#young daryl dixon

[dixons-sunshine]

Snitches Get Stitches | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: Things were going great between you and your boyfriend. You adored each other and everyone in the trailer park could see how perfect you were for one another. Well, almost everyone. Daryl's brother and father seemed to feel otherwise.

Genre: Fluff, Angst.

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Swearing, sexual comments, Merle being an asshole, Daryl's father is a warning himself, abuse.

Word count: 2.2k

Requested by anon.

A/n: I created a little universe :) I didn't think people would like my young!Daryl stories so much, so thank you! I'm gonna start labeling my young!Daryl fics SSHD if it's part of that universe.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

It was late in the afternoon. The people in the trailer park were beginning to prepare to settle down for the night. Parents were calling their kids inside and people were returning from their jobs. However, beyond the trailer park and in the woods that surrounded it, you and Daryl were seated on the ground, basking in the peacefulness of the wilderness.

“Okay... I spy with my little eye, something blue.”

Daryl hummed and scanned his surroundings. “Tha' flower?” he guessed, nodding towards the flowers in front of you.

“Nope,” you shook your head with a grin.

“The berries?” he guessed again, pointing towards the bush holding the aforementioned berries.

“Try again,” you said with a smile, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Daryl wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer and tighter against his side. He rested his chin on top of your head. “The sky?”

“No.”

“Then wha' s'it?” he asked.

“Your eyes,” you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss against his jaw.

Daryl faked an annoyed groan, but the small smile on his face betrayed his true emotions. “Tha' ain't fair. I can't see my own eyes.”

“It still counts,” you shrugged.

“Whatever ya say, sunshine,” Daryl replied with a roll of his eyes, an affectionate smile on his face. “S'my turn now, righ'?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Alrigh', then. I spy somethin' beautiful,” he said, placing a kiss to the side of your head.

You smiled at him. “Don't use my methods against me, Dixon. Is it me?”

“Ain't anythin' more beautiful here. 'Course it's ya.”

“You're cheesy, Dar,” you giggled, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

Daryl smiled softly at the action, his heart fluttering in his chest. He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Only fer ya, pretty girl.”

You laughed softly before focusing on the flower Daryl pointed to a few moments prior. You withdrew from his hold and got up, picking it from the ground before sitting down in front of your boyfriend. You held the flower up to his face and smiled.

“It matches your eyes,” you said softly, your eyes flickering between the flower and Daryl. “But your eyes are still more beautiful.”

Daryl ducked his head as a blush spread over his cheeks. You smiled and reached to cup his cheek in your hand, gently urging him to look at you. His eyes met yours, and time stopped for a moment. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, before he acted on his urge and leaned in to kiss you fervently.

You instantly reciprocated, deepening the kiss. Daryl's hand came to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer. The two of you were lost in the moment, and the kiss would've gone on forever, had it not been for the fact that air was still a priority.

You pulled away first. You leaned your forehead against his and smiled, your breathing heavy from your previous actions. Daryl's hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb softly caressing the skin. However, the sweet, tender moment was interrupted when the two of you heard a rustle in the grass behind you.

Startled, you turned around in the direction of the sound, your eyes scanning your surroundings nervously. However, Daryl only placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, turning your attention back to him.

“Dun' worry. S'jus' a squirrel,” Daryl assured you, pointing up at a tree where a squirrel was seated, curiously watching the two of you.

You sighed in relief. “Sorry. I don't know why I'm so jumpy. It's not like it's the first time we've come out here.”

Daryl shook his head in dismissal. “S'alrigh'. Ya dun' have to explain yerself to me,” he reassured you, before getting up and offering his hand to you. “C'mon, tha' was probably a sign we should be headin' back. S'gettin' late.”

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. You interlaced your fingers and together the two of you made the short journey back to the trailer park. Sooner than you would've liked, you and Daryl were stood in front of your trailer. You turned to face him and gently cupped his cheek, your eyes filled with worry.

“My offer still stands, by the way. You can stay over. My mom won't mind,” you told him.

Daryl shook his head. He brought his hand up to grab your hand that rested on his cheek, kissing the back of your hand before letting it go.

“Nah, s'alrigh'. I've been stayin' over a lot recently. My old man's gettin' suspicious, and I dun' need him findin' out 'bout us. I dun' wanna risk the chance tha' he might hurt ya,” he replied, pursing his lips.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, your heart beating faster in worry at the thought of Daryl having to return home to that sad excuse of a father. The two of you had been together for a good number of months and you had yet to officially meet his father, and you doubted that you ever would—and that was okay by you. You doubted if you could have a civil conversation with the man who hurt the guy you loved so badly, so Daryl's apprehension of you meeting his father was more than alright by you.

“Okay. Try to be safe, alright?” you responded, taking a step towards him. “I love you.”

Daryl smiled softly and leaned in to place a sweet, tender kiss on your lips. “I love ya, too,” he said when he pulled back, caressing your cheek softly one more time before turning around and slowly walking back towards his trailer home. You glanced at his back one more time before descending up the trailer steps and into your home, shutting the door behind you.

Unbeknownst to you or Daryl, the older Dixon brother had come to ask his younger brother's assistance in one of his escapades. He had waited on one of the benches in the trailer park for Daryl to make himself known, knowing that he made himself scarce from home during the day and only returned later in the day. But Merle was extremely surprised when he saw Daryl walk you back to your home, and even more surprised that the two of you had exchanged a kiss.

Merle hopped up from the bench and onto his motorcycle, speeding off into town to find a payphone. Merle wanted to confront his brother about you, but there was no way in hell that he was going to enter that godforsaken trailer ever again. A phonecall would have to do.

—

In the Dixons' trailer, the loud ringing from the phone interrupted the tense silence. Daryl, not wanting the phone to wake up his drunk and passed out father, quickly sprung up from his bed and darted out of his room and into the narrow hallway to answer the phone.

“Hello?” he whispered into the phone, his eyes nervously darting to his father that was passed out on the couch in front of the television.

“Hey there, Darylina. Mighty glad it was ya tha' answered.”

Daryl's jaw clenched at the sound of Merle's voice. “Merle,” he angrily grumbled into the phone, his hand gripping the cord of the phone. “Wha' the hell do ya want?”

Merle's laughter could be heard from the other line. “Now tha' ain't no way to talk to yer big brother, boy. Have a tad more respect, why dun' ya, huh?”

“Wha' do ya want?” Daryl repeated in frustration.

“Jus' thought I'd tell ya tha' I swung by earlier. I waited my whole life away waitin' fer ya to get back. Got quite the show when ya did.”

“Wha' the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl inquired, confusion evident in his voice.

“Saw ya kissin' tha' girl. 'M proud of ya! Ya finally grew some balls and got yerself some pussy.”

Daryl could feel his blood run cold. His heart stopped beating for a moment and his eyes widened in shock. Merle had seen him with you. He was going to make your life a living hell now, more so than when you were just Daryl's friend.

“Cat got yer tongue, Darylina? Dun' go all quiet on me now, boy. Now tell me, is tha' pretty face any good in bed? She looks the type tha' knows wha' she's doin'. Probably fucked every guy in tha' trailer park fer all ya know, and yer jus' another one on her long list,” Merle taunted, a cruel laugh escaping his lips.

Daryl felt his blood boil. “Dun' talk 'bout her like tha'! She ain't some piece of meat or an object, so dun' objectify her. She ain't like those women ya fool 'round with when yer high or drunk. And she's so much more than jus' a pretty face. She's smart, kind, funny and she actually cares 'bout me. She's everythin' those women ya fuck ain't, and it clearly shows.”

Merle whistled on the other end of the phone. “Wha', yer tellin' me ya actually care 'bout her? Tha' this ain't some hit and run?”

“No!” Daryl exclaimed.

“I bet Dad doesn't know 'bout her, huh? Wha' would ya do if I told on ya, baby brother?”

“Fuck off, Merle. Go to hell,” Daryl responded before hanging up, his fists clenched in anger at his older brother. Never before had Daryl been so angered by Merle that he had wanted to punch him, but he had crossed a line. He brought you, Daryl's girl, into it. That was unacceptable.

“Ya done now, boy?”

Daryl froze in place. He slowly turned around and came face to face with his father, the man having an unreadable expression on his face. Daryl cowered instantly, his eyes darting to the ground to avoid his father's piercing stare.

His father looked at him before shaking his head, a wicked chuckle escaping his lips. Daryl shut his eyes in anticipation, knowing that the first blow to his face would come soon enough.

“Ya got yerself a girl?” he asked, taking a step towards Daryl.

Daryl instinctively took a step back. “No, sir,” he said quietly, refusing to look his father in the eyes.

Then it happened. His father's fist connected with his son's face, sending Daryl reeling backwards. Daryl quickly regained his footing, his face already throbbing in pain, but he knew better than to show it. His father would only hit him harder if he did.

“Dun' lie to me, boy. Ya think 'm deaf?”

“I ain't lyin', sir,” Daryl responded. “I ain't got a girl.”

His father hummed. “Jus' someone yer screwin', then? Someone yer tryin' to knock up?”

Daryl shook his head. “No.”

That was met with another blow to the face. Every question his father asked him that could potentially reveal who you were was met with refusal and denial, which inevitably lead to another beating. Daryl's father soon grew tired, the alcohol in his system taking its toll on him. He flopped back onto the couch, soon passing out again.

Daryl's body hurt all over. He was certain that there would be prominent bruises all over his body the next day and the cuts on his face stung, blood oozing out of them. When he was sure that his father was passed out again, he quietly left the trailer and walked over to yours.

He walked to the back of your trailer to where he knew your bedroom's window was. He quietly knocked on your window, hoping that you weren't asleep yet. He was relieved when he saw your lamp flick on and heard your footsteps approach your window.

You opened your curtains and saw Daryl outside, blood trickling down his face. You gasped and opened your window, helping Daryl climb inside. You gently ushered him over to your bed and urged him to sit down, heading to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

As Daryl watched you return and start to clean up his wounds, not pressing him to tell you immediately what happened, he knew that he made the right choice. He'd take a thousand beatings if it meant keeping you safe. You were his sunshine, and he'd do anything to protect you.

Even if it meant getting hit by his father to ensure you remained anonymous.

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Somewhere only we know

Part 1

Young Daryl Dixon x Reader (no apocalypse AU)

Synopsis- No outbreak and modern ish day AU (set in 2007-2010 era) Reader moves to the Georgia mountains, to live with her dad for her final year of school, as her mum is going travelling with her new husband. She meets a shy redneck boy with a tragic background, who immediately captures her heart.

Warnings - mentions of abuse, tragic upbringings, mentions of injury, feelings, friends to lovers, judgemental town people, readers dad is a sweetheart, reader has good relationships with both parents, but her mum is described as flakey and free spirited. My terrible writing as always (this is me practicing 🤣) slow burn, no outbreak, not cannon at all obviously, love confessions, reader sticking up for Daryl, both reader and Daryl being protective, smut in later chapters but not this one.

Let me know if I’ve forgotten anything

Word count - 3.8K

It was the start of fall, leaves were beginning to change and a cooler breeze was starting to hit the small town you were now going to call home. Green valley resided in the mountains of northern Georgia, population 680 people. It was where your Dad had bought a mountain cabin, just outside of town with a 100 acre orchard. He had purchased the property just over a year ago, in hopes of a slower life. He sold his Californian condo, and made the lengthy move to Georgia.

Your parents divorced when you were 12 years old, it had been a long and lengthy process, and they hadn’t left on the best of terms. Your mum took sole custody of you, but you stayed holidays and the summer period with your dad. Even so you had a great relationship with both your parents, growing up had been pretty uneventful, though your mum was somewhat of a free spirit. Now you were 18 years old, in your final year of high school and full of life. You’d inherited the free spirit of your mother, but the hard working mind of your dad.

Your mum had moved on with her life re marrying a lovely man called Ari, he was also very much a free spirit, and they’d planned a two year travelling trip together. This is what had lead you to leave your shared home in Arizona, and move in with your dad at his new mountain home. You had a good feeling about this move, maybe small town life would suit you? Would it be quieter life or an adventure? You didn’t know, but you were excited to find out.

Perched on the passenger seat of your dads Chevy truck, you drove through the valleys and mountains in comfortable silence. Taking in the sights, the gorgeous autumn colours and breathing in the fresh air. You wound down the window letting your arm fall out, pushing your fingers through the wind.

“It’s good to have you home kiddo” your dad admitted, “It’s going to be nice having you with me again” he continues, nodding contently to himself.

“Yeah” you smile, “I’ve missed this, the two of us hanging out”. He turns to give you a genuine smile, it must be lonely being in the mountain lodge by himself, you decide. Pulling up outside the cabin you gasp “wow” you exclaimed, it’s much bigger and prettier than the pictures he sent you showed. A beautiful stone wrap around porch and neat log exterior, there’s a few planted trees out the front, and gas lamps adorning the entry way. It looked like something out of a fairytale, and you were incredibly excited to see the inside. Taking your phone out, you quickly snap a few photos to send your mum.

Your dad smiled at your childlike wonder as you admired the cabin. “I’m glad you like it honey bee, let’s get you all settled in”. The inside was just as lovely, large brick fireplace and open planned living downstairs, three large bedrooms with en-suites and a study upstairs. Your dad showed you to your room, then gave you space to unpack and settle in. Once unpacked and showered you came down to your dad serving dinner, “I don’t know if your hungry, but I made your favourite, at least I hope it’s still your favourite?” Your dad asks with a small laugh.

“It most certainly is! Thanks dad”

“Good” he nods.

“Ummm God, this is amazing” you groan happily. Your dad huffed a laugh, “I forgot how good your cooking is! Mum’s terrible, we end up with burnt dinner or takeout most nights” you laughed.

“Well I’m glad to get a proper home cooked meal into you then!”

“Soo I spoke to your new head teacher and the school is giving you this next week off, to you know settle in. Then you start a week Monday, so I thought you could spend some time this next week, getting to know the town and the area. We can go for lunch tomorrow in town if ya like?” Your dad explained.

“Yeah that all sounds great dad” you agreed.

One whole week to settle in, yeah that sounds ok you thought. Gives me time to maybe get to know some people too, get to know the route to school. You ate in comfortable silence, before helping your dad clean up and get an early night, it had been a long day and you were exhausted.

_______________________________________

The next morning you woke to birds chirping and leaves rustling. Golden rays were casted through your window causing a warm glow, floating dust particles visible in the streaks of light. A soft breeze was filtering in through the small crack you left open last night, hoping to remove some of the evenings humidity. You determined right then that waking up like this in nature was wonderful, no cars honking or children screaming like the busy neighbourhood you lived in back in Arizona, just peace.

You spent the morning folding your clothes into draws, setting up your laptop and organising your desk space. Before getting ready for lunch out with your dad, you decided faded jeans and a band tee would work, it was exciting to get out and see your new local town, but a little overwhelming too. It was a big change from your life before, and an adjustment period would definitely be needed. Nonetheless it was nice to be spending some quality time with your dad.

“You ready to go kiddo?” You dad calls up the stairs.

“Yeah! Now coming” you yell back, bounding down the stairs.

Driving to town didn’t take long, you watched out the passenger window paying attention to the area and the amenities. The lakes, mountains and colourful leaves were so picturesque.

The town centre was small but well equipped. From what you could tell there were a few restaurants, at least three coffee shops, a hardware shop, a post office, a supermarket, a couple of convenience stores and a surgery. Not including the school and garage on the outskirts.

Pulling up outside a small timber clad diner your dad parks and grins at you, “Your gonna love this place! They have the best pie and great views of the lake” he stated. “Awesome!” You reply hopping out the truck.

Walking inside you take in the place, there’s large windows placed all along the back of the diner, looking out directly onto the lake, there’s warm lighting and the whole place has a very cozy feel. An older woman about 60-65 years old you guessed came bouncing over. “Well hi Allan it’s good to see you, this must be your beautiful daughter I’ve heard so much about?!!” She gushed

“Hey Susie how are you? You’d be right, this here’s my daughter y/n” your dad replied to the bubbly woman.

“Hey it’s nice to meet you” you added

“Isn’t she a sweetheart Allen, you must be so proud, you know y/n your dad here hasn’t shut up about you coming for weeks now” she sang, playful glint in her eyes. You smiled kindly back at her, feeling relatively embarrassed by the attention. “Well you choose a seat hunni, and I’ll be right over to take your orders” she continued before walking off.

“She seems friendly” you stated. Your dad lets out a laugh at your uncomfortableness, “Yeah, small town honeybee. Everyone knows everyone here and they all talk, a lot” he emphasises. “Hmm” you sigh this was something you’ll need to get used too.

You chose a seat with a view by the large windows, and as if reading your mind he hummed “You’ll get used to it.

After lunch you both walked through the town, while your dad stopped at the convenience store to collect some necessities, you busied yourself looking through the aisles, choosing some snacks for yourself. You could hear your dad chattering to the woman on the cashier, everyone in this town really did know everybody. When you looked up your eyes met a pair of bright blue, belonging a boy around your age with scruffy light brown hair, worn clothes and a couple of cute moles adorning his face. You smile at him, he offers a small smile back before looking away bashfully. “Hi, I’m y/n” you offer, “Daryl” he mumbles back.

“It’s nice to meet you Daryl, do you live around here?” You ask.

“Yeah umm not too far, jus down by da creak” he replies. You offer another warm smile, “I’ve just moved here with my dad, maybe I’ll see you round?” You add. Daryl nods looking at his feet, he seems incredibly shy you think.

“Y/n, you done?” Your dad calls, you follow his voice to the checkout and hand him the two candy bars you’ve chosen. “Just these please” you confirm. You look back to the other end of the shop seeing Daryl chatting with another guy, probably in his late 20s.

“I wouldn’t talk to that boy if I were you” the lady on the cashier interrupts your thoughts. You take the time to read her name tag ‘Wendy’ “Hmm” you reply “why not? He seems nice enough, awfully shy” you continue.

“They are the Dixon’s the taller one is the older brother Merle, he’s always causing trouble, in and out of jail. Their dad is a drunk, and lord knows he hits those boys. The older ones left home now but comes back frequently. Daryl’s in school still so he still lives with his dad. It’s only a matter of time before he starts behaving the same way, I’m sure of it” she rants in whispered hush. You frown, you don’t like that. He’s done nothing wrong yet, but already branded by the town because of his family. But before you can say anything your dad pipes up “Well we best be going, lots to do before this one starts school”. “Well good luck sugar just pay mind to what I said, you seem like a sweet girl, and this town talks” the cashier lady implores. You give a tight lipped smile before leaving with your dad.

The walk back to the car is deadly silent and you are stewing your inner monologue ‘how dare she’ and ‘if she knows he’s hitting the boys, why hasn’t anything been done?’. Your dad turns to you reading you like a book, “Hey I get it, you don’t like injustice I know that” he interrupts your thoughts, looking up at him you sigh “It just doesn’t seem fair”. “I know baby girl, if you want to befriend that boy, you do it. I know we raised you to be kinder than that, and hey you could use a friend” he replies. You smile at him “Yeah maybe I’ll see him at school” you nod agreeing with your dad.

_______________________________________

Three days pass in a blur, you sign up to the local surgery and check all your medical details have been passed over correctly. You find the local library and spend most of Monday getting lost in books, you try a local cafe and enjoy drinking your coffee while walking around one of the lakes. You even chat to a few locals, getting to know the town better. But your mind keeps reeling back to the boy with the blue eyes, Daryl Dixon, you’d never met someone so painstakingly shy before, and your a bit shy yourself hating being the centre of any attention.

Wednesday comes around and you need to pop by the school to get your class schedule, your dad takes you so he can get any needed information too. Stood in the principles office, going over everything you’ll need, your mind wonders off. While your dads chatting up a storm, your gaze wonders out of the window.

You spot him sitting under a tree with a sketch pad or writing book in his hands, it’s too far away to really make out. But he’s sat all alone, while all the other kids hang out in their favoured groups, Daryl just sits by himself quietly. This boy has really intrigued you, does he not have any friends to sit with? Are the kids in this school as cruel as the narrow minded adults who roam this town.

“Excuse me miss” you interrupt, “Could I please have a wonder round? Get my bearings before Monday?” You ask politely. “Yes of course you can dear” she replies handing you a piece of paper “Here’s a map, so you don’t get lost, take half an hour or so, there’s a lot I need to go through with your dad here anyways” you explains. You nod thanking her before exiting the room, one mission in mind, finding your way over to Daryl.

Navigating the schools corridors wasn’t too difficult, and you found yourself by the back doors which lead the the playing field fairly quickly. You spotted the large tree smiling to yourself when you found he was still sat underneath its shady branches, lost in whatever he was doing. You slowly approached trying to not startle him, when your figure casts a shadow he looks up squinting from the suns rays, slight from between his brows. “Hey” you hesitated, worrying now that you had overstepped. But once he realised who you were he visibly relaxed, “Hey yer the gurl from da store Saturday rite?” He questions, his southern drawl thick ‘and adorable you find’ “Yeah that’s me, do you mind if I sit?” You ask, he gestures for you to go ahead, so you ungracefully plop down next to him. “What year are you in if you don’t mind me asking?” You request, smiling at him slightly hoping to put the shy boy at ease.

“I’m in ma final year, tho this is ma second time tryin’ I’m nineteen. You?” He replies, he’s nervously fiddling with a small twig on the floor, cheeks tinged pink. “I’m in my final year too, I’m eighteen. I’ve just moved here from Arizona. I was living with my mum, but she and her new husband wanted to go travelling, so umm I came here to live with my dad for a while” you explain.

“So wat ur ma just made you leave?” He questions small frown returning.

“Oh no no, not at all” you reply crossing your arms in motion with your reply. “No I decided to live with my dad again, I’ve missed him and it’s quieter here, I was ready for the change” you continue. Daryl gives you a Quick look before nodding at your statement.

“You startin' here soon den?” Daryl mused, “Yeah I start Monday” you reply with a smile, your eyes meeting his blue. Daryl looks forward then his brows pinching together, “Well I wudnt be seen wiv me if ya hopin’ to fit in wiv everyone here” Daryl sighs. “I don’t care what anyone here thinks, and you shouldn’t have to feel like that Daryl” you affirm. He turns to you worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, you can tell he’s not used to this, kindness, and it breaks your heart. He makes a small grunt, before fiddling with the twig again. “Anyways I like you Daryl, I’ll look forward to seeing you again Monday” you smile, before getting up to head back towards the school to find your dad.

Daryl watches after you as you leave, face as red as a tomato. He’s never had someone actively seek him out before, and he doesn’t really know how to take it. But he likes you too, you seem sincere and kind, there’s not many like that in this town. He smiles thinking that maybe he himself is looking forward to Monday too.

_______________________________________

It was Friday morning and by now you were becoming a little stir crazy, your dad was great he really was, but he was aloof at times. You think he was trying to give you some space, maybe you were just so used to your erratic mother constantly talking your ear off, and her demonstrative personality. Therefore making your dad seem rather quiet and distant, he checked in to make sure you had what you needed though, and he always spent meal times with you.

This morning he was tending his orchard, getting it ready for the autumn harvest, you knew he had hired some helpers to help him sort things, he’d said this may take most of the day, so you needed to find a way to entertain yourself.

After sipping your morning coffee peacefully on the porch, watching the trees rustle in the breeze, you decide maybe a hike in the forest would do you the world of good. So you pack up a bag of necessities, grab your hiking boots, a map and set off.

As you walk through the forest trails, the sun casts through the trees causing halos of soft glowing light, dew drops hang off branches and it’s all breathtakingly beautiful. You pause for a moment breathing in the forest air, and listening to the sounds of nature, until you hear a soft sniffle. You quietly pad yourself in the direction of the sound, it was definitely a person softly crying ‘what if someone’s hurt or lost’ you think. So you hastily make your way over, coming to a small clearing, where there’s a beautiful tiny meadow tiny flowers and fluffy dandelions fill the space. But there sat in the middle is Daryl, he has his head in his knees and his arms are hugging his legs.

You slowly walk over towards him treading as lightly as possible to not startle him, but he hears you instantly, his head snapping up in your direction. “Wat do yer want” he snaps, you recoil slightly, however you can see he’s hurting so you swallow it down and continue your way over. “I heard you from back there, I was out on a walk” you reply hesitantly. Daryl nods wiping his eyes with the back of his hands ferociously, you can see he hates to be seen in such a vulnerable moment.

You plonk yourself down next to him “Want to talk about it?” You ask. He debates this for a moment, he hates being open and vulnerable, but he can’t remember the last time he had anyone to talk too, Merle was never emotionally available, hell he was barely ever physically available these days. So he swallows down his pride “Ma dad was out last nigh drinkin, came in about three this mornin’ I woke up from his bangin, tried ta help him ta bed. He didn’t take it too well” he sniffled, Daryl looks at you then and you can’t help the small gasp when you see his eye, which was clearly hidden by his mop of hair before. It was black n blue and very swollen.

“Oh my goodness Daryl! One second I have a iced water bottle in my bag” you swallowed, you search through your back pack pulling out the bottle and the spare vest top you carry, wrapping the bottle in the fabric you place it over his eye as gently as you can muster. He still flinches, like you were going to hurt him and your heart shatters. “Here it will help with the swelling and bruising” you offer, and he lets you help him then, carefully watching you as you hold the iced bottle over his bad eye. He’d never had anyone look after him like this before, never been nobody who cared enough to help him. He finds himself leaning into you then, and you have to hide your smile by biting your bottom lip. You notice then his lips bust too, dried blood around it “Here hold this in place, I have some alcohol wipes in here for those cuts” you affirm, letting go of the bottle and searching you bag once more. Finding your small first aid kit you pull out the wipes, ripping the packet before shuffling closer to him again. “This may sting a little sorry” you sympathised, he lets out a small hiss as you gently place it on his lip, dabbing the alcohol into the cut and cleaning off the blood, before doing the same to the cut on his eyebrow.

“There all done, just keep that ice on your eye for a bit ok” you advise. “Ok” he agrees. You spend the rest of the day with him, chatting about everything, even if it was you doing most of the talking. You find out that the meadow is halfway between both your homes, he tells you more about his dad and how nothings ever been done because people don’t care about rednecks like them, Merle got away, got involved in drug deals and fights, left Daryl to deal with their abusive father on his own.

Daryl tells you how he spends most of his time in the forest when he’s not at school, to get away from his dad, but that his father barely notices when he’s gone. He hadn’t gone into school today after his dad beat him, he just ran here. You decide then you’d do your upmost to help him, there was just something about this boy, he captured your attention that first day in the shop, but just a few days in and he’s already stolen part of your heart.

By then time you arrived home early that evening, you had a unmissable smile on your face, your dad notices straight away “You enjoy your hike honey bee? Thanks for the note I’d have worried otherwise” he comments. “Yeah it was nice, I spent the day with Daryl, bumped into him on the trail” you smile. “Ah I see, I’m glad you’ve made a friend” he answers “You hungry? Dinners almost ready” “Yeah starving!” You declare.

Laying in bed later that night you pull out your phone, you’d exchanged numbers with Daryl earlier and couldn’t wait to message.

‘Hey, fancy a walk around the south lake tomorrow?

Y/N’

‘Yah sure, thnks fer today, 10am ok?’

You grin instantly at his reply,

‘Yeah perfect, meet you there? Or I can pick you up?’

‘Nah I’ll meet ya there’

‘Ok see you tomorrow, goodnight Daryl’

‘Nite y/n’

You were really looking forward to tomorrow now.

_______________________________________

[bigblackbbnny]

To be a Dixon

✁- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ╰──➢  ✧;── table of contents ──; ✧ ╭       ⁞ ❏.Characters ⟶ .·. Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon (mentioned), Will Dixon (mentioned), Daryl and Merle's mom (also only mentioned). ┊       ⁞ ❏.Warnings  ⟶ .·. Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst, mentions of Violence. ┊       ⁞ ❏.Notes ⟶ .·. So, basically I started watching The Walking Dead for the first time around a month ago, maybe a bit more, and finished at season 10 because i'm going to wait for season 11 to come to Netflix I guess. I loved it, and i've been stuck with the usual Art Block so it's kinda refreshing to be able to write about one of my favorite characters (and being able to write at all in the first place). Also published in AO3~ ┊     ⁞ ❏.Summary ⟶ .·. Daryl thinks about stuff, sad stuff. He doesn't cry though, Dixons don't cry. He's a tough boy.

Daryl lays down on the grass with a plop, he knows he'll go back home slightly wet and covered in dirt and he hopes his Pa will not be there to see it (a nagging thought at the back of his head whispers he shouldn’t give a damn). The wind makes his clothes flutter gently and the greenery around him seems to engulf his small figure, hidden from anyone or anything that could be searching for him. He knows nobody is looking for him though, at least not with good intentions.

His eyes look at the sky, there's not many stars over there so near the city, but if he pays enough attention he can almost recognize the soft glint of a couple more hiding around. The wind whispers against his skin again, the ground cradles his body. It's rough but the grass makes it bearable, like a light cushion.

He silently wonders if that's how being in his mother's arms felt like. Or maybe his father's. He shudders at the last thought.

It's not like he wouldn't like a loving father, he does. He looks at other kids that come from decent looking houses, at their cheerful and caring parents, he watches them hug, bump into each other playfully, being taught by them, riding their father's shoulders and seeming like the lords of the town.

He doesn't envy them, he's not jealous, Daryl tells himself as he looks away. He doesn't need one.

Maybe he does, but it's too late for one.

Will Dixon is a son of a bitch and would never be a proper parent, forever tainted his hopes of a caring parental figure.

His bruised cheek burns as a reminder.

Daryl's left hand brushes against some wild flower, he feels the delicate petals under his fingers. He caresses it carefully trying not to thug at them too much.

His thoughts drift to his older brother, would Merle be okay? Daryl closed his eyes for a second with a snarl. Of course that tough dickhead would be okay. He probably went to get arrested again, or just straight to find someone to beat up -or get beaten up- as if he was doing so with their Pa. Merle was always the strongest of the two, probably because he was the oldest too. He would always scowl at him saying he should 'toughen up' while brushing blood off his face after taking their old man's beating in his stead. Nowadays Merle wasn't home as much as when he was younger, so he couldn't save his ass all the time.

Daryl wouldn't say he missed him but he appreciated the effort he'd done taking care of him, nasty harmless words and scowls included. Nobody else ever did as much as him. Well, Mrs. Gretchen down the street did give him a bandaid once after some guy pushed him and called him a boot-licker for helping the old lady pick up some apples that fell from her broken plastic bag. She even helped him clean the small bleeding wound on his knee and would sometimes give him an apple when he walked by her house.

Merle heard of it, told him he was 'too much of a damn softie'. He paid no attention to his words. He was right though. He didn't feel it was okay to bully nice ladies, and if some kid's balloon got stuck in a tree he might have the thought of helping them reach for it.

He wouldn't, not everyone was nice and welcoming of help. Most were not.

His glassy eyes blinked a couple of times. The petals felt so good against the calloused skin of his fingers, rough from years of survival and still not enough to prevent the string of his crossbow from cutting when he wasn't being careful. He had no idea what the name of the wild flower was, barely being able to notice it had a yellow-ish color.

The texture reminded him of some baby blanket he used to have, now but a tattered rag discarded in the wild of their garden after some of his father's rage bursts. He liked that one, probably one of the last remnants of his mother. She wasn't a good mother, well, she didn't care about them enough to be a mother at all. Probably beaten out of her, too busy filling her lungs with smoke and drowning in alcohol to look at them twice from the corner of her eyes. But maybe she had cared for a couple of minutes. Maybe when he was still a newborn baby she might have held him within the soft baby blanket. He didn't know for sure. He never asked Merle and honestly he didn't want to know the truth at all.

A sigh left his lips.

Sometimes he could remember things, small moments of peace at their house when she was still alive. There were scarce days where they could act like a family, a normal one. Although it all went to hell after she died. He wondered if Merle ever had good times with them when he hadn't been born yet. Sometimes, he would even wonder if it was his fault they were all so broken. Or perhaps it had always been like that, and it would always have been no matter if he was there or not. Dixon blood and stuff.

Will never stopped blaming Merle about what happened, never cared about beating them over any excuse he could find. And even if there was no excuse. Daryl would have to run away days long sometimes, hunt his own food, camp in the woods if he was lucky enough to grab his equipment before rushing out, or sleep in trees if he was not. More often than not.

Daryl looked at people with cozy houses and warm families from afar, people who could sleep with a feeling of safety and weren't bathed in bruises and scars.

He frowned at them, the weaklings. He didn't envy them. He didn't need it, he growled to himself.

(He did, secretly.)

[dixonsemoboy]

NOTHING could pull me out 🙏

[oliskyesisdaddy]

I MISSED HIS BIRTHDAY!!?!?!?!?!?!? 😭😭

well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

happy belated birthday, my beautiful norman reedus. I await the day I meet you yet

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Ok do the thousands of Bethyl shippers realize it means they're headcanoning Daryl as a pedophile or

[ifuckinglovefingerlingpotatoes]

[imyourbratzdoll]

something I thought of in the shower, picture any male you like, no specific character for this.

warning - lots of swearing.

“Hey bab—“ Your man steps into the shower, wanting to join you before you and him seperate for the day (for work) “Shit! What the fuck, ow!” He screams before you even turn around to greet him, he immediately jumps out of the shower and runs from the bathroom.

After you finish up, having to take a good ten minutes to try and stop laughing. You get out, wrapping a towel around you and your hair/head. You find him dramatically sitting in front of a fan, fanning himself. “Why’d you leave so fast?”

“Why’d I… What do you mean why did I leave so fast?! Are you preparing for hell or something?! The shit was that? That wasn’t even a hand like when you do the dishes, no this was your whole arse body! Do you not feel that shit?!” His hands wave around, brows furrowed as he looks at you like you’re crazy.

You shake your head, walking over to him and kissing his head. “You’re so dramatic. It’s a good thing I love you.” You huff.

[v1rtualyrotting]

[gracemyface]

Daryl: The Professional (Daryl Dixon x Young! Reader)

Chapter Six

Key:

Y/n - Your Name

Y/l/n - Your Last Name

Y/e/c - Your Eye Color

Y/h/c - Your Hair Color

Series Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

Summary: Things are unsettled at camp after the fight and Jim's breakdown, and the Reader finds themselves too worried about Daryl to really enjoy any of the festivities. Meanwhile, Daryl finds himself struggling in the city, wanting to return to camp but not wanting to face the wrath that would come from leaving Glenn behind. They're finally reunited when, in a turn for the worse, the camp is attacked by a wandering herd of walkers...

Warnings: Major Character Death, Canon Typical Violence/Gore, Some Angst.

A/n: I will have no real Lori slander. She did some shitty things, yes, but she loved her kids and the other women’s kids. Anyway, how do we like Daryl’s pov? I really, really struggled with it bc he’s such an asshole (I mean that affectionately.)

Shit really goes down this chapter. You guys have a slight breakdown, but it's been a long time coming. Character development ig?

also, do we want more stories from when the Reader, Daryl, and Merle were together?

Word Count: 4.8k

The first time Daryl ever saw you, the blood-soaked orphan with a far-off stare who’d barricaded themself into the corner of his father’s cabin, he felt a prickle of annoyance travel up his spine. 

He didn’t know why you were out in the woods, or what had happened to result in you being covered in the crimson liquid (though, if his father hadn’t just been eaten in front of him, he would’ve assumed it was a pig slaughtering gone awry), or how you got into the cabin. He, especially at that moment, hadn’t even cared. He knew immediately that Jess wouldn’t have left you behind, cursed his father’s half-brother and his bleeding heart, and reduced you to nothing in his mind but another mouth to feed — a weak, sniveling mouth at that. He wasn’t ever keen on being around kids, smart-mouthed teenagers even less, and he didn’t really want to have to handle the collapse of society with anybody who couldn’t fend for themselves. 

You showed him, though. You really did.

In those few days when it was just you and him after Jess took that fall off the truck when you officially became his responsibility, you proved you weren’t weak. You adapted to the end of the world quickly — learned to be quiet when you needed to be, to be useful most of the time, and to just eat whatever he managed to catch. And then you took on Merle in a way that nobody really dared to, most nights ending with you sending his older brother a heated gaze over the fire, the flames reflecting in your y/e/c eyes. Now, he still wouldn’t leave his life in your hands if he had the choice, even after you shot that man clear in the head back in Fontana and walked it off, but he knows for sure that he can trust you to handle your own — and, even if he doesn’t really appreciate being wrong, he can’t help but admire you for it… though, he’d never admit it aloud.

Standing in a long-abandoned lab building in an overrun Atlanta, the redneck stares down at the whimpering kid they picked up with pure disdain. His lips are curled back over his teeth in a sneer and his eyes are slanted as he stares down, internally picking apart every little thing the teenager does. That is what he expected from you.

What a shit show this little expedition-slash-rescue mission has turned out to be.

Not only was Merle not where they left him — currently down one hand and on the run through the sweltering pit of hell that has become of the once lively city — but now they’ve lost Glenn, too. If Daryl’d known that the younger man was going to get taken hostage by a bunch of wannabe gangsters and hold them up like this, he’d have left before these assholes could’ve even thought about getting into the truck with him.

He wanted to be the hell out of dodge three hours ago. “Them guns are worth more than gold. Gold won’t protect your family or put food on the table— you’re gonna give that up for that kid?”

Both of them give him a stern look, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, the kid is nice and all, and half the camp (including you) would be really pissed off if they came back without him, but they can’t give up half of these guns. It’s either Glenn or a better chance at survival and he picks survival.

“If I knew we’d get Glenn back, I might agree. But, you think that Vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?”

Daryl nods in agreement. There’s that, too. They have no idea for certain if giving up the guns will even get them what they want. It might just be a trap that gets them all killed.

“You calling G a liar?” Their hostage— Miguel, was it?— inserts himself into the equation.

His mind once again drifts to you. If you were kidnapped, you wouldn’t be this stupid. You’d be smart enough to not mouth off to the people who held you captive, smart enough to figure out how to get yourself free, and smart enough not to make promises on his behalf that he might not be able to keep. You’d be mute, sitting there and watching your captors with those dangerous little eyes of yours.

This kid, though? Christ.

“Are you a part of this?” He crosses the room and leans down over the kid, slapping him lightly. “You wanna hold onto your teeth?”

T-Dog continues on, ignoring the violence. “Question is, do you trust that man’s word?”

“No, question is what are you willing to bet on it? Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?” He holds Rick’s gaze.

Truth be told, Daryl doesn’t quite get risking why anybody would risk their life for someone who wasn’t their blood. Glenn wasn’t any of their brother, son, or cousin — he was just some (former) pizza running kid that was on the highway, in the right place and at the right time when Shane spearheaded the group and lead them off the highway. Merle is probably the only person in the world that the redneck would even think to sacrifice anything for.

(Except maybe…)

“What life I have I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't.” Rick loads his revolver and sticks it in his pocket. “Neither will I.”

Daryl scoffs in his soul. “So you’re gonna hand the guns over?”

“I didn't say that.”

The sheriff's voice has now taken a quality that has his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

“There's nothing keeping you two here. You should get out, head back to camp.”

T-Dog winces from his injuries, rubbing his head with his hand. “And tell your family what?”

Daryl and Rick stare at each other for a beat, a silent conversation happening between them, before he sighs shortly and reaches for a weapon. You’d probably be really pissed at him if he didn’t try, and he doesn’t want to deal with an emotional teenager right about now.

“Come on, this is nuts.” The boy sits back down when Daryl holds a hand out to him. “Just do like G says.”

The redneck ignores the whining boy and starts loading a shotgun. He needs this to be over as quickly as possible, and he needs the gangster assholes to go down without a fight.

He made a promise to come back alive, after all.

──────────────────

Jim has a heatstroke. Or, at least, that’s what Shane keeps dismissing it as. With the current state of the world, it could’ve very well been post-bite fever or a psychotic break.

He’d been digging for reasons unknown and unintentionally ruined the good news of the incredible amount of food they were going to have tonight in the process. Shane went all cop on him, which didn’t really surprise you after what happened with Ed, and the whole ordeal ended with Jim being tied to a tree after ranting and raving about how he left his family for dead. Everyone seemed to move on after that, the mothers dragged their children off to do schoolwork and a few of the other adults started setting up for the fish fry, but you found yourself a little nauseous.

It looked like he was digging graves, and why did he go into such intense detail?

Hiding away in your tent, you lay down on top of your sleeping bag and throw a ball of socks up just to catch it as it comes down. You hoped the action would be therapeutic — something to take your mind off the image of Jim’s poor family and how it bleeds into the image of your own — but the socks lack the weight of a real ball, and you can’t get out of your head.

Had washing your parents’ blood off your skin absolved you of any responsibility in their deaths? Were you doomed to end up like Jim?

Would you also, someday soon, have a psychotic break?

“Hey, Y/n?” Lori’s soft voice drifts through the thin fabric of your tent as he speaks timidly.

For a beat, you decide if you want to be silent and let her think you’re asleep. “Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“Shane’s gonna teach Carl and Sophia to clean fish. He wanted to know if you’d join.”

You already know how to gut an animal. Squirrels, rabbits, and even a deer, once — Daryl had always been very big on you learning how to survive in the time you spent together, and that learning involved getting over the grossness of animal entrails very, very quickly. You were living through the end of the world, he’d reasoned, you don’t have time to be weak-stomached.

And you don’t want to spend time with Shane. That’s at the top of the list of things you don’t want.

But you’re not going to tell the woman that you dislike the man she was sleeping with, so you say, “I already know how to.” 

There’s another beat of silence, and you can see the shadow of her willowy figure shift through the wall of the tent.

“Can I come in?”

You, certainly not expecting that, pause. 

“Uh, sure.”

You sit up and push yourself to the back of the tent, watching as Lori unzips the door and ducks down inside. She’s got sincere eyes. So sincere that when she crouches down in front of you and meets your gaze, your skin starts to crawl.

“You feelin’ okay?”

You hate that question. Something burns behind your nose and you snuggle, shrugging pitifully. “Dunno. Pretty shit — what happened to Jim, I mean.”

Lori nods thoughtfully. “Yeah… it is.”

She looks a little pale. Surely, the death of children doesn’t sit well with a mother, even if they aren’t her own.

“I, uh, I understand that you’ve had a rough time.” The brunette doesn’t seem to know what to say to you, and you almost feel bad. “I mean, I don’t. Not really. And you don’t have to tell me anything.” She stresses that point with a sweep of her hand. “But I know something must’ve happened because everyone has something happen.”

You nod along, fiddling with a loose string on your jeans. 

“I— Daryl and Merle don’t exactly seem like the easiest people to talk to, so if you ever need anything, me and Carol are right here, okay?”

“…okay.”

She smiles softly at you, and you spare one back. Lori and Carol are perfectly nice women, but you almost prefer Daryl, who has put a ban on personal questions and mostly ignores the emotional side of everything. You know you aren’t going to go to Lori and tell her things.

You wouldn’t even know where to start. 

“Y’know, Carl likes you? Like, a lot.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm. Sophia, too.”

Deep down, you know this is her trying to coax you out of the tent, but you let it boost your ego anyway. There’s something so incredibly normal (and endearing) about being looked up to — even if, sometimes, it gets a little annoying.

“And I’m guessing they would really, really like it if I went out there and helped Shane gut fish with ‘em?”

“Yeah. They would.”

Pursing your lips, you stare at the woman through slightly narrowed eyes before sighing and giving in.

“Alright…”

She grins widely and it kind of makes up for it.

Shane seems to be getting frustrated with the ordeal when you arrive, correcting Sophia’s stance with a tightness pulling at his smile as Lori gently nudges you along. You take the seat next to him without a word, pretending you don’t notice how he and the woman exchange a look, or how Carl shifts toward you on the log. It’s a hundred degrees out and he’s attached to your hip already, watching with those big blue eyes of his as you silently grab a fish off the pile and get to gutting it. 

You can remember the steps well: descale, cut a slit in the belly, remove the guts and fins and head, and rinse. 

“Look at you.” Shane compliments in a drawl, finally getting Sophia to do what he needed her to. “Like a swan to water.”

With a wrinkled nose, you drop fish innards into a bucket and turn to look at him as you shake the blood off your hands.

“Yeah, well, you spend enough time with the Dixons and you’ll learn how to gut anything.”

Something dark flashes across his face but you don’t care. You turn back to the fish, making a little joke to Carl about fish eyes that makes his entire face scrunch up and draws a long ‘Ewww’ from his lips. The laugh that bursts from you rattles in your bones.

──────────────────

“Hey, Dale, you got a?—“ The question dies on your lips as, upon stepping over the threshold of the RV, you stumble upon Andrea.

Every cabinet in the mobile home’s little kitchenette is open and she appears to be rooting through them desperately. At the sound of your voice, she pauses, looking up at you like she’s an animal and you just caught her looking through your garbage cans.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” You retort, shifting your weight. “Do you know where Dale is?”

“No, but I wish I did.” She heaves a sigh and runs her hand through her hair.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen the woman quite so frantic. Somewhere down the line, Andrea Harrison was a lawyer, and it’s hard to imagine her standing in the front of a courtroom, prim and proper and ready to kick some ass, with her standing in front of you like this.

“Can I help you any?” You ask just as Dale finally responds to his summons, stepping over the threshold with a quiet, “Did I hear my name?“

“Yeah.” Both you and Andrea answer at once, but you step back and gesture to her. “I think she needs help first.”

The blonde spares you a nervous smile.

“Alright. What do you need?”

“Wrapping paper, color tissue, anything?”

(Okay, maybe you regret letting her go first. At this rate, you’ll never get that bandaid.)

You stare at her with furrowed brows and a scrunched-up face. 

“Seriously?” Dale shares in your confusion, glancing warily between the two of you. You offer him a shrug.

“How could you not have any?”

“Had I been informed of the impending apocalypse I'd have stocked up.”

Your snort at the old man’s dry words earns you a particularly derisive look from Andrea. “What? It’s the end of the world and you need wrapping paper. Shoot me for finding that amusing.”

“It’s Amy’s birthday tomorrow.” She says it like you should know that (probably because you should.) “I've been marking days on the calendar just to make sure.”

Your eyes wander over to the calendar on the wall of the RV as she lifts the necklace that she stole for a gift to her sister. Surely enough, Andrea has been crossing out the days on it. 

Despite what you expected, there is no big circle over Amy’s birthday or anything, but you then figure that would probably ruin the surprise. Your older (in age and not maturity) blonde friend had come to you earlier in the week and lamented to you about the situation. While you’d always known that Andrea was the older of the pair, you didn’t know just how much until Amy filled you in on the ghosts of birthday past; she told you all about the older blonde’s broken promises to return to the nest for her little sister’s birthday, about how, more often than not, college and other things got in the way. She must’ve seen the calendar, too, and been disappointed by the apparent lack of acknowledgment that it was growing closer and closer to her favorite holiday.

“You can’t leave a gift unwrapped.” 

“Oh, it’s good that you got something. I think she thinks you forgot.” That was told to you in confidence, but you stretched the truth a bit, so it isn’t that bad, right?

Dale and Andrea both look at you for a moment before he nods his head slowly. “Alright. Deep breath. I’m sure we’ll find something.” He turns back to face you. “What did you need?”

As if a lightbulb turned on over your head, you lift up your hand and the handkerchief that’s been wrapped around your minor flesh wound. “Carl cut me while I was demonstrating. I just need a bandaid.”

The old man shakes his head at you and steps around Andrea to go get the first aid kit, muttering to himself about the youth of today and how you’re going to lose your limb if you aren’t more careful.

──────────────────

As the grating summer sunlight fades into the darkness of dusk, taking the heat with it, the whole group (excluding the men in Atlanta and Ed, who refused to show his face around camp) sits down for the biggest meal most of them have had since the end of the world.

Cold beer and water are handed out as serving trays full of fried fish get passed around between the clusters of people who gather around their fires, the murmur of their happy chatter and soft laughter cutting through the blanketing sounds of the night. After the big fight and Jim’s foreboding breakdown, it’s nice to see everyone smiling and knowing that nobody’s going to ruin it this time — even if you can’t really find yourself joining in on the festivity.

“Pass the fish, please?”

“Here you go.”

“Man, I missed this.”

Sitting down on the end of one of the logs and feeling a little removed from everyone else, you wrap your coat tighter around your frame and let yourself worry about the group of men who went into the city. You don’t know Rick Grimes too well — he didn’t exactly give you the chance to get to know him, did he? — but you do know Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl. You know that they’re very capable men and that, in certain circumstances, most of them have more experience with geeks than you do, but you can’t help but worry. The sun has long since set, meaning that the men, wherever they are, are stranded out in the dark. You don’t really remember the nights from when it was just you and Daryl (a combination of many sleepless nights and too-high adrenaline made the memories blur together), but you know enough to know that things do get worse when the sun goes down; geeks aren’t exactly quiet, but they can really sneak up on you when there’s no light and your body wants to sleep.

Experienced or not, they're going to be tired eventually, and, if Merle doesn’t try to kill them, something else will.

“Hey, Nervous Nellie.” Shane draws your attention to him by nudging your leg with his boot, “Yeah, you— how's the fish?” 

Your eyes flit down to the bottle in his hand. Beer surely makes him a little looser.

“It’s alright.”

The ex-cop cocks a brow and echoes your response. “Alright?”

You really wish he’d just leave you alone. 

Truth be told, you don’t really like the food. It’s bland and it tastes fishy in the worst way, and (even if you’ll admit that you’ve been eating it like a death row inmate getting their last meal as if indigestion isn’t a thing), chasing it down with water isn’t helping. Sure, it’s better than the food you’ve been eating for weeks — better than measly mushrooms, canned rations, and whatever game the Dixon brothers could hunt up — but it’s not great.

“It’s no cheeseburger.” You shrug, stabbing some more of the pale flesh with your fork. “But beggars and choosers, and all that.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Morales interjects lightheartedly, tipping the head of his beer in your direction. You smile a thin-lipped smile.

The arrival of his long-lost best friend has made Shane rather… unsettling. Whether it’s because of how cold Lori has been acting toward him or his superiority complex, you’re not sure. You just know that you want Daryl to come back, even if that means putting up with Merle for the rest of his life.

“I’ll be right back.” You dismiss yourself quietly to Jacqui when the temperature changes and your discomfort proves to be too much. She nods absentmindedly, too engrossed with whatever Dale is saying to really respond, and takes the plate from you when you hand it over. 

You slip away into the darkness pretty easily, retreating to your tent in search of a sweatshirt, a breather, and maybe some reassurance that the redneck you’ve grown to like could survive whatever came at him. 

With a press of your hand, the nylon flap of your tent opens and you step in. Pausing briefly to turn on the little electric lantern on the floor, you then scan the small space with your eyes, looking for anything that might pass as something with long sleeves. There’s already a pile of dirty clothes forming in the corner and most of your stuff is strewn about, but you ignore that and grab for your bag— an old duffel that belonged to Daryl’s deceased father. Curling your fingers around one of the fraying straps, you pull it up and toward you, rooting through the stuff in there until you find it. A red and black flannel.

Somewhere down the line — just like most of your stuff did — the flannel belonged to one of the Dixons. It hangs loose on your frame, the sleeves too long for your arms and the length stopping mid-thigh. 

Buttoning it up, you cuff the sleeves and fiddle with the ends for a few minutes until they sit in a way you like. 

Just as you’re able to breathe a deep breath and feel remotely at peace, a blood-curdling scream, followed by many more, cuts through the quiet dark of the night. Adrenaline is the first thing you feel, your heart beating in your ears and your lungs squeezed of air, and worry is the second, fear for your friends forcing your legs to move and push out of your tent again. Though, before you can do that, you’re greeted by two rotting hands shoving their way through the opening and grabbing at your shoulders in a surprisingly iron grip. The shock of seeing a geek so up-close causes you to stumble back, but your ankle twists harshly — sending you sprawling to the ground with the monster right on top of you. 

“Oh, god!” The cracked scream leaves your lips, the now-shattered glass from the lantern digging into the skin of your leg.

The walker is — or, was — a man. It gnashes its teeth and pushes toward you, the sound of the bones clacking together making you whimper. Is this what your parents felt in their last moments? Jim’s wife and kids? Very quickly, your arms start to tremble under the weight of the much larger body, and you decide to not resign yourself to the same fate. Craning your head, you search for a weapon. 

There’s no way for you to reach your gun right about now, which you can’t really shoot with one hand anyway, but there has to be something else — anything you can use.

As the walker claws desperately at your shirt and groans miserably, you have to make the rash decision to remove one hand from its chest and give yourself less leverage to reach blindly behind you. Panicked breaths puff past your lips and your head starts to feel light as you grab at your stuff. Your fingers tightening around your sleeping bag, you give a harsh tug and hear the faintest sound of objects clattering around. The walker pushes down on your forearm as your fingers touch what feels like the hilt of a knife. Daryl must’ve thrown it in with your belongings a while back.

Letting out a strangled and panicked sound, you take the weapon and stab the walker with all your might.

The steel of the blade pops the walker’s eye upon entry and slides right through to its brain. Closing your eyes and mouth, you whip your head to the side as a mixture of ink-like blood and gel-like eye fluids drip down the hilt of the knife and onto your face. Its body, now eerily still and limp, falls on top of yours, making it hard to fully inhale as stuttered, panicked breaths rack your chest. As the sounds of gunshots and screams continue from outside the tent, you roll the body off you and force yourself up on your knees, gasping breaths through frightened sobs as you try to tug the knife out of the dead head.

As you pull it free, another walker stumbles into your tent and tries to pounce on you. Before it can bite a chunk out of your body, the tent door is being pushed open and a bullet is shattering its skull.

“Y/n!?” Glenn’s voice is just audible over the deadly mixture of your heartbeat and painful ringing in your ears, his eyes wide as he hopes what he just shot was actually dead before he shot it. “Y/n?!”

“Glenn.” You whimper, kicking the other dead body away from you. Your alleviation that the men from Atlanta are alive is short-lived.

“Oh.” He breathes in relief and slings the gun over his shoulder, reaching out to hold your forearms. “Oh. You’re okay. Oh, god. That’s good.”

“Daryl— is— is Daryl?” You can barely form words, your fingernails digging into his skin.

“Daryl’s fine. C’mon. We have to get out of here!”

He ushers you to your feet. The pain in your calf worsens as you stand up on shaky legs, every movement causing the glass to shift in your skin, and you stumble forward into his chest.

“I can’t— I hurt my leg.” You hiccup and Glenn sighs softly, wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders so he can half carry you.

“I have you.”

Glenn leads you out into the chaos. What’s left of camp isn’t very different from what Sedalia was like all those weeks ago — bodies, both rotting and fresh, littering the floor and the once-contained fires roaring loudly against the stones. Howls of anguish and sobs fill the air. 

“Y/n! Y/n!” Daryl’s southern drawl echoes through the remains of the camp, worry, fear, and anger lacing his words. “Where the hell is the kid?!”

The survivors are all gathered around the RV, and you watch as he shoves Shane lightly for getting in his way.

“Where are they? Did you leave them alone?” Rick tacks on as T-Dog tries to get in between them, his son in his arms. “Has anyone seen Y/n?”

As the moonlight casts a blue shadow on your blood and grime covered skin, you let go of Glenn and find it within yourself to shout. “I’m right here!”

The redneck’s head snaps over to you and he abandons his antagonism against the ex-cop in favor of running over to you. Daryl grabs your face in both of his hands and starts scanning over your features.

“You alright? Any of this blood yours?” He whispers gruffly.

“I’m… I mean I hurt my leg but otherwise I’m fine. No bites.” Your hollow voice cracks slightly as you speak, and your gaze flits away from him as he bends down to check your leg. “Is that?…”

Andrea sits, crumpled at the foot of the door into the RV. In her lap is Amy. Sweet Amy. Amy, who missed texting more than most and still had this beautiful ability to wonder in her twenties. Amy, whose birthday is tomorrow.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

Your blood runs cold and your stomach drops so fast you might fall over as the older blonde’s bloody hands brush across your dead friend’s pale skin. 

“Don’t look.” Your guardian orders once he’s followed your gaze, but it’s too late.

Tears, burning hot and long coming, spill out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Daryl sighs and, because the attention isn’t on either of you, lets you curl into his chest, his hand rubbing down your back in an attempt at comforting you.

It’s useless, though. 

Andrea’s sobs filter through the air as a heavy silence overcomes the rest of the group, each and every one of them consumed with the weight of what they’ve lost.

──────────────────

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[dixons-sunshine]

Breathe With Me | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: With you and Daryl being in a good place, kissing coming naturally to you both and cuddling no longer awkward, it was inevitable that your make out sessions would start to heat up into something else. However, in the heat of what should've been a hot moment, Daryl's mind started to wander to it's usual self deprecating depths. Luckily, you were there to help him through it.

Genre: Kinda angsty but mainly fluff

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes, self deprecating thoughts, hyperventilation/panic attack.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: Another young!Daryl fic in a span of not even two days? Who would've thought it was possible? It's mainly because I've been enjoying writing for young!Daryl recently, and I'd be happy to get any requests for this au. Also, I've never personally experienced a panic attack myself and this is all based off of what Google told me, so if any of it is inaccurate, please let me know so I can fix it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

“Oh, fuck.”

“Shit, girl. Yer gon' be the death of me.”

You giggled against his lips, allowing him to push you down onto the bed. He followed soon after, moving to hover over you before reattaching his lips to yours hungrily. He used one of his hands to hold his weight up, the other one wandering over your exposed stomach. Your shirt was already disposed of and long forgotten, leaving you clad in only your shorts and bra.

To your surprise, when your hands wandered under Daryl's shirt, he only hesitated for a quick moment before withdrawing from the kiss and tugging his shirt over his head. Old and new scars were on display for you, leaving Daryl completely vulnerable under your gaze.

You smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss, a silent way of thanking him for trusting you. It wasn't the first time that you had seen his scars—you had helped him with his wounds too many times too count, leaving you familiar with all of his scars—but you always tried to make sure that he knew you didn't judge him. You loved every part of him, scars and all.

You gasped against his lips when he let his hand trail down, his fingers lightly tracing over your clothed cunt. His tongue entered your mouth and he groaned at the taste. He pulled back momentarily to look at you, his pupils blown with lust.

“Fuck, yer so perfect,” he whispered, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck.

You moaned when he kissed a particularly sensitive spot, leaning your head back to grant him better access. Your mind was starting to get cloudy, the only thought on your mind being how good Daryl was making you feel. Admittedly, you were also nervous, since this would be your first time doing something like this, but you trusted Daryl. He wouldn't ever hurt you.

In an unexpected move, you managed to roll you both over. Daryl's eyes slightly widened in wonder, before smiling and leaning up for another kiss. His hands settled on your waist, allowing you to take the reigns for the moment.

Daryl was thoroughly enjoying himself. However, when he felt you subconsciously grind your hips against his, his mind zoomed in and focused on one thing—you would regret this. You would regret giving your first time to someone like him. He would be terrible at this and you'd finally kick him to the curb after figuring it out. He didn't deserve to have you in this way, in your most vulnerable state.

You would regret him.

Daryl's breathing started becoming erratic. Although you could've easily misinterpreted it as him simply getting more turned on, something told you it wasn't that. You pulled back from the kiss and looked at him, noticing the slightly pained expression on his face. His breathing was quick and choked off, and he seemed to be in some sort of daze. You instantly knew something was wrong.

“Daryl, hey, look at me,” you whispered, cupping his cheek and gently urging him to look at you. When his blue eyes met yours, you could very clearly see the panic in them.

Instantly, all previous lustful thoughts left your mind, concern for your boyfriend taking root in their place. You knew exactly what was happening; Daryl was busy having a panic attack. You helped him into a sitting position, still straddling his lap. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest right above your heart, hoping to divert his attention away from whatever negative thoughts were plaguing his mind.

Still looking deeply into his eyes, you gently caressed his cheek with the hand that wasn't holding his over your heart. “Try to breathe with me, okay?” you whispered, starting to breathe in a controlled rhythm.

Daryl nodded and began to copy your breathing, his sounding more choked up than yours. He tightened his grip on your waist with his hand that was still resting there, desperately trying to ground himself back to reality. It took a while, with you soothingly rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone and breathing with him in a controlled rhythm, but soon he was calming down.

Daryl felt ashamed of himself. There the two of you were, half naked and sharing what should've been a blissful, enjoyable experience, and he let himself get into his own head. He let his own insecurities get in the way. He should've just sucked it up, but instead he just had to ruin the moment.

“M'sorry,” he muttered, looking down to avoid what he thought would've been a disappointed stare.

You frowned slightly and gently grabbed his face with both hands, urging him to look at you. “Hey, it's okay,” you assured him. When he shook his head in denial, your grip became more firm. “It is okay. Don't blame yourself for something that was out of your control, alright? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Daryl hesitated for a moment, but nodded slowly. “I jus' got into my own head. I was nervous and convinced myself ya would regret givin' yer virginity to me. Started feelin' overwhelmed. M'sorry.”

You pressed a kiss against his forehead, giving him a reassuring smile. “Don't be sorry. I get it. I was nervous too, you know? But I wouldn't have regretted anything. I trust you. There's no one I'd rather do this with. But it's okay if that doesn't happen right now. I'm ready whenever you are.”

Daryl gave you a small smile before leaning forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. “M'still sorry. I was lookin' forward to this.”

“Me too, but it can wait. Let's get you taken care of, okay? And I don't wanna hear any buts, mister.”

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh',” he agreed, but made no effort to lift you off his lap. Instead, he pulled you closer to him, hugging you tightly. “Thank you fer understandin'.”

“Of course.”

There was a lot of things going through Daryl's mind at that moment. Despite your reassuring words, he still felt awful for what happened, his mind continuing to shame him. However, with your hands now gently threading through his hair to bring him some comfort, not giving a damn that you were still half naked and straddling him, he forced his mind to shut up.

And in that moment, it was confirmed in his mind—Daryl Dixon knew that he was never letting you go.

[cepsil]

[gneebee]

Norman modeling for J. Crew 1996

Credit source: believeinreedud IG

[minervadashwood]

Scars and Stitches, Chapter 1: Morgan & Morgan

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Series Masterlist | Daryl x Reader Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Summary: You are sheltering in place with Morgan and Duane when you meet someone new. Word Count: 2,600 Chapter Warnings:  gunshot, walkers.

Weakness never got anyone anywhere.

–Julia Quinn, The Viscount Who Loved Me

“Daddy!” Duane’s voice pierced the silent evening.

The next thing you heard was a gunshot, and you grabbed the fire poker at your side, gripping it like a softball bat. You were starting to regret every choice you’d made since birth: every sports team you quit, every gym class skipped, and every weekend you spent curled up with a book instead of doing something with your life.

Your muscles were taut with fear, flight or fight mode heavily in favor of the former, you stood your ground, quiet and still. You may be no good at taking down walkers but being quiet was something you could handle.

Relief came not a moment later when Morgan called you over. You crept from your place on the porch to the street, squinting under the harsh glare of the late evening sun. You trusted Morgan implicitly, even before all this, but you were mildly panicked as you made your way to stand across from him and Duane, who were staring at a lifeless body on the street. Its skin was peaked, and eyes sunken, with a bandage on the side of its belly that was practically putrid.

“He ain’t got a fe—"

“Duane,” Morgan interrupted.

Duane let out a long-suffering sigh. “He doesn’t have a fever.”

You squat next to the body.

Morgan stood nearby, shovel at the ready. “Just be careful, okay?” He glanced at the man on the ground but remained on alert for any walkers that got too close.

“Okay,” you said, getting to work.

Upon checking for a pulse, you were surprised to discover that the man was still breathing and had a steady heartbeat. You felt his forehead and neck. Duane was right, the man had no fever, but his skin was clammy. He seemed more dehydrated than anything else, but you’d know for sure after checking what was under that bandage.

You peeled off the medical tape, avoiding touching the yellowed gauze itself. Beneath the bandage was a well-stitched wound. It was pink and healing. No signs of infection, and certainly not a bite. Not a surgical incision either. Gunshot, maybe? You proceeded to check the rest of his body for signs of injury. Finding nothing, you and Morgan decided to take him inside and put him on a bed upstairs.

Morgan didn’t want to leave you alone with the new house guest, so you told him the man most likely needed water and food.  Then you left Morgan to handle things from there.

By then the sun was setting, so you went to check the windows and doors to ensure no light could escape the house. The walkers were wandering closer than usual, but you couldn’t blame Morgan for rescuing that man. On a street full of the dead, a living soul was worth saving.

Later, when the heat of the day had given way to the more comfortable coolness of night, Morgan once again went to check on the stranger. You started working with Duane to get supper ready. You were stirring a pot of beef stew, and Duane was setting the table, when Morgan came down the stairs, followed by the stranger.

Morgan said, “Rick, that’s my boy, Duane, and our friend, Miss Morgan. She’s been with us since the start of all this.”

“I thought you—” Rick sputtered, glancing from you to Morgan, his jaw working like an overactive clam.

You resisted singing, “Morgan and Morgan,” to the tune of “Marley and Marley” from The Muppet Christmas Carol. You always got a kick out of that, even if no one else did.

You smiled and held out your hand. “Last name’s Morgan,” you explained, and told him your first name.

You and the boys sat at the table—Duane had another bowl and spoon already out for the new guy. You listened to Rick’s story of him stumbling out of the hospital and how he was looking for his wife and son. Eventually he asked how all of you ended up together.

“I’m a librarian. Or I was,” you said. You began to explain how Morgan and his family visited the library every Friday. “So, each week I’d see them, I’d go ‘Good evening, Mr. Morgan.’ and he’d say—” You paused to drop your carefully honed non-regional accent to impersonate your friend. “‘Good evenin’, Miss Morgan.’

“The next Christmas they found out I was celebrating alone and made me celebrate with them. Been treating me like family ever since. Here was the first place I came when all this started.”

To his credit, Morgan tried to smile, but it was too much for him. “You’re family. Always have been as far as Jenny and I were concerned.”

“You need people you trust around you,” Rick said. “Sometimes, families aren’t born, they’re made.”

You bowed your head in agreement. In the past few years, Morgan and Jenny had done more for you than your real parents did your whole childhood. The Jones house was a second home, name notwithstanding.

Now, though, it was feeling more like a prison. Part of you hoped Rick could get Morgan to move on. Look for other people. See if there were refugee camps or shelters somewhere.

When Duane yawned and left the table, you began gathering up the dishes. Later, you’d see if he wouldn’t let you read him some Percy Jackson. It was good to keep his mind off the chaos outside.

You stacked the bowls, spoons, and cups. As you cleared the table, Rick winced and held a hand to his side.

You looked him up and down in concern. “When I’m done here, I’ll take another look at that injury and see if we can’t scare up some pain killers.”

Rick furrowed his brow. “Thought you were a librarian.”

“Took some EMT classes a few years back. I remember most of what I read, though never put much of it in to practice.” You shifted uncomfortably. “If you’d rather not, I understand.”

“I don’t want to put you out or anything–”

“She’ll do alright by you, Rick. Let her get a good look at you. I get the feeling you’ll be heading out tomorrow.”

Rick turned back to you. “I’d be obliged.”

You nodded. “Later then.”

You went about washing the dishes. When Rick started talking about guns and ammunition, you tuned him and Morgan out, not wanting to hear any more about automatic rifles and double-barreled shotguns.

As much as you loved Morgan and Duane, this sheltering in place wasn’t a long-term solution. The biggest problem was that Jenny was still out there. You knew that once Duane was fast asleep and you were nose deep in Pride and Prejudice, Morgan would be watching her throughout the night.

You’d never had a long-term relationship—let alone been married—so you couldn’t imagine what Morgan was going through. You tried not to judge. But as the days had turned into weeks, your hopes of rescue diminished and your desire to leave only grew.

==

The next afternoon, you held onto Morgan’s hug for as long as you could. “Sure, you won’t come with us?”

He pulled away, holding you in front of him. “You go. We’ll be along in a day or two. Just…just need some time to say goodbye.”

You nodded and swallowed your tears. You’d see him soon. In a few days everything would be okay.

You left behind all the tween and YA books you’d taken from the library, hoping Duane could pick his favorites and bring them along later. You kept two of your favorite Austens, and Heidi.

On the road out of town, you wouldn’t let yourself look back. You and Rick chatted, getting to know each other a little better. You liked him. He was amiable and practical, a good person to have around given the current state of things.

You told him you didn’t like guns, but you were fine with him doing whatever he needed. You also said you’d help him out all you could, but you’d leave all the walker-killing to him.

If he was concerned, he was too polite to say so, and he seemed to take all you told him in stride.

Relaxing in the passenger seat, you savored the air conditioning and the slow drive to Atlanta.

You didn’t know it would be the last thing you enjoyed for a long, long while.

---

Next Chapter

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

So far, I’ve roasted (in order):

1) Makoto Naegi from Danganronpa

2) Ellie Williams from The Last of Us

3) Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones

4) Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars

5) Sam Wilson aka Falcon/Captain America II from Marvel

[doginthecorner]

Daryl: ...payment method. I don't see an option for bad check?

Carol: You don't have health insurance?!

Daryl: I don't have *car insurance*

Carol: How do you drive without car insurance?

Daryl: Slowly