound thundered through your foyer and the front door was thrown open wide. In the blink of an eye, Rick had stumbled through your entryway, passed off his infant to Daryl like a sack of potatoes, and raced back to the door.

“Rick, what the fuck?!” you shouted before he could escape.

“Date night,” Rick answered in a ragged breath, gripping the door frame while he glanced over at Daryl.

Daryl smiled and held Judith to his chest like she might’ve been the most precious thing in the universe. You narrowed your eyes.

“He put you up to this?” you asked, tipping your chin in Daryl’s direction.

Rick didn’t hesitate; he said that he had. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl shooting daggers at his friend. Promptly, Judith pawed at your boyfriend’s stubbled cheeks and babbled.

Sensing the tension in the air, Carol gathered her belongings and contemplated baking her bread elsewhere—or at least give you and Daryl some space to talk. She started toward the door,

“Walk a lady home?” she said to Rick.

Rick shot her a curious look but accepted anyway. Casting a sidelong glance to the man on the couch and the woman who was currently staring him down with an irate look in her eyes—you—he quickly surmised it was in his best interest to leave. Hopefully Judith was too young to catch on to any curse words that might be hurled in the next several minutes.

“Be good, you three,” Rick gave his parting words before following Carol outside. The door crashed shut behind them.

As soon as it had, you were back on your feet and traipsing out of the room.

“Come on,” Daryl whined.

He followed your steps into the kitchen with Judith still cradled in his arms. There was a pregnant pause as you rifled through your cabinets, wordlessly searching for some ingredients to bake whatever pastry it would take to get your mind off the discomfiture of this situation—you decided on muffins, at length.

It wasn’t like you hated babies. You loved their big bald heads and their pudgy, wobbling legs. You loved the way they giggled and smiled and dribbled food all over their fronts. You didn’t even mind the thought of pregnancy; carrying a pint-sized redneck in your belly for nine months wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen. 

It was the world that frightened you most. The thought of a newborn child’s slim chances at surviving a place like this. The fear of that alone was enough to have you fighting that dreadful outcome, tracking your cycle like a hound and fighting Daryl off every month when you knew that day was coming. You’d been pretty successful thus far. But by the looks of the man across the kitchen beaming down at the baby, you weren’t sure how long that winning streak would last.

“Wanna hold her?”

“No.”

“Wanna do her hair?”

“She hasn’t got any.”

Daryl shot you a look of mock indignation and stroked Judith’s head.

“You kiddin’? Little Ass Kicker’s gotta have at least fifteen strands by now,” he retorted, tugging at the short blond tufts as if to prove a point.

Judith smiled a toothless grin up at her Uncle Daryl. You all but had to leave the room to stifle the sounds of your reproductive organs screaming, 'Give that man a baby! NOW!' You clenched your stomach and turned away to start preparing the pans.

Daryl perched Judith on his lap and starting puffing out his cheeks. The infant shrieked with laughter. You assembled the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together on the counter and sought after a bowl.

“Dada, Dada!” Judith chanted. Trying in earnest to say ‘Daryl’ but ending up sounding like she was calling him dad. You dropped the mixing bowl on the countertop with a clatter.

“Daryl, kiddo, Dar-yl,” your boyfriend tried to teach her, enunciating his name a couple more times.

“Dada!” the little tyke howled again as she fisted his shirt in her fingers.

Milk and oil and— eggs. Where are the eggs?

You tore through the fridge and wanted to sob into the shelves with the sheer force of delirium coursing through your veins. Damn you, Charles Darwin, I am not in a place to be procreating right now.

You tried turning your mind to other things—cooking, crying, contemplating the course of human evolution—but when you turned back with the carton of eggs in hand, you almost sent the dozen of them crashing straight to the floor.

Daryl was pinching her chubby cheeks.

If you weren’t so violently inclined to breed a whole new gaggle of progeny with this man, you probably would’ve chucked an egg at his head.

You sighed as you dropped the last of your cooking supplies on the surface of the kitchen island. You planted your hands flat on the granite and stared shamelessly at the two of them. Daryl was feigning ignorance, tapping Judith’s tiny pink nose with the tip of his finger and watching her giggle. When he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, you spun around to kick the oven door shut and cut the appliance off, immediately.

“Alright, you win, you bastard,” you said in a huff.

Daryl looked up from his present occupation, eyeing you innocently.

“What do you mean, hon—”

You cut him short, raising a finger to halt his speech before starting toward the door.

“Shut up,” you muttered as you headed for the stairs, “Meet me up there in five.”

Daryl deposited Judith in her portable playard in a second’s time and went scrambling up those steps faster than he ever had before. 

Silently, speedily, he thanked every one of his lucky stars and his best friend, Rick Grimes.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"I can't leave ya alone for one minute, can I?" Daryl said, stopping the doorway and looking in at you.

"Who? Me?" you asked, playing dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about!" you laughed. You leaned down and ruffled Dog's thick fur. He was laying across the bottom of the bed, his head resting between his paws, his ears on alert.

"Ya know he ain't allowed on the bed. He's filthy and he stinks," Daryl drawled, coming into the room.

"Sometimes so do you," you teased him. "And I still let you in the bed."

Daryl shot you a look, but couldn't fully suppress his amusement, especially with the grin that was plastered on your face. It was impossible to be sour when you were grinning at him like that. "Dog, get down," he said, his tone demanding. Dog didn't move. "Dog! Off! C'mon!"

The Malinois raised his head, but only blinked at Daryl.

"Sonofa—Dog! I said get down!"

You giggled and leaned forward to pet his soft ears and scratch under his chin. "I don't know what you expected. You're the one who trained him to protect me. He's just doing his job and keeping guard," you cooed, fussing over the good boy.

"Yeah, well he can do his job from the floor," Daryl growled. "C'mon," he said, seizing Dog by the collar and giving him the encouragement he needed to finally get onto the floor with a gentle tug.

Dog whined, but circled a few times and laid down on the rug.

Daryl shook his head, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled in a smile. "He's damn near as stubborn as you," he said, shooting you a look.

You flopped back on your pillow and adjusted the blankets. "I think you're just jealous that you have to share my attention with him," you joked.

"Am I that transparent?" Daryl laughed, climbing into bed beside you. "Damn," he said softly, leaning over you and caging you beneath his body. "Ya figured it out..."

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, your whole body suddenly bursting with tingles. "Well, you've got me all to yourself now..."

Daryl brushed his fingers tenderly through your hair, giving you a heated look. "Damn right."

Prompt: "I can't leave you alone for one minute, can I?"

[snailss]

i am going insane

[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

[lunajay33]

Change Part.4

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.3

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since Daryl had gifted me these Ballerina slippers, I couldn’t take them off at home, I had practiced the swan dance with them it made me feel really special like he actually cared about me and my interests, then there was a knock at my door it was really late at night so I didn’t know who it was, I left my room walking out to the front door opening up the door and Daryl was there hunched over bloody and groaning

I was the only one home so I didn’t have to worry about Jackson or my parents coming out and making a scene, I wrapped my arm around his waist and steadied him with my other hand against his chest, leading him inside into the bathroom so he could sit on the floor, I rummaged through my cabinet looking for a first aid kit completely panicking

I grabbed it as I saw it tucked back in the corner, grabbing a cool wet cloth and sitting infront of him

“Daryl, what happened?” I asked as my voice shock, he was busted and blue all over and he couldn’t even look me in the eyes, I gently patted the cool cloth over his forehead swooping his hair back

I didn’t push him obviously he just wanted to sit in silence, whatever happened it was brutal and if I were him I wouldn’t wanna be in a chatty mood either, I continued to wash away the blood on his face and arms, sanitizing any cut I came across placing bandaids over the deeper ones wishing I could do something about his bruising

“Is there anywhere else I can help?” I asked just above a whisper as to not spook him wanting to keep him relaxed

He turned his back to me and slowly reached back and lifted his shirt up to his to his shoulders revealing some old deep welted scars and some fresh bleeding ones, so deep it hurt to think how he got them, I rinsed out my cloth and soaked it again since it was already filled with blood, cleaning and sanitizing having to cover them in bandages due to the size of them, my heart bleed for him, who would hurt Daryl he was the sweetest person in the world he deserved all the happiness it offered

“One sec” I threw the cloth in the sink and left to my room finding a oversized black shirt I had for sleeping and some bigger sweatpants, and a pair of boxers I had got once thinking they were pj shorts, bringing them back to the washroom

“Here you can change into these when you’re ready I’ll just be right outside the door if you need help” I said hearing him grunt as I closed the door

I heard shuffling around until the door opened and we made eye contact, I didn’t move and neither did he until……….his arms were wrapped around my and his face buried in my shoulder, I softly wrapped my arms around his waist

“I’m here for you Daryl, always”

He pulled back looking down at me with such dread in his eyes

“Can…..can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course, I told you before you’re welcome to stay with me whenever you need, come on” I lead him to the kitchen getting him a glass of water and making a quick sandwich for him just incase he hadn’t had supper, I say with him in silence as he finished up

“Thanks”

“No problem” I placed the dishes in the washer holding my hand out to him he quickly took it and we went back to my room

“You can get in bed I gotta get in pjs too” I said smiling as he plopped down on the bed

As I was picking out some clothes he spoke up

“Yer wearing em” I looked back seeing he was looking at my feet, the slippers

“Oh ya, I was…….. “practicing” when you came, I love them” I smiled as I took them off and laid them on my cabinet

I quickly changed and laid in bed next to him, still leaving some space since we’ve never done this before

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“Nah Angel, ya did more than enough” he smiled weakly

“Do you wanna talk about it yet?”

“I ain’t ever told anyone…….its my old man, mean prick” he said breaking eye contact

“You’re staying here from now on, or atleast when you feel you need a break” I said placing my hand in his under the blankets between us

“Wish I could stay with ya just me and you”

“Maybe one day, we could start over together and actually be happy” I said thinking about what that life would look like what we could be

“We can……….we will”

•12 Years Later🩷

“Daryl Come on you’re going to be late for work!” I yelled out as I pored some coffee into two thermos’

Daryl came rushing out of the washroom buttoning up his plaid shirt huffing and puffing

“Sorry just real tired from work” he said as he leaned in kissing me gently still as gentle as he was when we shared our first kiss so many years ago

“Well since tomorrow is Saturday and we’re both off how about we have a special day together, I’m all your Mr Dixon” I winked handing him over his coffee

“Can’t wait Mrs Dixon” he smirked

As I was at work grading papers I kept thinking about all the moments that lead to my life now, Daryl and I assigned as partners, becoming friends, then that night he came over injured from his demon of a father, after that things kind of snowballed we continued to hang out, he stayed over more nights growing our relationship stronger, eventually he asked me to and I quote “be his girl” obviously excepting, after graduation with both our save money we were able to get a little apartment in Atlanta while I studied to become a teacher and he worked at an auto body shop, once my schooling I was done we found a little cabin like house in the woods around the outskirts of our home town, sure it was conflicting but now that my family had moved away and it was only Merle around sometimes it felt more comfortable to be where we met and set our roots, the day we moved in and it was just the two of us he proposed with a little silver ring he made himself

•Flashback

“Hey Angel can ya get me that box on the counter?” Daryl asked pointing to a little green box laid amongst the clutter from the days move

“Sure!” As I picked it up and turned to hand it to him he was down on one knee rubbing his hands together his way of showing his nerves

“Baby?”

“Angel, the day ya stepped into my life I knew it was gonna change, my lil ballerina, never thought I’d be so lucky ta get a woman as sweet as ya but I wanna spend the rest of this life with you, will ya marry me Angel?”

•

We got married down at town hall, I wore a knee length canvas colors woven dress as he wore his nicest plaid that matched my dress and that night…….well it was a night to remember forever, I got a job at the school I grew up in and he got another job fixing motorcycles at a shop and that leads to now, I was incredibly happy with our lives I only wished I got to become a ballerina, Daryl use to watch me dance in my room sometimes helping me stretch and help with certain moves and still bought me anything ballerina or swan lake related, I even had a little collection in the spare room of our house but maybe………..maybe this little baby girl would like dance aswell I thought as I rubbed my little bump

Daryl and I didn’t really talk about kids much but here I am, 3 months pregnant and Daryl was more excited than I thought he’d be, even more gentle with me, treating me like glass it was adorable though, over the years I noticed he got more harsh with people I know deep down it’s because of his past but he was never like that with me and we always had talks when he was ready about things that happened to him, but every part of this man I love with my whole heart he changed my life for the better

I was broken out of my thought when one of my students called out to me

“Mrs Dixon what are those people doing out there?” Little Melanie asked pointing out the window

I got up and glanced outside to where the supposed problem was and what I saw caught my breath, people limping around ripping and biting into the flesh of others

“What the hell”

Please lmk what you think and what you’d like to see in the story going forward, any notes or advice is appreciated 🩷🎀

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @welcumetomyescape @severelykinky @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @lettersfromyourlove @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @secretsicanthideanymore @superbowlisgay @pollito-chicken

[starshipsofstarlord]

locked away

summary. whilst hiding out from walkers in a closet, you grow extremely bored. the only thing to do is daryl, but you have to make sure he stays quiet

warnings. smut, handjob, sub!daryl, dom!reader, praising, mentions of gagging, crying

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The aroma of cigarette smoke that clung addictively to his clothes filled your nostrils as you hid in union together, avoiding the stream of deadly walkers that marched in their haphazard staggering through the wide hallway. There had been worse that you survived through, so as long as you didn’t alert the parasites that filled the decayed human bodies of your presence, you would be fine.

Boredom struck you after the first hour of leaning all of your weight against the chipped brick wall, listening without consent to the groans and growls of the dangerous passers-by. If you had a nickel for each time you expressively rolled your eyes that had adjusted to the shadows which conjured a graphite colouring to which you could see, you would be astoundingly rich in a world without cash currency.

You had an impulse to blabber out the most random thoughts that appeared intrusively in your mind, although you were sure if you dared to your beloved Daryl would gag your mouth with that dirty red rag and tell you to shut up; and it wouldn’t be a first time for that. Your shoulders slumped defeatedly as the pressing circumstances of the long and drawn out waiting game refused to come to an end.

How many goddamn walkers were out there? Actually that was an answer you’d rather not find out whilst you were contained in a narrow closet which was consumed with lacklustre silence. Daryl wouldn’t even meet your eyes in the dark space, sternly pent up from your antics during the run that had lead you into being entrapped by your own free will and vigilance to live another day. He was pissed, and worst of all in this circumstance; turned on.

His pools of pitiful blue distinctly avoided your gaze, trying his darnest to focus on the stakes that were against you both. But he was pursued by a cloaking of consuming lust, his shoulders rigid as he thought repeatedly of your earlier words. If you’re a good boy, then maybe we’ll have some fun before we get home. It wasn’t likely to happen now, the bowman thought intuitively, sharply discarding the sweet images of pleasing you from his brain.

These walkers were preying risk to more than just his life, he felt like he could explode from the overbearing desire to feel your hands rake upon his entire body, and he mentally cursed as he felt his cock spring to life at just the the sinful thought. He grunted in solitary longing, pacing with light and feline like steps as much as he could in the limited ground that was cemented in the storage room.

“Something wrong?” You almost inaudibly spoke, cocking your head as the corners of your mouth twitched in mocking amusement, and he would have whined in response if there wasn’t the threat of the passing walkers merely inches away. “Come here, let me help you baby.” His head was lowered in a submissive bow as he followed your command, creeping towards you until your chests were all but touching.

It was something you adored, to see Daryl in such a state, and it made you feel powerful without any limits. The flow of your bloodstream began to pound with revelations with what you could make your obedient man disperse himself to. It was like he was a buffet of possibilities, however his arousal was rubbing against your thigh, making you recall his desperation, and it would be satire and cruel for you to allow him to suffer without your amorous caregiving.

You shuffled, keeping a balance on your body weight so that you didn’t accidentally stagger backwards into the buckets or moulding mops that were leant against the wall to your left, as you lowered your hands to his wide hips, giving him an affectionate squeeze before you turned him in your embrace so that his back was facing your front.

Admittedly there were times where you loved to listen to him beg and cry for lustrous attention, but now was not the time; neither one of you could make so much as a speck of noise, it was going to be difficult as often times Daryl would draw out long and pathetically attractive moans each time you held contact with his cock in any manner, but he would just have to be quiet somehow, and if he couldn’t control himself, you had ideas of how to make him.

“Be a good boy.” You whispered with sultry warning in his ear as you reached further around him, slowly and tantalisingly unweaving his belt, pulling the strip of leather through the flimsy loops which granted you access to undo the button and fly of his trousers. With swift motions you did so, carefully shoving them down his sides as his cock was released from its containment. It was leaking defiantly with precum, and he resorted to calming breaths as he steadied his own self into being relaxed despite the nearby danger.

He inhaled immediately as he felt one of your hands wrap perfectly around his achingly hard length, gliding up and down the taught and erect flesh which made him throw his long locked head back in pleasure. His eyelids twitched as he fought against his desire to let you know how utterly amazing you were making him feel, as he bit his own bottom lip over and over. You dared to increase the pace in which you were stroking him, and a shattered gasp tumbled past his bared teeth.

Without so much as a thought, you smothered his mouth with your hand, pinching his nose a couple of times between your thumb and forefinger to restrain the oxygen he was permitted for a few seconds. A vibration riveted against your palm, as a quiet moan was silenced by your restriction. His whole body was rattling, as he began to rut his hips so that his cock was moving in the grasp of your soft hand.

“Such a good baby.” Your breath hit his ear as you forbade yourself from saying anything else, knowing that it would be obscenely dangerous, and the hoard of vacantly minded walkers were more than capable of pushing through the locked door. Your thumb rubbed expertly against his tip, as tears began to fill Daryl’s eyes, however he continued to jerk into your grip, and soon they fled from his tear ducts. His salt water, pleasure filled tears rolled onto your hand, weaving across your flesh as his tongue rolled pathetically around your palm, losing any grounding to reality that he had.

It drove you on farther, moving your hand at a quicker pace to make him spill over the edge, and with one last tough tug, he expelled his seed from his balls, it shooting directly in the air for a moment, and landing vividly on the ground. Daryl continued to shake like a leaf, breathing a kind kiss to your palm as he held your hand against his mouth for a while longer. This was definitely an interesting tale, however you would never tell anybody else. Everyone else thought Daryl was the being of all dominance in your relationship, and it made you inwardly cackle at how wrong you were.

He was as submissive as a human could come (pun intended), and he stood there idly and cautiously as you aided him in tucking his cock back into his confines. You grappled his belt, pulling it back around into its holding as you pulled it tightly around his waist, your eyes glowing with the satisfaction that you could make him so easily crumble. With one last pat to his sensitive bulge, you waited a while longer, until the coast was clear and it was only a few stragglers of the herd to take out in order to make your unruly escape.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Make It Back

A/N: A right of passage- sticking the reader character into the 'Andrea shot Daryl' scene :) Reader goes OFF on her, so be prepared lol. Sorry if you love Andrea

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader

WC: ~4k

Warnings: talk of Daryl's injuries, falling down the cliff, Walker attack- nothing too graphic; Andrea shooting Daryl but just grazing him; mentions of gore/blood- nothing too graphic; angst, comfort, fluff, cuddling; Daryl being sassy; reader character fighting with Andrea (yelling match)

Summary: You confront Andrea after she shoots Daryl, thinking he's a walker. With your anger taken out on her, you then comfort Daryl as he spends the night in the Greene farmhouse.

You heard the gunshot. Everyone on the farm did. You just didn’t know exactly what had happened.

Following Lori’s lead, you jogged around the house, hoping it wasn’t another accident like the one that almost killed Carl. It was a single shot. Why would anyone risk a lone round out in the open like this? On this beautiful farm.

Once you circled the house, landing in a clump of Herschel’s family and a few others from your group, all you saw was sun. Its rays were blinding yellow as they cut over the tall, deep treeline on the edge of the meadow. It was the middle of a gorgeous day.

You heard Rick scream. It was a booming, worried thing. Then he screamed again.

“What the hell is going on here?” Herschel bellowed. 

You moved closer to the field, the gravel of the driveway turning to grass under your feet as you neared the van. Dale was standing beside it with his hands on his head, panic clear in his figure as he looked out to the scene in the pasture. 

“Shit,” Andrea said as she hastily climbed down the ladder from the top of the van. She started whining, more to herself than anyone else. “No, no, no, Daryl.”

“What?” you asked, a cold shock running down your spine from the back of your neck to your heels in the dirt. “What? What about Daryl?”

“I-I thought he was a walker,” she said.

Your head whirled to the cluster of men at the treeline. You tripped, your feet rooted to the ground in horror and misunderstanding. Was Andrea actually saying-

“I shot him.”

You bolted at her confession. These days, you were used to running, having done plenty of it through the woods to escape walkers. Then, you had to be careful of roots and puddles and dead bodies and the trees slowed you down, making sprinting difficult. Now, as you watched Rick fall to his knees in the distance, reaching for Daryl’s head after it hit the ground, speed came easily to you. The open meadow of freely growing grass under the clear blue sky was practically a racetrack.

Andrea panted behind you and the useless coins in Dale’s jeans clinked together, but you were faster, your feet agile in their swiftness. Your boots didn’t pound into the dirt like theirs. You sped to Daryl, only slowing when Rick threw one of Daryl’s arms over Shane’s shoulder and took the other one over his own. Daryl’s body fell limp against them, his feet dragging.

As the men caught their balance, you took Daryl’s face in your hands, seeing it drenched in blood.

“He’s unconscious,” Rick said to you. “We’ll get him back to the house.”

You nodded, otherwise silent. 

Andrea, however, let loose her apologies and worries in a shrill voice that made everyone around tense up like their limbs were attached to drawstrings. 

You didn’t listen to her words. Or T-Dog’s or Glenn’s and you didn’t notice Rick pull something from Daryl’s neck. Only the grass had your attention as your mind ceaselessly spun. Your boots pushed the tall blades around, making them sway with your every step. The shades of green were glowing in the slowly setting sun until they were marred- darkened by the looming three-headed shadow making its way across the field. Daryl’s blood dripped with every step, leaving red droplets behind with the last of the dew.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea said. When she touched your arm, you jumped, jarred back from the peace of the meadow and into the grisly present.

You didn’t answer her.

Daryl was still unconscious by the time Rick and Shane laid him down in the bedroom. While they’d carried him into the house, you beelined straight to Maggie, asking for a rag and some warm water. You ducked into the bedroom and dodged the panicking men so you could sit on the bed and wipe as much grime from Daryl’s face and hands as you could manage before leaving Herschel in peace to bandage his wounds.

When the door to the bedroom closed you out, you sat on the floor in the hall. Earlier, you had wondered if what Rick told you was true, if Daryl was only unconscious. If the bullet had truly only grazed him. You only fully believed Daryl was alive when you washed his face clean. His brow even crinkled when the wet cloth touched it. He was in there still. 

Lori sat down quietly next to you in the hallway. She patted your knee. She didn’t have to say anything. You knew her well enough by now to know what she thought. You’re a good friend to him, she’d say. And he doesn’t have many.

You leaned your head back against the wall with a soft thunk and closed your eyes. It was tranquil there for a moment before a familiar, unwanted voice interrupted. 

“Can I talk to you?”

You opened your eyes to see Andrea standing above you and Lori.

“Now’s not a good time,” you said. It was awkward and uncomfortable. “I’m waiting for- for some word.”

“I’ll be quick,” she asked, sliding down the wall and sitting beside you.

Andrea had a knack for rubbing you the wrong way at the worst times. You wouldn’t call yourself a ‘strong personality,’ but she certainly was. Whatever it was deep down in you was constantly butting heads with whatever lived in her core. You disagreed with her most of the time, but tried your best to be patient and gracious given the losses she’d suffered and the emotions clearly wracking her. Still, you couldn’t help but feel she went about most things all wrong.

Like insisting she speak to you now.

So you stood up. You asked Lori to come find you when Daryl woke or when you could go visit him- whatever came first- and you left the house. The turmoil in your chest almost made you scream. But instead of letting it rip through you, you sucked in a deep breath and walked down the front steps. To be alone.

“(Y/N), wait.”

You could tell it was her by the sound of her voice. 

“Andrea,” you warned, “I’m not in a place to talk right now.”

“To anyone? Or just to me?”

“Does it matter?” you asked, spinning around in the gravel to face her. “Can’t you just respect that I’m- I’m trying to-”

“What?” she shouted, hands in the air. “Trying not to yell at me? What if I want you to? What if I want you to scream at me? Tell me I’m reckless! Tell me-”

“Tell you what you need to hear? That’s not my job.” You were calm, considering the outburst in front of you. “Just leave me be.”

“No.” She ran in front of you, standing with her feet spread wide, blocking your path from the farm house. Like a child. “I need to… I need to apologize. To you. For what I did to Daryl.”

A laugh escaped you. “Apologize to me?”

“Yes. And-”

“You know who you need to apologize to, Andrea?”

“Daryl, I know, but-”

“And Herschel and Rick and Glenn and T-Dog, and everyone else you put in danger when you decided to not do what you were told.”

You watched her jaw clench and set in place. Lowly, she said, “I don’t need to be told what to do.”

“Apparently you do. Apparently you don’t have your head screwed on straight!” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“No, Andrea!” you cut her off with a stabbing shout. “You’re gonna follow me around like this and beg for a piece of my mind? Let me give it to you! Lord knows no one else here will.” You took her arm, leading her away from the front of the house where your temper- or loss of it- wouldn’t disturb Herschel’s family. When she tried to talk over you, tell you she knew what she was doing with that gun in her hands, you snarled at her. “Shut up! I’m speaking now.”

***

You didn’t realize that the hidden spot you led her to happened to be just below the bedroom Daryl and the other men were in. You had no clue that your every word rode the breeze up and through the window above where Rick, Shane, and Daryl could hear you as clearly as if you stood right before them.

And you didn’t know Daryl was already awake.

Shane, arms crossed over his chest, peeked out the window at the sound of Andrea’s voice. He whistled to Rick. “Catfight.” 

“What?” Rick asked. He followed Shane’s gaze and shook his head when he saw you. “Nah, (Y/N)’s good. She’ll keep her head.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” Daryl grumbled. “Girl’s got a temper.”

“Never heard anything out of her,” Shane said.

“Thas ‘cause you ain’t never heard her complain ‘bout you.”

“Man, shut up,” Shane growled over Rick’s chuckles. “If (Y/N) gives Andrea a talkin’ to, that’s one less thing on my list.”

Daryl violently shifted the pillow under his head. “Dun even wanna know what’s on yer list.”

Shane shushed him, spitting on the window screen, and nudged Rick. “Wanna listen to her.”

***

You stuck an accusing finger at Andrea, keeping her staring at you and squinting into the low sun. “You need to understand, there’s no ‘girl jobs and boy jobs’ here. It’s not that simple. Just because you don’t like doing laundry and washing dishes doesn’t mean you get a gun to flaunt around by default.”

“They’re wasting my skills!” she hissed.

“Those guys,” you pointed out to the pasture, where Daryl went down, “Rick, Shane, Daryl- those guys are trained with those weapons. They were fucking cops and hunters, Andrea! That’s why they get the guns right now, not because they’re better than us, or whatever the hell story you’ve told yourself.”

“Then I should be trained the way they were,” she said. “Before they took it from me, I had my own gun for years-”

“After what you did today, I hope you never get your hands on another gun! You put every one of those guys in danger today. What if your aim was further off, huh? What if you shot Glenn? Or Rick? You could have killed him right in front of his boy! Right after Carl got back on his feet, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does!” 

“Are you sure?” The sun was beating down on your back. The heat of its rays added to the roiling in your gut, making sweat drip down the side of your face and pool on your lower back. Its slick had your t-shirt clinging to you. “Are you really sure? ‘Cause if your shit aim was a half an inch better, you would have killed him today! One of our own. And you’re acting like you barely care- you’re here apologizing to me?”

“You’re closest to him,” she grumbled. “I was trying to be-”

You spoke over her meaningless words. “Daryl is an asset to this group. He keeps us safe, feeds us- he was coming back from looking for Sophia and what thanks does he get? A fucking bullet to the head. You took down a good man today-”

“I thought he was a walker!” Andrea screamed in defense.

“So what?” Your throat ached from its work and Andrea flinched. You forced a calming breath before you continued slowly and deliberately, hoping some of your words would actually stick in her head. “We are so lucky we’re allowed on this property. That we found this doctor.”

“I know.”

“And he asked one thing in return. No guns. You were told by Rick, by Shane- no guns. You saw- you thought you saw one walker and you waste a bullet on it? That one gunshot could have led a whole herd to this house, Andrea. What would have happened then?”

“I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do. Four men went out there to take down that walker. They explicitly told you not to shoot that gun. And you did it anyway. And for what? Pride?”

She stared at you. Then she shrugged flippantly. “I wanted to do it. I knew I could do it.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it to you.”

***

Shane whistled again from his spot in the window. “If we ever need a lawyer, she’s the one.”

Daryl laid his head back on the pillow after holding it in the air to listen carefully to your argument. His cheeks, ears, neck and chest were hot and flushed from your words about him. 

“She still down there?” he asked. 

“No,” Rick said. He rounded the foot of the bed and walked towards the door of the bedroom. “I’ll go check on her. She’ll wanna know you’re alright.”

“He’s red as a tomato,” Shane said, slapping Daryl’s foot, “but alive, right Daryl?”

“Barely,” he grumbled. 

***

It was Lori who found you first. She grabbed your wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Daryl’s okay,” she said. “You can go up and see him now.”

You ran your palms up over your cheeks and into your hair, feeling the sweat that had gathered. You sighed. “Maybe later. He should probably rest.”

“He was askin’ for you,” Rick said, appearing behind Lori with a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up.”

At that, you nodded and headed for the bedroom.

Miraculously, you didn’t run into anyone else as you made your way through the house. You would have been embarrassed to see one of the Greenes after what had gone down today in the pasture or even after scolding Andrea, whether anyone had heard you or not.

You couldn’t quite get yourself to open the bedroom door, even as you stood before it, hand on the knob. There was no talking or snoring or shifting of sheets from the inside and you debated if you would be a disturbance or a comfort to whatever mood you’d meet inside.

Finally, at length, you pushed it open.

Daryl was shirtless, legs tangled in the thin sheets on the large bed. He only took up a small portion of it, though he was laying almost diagonally across it so he could watch the door. Of course he and his tracker’s ears had heard you open it. He looked at you with narrowed eyes. 

“Hey killer,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even.”

You stood in the doorway, watching him. His arm was tucked tight under his head as he looked away from you and down into the sheets. He tucked them up all around him, blocking his injury and most of his skin from view. You knew why, but ignored it. You instead stared at the bandage tied around his head. It made his short hair stick up wildly, like a bloody coyote in the woods. 

“You wanna be alone, or you want me to stay?” you asked, hanging onto the doorknob. 

He shrugged. “Dun matter ta me.”

That was the closest to a yes you were ever going to get. You closed the door behind you with a soft click and walked to the emptier side of the bed to sit on its edge. “You need anything? Water, or-”

“Got it,” he said, blindly pointing to the nightstand beside the bed.

“Kay.” The air in the room was hot, but since the sun was setting lower and lower each minute, you knew there’d be a breeze blowing through the lacy curtains soon enough. You wiped your brow again. “How are you feeling?”

“‘Bout as bad as I look.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

You breathed out a laugh. “You looked like death itself before, though, so this is an upgrade.”

He glared at you, but it was playful. For him, you knew it was. “Well, I was shot.”

“Yeah.” 

You swallowed hard at the reminder. Next to his glass of water was the bowl and cloth you’d brought to him earlier. You reached for it now, wringing it out some before bringing it to his forehead which was as damp with sweat as yours was. 

“What else happened out there?”

“Nuthin’,” he said, shrugging off the cloth. 

You didn’t budge and asked again. “You look rough, Dare. Herschel said there was something with your side too? I saw all the blood.”

He was quiet, attention again on the sheets as you dabbed at his forehead and cheeks. There was still blood on his chin and grime on his neck- mud and something else you didn’t care to guess at. You stopped at his shoulders. It was clear he didn’t want you looking anywhere near his chest or back, buried in the sheets. 

Then you noticed him watching you.

“You…”

“Hm?” you pushed.

“You were worried? ‘Bout… ‘bout me.”

“Of course I was. Still am. You’re one of us, we’re all worried-”

“I fell. And a couple’a walkers found me.”

Panic shot through you like lightning, branching through your veins and up your limbs. “Walkers?” No one told you. No one said anything about a bite or scratch or anything- “Is that, the injury on your side, it’s from a walker?”

“No,” he was quick to correct. “Nah, I fought ‘em off. Didn’t get me.” “Christ,” you whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep the unshed tears stuck in your eyes.

“When I fell down the cliff, I took an arrow through my back.”

It didn’t-couldn’t-register. “You fell down a cliffside?”

“Twice.”

That was all you could take. The emotion, the stress and panic of the day, of the weeks past, caught up to you in one drowning swell. You felt your lips tremble and tried to keep them shut up tight, tried to count the bumps in the washcloth still in your hands, dripping on the knee of your jeans.

“Ay,” Daryl said, gruffly. He took the washcloth from you and smacked your arm with it before tossing it near its bowl. “Dun do that. Dun- dun cry fer me-”

“Argentina?”

“Wha?”

It made you laugh. It was a wet, snotty laugh and the curve of your cheek pushed out a fat tear that carved its way down your face. “It’s a song,” you said.

“Don’t start singin’ neither.”

You chuckled again, losing more tears and the fight to not cry in front of Daryl. 

With a painful grunt, he moved himself on the bed, opening a spot for you. He patted the empty space, mumbling. “Come on.”

You kicked off your boots and laid down on the bed, mirroring him. One arm supported your head, while the other tucked tight against you, keeping to your own space as you looked at him. His teeth dug into his lip over and over as he studied the hair and freckles on his arm as if he’d never seen it before. 

“Were you scared?” you whispered.

After a long while, narrowed blue eyes met yours and he nodded.

“Out there alone.” Your voice broke, shaking with the tight breath in your chest. 

“S’alright. M’back now.”

You flopped on your back, away from him for a chance to breathe. You were losing your grip and you didn’t want to break in front of him. You were there to support him, not force him into comforting you. But the thought of him in fear and suffering alone was stubbornly lodged in your throat. 

“When I was out there climbin,’ that’s what I was thinkin’ ‘bout,” Daryl said. “Thought ‘bout comin’ back. Seein’ ya. Knew I had ta get back.”

His words hung in the air. They were soft and open, his voice less harsh than usual. 

“That’s right,” you said. Using the collar of your t-shirt, as sweaty and dirty as it was, you wiped the tear tracks from your face and cleared your eyes.

“Now we both look bad as I feel,” Daryl said.

“Shut up,” you said. But you laughed.

The air felt clearer now. It wasn’t so stifling hot and you watched the transparent curtains dance in the breeze coming in through the window. Again, you turned to him, laying on your side, able to study him more. Daryl, however, seemed like he couldn’t bear the attention. His flitting gaze fell on just about everything in the room except you until he seemed to settle upon the safety of the bare ceiling above, studying it as if it were a map to a hidden treasure. Like a cure to the world’s mess.

“You okay?” you finally asked.

“Did you mean it? What ya said?”

“When?”

One of his hands flew up, gesturing toward the window. “Earlier. To Andrea.”

You hummed, lips glued together for a moment. “You heard all that?”

He chuckled. “Loud and clear. She deserved it.”

“Mm. Just lost my temper.”

He grunted, agreeing. “But’cha- what ya said ‘bout me.” He struggled for the words, throat and mouth working for the right thing to ask. “Said I was a good man, ya mean that?”

“Of course.” You sat up, moving your face into his line of vision. You made him look at you. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. And I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t think it.” Your fingertips grazed his skin, tickling down his cheek until they turned the other way, your knuckles running the same path for good measure. “You are a good man. I see you. I see the things you do and no matter how much you like to hide it, I know you have a big heart. I’ve seen it.” You gave him a soft shove on the shoulder, teasing. While you were there, close to him, you brushed the hair off his forehead before returning your hands to yourself and laying back flat on the bed.

He grunted and pressed his lips together, staring at where your face had been, the spot that was just the bare ceiling now. Then he shrugged away from you and turned to the opposite wall and grumbled, “S’not what I asked, girl.”

“Gave ya some extra bang for your buck, that’s all,” you said. When he didn’t turn or even chuckle, you bent towards the floor for your boots. “Want me to go? So you can get some rest?”

He gave you nothing in answer. You at least hoped he heard what you said, took it to heart. But, you thought, that’s what you get for blubbering all over his bed. Only slightly bothered, you leaned towards the nightstand to see if he had enough water for the evening. Then, you’d leave-

“Dun haf’ta go,” he mumbled. 

“Oh.”

“So long as ya don’t go all girly ga-ga on me again.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he peeked at you over his shoulder. “You mean telling you that I actually care about you? Then don’t go tryin’ to die on me again.”

He flopped over. “Ya think I wanted to fall off the damn cliff? Fuckin’ horse threw me off.”

Setting your boots back down, you settled into the bed next to him. “Horse shoot you with your own crossbow too?”

“You shut your mouth, girl.”

“Mhmm.” you hummed, grinning.

Like two parallel beings, you laid opposite each other, close, but not touching. You used your own arm for a pillow and tucked yourself under the sheet of the bed. Daryl looked past you, as if watching the door as another breeze blew through the room.

“Here,” he said, shimmying up towards the head of the bed and sliding the arm of his uninjured side under your head. You laid close, tucking your arms into your chest so only your elbows and your knees crossed over into Daryl’s space.

At least, it was that way until he leaned down into you, resting his chin on your forehead and letting his other arm drop over your side. You let loose a sigh at the touch- he’d made it back.

[the-dixon-effect]

Daryl Dixon - idiots in love headcanons

Daryl's never known anybody like you before. for the first time, a person has chosen him. you can make him feel loved just by talking to him, Hell, you can make him glow just by standing in the same room.

he thinks you're so beautiful. if love at first sight exists, which firmly believed it didn't before he met you, then this apocalypse was the best damn thing that ever happened to him.

it took Daryl a considerably long time for him to realise that his uncharacteristically affectionate feelings were love.

before Daryl realised he was in love, his brother used to constantly tease him about the way he was looking at you. he didn't even know he was doing it - "Whatchu givin' that girl puppy-dog eyes for, lil' bro?"

you two were definitely best friends before he confessed his love for you. you grew close during the prison era, and you were the first person whom he let his guard down in front of.

he can't stand to be apart from you. "If she dun' love me back, I can either be her friend or drive a thousan' miles west, an' never see y'all again," he had told Carol once.

his eyes inadvertently follow your movements, as if his subconscious felt like he needed to protect you.

everything somehow always comes back to you. a piece of jewellery he found on a run? Y/N would love that. the heating system in her house at alexandria's broken? he's fixing it tonight. in the meantime, he's at your door delivering a pile of woollen blankets. he spots a deer outside the walls? he's tracking it for days because he knows you love venison.

you love the way Daryl always steps into a situation to protect you. especially if it's another guy bothering you. he gets jealous so easily, and he doesn't even know it, like defending you is instinctual.

God forbid another man lays his hands on you. that motherfucker is already dead before you can object in the slightest.

Daryl is the only man you trust to talk about your issues with. he'd never pass up an opportunity to listen to your voice, but some of the things you tell him break his heart like nothing's ever done before.

you'll sweetly ask if he'd just hold you. and he wraps you up in his big arms and lets you cry softly into his chest while he places a hand in the back of your hair. rubbing sweet circles into the back of your neck. nothing could make you feel safer than Daryl's embrace.

after countless intimate moments like these, you start to wonder if he's like this around anyone else. surprise, surprise: he doesn't. and a part of him wishes you knew.

oh, but how much you adore him. you wonder if he knows how pretty he is; and how much you want to show him. his unkempt chocolate waves that perfectly frame his face, how much you'd like to tangle your fingers in them and kiss him all over.

you feel as though you owe him for all the times you've cried into his large, comforting figure. he occasionally brings up his past, his brother, his parents, and how much you want him to let it out. to hold him and wipe his tears away while you press soft kisses over his eyelids and cheekbones.

maybe one day, underneath some lucky constellations, you'd let each other.

taglist: @alldevilsarehere90 @poisonmenegan @radcollectivesoul @emilykolchivans @pinchoftheoutsiders

[dixonzzgirl]

imagine… 

finding daryl a really cool zippo lighter and seeing him mindlessly flick it open and close throughout the day.

sitting with your feet in his lap while you both relax on the porch swing (alexandria era).

pinky linking instead of full on hand holding. 

finally getting to the playful butt swat stage of your relationship + him winding up his t-shirt and chasing you around the house. 

him praising you whenever you kill an animal: “nice shot, girl.” “look at you.“ “atta girl.” 

reading a book with your legs crossed on his work bench as he tinkers with his bike.

getting a cold and when daryl dips down to kiss your lips, you turn your head away from him. “daryl, don’t! i don’t wanna get you sick!” and then he grabs your chin and presses a firm kiss on your lips anyway.

daryl finds a cowboy hat and drops it on your head. you let out a giggle. “what’s that saying? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you smirk. his cheeks darken and he turns away from you. “think ya’ got tha’ backwards..” he drawls. “no? pretty sure i’m right…”

eating a lollipop and daryl walks right up and pulls it out of your mouth and puts it in his (or vise versa).

having a journal that you can both communicate in. we all know daryl isn’t the best at communicating his feelings verbally and maybe you aren’t either, so you just write back and forth to each other.

i love the journal idea because you would use it for everything. daryl has to be up early to help rick with something? he’ll scribble a quick “helping rick. come find me.” and as soon as you wake up and feel the void in bed beside you, you go right to the journal.

him getting hard as fuck when you give shane attitude (farm era).

you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his (he’s a universal donor).

rubbing aloe vera on his sunburnt skin and he just lets out these sexy ass heavy breaths.

him watching you get visibly frustrated when someone else is helping you with something, but not doing it the way you want it done, so daryl steps in and tells them to get lost.

daryl giving you cold medicine while you’re sick and he makes you take it in front of him and open your mouth to show him that you swallowed it.

a/n: these are my favorite scenarios to imagine when I'm in class :) if you wanna use any of these ideas for a fic, tag me! i'd love to see them!

[toastnotonfire]

Couch Crasher

pairing: Daryl Dixon x (Fem!)reader

summary: Daryl carried you to bed, because you fell asleep on the couch... again. (SLIGHT! mention of Daryl's scars nothing big just reader thinking)

You obviously don't mean to fall asleep on the couch, just whenever you come home to the warm sanctuary that is your house in Alexandria the couch seems an inviting space to rest your feet... and maybe sometimes rest your eyes too.

Daryl comes home from the hunt, toeing off his boots in the hallway and strolling into the living room where he is confronted with the sight of you.

your curled up on the edge of the couch, in your sweatpants and stained worn hoodie. Your hair is covering part of your face as you sleep peacefully in the middle of the room, soft breaths leaving your parted lips.

Daryl falters for a second in the doorway, scanning over your sleeping form, allthough you look tranquil enough he wouldn't nessacarly describe the way your lying as comfortable in the long term.

He thinks for a momment, of the last few times he's found you like this, allways too tired to make the extra trek to your bed, he thinks of the way you've never got rid of the dark circles which took up stubborn residence below your sparkling eyes a few years ago.

He shakes his head, a little frown finds its way onto his lips as he stalks closer to your side while you sleep, trying not to wake you. As carefully as he possibly can he reaches out, grabbing your legs with one arm and using the other to support your torso, carrying you bridal style, close to his chest.

A small groan leaves your lips in protest as you turn hiding your face in his chest.

"yeah I know, I know..." Daryl muses, carrying you steadily towards your room, knocking the door open with his shoulder to avoid lessening his grip on you.

He gently lays you down on your bed, pulling the blanets over you and stroking your hair back from your face as you scrunch your nose in annoyance at being disturbed.

"don't give me tha' look" Daryl tilts his head to the side, amusement flickers in his face then he turns away, rummaging through his chest of drawers. He carefully shrugs out of his treasured leather vest, hanging it over the back of a chair before unbuttoning his flannel shirt.

You watch intently, blinking heavily from your place in the warm bed as he shrugs out of yet another layer, revealing his back to you. Your eyes scan over the long scars that litter his back, some thin and some thick and suddenly your ribcage is tightening around your lungs.

You wonder how in the face of all the awfull things against him, he still turned out good... so so truly good.

You take this thought, mulling it, turning it over in your head as you watch him slide into a worn grey t-shirt.

But then he's turning around and every worry, every concern and every bit of anxiety that riddles your worn and exhausted bones is washed away, painted instead in the warm, comforting glow of his little smile. The soft one he reserves for your eyes only in these quiet moments.

You adjust a little as the mattress sinks to his weight, pushing yourself closer to him slightly and wrapping one arm tightly around him, and the other arm across yourself. He holds you closely, running one of his large hands gently through your hair, soothing you softly.

"better than the couch huh?" Daryl jokes, his voice just as soft as his soothing hands are.

"mhm..." you mumble back a tired response, smiling at Daryl, who just shakes his head in fake dissaproval then places a small peck on your forhead.

"back to sleep hun'" he murmurs back, closing his own eyes slowly.

You both lay like that, curled up in one another's embrace, without a single care for the cruel world outside the door of your bedroom. The two of you find refuge in one another's arms, like a safe harbour to a sailor who had been lost in a storm.

Your very last thought before joining Daryl in the realm of peacefull sleep is that, yeah... this is WAY better than couch crashing.

A/N: hope you guys like it! been sitting in my drafts for fucking ages so I just thought I'd post it and see what ppls thoughts are, IF U SEE ANY SPELLING MISTAKES OR GRAMMAR ERRORS OR JUST ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM ID LOVE TO HEAR IT!!! and if you have any prompts or ideas for little drabbles then my requests will be open, I'll try my best ❤️

[wintfleur]

thinking about Daryl Dixon dating a book worm girly . . . they would meet on the Greene farm. She was a good friend of Hershel’s son Shawn, and stayed and lived with the family when the outbreak started. She would spend most of her time with Hershel and Beth or with her face in a book . . . she would like to be alone a lot, having her own spot on the farm away from the house where she could peacefully read and not have to worry about interacting with anyone, a spot that used to be her and Shawn’s . . . also a spot where Daryl decides to set up his own small camp away from everyone . . . well everyone but her. He would be hesitant at first to approach her when he gets back from another search for Sofia, seeing her leaning up against a tree with a thick book in her lap. He’d seen her around a few times in the short amount of time he’s been at the farm, only with Beth or Hershel. He’d ask her what she wants, assuming that she was waiting for him. She’d apologize, saying that she just wanted to be away from everyone, and surprising the both of them he said with a grunt she could stay as long as she didn’t touch his shit or start reading aloud. And for the first time he sees a small smile on her lips . . . but it was quickly covered when she lifted her book up from her lap.

Time-skip to after the farm falls and before they find the prison. They would become closer . . . well as close as two antisocial and closed off people could get. It was more like they found comfort in each other’s silent presence. She was so good at being quiet and finding her way around in the woods that she would often join daryl tracking/hunting. The first time daryl sees her smile since the farm is when he gives her a book he found in the trunk of an abandoned car. Since she couldn’t carry a bunch of books since they were traveling, every time she was done with a book he’d try and search for another to switch it with . . . would let her quietly mumble about the book she was reading when she couldn’t sleep and he was on watch. Would walk next to her as she walks n reads, making sure she wouldn’t trip.

When they make it to the prison, he’d bring her back multiple books whenever he goes out looking for supplies, and over time the small desk she had in her cell was cluttered with books . . . all from daryl. He would let her ramble about her books whenever they were on watch in the watch tower, him standing up and looking out while she comfortably sat on the floor with her book. He’d realize his feelings for her at the strange and unfamiliar feeling he felt in his chest as he watched her read a book to Carl and Beth who was holding Judith.

Time-skip to when they are now together, he would come back late from his shift at the look out tower in the prison and would check on her in there cell, expecting to see her sleeping since it was late . . . Instead she was curled up in her bed, technically now there bed, reading with a lit candle next to her. Not wanting to sleep without him by her side . . . and wanting to also finish another chapter. Whenever daryl would wake up from a nightmare she would quietly read to him, taking him out of his tortured mind and into the lovely world of her book. Whenever she was too focused on a book he’d surprise her with a kiss on her cheek or lips . . . completely stealing her attention. All she would have to do is bat her eyelashes and say please and daryl would fold . . . reading to her when she’s to tired to read herself, she feels so safe and warm when she’s in his arms as she listens to him read to her . . . he always kisses her forehead when he notices she fell asleep, tucking her bookmark a few pages back, knowing that she probably wouldn’t remember the last few pages he read to her.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( take this as my application to write for twd !!! I wrote this in 20 minutes at 1am, soo it’s probably not the best I just couldn’t sleep without getting this written down. Please let me know if I should continue writing for twd . . . I’m currently rewatching the show and my love for daryl just grows stronger !!! Again please let me know what you guys think, don’t be a silent reader <333 )

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