#daryl scenario

[allagogtoreblog]

[brainddeadd]

it is a fic, i just yap first - the fic starts under the cut

reader is a friend of the Greene's but isn't actually a Greene, they took her in

warnings: typical twd violence and angst, daryl angst, fluff

I have this thought that Daryl's not very experienced at anything romantic or sexual.

Like, his mum died before that became a thing for him, his dad was abusive, Merle was abusive. He never had a good role model for this shit.

He's probably only witnessed Merle in crappy bars, high as a fucken kite and drunk, for anything like this.

He's probably heard the stories of being hella rough, rough enough for it to sound like abuse to him - why would he wanna go through that? Or put someone else through that?

He's definitely never felt true, unconditional love (maybe from his mum). Everything always comes with a price for him.

And now he lives in a world where he can't trust anyone and everything is a threat. He's got his found family and that's it.

I genuinely don't think he'd know what to do with romantic feelings.

Sexual, sure. He knows he gets hard, and he's gotta get off. Knows that sometimes someone else can help. Probably fucked a few people and hated it. It was probably Merle getting him a hooker or something, and it was definitely a shit time.

Romantic? The fuck is that? He doesn't know how to do that. How to feel that. He knows what it looks like; Maggie and Glenn. He's not sure it's something he deserves.

So when he meets you, and you're loving him so easily, he has no idea what to do.

The word's gone to shit, everyone's dead and dying, everyone's fearful and sceptical of others, and here you are, welcoming him and his found family to the farm with open arms.

You help nurse Carl back to health after he was shot. Daryl knows Rick needed that from you.

You help look for Sophia, a girl you don't know, for a woman you don't know. You join Daryl on the search, exhausted but refusing to give up.

You help take care of him after Andrea shoots him - and you may have yelled at her a bit for being so stupid (which only makes you more attractive to Daryl).

You help Carol escape when she's cornered by walkers when they take over the farm. Ushering her to Daryl, yelling that you'll be fine, taking off in a separate car.

You ask him to teach you how to use a bow and arrows, knowing it'll come in handy. He does willingly.

You take the cell closest to him in the prison, claiming it's a coincidence, but the others know it’s because you feel safest with him.

You love the baby with your whole heart, he can tell. You cradle her gently, like she's something precious and you're afraid to break her. He almost wonders if you were a mother in the previous world.

You're distraught when he goes off with Merle. Carol tells him how you cried when you found out and the sadness that filled your eyes until he returned. He hates knowing he made you that sad, the he was the cause of your tears. But the light that returns to your eyes tells Carol and Maggie how happy you are.

You show him you love him without even meaning to. It's in the way you always bring him food when he's on watch. The way you are the first to offer to join him on a run. The way you stop the others from hassling him when he wants to be alone. The way you tend to any injuries he may acquire. He can feel your love long before he knows about it.

When you hug him for the first time, his whole world stops. He's just come back from a run, he's been gone longer than he was supposed to, scared the crap out of you and the others. You don't know he's back until you spot him from a distance, getting patched up and fed by Carol, unable to hide his exhaustion. You don't stop to think, not even sure you can think. Your legs have carried you to him and your arms are around him before you can process the movements. Daryl's tense, body having gone stiff at the unexpected contact.

Flushing bright red, you move to let go of him, to hide away for eternity, but he's arms are around you, crushing you to his chest, holding you tightly, face sinking into your neck and his body relaxes. The two of you stay like that for ages, just holding each other closely.

Carol disappears, leaving you to your moment, and you hold him to your body with a hand on the back of his head. He knows then that this feeling in his chest, the one that makes him seek you out just because, is love.

[on-twd-writing]

there is no but for me

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warning: mention of infertility. English is not my first language.

Readers pronuns: She/Her

Description: Abraham asks Daryl a question (S6E11)

Italics is for the flashback.

There is no but for me

The last few weeks have been draining, and the fear of the so-called Saviors became more real day by day.

 They had to be faster, they had to fight them and win. There wasn’t even another option, no plan B. In this world, a plan B meant death most of the time. Yet there was a small spark of hope. Maggie was pregnant, and she and Glenn were as happy as ever. There was so much death and fear in the world, that Maggie's pregnancy almost sounded like a miracle. And this kind of miracle also reached a certain redhead in the group.

  Abraham started to think about the possibilities. A family. A place to settle down. His own daughter or son. With Sasha, he could imagine this, yet he hesitated. The whole idea had been kinda new to him. Even though Abraham was sure about a lot of things, he wasn’t sure about this plan for his life. When you have a child, you have to take responsibility, you have to protect the child, care for it and while Abraham was sure he would be capable of doing both things, he wasn’t sure if the world would let him do this.

 And that was why he was asking the others for their opinion. He needed to hear their thoughts; he needed some reassurance that starting a family in this world was okay. That he wouldn’t make a mistake with this one.

  The next one on his list was no other than Daryl Dixon.

 Abraham knew that Daryl and Y/N were a thing, despite never making it official. But they didn’t have to, Abraham has watched them long enough to see it. How Y/N would always stay up with Daryl to stay on watch, while they were still on the road and before they arrived in Alexandria. Y/N was somehow able to understand the grunts and huffs of the archer, she was the one who was able to calm him down whenever things escalated. He wouldn’t flinch at her touches, and sometimes they would sit in complete silence for hours, since they didn’t need words anymore to communicate.

 So, for Abraham, it was clear, that if someone would settle down as well, it would be these two. Why not? Daryl and Y/N were also good with kids, from what the redhead could tell.

 "You ever think about it? Settlin’ down?"

 Daryl raised his head, looking at Abraham. What was going on with the redhead?

 "You know… marriage, kids, the whole package. Come on, everyone knows about you and Y/N" Abraham chuckled a bit.

 "So, you have never thought about it?"

 "Ya think shit’s settled?"

 Daryl let out a gruff, slowly walking away, over to you. What did Abraham expect from Daryl? A conversation about marriage? Children? Not only was Daryl a very private person, but there was another reason behind it.

 Of course, you have talked about it. Actually, not that long ago…

  It was one of the first nights in Alexandria, and he couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to. This place wasn’t as safe as it seemed, or as people wanted to believe it. He couldn’t let his guard down, he had to protect his family….Judith, Carl… you. His partner. He never liked the term girlfriend. It sounded like you were in high school.

 When he heard your steps on the porch, he didn’t look up until you sat down next to him on the stairs. You handed him a cup of coffee – black coffee, no milk or sugar, exactly how he liked it. Daryl looked at you, a slight nod – thank you.

 You two sat in silence for a long time. The dark, innocent city lay in front of you, and for a moment, the world didn’t seem so cruel. Maybe peace was an option. Maybe coming home was finally an option.

 "What’s on your mind?"

 Your quite voice broke the silence and he looked at you. Yet you knew him to well that something was bugging him. He was staring into the night and you knew him, you knew him well enough.

 "Do ya think this place can be a home?"

 You let your eyes wander around, thinking about it for a moment. The clean streets, the smell of fresh flowers, running water …a soft bed…

 "I want to."

 You really wanted it but yet you couldn’t fully believe and understand it. But one part of you wanted to believe it, that maybe finally you could have a place you can call a home. This feeling was burning inside your chest, now a small flame but who knew maybe a fire in a few weeks.

 "What ‘bout a … home for us?"

 Your eyes grew bigger when you heard this question. You two never really put a name on it, you didn’t have to. You never pushed Daryl to give it a name, and he never gave you a reason that you needed a name for it.

 "Sounds…like a good future for us…"

 You smiled at him, leaned your head against his shoulder, as you closed your eyes.

 "I really like the idea."

 You could feel how Daryl smiled slightly as well. You two have never talked about the future, since you never knew if there was a future for you. Would you survive the next day? Next week? Month?

 "Ya do?"

 Daryl never thought about settling down with a woman. Before the world went down, he had been shamed by Merle for having any romantic feelings. Or being soft for someone.

 "Yes,… even this is new and it still feels weird, I want that. I want a future with you and I want… this to work out here… for us."

 "Wha’ da ya wish for?"

 Daryl wanted to give you everything. He wanted to make you happy, to feel safe and protected. He would do everything for you, just to see the beautiful smile of yours.

You snuggled closer to him, thinking about it.

 "I want to wake up next to you, in a cozy bed and none of us has to get up right away. I want to try to cook with you…"

 He let out a chuckle, knowing very well that you are a terrible cook.

 "… and then end up at Carols place, because otherwise we wouldn’t get a nice dinner. I want to listen to music with you, read a book while you work on your bike. I want to wash our clothe and-"

 "Ya wanna’ wash our clothes?" Daryl raised an eyebrow at your unusual wish "What kind of dream is that?"

 "It’s something normal. I want normal things with you, Daryl. I don’t need something fancy or adventurous, all I want is normality with you. I am sorry that this is so boring."

 "No…, ‘sounds good."

 You giggled a bit "That’s good, because I think I want this boring future with you."

 After everything you all went through boring sounded perfect.

 "What ‘bout children?"

 Daryl was afraid.  He didn’t know if he was a good dad and he didn’t want to ruin a wish you had.

 "I… don’t know…"

 He could tell in the sound of your voice that there was something else. He shifted and looked at you "What’s da matter?"

 You looked away from him into the dark night. Daryl waited for your response, not wanting to force you. He would never do this but you knew you had to tell him the truth. It wouldn’t be fair to keep this a secret.

 "I can’t."

 "Ya don’t have ta’ explain anythin’, darlin’."

 "No, I mean I can’t…can’t get pregnant… I’ve found it out years ago and that was why my boyfriend left me before the world ended."

 You were so insecure about it, you knew Daryl was different and you knew that Daryl loved you and yet, you were afraid that he would leave you for it. You weren’t afraid; you knew that Daryl would make a fantastic dad. You saw how he would handle Judith, how he fought for Carols lost daughter…

 Daryl grunted next to you; he lifted an arm to put it around your shoulder. A kiss on your temple followed.

"Don’t ya dare ta’ think ‘m gonna leave ya because of that" he murmured.

 "But-"

 "Listen, when it comes to ya, there is no but for me."

 His voice was firm, yet caring. This was enough, more than you could ask for. Daryl was a man of few words and he was able to shut down your dark thoughts right away. Daryl would stay, you knew it.

 You snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warm summer night a bit more.

[bugsyfics]

✰ [ kinktober '23 m. list ] ✰

-> welcome, you've been granted exclusive access to this October's spiciest VHS collection. indulge in your most daring fantasies and become immersed in sinful stories that will leave you gasping and crying out in pleasure terror!

quick a.n.: yes, hello, i am back after a year and some much-needed rest from social media. I apologize for being gone so long, however, I've finally had some time and inspiration to write (yay!!) and im so excited to share my love for kinktober once again. You may also notice a new addition of the SW fandom

⚠︎ disclaimer: this is 18+, so mdni. Also, these dates are subject to change, but I am making it my upmost priority to see that all of these will be completed (there will not be a repeat of last year, I promise)

▸ 10 : 04 | ❝ VIRGINITY KINK ❞

STARRING: SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS & READER

▸ 10 : 08 | ❝ PERVERSION ❞

STARRING: NOZEL SILVA & READER

▸ 10 : 13 | ❝ ORAL FIXATION ❞

STARRING: DARYL DIXON & READER

▸ 10 : 18 | ❝ THREESOME + SIZE KINK ❞

STARRING: ANAKIN SKYWALKER, OBI-WAN KENOBI, & READER

▸ 10 : 22 | ❝ SEX TAPE + AGE GAP + SQUIRTING ❞

STARRING: RICK GRIMES & READER

▸ 10 : 27 | ❝ OVERSTIM + PRAISE ❞

STARRING: UNDERTAKER & READER

▸ 10 : 31 ???

Ready to press play?

[doe-writes-stuff]

You'd left. Off to take care of a personal matter in the west. Alone. With no way of knowing how long you'd be gone, or even if you'd come back at all, you'd parted on...strained terms. Despite the odds against ever seeing you again, Daryl made sure to keep a light on for you.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Slight angst, reader is described to have a female relative (relation not specified). Strong language, 18+ explicit sexual content, mixture of rough sex and slow body worship. Set during first half of season 9, but doesn't follow strict canon timeline or events.

"I should come with you."

"Daryl...you can't." You'd said, regret and guilt dripping from each word forced out of your mouth but doing your best to remain firm. They stung, but you didn't take them back. Didn't try to sugarcoat it. This wasn't easy on you, and no matter how much he understood why, it still hurt to hear. Watching you with your bag already packed hurt worse. "Rick needs you, Judith and Carol, and everyone else. It should just be me."

His head had shaken slowly. "They'll manage just fine without me for awhile."

"This could all be some pointless goose chase, and I...I feel bad enough even deciding to go, like I'm abandoning all of you, but..." He can see it, the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and the determination behind them to not let them fall. You hated crying. He knew that. "I need to do this. I need to know. She might still be out there."

"Don't mean you gotta do it alone, Y/N."

"I can't ask that of you."

"Don't have to."

"Daryl-"

"I mean it." He pushes, tone a bit more pressing than before. He shifts closer, drawing your eyes towards his own. He reaches down and takes your hands in his own, thumb idly brushing along your knuckles in comfort. "Goin' out there by yourself ain't safe. Ain't smart, neither. Need someone to have your back. Can't do things alone no more, you know that."

You're silent, worrying your lip beneath your teeth. He can't quite read the expression in your face, in your eyes. Your thoughts are too muddled, swirling with indecision and a plethora of emotions all vying for dominance. Terse seconds pass, silence between you, but eventually you've seem to come to a decision. His heart settles a little, satisfied that he'd made his case. Your head ducks down momentarily, which he takes as acceptance.

Daryl nods. "I'll tell Rick in the mornin' that we're leaving, maybe see if I can pack some extra provisions from the pantry. Doubt it'll take much convincin'. I brought back half that shit anyway."

The only response he gets is a small, slow nod. But it's agreement enough for him, and he pulls you into his arms. It's instinct now to relax under his protective embrace, allowing your fears and your guilts to fall away, if only for a moment. They'd come back in full when you next awoke.

"Come sleep." He mutters against your hair, feeling the way his lips press a kiss onto the crown of your head. Your eyes close. "We'll figure it out in the morning."

Your fingers clench against the back of his shirt, head buried into his chest. He's warm, the beat of his heart a comforting sound. One you know you'll be without for a long while. You make sure to breathe in his scent, filling your senses and making your decision all the harder to enforce.

And so you don't resist when he guides you back to bed, and you savor the way his hands feel on your skin. Devotion and love spill from his lips and yours. And when you lay beside him, listening to his even breathing as he falls asleep amongst the tousled covers, you try burning this memory into your head forever.

'Don't come looking for me.' 'I hope you can understand. I hope you can forgive me.' 'If it'd been Merle, wouldn't you feel the same?' 'I'm sorry. I will always love you, no matter what, no matter how long. Even if...I don't make it.'

Daryl stares down at the messily-scrawled note folded on his nightstand. He'd read at least 3 times by now, but had barely paid attention to the past few, the words blurring together. Noting the dried tear-stains on the edges, he feels a hollowness creep into his chest. It's as you say in your letter. Had it been Merle, all those years ago back at the prison, he'd have done the same.

He understands. He wished he didn't.

It would make it all easier to hate you. But he can't bring himself to.

The beginning days are the hardest. Your absence is a blatant, empty spot in his daily routine. He'd turn to say something to you, only for you to not be there. He'd stop by the house after hunts and scavenge missions to see you, only to remember the lights would be off and you'd not be home.

Each instance of forgetting, just for a split second, that you'd left sticks another proverbial knife in his chest and twists. They bring back the moment of discovering you'd left him behind all over again. It stung. It twisted the hilt a little bit more, digs the blade in a little deeper. It fucking sucked, each and every time.

Daryl had an excellent poker face, but even the others were beginning to notice how much it was affecting him. It was a lesson in patience, the amount of times he'd been asked if he was alright in those first few weeks after you'd left. Most of them he'd been able to field off with a gruff 'Just fine.' Others saw past the facade.

Rick had a good sense of things, and he knew Daryl well enough by now that his words often didn't tell the whole story when it came to those pesky internal 'feelings.' He'd asked him along on more scavenge runs, just to get him out of Alexandria. But of course, not one to pry too much into Daryl's business, he didn't ask the questions the hunter knew was hanging off the tip of his tongue.

Carol was one of them too, unsurprisingly. Half the time he thought she could read his mind. She made trips to Alexandria more often, popping over with pretty weak reasons for visiting from the Kingdom. She hovered, appearing at the most unpredictable of times. It didn't take a genius to know why. When Daryl least expected her, she'd be there with an offer to go hunt together. To go take care of Judith so Michonne and Rick could get out for awhile and spend some time beyond the walls.

It helped. He appreciated that Rick and Carol never pried. Rather, they were just...there. A companion to fill the long silences he found himself left with during the day. A distraction when he needed it most, since even solo outings past the walls were often filled with thoughts of you. Having someone else there eased the hurt, and muffled the many negative thoughts that clouded his mind in his moments of solitude.

Weeks stretched, and you were still gone. No means of communication meant Daryl was left to wonder about what you were doing, where you were, and if you were still even alive at all. It didn't get easier with time, the ache in his chest, the missing piece in his life. It just became familiar, and so he worked around it. Sidestepping it each and every morning until it was a constant numbness he had trained himself to ignore.

It was frightening, how easy it seemed to be. How easily he could seem to live without you around. Once upon a time, that didn't sound so feasible.

He felt guilty. He felt bitter.

He hoped you were doing ok.

Daryl didn't talk about you anymore. Not to others. And nowadays, Judith only occasionally brought up your name, asking where Aunt Y/N was, and when you'd be home. He was usually able to dodge an answer by offering to play a game.

There'd come a day when he couldn't get away with doing that, but...well, the time for that hadn't yet passed.

At some point, he'd quit counting the days. That didn't mean Daryl stopped missing you--he certainly still did. But the endless pull towards someone out there past the gates, miles and miles away, wasn't quite so strong. Whether it was a sign of him moving on, or just growing to accept the fact that you'd left...he still couldn't tell.

He didn't want to look into it all that much anyway.

Daryl hadn't heard anyone approaching as he stood smoking on the porch of his home. The wind was strong, and the neighbor's makeshift wind chimes had covered the sound.

"Borrow a smoke?"

His head whips back to see Rosita sauntering her way up to his home, arms crossed and hair tied back in a pony tail. He straightens, reaching up to the inside pocket of his vest to grab the pack of cigarettes as she stops a few feet away. Shaking one out, he hands it to her. After a flick of his lighter, the end begins to smoke and she takes a long drag.

"Thanks."

Daryl only hums in reply, standing there on this windy night, looking out towards the gated and walled entrance of Alexandria.

For several minutes, neither of them speak, enjoying their cigarette in companionable silence. Daryl wondered why Rosita was out so late, but figured maybe she just couldn't sleep.

Eventually, the minutes and lack of conversation gets to her, and she gives a quiet laugh, gesturing towards the door to Daryl's home. "You know you leave that lamp on every night in this front room?"

Daryl glances back, but only shakes his head. "I know."

"Drives Mrs. Beckett crazy." Rosita continues, flicking the ashes off of her cigarette, head nodding towards the house across from his. "Likes to bitch about how you're wasting electricity, or how she can't sleep because she knows it's on. It's like she can't talk about anything else."

"The grid can handle one fuckin' lamp." He mutters without further explanation, giving a shrug.

"I've told her that. So's Eugene, for what good that did." Rosita says with an amused smile, side-eyeing the hunter as she sucked down the last of her cigarette. She tosses it to the ground and digs it into the wood of the porch with her shoe. "Won't stop her from complaining about it, though."

He doesn't bother responding to that. Frankly, he didn't give a shit what Mrs. Beckett thought or wanted. He barely knew the old woman anyway.

"Why do you leave it on, anyway?"

This time, he doesn't say anything, just continues looking out towards the wall. He knows she's smart, that his silence speaks louder than any explanation would. Rosita figures it out quickly, and hums her understanding after a moment.

Another long pause settles, before she shifts in place and watches Daryl's closely when she speaks next. "I got talking with Eugene the other day."

Daryl had a feeling where this conversation was going--a place he didn't really want it to go--but obliged her clear bait anyway. "And?"

"Figured it was about 40 days to Cheyenne, on foot one way." She said carefully, not wanting to push too far, but hoping he still recognized she was worried about him. "35 if she pushed, and much less than that if she rigged a car."

Daryl knew what she was getting at, but still played dumb anyway. "So?"

Rosita saw right through him, but pointed out what they both knew despite that. "Daryl...it's been 6 months."

He straightened, agitation making him fidget, his jaw set tightly. "Don't mean a damn thing."

"Look, I'm all for holding out hope, but...at some point it's time to let go. How likely is it that she's still-"

"Think I'll turn in. Wind's gonna bring a storm tonight." He interrupted suddenly, not daring to look her in the face as he said his goodbye. "Best get headin' home."

He heard her sigh, and that tension in the air made it seem like she was about to say more. But in the end, she took the hint and descended the steps of his porch, footsteps heard walking down the sidewalk towards her own house.

For 8 months and 13 days, you'd been gone. And yet still, as you walked up that road towards the imposing walls of Alexandria, you felt like it was only yesterday that you'd snuck out the gates before the sun had come up.

The pack was heavy on your shoulders; not from supplies, but the weariness of a long journey. Of burdens and the weight of your decisions and actions. They settled, making your bones ache. But you felt lighter and lighter the closer you got to home.

Home. How you'd missed it so much.

And you'd missed him, too. Daryl had never left your mind. Not once.

Maybe the seasons had changed, but you recognized each abandoned car leading up to the Alexandria Safe Zone, even the particularly gnarled trees off to the side of the road. Little waypoints and landmarks that you'd memorized and passed by hundreds of times before. Now, each one seemed to propel your feet that little bit further, encouraging you to keep going.

Almost there.

And when those gates finally did come into view at the end of the road, you nearly cried. That feeling of relief as it washed over you was...immeasurable. Palpable and freeing. You couldn't begin to describe just how much it affected you.

There were, of course, look-outs at the gate for signs of approaching danger. And while you would've appreciated having been recognized after so many months away, you supposed that would have been too much to ask for.

"That's far enough!" The person on watch called, pointing a gun in your direction. From this distance, you couldn't tell who it might have been. "State your name and business!"

"My name's Y/N." You say, holding your hands out to make it clear you weren't holding onto a weapon. Your knife is clearly visible in its small sheath at your hip, but you weren't actively reaching for it. "I've been gone for a long time, but this is my home."

"Right." The person says with doubt clear in their tone. "As if I'd just believe you."

"I want to talk to Rick Grimes, then." You say calmly, smiling when the barrel of their gun lowered just a fraction. You felt a little silly having to name-drop some of the most influential members of the community, but whatever made them believe you, you supposed. "Or Daryl Dixon, or Michonne-"

"Alright, alright, hang on a second." They cried from the tower, lowering the gun and holding up a walkie talkie to their mouth. They spoke too low to hear, but you gathered they were calling into one of the three people you'd just mentioned.

You don't have to wait long, before a commotion on the other side of the gate alerts you to someone's approach. They call for the gate to open. Your heart soars, waiting to see a familiar face.

The metal gate slides open, and a man steps out cautiously. He's a bit rounder in the belly than you remembered--the benefits of safety in the end of days--and the full beard is new. But there's no mistaking the way he walks, and the way his eyes take you in when he steps past the gate's threshold.

A smile's broken out over your face as the two of you walk closer, until finally you embrace Rick with a tight hug, laughing at the reunion. If there was still any doubt that you were indeed a citizen of Alexandria, it was now dashed.

"About time you came home." He says in a rasp, patting his hand against your back in a comforting gesture. "It's been too long."

"I know. I'm sorry." You admit, guilt and regret coloring your voice. "I shouldn't have left."

You pull away, but Rick gets a good look at you and pats your shoulder with his hand. "You felt you had to. It's family. I understand."

You nod, on the verge of tears, but somehow managing to keep composed. "You're family too. Lost sight of that for a little while, I guess."

Rick waves you inside, giving a wave to the look-out at the on watch as a sign that everything was fine. You enter the walls for the first time in 8 months, admiring everything new and all that had stayed the same.

"How's Judith?" You ask.

"Growin' bigger every day. Can hardly believe she's already three." Rick smiles fondly, shaking his head. Then, he turns to look at you. "She asks for you, sometimes. Wonders where you've been."

The thought of seeing the youngest Grimes was appealing, though you were still weary from your travels. You probably didn't have the necessary energy to meet with her just yet.

"I'll see her once I've settled in." You promise, and Rick nods.

"It can wait 'til tomorrow. I'll let the others know you're back in the meantime."

Rick spends the next few minutes filling you in on all that you'd missed while on your trip. You're thankful to hear that most of it was minor little things. At least you hadn't missed another damn war, or anyone you loved dying. That would have been a lot to bear.

As you get closer to Daryl's home, Rick seems to remember something, and hesitates.

"Forgot to mention...Daryl's out on a hunt." He admits, no doubt crushing your hopes of reuniting with your partner that day. "Not sure when he'll be back, honestly, but I reckon he wouldn't mind if you were to stay in his home now that you're back. As I recall, you practically lived there anyway before you left."

Your laugh away the slight embarrassment at his observation, and the amusement is quite evident in his face. "Yeah, I guess that's true..."

"He'll be happy to see you." Rick states simply, stopping just outside Daryl's home as you approach.

"I hope so." You say, sudden doubt creeping in. You grimace a little, stopping at the stoop of the porch. "We didn't exactly...part on great terms. At least...I think so."

Rick reaches out and pats your shoulder again. "I won't lie, he took it hard. But I'm sure he'll make his peace with it, now that you're back. Love has a way of helping you sort things out."

And with that, he gives your shoulder a squeeze, before leaving you at the door to Daryl's home.

Something compels you to just take it all in. It was just like you remembered it being. A lamp stood lit behind the curtains in the front window. Strange...why leave the lights on when he wasn't home?

Stepping inside is a surreal mix of second nature and unknown territory. Daryl hadn't really changed anything in the interior; the couch and side tables and other trinkets around his home were exactly where you'd remembered them to be. But the atmosphere felt so...different. A little hollow.

Were you even still welcome here? You hoped so...

You deposit your pack next to the side table in the hallway, your usual spot for stuff after a run. Old habits, you thought to yourself. You'd put it back where it really went later on, but for now it would do. Your shoes went along with it, bare feet feeling blissfully unburdened without them on. Socked feet pad slowly throughout his home.

It's all just as you remembered, and your clothes are even still in the drawers in the bedroom. You figure that's a good sign, and change into something much more comfortable after a long-desired shower. The water is blissful on your skin, washing away the dirt of your traveling.

As you dry yourself and dress, you can't help but bury your nose in one of Daryl's shirts, reveling in the scent of safety and comfort. And while you may be missing the man himself, for now this would tide you over enough until his return.

With no pressing matters, and no clue as to what to even do now that you'd come home, you decide that a nap was much-needed. It may only be the afternoon, but the miles behind you were starting to make themselves known, lulling your eyelids heavier with fatigue.

You crash on the couch in a heap, falling asleep easier than you had in months.

Daryl didn't understand the knowing smile that Rick had given him upon returning to Alexandria late that night. Not to mention it was strange that Rick chose such a late hour to take watch. Not thinking much of it, he entered the gates and drove towards his home.

The rumble of his bike faded as he shut the engine off, popping the kickstand and standing from the bike. After a long two days of hunting with nothing to show for it, he was happy at the prospect of a nice, long sleep.

The house was dark, save for the light still on in the window, but he paid it no mind, closing the door and shrugging off his pack. He passed by the hallway side-table, setting it beside the other that was sitting by-

His steps halted, eyes swinging down to rivet themselves on something that was so incredibly familiar and yet so out of place. At first, it hadn't even registered that something was amiss. The sight of a pack here was so ingrained, that nothing had jumped out at him. But now...

He hadn't left that there. He didn't even own a backpack like that. But he recognized it all the same. And beside it...

Shoes.

A noise further into the house caught his attention. The spill of lights from the kitchen told him someone was there. He'd been certain to turn off all the lights before he'd left for his hunt.

And while a tiny sliver of his brain thought to suspect something malicious was going on--visitors didn't typically stop by at 2 in the morning--the hope that soared in his chest overpowered it.

It felt like the air was yanked from out of his lungs as he stopped just outside the kitchen entryway. There you stood, swaying back and forth to whatever music you were listening to in your headphones, the makings of a sandwich out before you. You faced away from him, unaware of his presence.

Daryl let out a stuttered breath as he ran a hand down his face, a swirl of different emotions welling in his chest. He was...pissed, actually. You'd left him behind all those months ago, lied to him to do it. All of the old anger bubbled and surfaced at the sight of you. He was hurt, wondering how you could have gone through with going off on your own, leaving your fellow survivors in your rearview.

At some point, he'd thought long and hard about exactly what he was going to say to you, should he get the chance. He'd known precisely all the bitter and spited words he'd want to throw into your face, telling you exactly what you'd put him through all this time.

He couldn't recall a damn single word of it now.

And despite how the wound had been ripped open seeing you in the flesh after all this time, despite the anger that raged and threatened to speak the venom that had once consumed him...he was too relieved to see you alive, safe, and in one piece to bother channeling that anger.

At the end of the day, you'd still come back. You'd come home. To him.

Instead, just below the relief of your return, rising steadily and with such intensity he hadn't anticipated, was a desire he hadn't felt for so long. How many nights had he lay awake, recalling memories of the softness of your body, the touch of your fingers on his skin? And now that he had you here...

His feet carry him forward before he can really think about what he was doing.

It's the movement in your peripheral vision that makes you look sharply up at him, startled but the sudden presence of someone else. You hadn't anticipated being interrupted during your midnight snack.

But he's here. He's there, getting closer by the second. You yank your headphones out, holding out a hand. You probably should have rehearsed what you'd say to him beforehand, to try easing the hurt and betrayal he must feel.

"Daryl, I'm sorry...I-"

You can't manage anything after that, given his lips smash to yours in a bruising and long-overdue kiss. Shock sets in for a single second, a mumbled grunt swallowed by his mouth, but then leaning into his embrace as his arms wrap around you, pulling you in, was instinctive. You fall into that familiar, safe feeling, wondering if perhaps this was always how your eventual reunion would have turned out. Daryl was always a man of action rather than words, anyway. The time for apologies could come later.

You can hardly breathe, locked in his arms, at his mercy. He kisses you like he never thought he'd ever get to again. And maybe for the longest time, that's exactly what he'd thought. A pang of guilt stabs you through the heart, realizing the sort of pain you'd caused him by leaving, but Daryl doesn't give you the chance to dwell on it, teeth slowly dragging back along your bottom lip and pulling a whine from your throat.

And, god, how desperate you sounded...it made him groan. That sound haunted him for weeks on end. How could you so easily rile him up like this? You leave for months, and all it takes is a pretty little noise to get his blood boiling with need. Fuck if he wasn't just as desperate for you, too...

He couldn't stop himself. Like a recovering addict caving, going back to his fix, his hands touch you any place he can reach, rough palms smoothing over your curves. The clothes in the way is annoying, confining. Part of him wants to yank and tear them away from you, but another side wants to try calming himself down, taking this first time together again slow. It had been so long, he didn't want to fuck up the first chance he could.

Your mind is a hazy fog of sudden lust, so much so you barely register the way he's reached down to lift you by your thighs and wrap you around his waist. His strength has you dizzy, drunk off of his scent and his warmth and the way his fingers dug into the skin on the back of your thighs. It made you tighten your legs around his waist, the sensation of him walking you somewhere else secondary to the way you did what little you could to grind yourself against the crotch of his jeans.

You wouldn't have been able to answer if later asked how you managed to get to the bedroom so quickly. One second you'd been in the kitchen, and the next you were being slammed onto the comforter by your back, Daryl's large and corded frame practically smothering you in the best way.

Your head tilting back with a pleased sigh, Daryl takes the opportunity to latch onto the exposed skin of your neck, intent to leave a mark. The thought of something permanent on you, from him--a sign of some sort that he couldn't put into words at the moment--felt important. And by the way you were moaning as he gave the flesh a rough suck, you seemed to agree.

One hand trails under and up his shirt, taking advantage of the closeness to explore the body you'd gone so long without once more. The familiar texture of scars in all the places you remembered. Muscles like gentle ridges under your fingers. They trail along his nipples, stroking in appreciation and pulling a surprised grunt from him, before frustration kicks in and you hastily tug the shirt up so he could take it off.

It's discarded somewhere behind you, and thus begins the frantic undressing of each other, heavy, panting breaths making it clear just how much neither of you were able to slow down now that you'd started. There'd never been a greater need to eliminate all barriers between you than now. As soon as his jeans and underwear are low enough to expose his hard length, your hand takes hold of it, giving him several loving pumps.

His curse is stuttered, wavering. Barely more than a huff of air released as the tension between you grows steadily. Daryl wastes no time in reaching for your wet cunt, two fingers plunging in without preamble. Your back arches up, wanting more. A keening noise escapes you, and hearing it just spurs him to start a fast and demanding pace as he fucks you with them.

The wet sounds they produce are obscene, but your head is nearly bursting with how damn good it all feels. You're a moaning mess, trying desperately to keep up with your own ministration of his cock, wrists working back and forth a little faster. His hips thrust into your hand instinctively, seeking more friction, a faster pace, something more. And while you know Daryl typically tries to keep quiet in the midst of sex, he just can't help the groans this time around.

Maneuvering your leg around his waist, you draw his hips closer to where you need him, lifting your own to brush your wetness against his hardened shaft, tantalizing and teasing. The time for foreplay was over, at least in your mind. Heart pounding a painful beat in your chest, you can't imagine waiting any further to feel him fill you entirely.

Daryl's fingers retreat from your wetness, and although their absence makes you groan, the press of his tip is more than enough to sate your once more.

Strangely, he doesn't immediately thrust in, rather pulling his head back enough to just...look at you. You look back, silent. One hand, still wet from your own arousal, trails delicately over your nakedness, over the curve of your hips and the sides of your breasts, as if reassuring himself that you were real. Or perhaps taking the opportunity to relish in having you underneath him once more. The jarring contrast to the frantic pace you'd both just been exhibiting has you blinking, struck silent.

But the moment is over almost as soon as it began, cut short by the jerking of Daryl's hips, sheathing himself fully to the hilt in one smooth motion. A mixture between a gasp and a whimper is jolted from your throat, the pleasure catching you entirely off guard. You barely have time to wrap both legs around his waist before he's setting a steady pace, his own ragged breath exhaled onto your shoulder.

He fucked you rough, sparing no time in reminding you of just how much pleasure you'd missed out on all these months. The familiar yet forgotten sensation of his cock stroking your inner walls had you crying out, overwhelmed, wanting more. Your nails dig into his skin, scratching and clawing when the pain only spurns him on faster.

You're mesmerized by the flexing of the muscles in his arms, hands planted on either side of your head on the comforter, fisting the fabric between his fingers as he pistons his cock deep inside of you. And when your eyes follow the arms up and peer into his face, his expression is a mixture of frustration and adoration the likes of which you had fantasized about during your many lonely nights.

Anger flowed like water behind his eyes, recognizable even now, but it never lasted long. Always overshadowed by such relief, such love, that you began to wonder if you'd ever seen it at all. Talking would come later. Right now, you both just needed him to fuck you until you couldn't stand up.

You weren't destined to last long. The time away meant that your orgasm built up much quicker than you would have hoped or expected. It just felt too good, having him atop you, inside of you, surrounding you this way. All you could see and breathe was Daryl, and that alone had your legs tensing around his hips in unspoken warning of your impending orgasm. With a responding groan, he understands, putting further effort into the snap of his hips, plunging even deeper than before.

When you cum, it's like white-hot frost crackling over your senses. Inch by inch, you feel yourself shudder, letting the peak of your pleasure overtake you until you're seeing black dots at the edge of your vision. Your limbs lock around Daryl like a vice, making it more difficult for him to move as you ride along the bliss. He grunts, unable to do much more than rut against you, chasing his own release in any way he can.

As the most of the orgasm passes, Daryl shifts and uses his hands to pry your legs apart, keeping them wide as he frantically thrusts, ragged breathing giving away just how close he was. You're a twitching heap beneath him, letting him seek that edge with your body, accepting the overstimulation in stride. When it nearly proves too much to bear anymore, he's stuttering a moan and slowing his hips down remarkably, chest heaving when he finally meets you over that crest.

Lazy thrusts work the both of you through your climaxes, and the rough and unrelenting pace that had been there just moments before slowed to a much more relaxed one. As Daryl caught his breath, he lowered his mouth to your skin, shaking hands caressing the sweaty skin he could reach, peppering kisses on your stomach and sternum.

You lack the breath to speak, and simply let all of your inner feelings shine through the gentle gaze you give him, tentatively reaching a hand up to glide your fingers through his hair. He always used to love when you did that, and it seemed that was still the case. His eyes closed in content at your touch, and he lowers his head to rest upon your chest.

Eventually, after dozens of minutes simply laying there, basking in the aftermath of your reunion, you summon the forethought to recognize you should probably clean up after your passionate fuck. The heat was slowly dying away, the house's draft that never seemed to go away chilling the sweat upon your skin. However, when you try to move, Daryl makes an effort to put a stop to it, leaning more heavily into you.

"Not yet" He mumbles gravely, not opening his eyes. You huff a breath, the corner of your mouth lifting in amusement.

"Daryl, we're all sticky and sweaty."

"Just...stay here." He says, eyes finally cracking open to peer into your own. And try as you might, you're at the mercy of the heartbreakingly pained gaze he directs at you. The vulnerability. The hurt. Months of uncertainty and guilt and anger stirred up into that one look, pleading for you to understand that he just needs you here. Right here, and nowhere else.

The amusement shifts into something gentler, and you give an affirmative nod, trailing one finger down his cheek. "Ok."

[ilovefictionalman21]

Daryl is the type who was cold at first and distant, but after many encounters of you saving him and him saving you he started to warm up.

Daryl is the type to give you small gifts, (like beautiful stones,flowers,necklace,or a new knife) everytime he come back from scavenging.

Daryl is the type to hide his emotions but breaks down when you hugs him from behind. And would bury his face in your neck.

Daryl is the type to rest his forehead on yours before he leaves, after getting closer forehead kisses follows.

Daryl is the type who would calm down immediately if you call his name or touch him (though it'll take time)

Daryl is the type who hates physical touches but would do his best for you.

The first kiss with Daryl would be somewhere alone and in the nature..slow and soft.

Small kisses and hand holding were the start.

Daryl is the type to afraid to touch you,he didn't want to hurt you or stain you...

Daryl is the type to have his hand always on you after he is comfortable enough for the skinship.

When you first agreed to stay in same house as him he was rarely in the house. But always come back at night..(Not a day pass without giving you forehead good night kisses).

Daryl is the type to wake up in the middle of the night and searched for you. Would climb in your bed and spoon you from behind.

Daryl is the type to kill anyone who touches you.

Daryl is the type to be on his knees when he saw your crying. And stay beside you silently (that is his comforting way).

Daryl is the type where his face always soften whenever he saw you. And his eyes following you.

Daryl is the type who loves hugs and skintouch but would never admit.

Daryl is the type who loves when you fix his jackets and would wear it proudly.

Daryl is the type who would teach you how to us bow and how to hunt (those will be the dates..)

Daryl is the type who would hug you from behind when you cooks for dinner and bury his face in your neck.

Daryl is the type to kiss your knuckles everytimes he is back (and follow forehead kisses).

Daryl is the type who would talk with Rick about you and ask advice. :3

Last but not least-

Daryl is the mf who is loyal and would do anything to keep you beside him. You're not leaving him..and if you did he would find you.

An: maybe I'll do Daryl is the type of.. (in NSFW version) soon :3

[jazzypeeps]

He would definitely pull on your bra strap just because he finds it hilarious when you get annoyed at him

[spill-to-t]

I AM SO UNWELL ABOUT THIS SHOW. SO FUCKING UNWELL. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!? I MEAN. I AM SOBBINNNNGGG.

You don't know know how many stories I read about this and now I saw it with my fucking eyes. I saw RJ, Judith, Michonne and Rick in one scene.

(I know I just got the twd content of my life, but I honestly need a Daryl and Rick reunion as well. ALSO RICK DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT SO MANY DEATHS... I need an extra episode just for that)

[loveandfictionforall]

Hay Love, hope your doing fine and inspiration is hitting you hard. Like baseball flying in your face kinda hard.

Could I requwst something for Twd with Daryl? Them maybe homding hands? Just this kind of hand holding where you don‘t want to commit to it but also don‘t want to not do it? Oh, maybe itms their first time and they just recently kind lf got together

Imagine their first night at the prison when they all cleaned the prison yard from the Walker. Daryl sitting on top of the van while all the others are sitting around a campfire with Beth singing.

You were sitting right along side your new partner Daryl. After a while you began to lean back, laying down on the trailer and watching the stars while listening to Beth. Daryl followed you soon and after a while you began to quietly murmur about the following day and what you were planing to do to clear the space. The mood was elevated, everyone was happing because you all found a safe place. It was a freaking good day.

Daryl and you relationship was a new one. You just had some kisses, not much more because of the lack of privacy. Sometimes you wished there would happen more but Daryl needed time and that was alright with you.

But at that night, while laying on the trailer and watching the stars, you could feel something grazing your pinky. At first, you didn't even notice it. The second time you blink in confusion, lifting your head a bit. The third time you look at Daryl who weirdly enopugh could not look at you. And then you understood.

When the fourth time came around, you softly pushed your pinky back, lightly tapping his finger. Daryl froze, torn about what he should do. Then he grazed your fingers again, this time with all of his digits.

It was a slow game and it took some minuts until your hand was turned and you could curl your fingers around his. His hand was warm against yours, warming you inside and out.

"That's nice.", was his only sentence until you both queitly watched again the stars but this time also holding hands for the first time.

[coockie8]

Will: You were hurt pretty bad last night. Do you remember anythin', Merle? Merle: I remember the ambulance ride here...? Will: ... We're still at home, little monster, there weren't no ambulance. Merle: Coulda sworn I heard a siren... Will: Yeah, that'd be Daryl. Daryl: Well excuse me fer bein' worried!

[marsrblg]

twd fic recs <3

multiple characters

reader coming out [platonic daryl dixon, rick grimes, negan smith, maggie rhee, glenn rhee, tara chambler, carl grimes, aaron] (gn reader)

rick grimes

"we should get married" (male reader)

traveling with rick (male reader)

beard scratches (male reader)

carl grimes

dating carl hcs (gn reader)

fluff alphabet (male reader)

carl protecting reader during the alexandria bombing (gn reader)

cuddling with carl (gn reader)

summer date with carl (gn reader)

carl being whipped hcs (male reader)

rick interrupting a make-out session (male reader)

falling asleep with carl (gn reader)

rick's pov of carl's relationship (gn reader)

reader helping when carl gets lost (male reader)

carl confesses (male reader)

saving carl from being bitten (male reader)

listening to robert smith with carl (gn reader)

dating carl hcs [02 cw homophobia] (male reader)

comforting carl after a nightmare (gn reader)

changing carl's bandage (gn reader)

carl comforting reader after a nightmare (gn reader)

cuddling with carl (gn reader)

daryl dixon

confronting daryl about being embarassed to show affection in public [cw child abuse implication] (male reader)

he confesses after getting hurt (male reader)

[non apocalypse au] seeing daryl for the first time after years [cw child abuse implication] (male reader)

nightmare comfort [tw abuse] (gn reader)

single dad reader x daryl (male reader)

reader has tattoos (gn reader)

daryl confesses after a near death experience (gn reader)

daryl drabble (gn reader)

daryl confesses after a near death experience [02] (gn reader)

comfort after reader gets hurt (gn reader)

daryl drabble [02] (gn reader)

daryl protecting reader from spencer (gn reader)

slow dancing with daryl (male reader)

glenn rhee

reader has trouble sleeping (male reader)

glenn proposes (gn reader)

[brainddeadd]

general TWD violence and angst, fluff, suggestive

hinted that reader has a chronic illness but not specified

i have daryl brain rot

Darly Dixon, who can't believe he's got a damn crush in the middle of the damned apocalypse 🙄

(Even though he doesn't know that's what it is. All he knows is that he can't stop thinking about you, worrying about you, wanting to protect you, wants you to eat well and be healthy, will fight anyone and everyone who looks at you wrong and always occasionally gets a fucken boner when thinking about you)

Darly Dixon, who keeps you in his sight when you're on a run together.

Daryl Dixon, who brings you shit he thinks you'd like and leaves it somewhere you find it.

(like when he gave Carol the flower for Sophia)

Darly Dixon, who catches you before you fall when you come across the corpse of someone you sued to know.

Daryl Dixon, who brings you a flower that night, perched in a beer bottle he cleaned out and filled with water, a supportive hand being placed on your shoulder briefly, before he's gone, leaving you to find comfort in Carol's arms.

Daryl Dixon, who refuses to let you go on a run with him for a few days after, claiming it's because you're emotional and need to rest, but telling Rick that it's because this was your home and there are likely to be more people you used to know.

Daryl Dixon, who makes sure to help you climb over shit and up walls when it's a necessary movement.

Darly Dixon, who complains when he's being nursed for the gun shot to the head but settles down when you walk in, knowing you won't let him argue.

Daryl Dixon, who cleans out your cell in the prison for you, telling you to rest and keep up your strength.

Darly Dixon, who freaks out when you hug him for the first time. Arms suspended in mid-air, body tense. Eventually, he rests them around you, hands flattening along your back, pulling you into him. His face sinks to your neck, and he relaxes into your hold.

Daryl Dixon, who knows something has changed between the two of you but can't pinpoint what it is. He doesn't ask, though. Doesn't want to scare you. So he let's the change happen. You spend more time by his side than you do away from it, hand brushing his when you walk.

Daryl Dixon, who finally asks one day, when you're preparing for a night away from camp, and he just can't seem to control the words from falling from his mouth. He's shocked when you tell him it's because you love him.

"Why?" It's a simple question, but it shocks you to your core. Does he really not know?

"Becayse you're you, Daryl Dixon." You say it like that's enough, like that makes it all make sense.

Darly Dixon, who let's you sit in silence for a while, unable to make his brain work well enough to tell you.. anything.

"I love ya, too, ya know."

"I know." He's not surprised that you know. He hasn't exactly tried to hide it from you. Couldn't even if he wanted to. But he wants you to feel the love he has for you, to feel any love in this world. Even though he can't bring himself to say it.

Daryl Dixon, who holds you close that night, body pressed to yours, his arms around your waist and his face pressed into your neck. Neither of you sleep, too aware of the other, of the particular issue he has. Neither of you make a move. It's not the right time. Not the right place.

Daryl Dixon, who kisses you gently in the morning, after he's made you eat. His hands stay by his sides, his crossbow on his back, and he catches you so off guard you barely manage to kiss him back.

"Ls go home."

[on-twd-writing]

Failed to protect you

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warning: death! angst, the pike scene (S9E15)

Readers pronuns: She/Her

Description: instead of Henry Alpha took the reader and Daryls worst nightmare becomes reality.

Italics is for the flashback. It may not be the correct order of the heads.

Failed to protect you

The wind was strong and cold.

Siddiq words still echoed in Daryl's head, Alphas words as well, and he had a strange feeling in his gut. Something was wrong – something was terribly wrong—and for the first time in years, he felt something like fear. Terrible fear. He couldn’t really grasp it, and Daryl hated it. Not knowing what was going to happen.

The calm before the storm.

Soon the top of the hill came into view, and the further the small group walked, the clearer the picture got. Trees? Stones? No, it was something else – sticks with something secured on top of them. Still, he couldn’t make out what it was exactly.

This place was scary… uncertain… unholy…rotten…

Finally, the picture and the horror got clearer. Especially the horror in front of them. There was no other word to describe the scenario. A line of sticks with heads on top, one after another – ten in total. Daryl could hear Yumiko's cries; he could hear the distraught sounds of Michonne and Siddiq arching in pain. Carol, who was next to him, gasping for air.

Daryl's eyes went along the different heads… Tammy Rose… Rodney, he took a deep breath…

Tara.

Strong Tara, witty Tara – the one who understood him. They had some similarities and a strange understanding of each other. He had liked her; she had been powerful and determined and didn’t take the shit from others. She has endured so much.

As yet she always has followed her heart. "No…" came it from Carol next to him, as she laid eyes their dear, dead friend. The pain in Daryls chest grew with every person he recognized. Every life that has been taken. Erased as if it were nothing. And as if this wasn’t enough, they had secured the head on the sticks to mark the line of territory. A cruel act of violence and power. The archer recognized the young Addy and Enid, who had their lives in front of them. Who still had so many things to experience. They never hurt anyone; they were good people. They were all good people.

And… "No, Daryl, stop!" And now he knew why he had this odd feeling in his gut the whole time. Yet Carol's words didn’t stop him from letting his eyes wander further the line of piked heads. It was too late any way. Next to Enid's cut-off head was another stick. The hair was softly blowing in the cold wind. It was you.

No doubt.

He remembered how he had hugged you before leaving the kingdom earlier that day. He had buried his nose in your hair, which was now softer than while they were on the road. He recalled your words. "Are you sure I shouldn’t come with you?"

You had smiled at him, caressing his cheek. Moments like this were rare, you two weren’t much into PDA, but the situation was different. It felt bizarre to be here, but it felt safe. You were happy and wanted to believe in a good future for the two of you. Despite the horror that was awaiting outside. "Yeah,..ya should enjoy this…little thing here." He was waving his hand around, looking over your shoulder. It felt surreal to have something like a fair after everything that was happening. He didn’t even go to one when he was a child. Merle had called them bullshit, and his parents had other things to do than take care of their children. "This little thing here has been hard work." He chuckled and pressed a kiss on your forehead for a few seconds. His fingers were gently combing your hair, and he could feel the softness at his fingertips.

If he knew he could have saved you by taking you with him… Carol was trying her best to pull Daryl away, who was still staring at your head. Your mouth was slowly opening and closing. There was blood on your face, your eyes pale and stared into nothing. Your head… your head was all that he got… "Let me know when you’re back." He nodded while you smiled. Your lovely smile, the way your eyes would light up when you looked at him. No one ever did this, people used to look at him with disgust, anger, or fear. Gradually, this has changed to friendliness and hope, but you? You always looked at him with bright eyes, like he was someone who was worth something. And now he hasn’t been able to protect you at all. The woman who meant the world for him – who didn’t just mean something to him but everything. He stared at your head, unable to move at all. Suddenly, the world around him went numb. He couldn’t even feel pain anymore, there was…nothing. Nothing at all. You were dead, and he hasn’t been able to protect you like he had promised you a thousand times. He wasn’t with you when you died. He couldn’t be there for you. In his mind the wildest and cruelest scenarios started – how did you die? Did they make you suffer? Has it been fast? Did you scream for him for help, but he never came? Were you alone? Scared?

"She…Y/N…" "It’s …Daryl, don’t…"

Yumiko also appeared in his gaze, and that was when his legs slowly gave in. He sank on the cold floor, and his view got blurry. He didn’t notice the tears in his eyes. He didn’t feel anything at all.

Not a word left his lips—not a single one.

You strolled next to him, closer to the gate. Daryl pushed the bike along beside him. "I miss riding the bike with you." He huffed. "Gonna take ya on a ride soon." You stopped at the gate. "I won’t forget that, Daryl." "It’s a promise, Y/N." He leaned toward you and kissed you again. You couldn't help but grin against his lips, feeling the stubbles of his beard against your skin. It was a lovely kiss. And for this brief moment only the two of you existed.

You took a step back, letting him sit on his bike. You enjoyed the view, and Daryl seemed much more confident on his bike. You remember the countless rides between the different communities. Through the woods. His hair, which was grazing your face now and then… being close to him. You knew you didn’t have to hold on to him that close while riding the bike but you wanted to enjoy those moments. And the archer never complained.

You remember the stops by the lake during the summer. Taking off the boots, walking through the water, splashing each other with water. Like the two of you were getting back the missed time.

The time you have spent in prison. At the sanctuary. The fight against Negan. Losing too many people - Carl, Rick, Sasha, Glenn, Abraham...

Daryl and you missed so much of these blissful moments, together you fought so much and endured so much pain. Maybe this was a happy ending the two of you truly deserved. You've got everything back for this brief moment. You weren't killers. You weren’t the person the world have made you. You were just Daryl Dixon and Y/N Y/L/N and it was alright. Even Daryl allowed himself a moment of freedom. And the freedom was taken. By the whisperer. By your death. He felt trapped in this moment. Now and then Carol's or Yumiko's face would show up in his vision talking to him, yet his eyes were focused on your chopped off head. He died with you in this moment.

[bibistatic]

just venting

i was reading some daryl dixon stories on wattpad and i can't say that i'm impressed. why are people afraid of writting original female characters on their 30s or 40s? why they all have to be 18 or so? this only makes me think that the character is based on the writer - that is probably on her 20s - and not an ORIGINAL character

i see that a lot specially with strong characters like daryl / rick / negan, billy butcher, sirius black, winchesters and the list goes on...

please stop with that age-gap obssession. there's no problem with different ages but does it have to be 10 to 20 years difference ALWAYS?

and i know that there is good stories with younger characters (i would love recomendations too), but i hate so much younger girls that have no background, they're just so cool and they know everything about life in such a young age...

please share some good stories i'm going crazy

[doe-writes-stuff]

It was impulse that lead you to help the man sitting alone in the middle of the road that day, clearly broken and with nothing left to live for...little did you know how much one small act of kindness could change the rest of your lonely existence.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst in the aftermath of the prison's fall, mentions of skinning an animal (not overly graphic), reader has trust issues, AU in which Daryl never meets The Claimers. This will likely be a multiple part series of scenarios.

It almost felt like a trap, the way he'd just...sat there, in the middle of the crossroads with such a morose slump to his shoulders, scraggly and unkempt hair hanging over his face so you couldn't quite make out his features. The crossbow sitting beside him was obvious, and while you had confidence in your ability to defend yourself in time before he could pick it up and fire a shot, it never hurt to be cautious.

He didn't make a sound. Didn't move an inch. The only reason you could tell he was still amongst the land of the living was the fact that he wasn't making those teeth-grindingly awful groans the dead produced, and you could see no signs of decay or decomposition on his flesh the closer you inched. His skin held a subtle pinkness, too--the telltale sign that his heart still beat. The dead were pale and lifeless, but this man...was not.

It stood to reason that the safest bet was to simply give the stranger a wide berth, pretend you hadn't come across such a bizarre scene, and forget all about him in a few days. Sure, you'd always wonder what he'd been doing out there that day, surely just waiting to be eaten, but at least you'd still be alive. One little misstep could cost someone their life, and you wouldn't put it past some of the people nowadays to try something so devious just for a scrap of food.

But...even still.

Your feet propelled you closer to the hunched man, who gave no reaction even as you stopped just a few yards away. You hadn't tried to keep quiet, not seeing a point, and the dull sound of damp leaves under your boots should have been enough for him to notice your approach. Any survivor these days would've. But his head remained lowered, either intentionally ignoring you or so lost in thought he was oblivious to your presence.

You had a better look at him so close, and you take the opportunity to study him further. His clothing was nondescript, hair greasy and looked combed down by his own fingers. Several days worth of facial hair mark his chin and just above his lip. Wherever he'd come from, whatever had left him as this lifeless husk of a person, you couldn't hazard a guess.

A gentle breeze blew at your hair, causing you to tuck it behind your ear as you contemplate the scene before you. You stand there, hands gripping the thick straps of your backpack, glancing between the dejected man and your surroundings. You didn't get the sense there was anyone lurking just behind the thick, green tree line now that you'd been standing there for several moments, though one could never be certain...

A sigh escapes you, and your head tilts, regarding the stranger in thought. For all the logic in the world telling you to just move on, that clearly this guy wasn't going to be accepting any help you tried to offer, something had planted your feet where you were.

No doubt, it was that pesky humanity that refused to die. Hmm.

One of these days it would likely kill you.

...hopefully not today.

You shrug off your pack and unzip the top, digging through the meager contents until you come up with one of the stale protein bars you'd found stashed in the last place you'd looted, crumpled and no doubt tasteless at this point. But hey, it was sustenance, and you knew of no one who'd pass up something so precious. You look at what little water you have left in one of your water bottles, swirling it around to check the volume level, feeling as though it wouldn't be too much to part with.

You take one step forward, eyes locked on the man and his hands to make sure he didn't try anything as you gently set the food and drink in front of his crossed legs. The only movement you detect is his head lifting just enough to focus on the offerings, but you don't give him any opportunity to do more than that, quickly straightening and taking yourself out of his reach as you continue down the railroad tracks you'd been sticking to for all these miles.

Not a word between you. Not even a meeting of eyes. Nothing.

A cursory glance behind you some seconds later confirms that he hadn't so much as reached for the items you'd put before him, his hands still loosely resting atop his legs. And, pushing aside the nagging thought that giving up your rations had been nothing more than a huge waste, you continue on your way, satisfied he wasn't following.

The man in the road hadn't crossed your mind at all the following morning, little more than an interesting footnote in the slow drag of your lonely little existence as you walk the empty railroad tracks. The miles slowly stretch behind you, the scenery rarely changing except when crossing one of the small town roads that crisscross its length.

Admiring the dense, lush forests of Georgia had long ago lost its appeal. Somewhere between nearly being eaten in them on a handful of occasions and seeing the same trees for days on end, you think. It's easy enough to ignore the picturesque trail you blazed in favor of remaining vigilant for the dead. Or, even worse, the living.

You're a number of miles into the day, beginning to feel the typical ache on your shoulders after such long treks, when you come across a small clearing off to the side of the tracks, a natural, tiny meadow dotting the sea of trees that catches your eye. A glance up at the sky confirms that you don't have much light left before dark descends.

You'd not come across a better place to set camp for the night, and you doubt something better would come along before it was too dark to see, either. It wasn't as if you'd actually be sleeping in the middle of the open field--way too easy for a walker to just come upon you in the middle of the night while you slept. But it served as a break in the same expanse of trees you'd been walking along all day. So, with a small sigh of relief that your walking had come to an end for the day, you trail off of the railroad tracks and down towards the grassy space.

Setting up camp was almost second nature by now, the many, many days of having to do so making each chore muscle memory at this point. A quick scan around the area found you no source of water, unfortunately, but it did satisfy your paranoia that something might be lurking around without your knowledge. Everything was silent and still, save for the gentle rustle of a stray animal amidst the underbrush.

You had a campfire crackling in the dug-out fire pit surrounded by stones soon enough, set against the edge of the tree line just in case. A recent rain meant the sticks and stray bark you had piled into it took longer than usual to alight, but through persistence and a good number of frustrated curses under your breath, it came to life with a trail of smoke. You sat back and fanned the flames, coaxing them to lick higher, until you sighed in relief as the wood fueled itself.

The tall trees meant there was no need to pitch a tent--you'd simply sleep up in the branches, using your tarp tied around the wide trunks as a makeshift hammock. It would keep you off the ground and out of reach of any curious dead that might wander a little too close for comfort.

Content to rest awhile before finally dragging yourself up the tree to try getting some sort of sleep that night--it wouldn't be comfortable, you knew from experience--you sit upon a fallen log next to the fire, eyes closed as you listen to the cicadas croon out their somber songs.

Weariness weighs down your eyelids, coaxing sleep the longer you sit there, resting your aching limbs. Fatigue felt all-too familiar. You couldn't be sure how many days you'd walked, traveling with no real destination in mind, but the ever-present pain of pushing just a little too hard day after day was a constant reminder that hey, at least you were still breathing. Some days, that was all you had to be thankful for.

The brush of leaves amidst the edge of the forest pulls a quick gasp from your lips, and your eyes shoot open. Instincts has your hand immediately reaching for your long tactical knife stuck into the log beside you, fingers curling around the handle with ease. You stand in place, looking around for the source of the noise until movement draws your gaze.

At first you don't recognize him, standing there in the dull, yellow illumination of your dying campfire and the dim sky. At first glance you assume he's one of the dead, but the lack of groaning and the fact that he doesn't move closer dashes that impression immediately. He shifts in place, mindful not to come any closer than the outer rings of tree, hands visible for you to see he held no weapon. The arch of his crossbow was plain as day on his back, though.

You stare, wide-eyed. How had he so quietly crept up on you?

The man's face is clear for the first time, and you can't help but take in the sight. His beard and mustache is more pronounced than before, the extra days of growth showing. Expression gaunt, taciturn yet uncertain, he meets your own with an unwavering quality you're just a little intimidated by. He scrutinizes you, and you can't help but wonder what he must think.

At first, you're terrified at the implication that he'd followed you all this way. How? For this long? And...why? Was he here to kill you, beckoned by the promise of supplies he believed you to have? You swallow hard, fingers flexing on your knife, taking a deep breath as you try determining if you'd be able to hold your own against him in a direct confrontation...

You tense, lifting the knife just that bit higher, seeing his hand reach up to his shoulder, believing his strapped crossbow to be his intended target.

He watches you carefully, slowly and deliberately shrugging off the crossbow to set it beside him in the underbrush. Then, as if to emphasize the point that he wasn't here to hurt you, he nudges it that little bit further away with the toe of his shoe. Heart hammering in your chest, you watch as he sits on the nearest fallen log across the other side of the fire to you.

His other shoulder shrugs, and he lifts something into your field of vision.

The sight of 3 dead squirrels, strung up together on a line of makeshift rope, has you blinking in confusion. Glancing between this mysterious man and his apparent offering of...food?...has you utterly confused. You're not sure whether to laugh from the sheer absurdity of it all, or curse your strange luck. This was not at all how you'd imagined your day to turn out.

He pulls a knife from his belt, which has your heart leaping into your throat once more, but he's already cut one of the animals free from the rope it was attached to, and he holds it up to you expectantly.

"Know how to skin it?" Is his gruff question, and somehow you're not at all surprised by how rough and smoky his voice sounds. He certainly fits his image in that respect.

And damn you if you didn't like the sound of his voice.

Still not entirely giving up the idea that this wasn't a trap of some kind, you eventually nod a slow affirmation, letting the knife in your hand lower inch by inch to your side where it wasn't so aggressively wielded. Slowly, as if he'd seize any opportunity to attack you, your free hand reaches over to accept the offered animal from him.

He makes no move at you, simply lets you take the squirrel from him before setting his attention on the other two still on the rope, no doubt setting to work on getting them prepared to cook. Sitting on your own log across the campfire, not altogether certain this wasn't some sort of strange, lucid dream, you set to work.

He skins and cleans his two in the same time it takes you to do your one--mostly on account that half of your attention is on making sure he doesn't try anything while your eyes are focused on the carcass in your hands. And while you'd be loath to admit it, the longer you sat there in his presence, the lower your proverbial hackles went.

If he'd really wanted to hurt you, wouldn't have he done so already? Why go through the effort of making himself known? Maybe he was the type to just get off on playing little mind games to others, but somehow...you doubted this. He didn't even look at you while he cut away at the squirrels' skin.

The silence was thick, tension palpable, though he didn't seem to feel it. Or, if he did, he didn't show it. You jerk in place when he suddenly reaches down at his feet for something, but you give a little sigh of relief when you realize he'd just been reaching for a stick to poke through the meat to turn over the fire. You do the same, and before long the two of you are staring into the fire, slowly turning your spits over the flames to cook your meal for the night.

The man is focused on the task at hand, saying nothing. And while you've been content thus far to keep your own mouth shut for the sake of self-preservation, that innate curiosity is growing more prominent the longer you sit there with the nameless stranger who'd come all this way to apparently make you dinner.

Asking a few questions couldn't hurt...could it?

"Who are you?" You suddenly speak, watching the way he meets your gaze evenly, the light of the flames dancing as tiny flickers in his eyes.

"Daryl."

It's clear that's all he had to say when even after several seconds, there is no follow up.

Ok. It's a start.

"Why did you follow me?"

You see him work his jaw back and forth, contemplating his answer. And when he does, he can't seem to look at you straight. "...don't really know."

"Hmm." Something told you there was more to it than that. Not really believing him, you frown, but he glances up and asks a question of his own.

"Back there...why'd you help me?"

Your mouth opens, but then shuts when you can't produce an immediate, logical response. It would be easy enough to say you were just being kind, or wanted to do a good deed for the day, but they weren't entirely the truth. Something told you that he would be able to tell if you were lying, too.

Your head shakes. "I'm, uh...not sure." Is your parroted reply after several seconds of thought. "Just felt like I should've."

"'Could'a just kept walkin'." He muses, eyes flicking back to the glow of the fire. "Most people would'a."

"Maybe...stands to reason I don't always make the smartest decisions. Letting you into my camp like this, as example." A shrug accompanies your words. He spares you a look, perhaps guilty that he had just seemingly invited himself here without so much as a word.

Then, figuring an introduction wasn't exactly damning information he could use against you later, you give him a strained half-smile. "I'm Y/N. And I'll be honest, I have no idea why I've let you stay as long as you have."

"Ain't gonna hurt you." He says, and if you weren't so precautious, you'd almost take him at his word.

"Sorry, but..." A wry smile lifts one side of your mouth. "...words don't mean much nowadays."

He gives an accepting nod, knowing that distrust wasn't exactly unwarranted, leaving the conversation be.

A long pause settles as the two of you turn your squirrels evenly over the fire. They were nearing being done, but something urged you to keep talking until then. Something about the first seemingly non-hostile person you'd encountered in...who knew how long made you want to fill the oppressive silence.

"You're the first person I've seen in months." You admit, grasping for topics that wouldn't reveal too much information about yourself. With a shake of your head, you sigh. "Hard to keep convincing myself I'm not the only one left sometimes. Well...'til yesterday. If anything, I guess I'm grateful for the confirmation I'm not."

Something you say seems to make him pause, and he glances up at you, surprise behind his dark eyes. "You been alone all this time?"

A shrug is your only reply, not willing to disclose more than that. Perhaps that hadn't been the safest topic of information. Hopefully the revelation that you were by yourself wouldn't paint a bigger target on your back to Daryl.

"What about you? Got other people? Or...is it just you?" You venture to ask, almost immediately regretting it when you notice the slight wince he does his damndest to cover up, failing in the process.

"Had people." He gruffs without looking at you, pulling the spit towards him so he could check the meat. "Lost 'em."

"Oh." You should have figured as much. Looking back, you supposed it may have been a recent loss based on the state you'd found him in yesterday. "Sorry."

Another silence, this one almost more uncomfortable than the original when you'd thought him about to attack you. A faraway expression settled in his gaze, and you know you'd been the reason to put it there.

Way to go, Y/N, you thought to yourself. So much for having a conversation...

The meat is done, and so you begin tearing away at the flesh with gusto. Aside from the odd candy bar you'd scavenge from isolated gas stations you came across along the railroad tracks, this was by far the best eating you'd had in quite some time. You were only so proficient as a hunter, and while you learned fast when out on your own for so long, your self-taught skills only went so far without proper application or guidance.

Needless to say, you scarfed down the squirrel in no time at all, ravenous now that hot, juicy meat was presented before you. The comical thought crossed your mind that, had this been how things were before, you would have been appalled at your lack of table manners in front of Daryl.

If he noticed your lack of propriety, once again, he didn't make it obvious. For all you knew, he was too busy wolfing down his own meal to care what you were doing.

While you were far from being full, you'd eaten more than you had in weeks. Setting down the stick with the remains of the squirrel, practically picked clean to the bones, you sat back on your log and regarded your guest who had also finished eating.

With the task of dinner out of the way, you weren't sure where to go from here. Daryl sat there for some time, just staring into the fire. You, on the other hand, were trying to work out what to say or do next. You supposed showing your appreciation for the food was a good start.

"Thanks for the food." You mutter, and Daryl grunts a noncommittal reply, hands fidgeting with his fingers as they rested between his knees. Then, he stands suddenly, making you copy the movement out of surprise.

"Best be leavin'." He says low in his throat, and your brow scrunches in confusion.

"It's pitch dark out there."

He stops, perplexed. "Don't matter. Can't stay here."

Your automatic response is to tell him that yes, he can. But that was ridiculous! You'd just met him! You knew nothing about him, let alone what he might be capable of doing to you while you slept. Were you insane? That little pessimistic voice in the back of your head proclaimed loudly and with no uncertainty that you most definitely were for even entertaining the thought otherwise.

But going out there at this time of the night, with no light to see by, was stupidly dangerous. Monumentally so. And the compassionate part of you couldn't live with the idea that this stranger--that Daryl--had come all this way to feed you a dinner he'd caught himself, only to wander off to god knows where and get himself eaten. That...just didn't feel right.

Trust was something you couldn't really afford to give anymore. You'd never say you were infallible...you were human, and damn it all if that meant you were prone to doing stupid things. Placing tentative trust in strangers based on a hunch, on a fucking whim, included.

The hunter stoops to retrieve his nearby crossbow from the forest floor, swinging it over his shoulder once more. You don't even tense as he reaches for the weapon, a fact you won't realize until reflecting back on this moment much later, but you stare at his back in deep thought, two parts of yourself warring with one another.

"Won't see me again. Swear it." He promises, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at you. "Take care, Y/N."

He turns away, but you take a step forward, impulse pulling the words from your throat. "Wait."

He does, turning his head to look at you with a side eye. You meet it with your own. Last chance to back out...but ultimately, you finally give a sigh and gesture to the camp around you.

"Don't be stupid. Stay until light, at the very least."

"Ain't smart." He says with a shrug. "Can't be sure we can trust each other."

"Can't we?" You raise a brow, arms crossed. "I don't have any intention of hurting someone who came all this way just to bring me a meal. You plan on killing me in my sleep?"

"No." His head shakes sadly. "Words don't mean much. Said so yourself."

"I know that." You nod, conceding the point. You have no basis as to the honesty of his character, but somethings tells you he's genuine when he tells you that. "But eyes don't lie. So look me straight in mine when I ask this: Can I trust you, Daryl?"

His stare is heavy, full of confusion and bewilderment, and a lot of other things you can't quite name. Maybe your willingness to trust him catches him off guard, renders him speechless. You're equally confounded as to why you are even giving this all thought, but here you were, doing just that.

Maybe, deep down, there was some desperate need to trust something, anything, again. Being alone, always having to have your guard up, was exhausting. Weeks upon weeks of staying vigilant was wearing you down. And now, with the prospect of someone who didn't want to stick a knife in your back? In the end...were you really so pitiful for feeding that desire?

Hell...One of these days, your impulsiveness was going to get you killed.

...hopefully not tonight.

Slowly, he nods, giving you the confirmation and the honesty in those flickering, dark eyes that you were looking--and hoping--for. "You can trust me."

Another moment of scrutinizing his expression passes, before your lips curve upward in a reluctant smile. Surprisingly, you weren't as terrified about whatever might come next as you'd thought you'd be.

"Good enough."

[yoofte]

hello!

hi! new writer here! hope i can make some friends and write something atleat one person will like. i write only for daryl here. you can send in request if you want, i can’t promise i will write it, but i will make sure to atleast try. see you soon!