walkingtalkingsomething

[walkingtalkingsomething]

😊😊

Daryl Dixon x reader

Summery

You had always Had a small crush on Daryl ever since you’d met him in the Atlanta camp but you were a good 10 years younger than him. He obviously wasn’t into you or were you just oblivious and second-guessing? 

Setting -the prison

Warnings

Age gap

1,25k words

You didn’t notice how often Daryl Dixon was around until Carol pointed it out. But once she did, it was impossible not to see it.

He was always nearby.

Not close enough to draw attention, not close enough to make you suspicious—just… hovering. Present. Quietly reliable.

You were ten years younger than him, and it wasn’t like that kind of thing could work out anymore—not in this world. People aged fast now. There was no space for flirtation, no time for heart-eyes. But even so, your stomach still fluttered every time he looked at you too long. You hated how obvious it felt, how young.

But he never gave any sign that he felt the same.

Not really.

It started small.

One evening, you were gathering water just outside the prison gates. You’d stayed out too long, not realizing how fast the light had faded. The woods beyond the fencing rustled and snapped, and you turned sharply, heart leaping.

Then you saw him—Daryl—emerging from the trees like some kind of shadow. He walked straight to you, eyes scanning the perimeter before they locked onto your face.

“You shouldn’t be out here this late,” he said, not harsh but firm.

“I lost track of time,” you murmured.

He didn’t say anything else. Just took the water jug from your hands, holding it easily in one hand as he turned toward the cell block.

He walked you all the way back without another word. But his presence next to you said enough. Said everything.

After that, it kept happening.

On supply runs, Daryl would always make sure you were in his line of sight. Even when you were paired with someone else, you’d find him watching you in mirrors, over shelves, through cracked doorways.

One time, you scraped your palm on a rusted piece of fencing. You didn’t even think he was nearby—but not ten seconds later, he was at your side with that scowl of his, inspecting your hand before you could even protest.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, but he already had a bandage in hand, rough fingers surprisingly gentle as he wrapped your palm.

He didn’t speak, but he did look at you—and that look said I saw. I cared. I’m here.

But you kept second-guessing.

You were younger, less experienced, not nearly as strong. You weren’t a warrior like Michonne, or practical like Maggie. Daryl was a fighter, a survivor, someone who had lived a whole life before the world went to hell. You? You were still learning to stand on your own two feet.

That’s why, when Carol sat beside you at lunch one day, you were already trying not to stare across the room at where Daryl was quietly skinning a squirrel.

She didn’t say anything for a while. Just took a bite of beans and let the silence sit.

Then she said, “He watches you.”

You froze.

Carol didn’t look at you. She just kept eating.

“What?” you asked, trying to play it off.

“Daryl. He watches you. All the time.”

Heat rose to your face. “He’s just… being protective. He does that for everyone.”

Carol finally looked at you. “Not like that. Not that often. Not that closely.”

You blinked.

She gave a soft, knowing smile. “He’s not gonna say anything. Not the way you’re probably hoping. But the things he does? That is him saying it. He cares about you.”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure you could.

⸻

That evening, you caught Daryl alone in the yard, sharpening arrows by the dying light of the sun. You lingered near the edge of the grass before walking toward him.

He looked up briefly, then went back to his work.

“You always do that?” you asked gently.

He shrugged. “Do what?”

“Sharpen arrows by the garden?”

His hands paused. “Quiet out here.”

You stepped closer. “Carol said something today.”

That got his attention. He looked up, eyes guarded.

“She said… you watch me. That you care. Just not the way most people show it.”

Daryl dropped his gaze to the arrowhead in his hand, jaw tightening.

You swallowed hard. “Is it true?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Then he set the arrow down beside him and stood up slowly, brushing his hands off on his pants.

He looked at you—really looked—and for a moment, the weight of his silence was deafening.

“I ain’t good at talkin’,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “Ain’t never been. But I see you. Always see you. It’s impossible not to.”

Your breath caught.

“I know I’m older. I know I’m not… the kinda guy you probably deserve.” He shook his head, eyes darting away for a moment. “But you think I’d risk my ass for just anybody? Nah.”

He stepped a little closer. Just a few inches. But your chest was pounding.

“You feel somethin’?” he asked gruffly, like the words were hard to say.

You nodded, slow and sure. “Yeah. I do.”

Something in him softened. His shoulders relaxed, just a little. Then, hesitantly, he reached out—his calloused fingers brushing yours.

It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t even a hug.

But the way his fingers curled around yours?

It said everything.

And despite all your doubt and second-guessing standing in the dead of night with him felt right like you belonged with him and you knew he felt the same way.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

😭🥹🤗

hiii i’m a new reader of urs but let me just say i loveeeee ur work anyway i have a request if you’re taking any.. i neeeed a lil angsty fluffy moment of daryl x reader finding each other again after everything that happened with terminus and the whole prison debacle. just a lil idea i got while reading one of your works!! thank you!!

Finding You

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 4

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Angst

✧ Word Count : 1.5k

AN ~ @kcundercover4 Hi angel, thank you for the request and the very kind words. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to writing this, I've been in a bit of a funk when it came to creating new ideas. But rest assured, I'm slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things. I hope you enjoy! xoxox

When the prison fell, there was nothing left. Nothing but crumbling cement, dented fences, and whatever rotting bodies the dead decided to leave behind. The fire that was set took care of the rest, burning down the place you had once felt comfortable enough to call home. In an instant, everything was gone. And the ones from the community who made it out alive, had nearly nothing left to show for it.

Daryl felt nothing. No sadness, no hint of anger, just…nothing. It was a strange feeling that settled in his chest, a kind of emptiness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. A feeling that couldn’t be described. The best way he himself could picture it was like he was on some kind of drug, one that could numb his limbs and his mind, leaving him feeling oddly tired. Like he didn’t have the energy to get up and keep moving. Although he managed to escape with Beth who wanted nothing more than to get up and go, to try and find their people that she was certain were out there, he couldn’t.

He didn’t see much of a point in caring anymore. Whether everyone else really had managed to escape the brutal chaos, or they bit the bullet, it didn’t matter. Neither of them would catch a glimpse of their family ever again. And he’d much rather swallow down the tough pill now rather than hold out hope, only to be even more devastated in the end. He wouldn’t find Rick, or Carol, or…you.

That was a whole other pill he had yet to get down.

Daryl wasn’t one for openly expressing how he felt, but those who knew him well, knew his feelings ran deep. And the things he felt for you…he could hardly put them into words. It was like his whole life he had never known love until you suddenly walked into it, always looking at him in a way that made him feel truly seen. He didn’t have to say much for you to know what he was thinking. He didn’t have to hide his eyes behind his hair in fear you would see a flicker of vulnerability. He didn’t have to put up a front that he was fine…because deep down he knew that you could see when he wasn’t. He loved you. But now as he sat here alone and clueless, not knowing what had happened to you, it was slowly tearing him apart.

Throughout the following days, Daryl wasn’t too keen on talking. He wasn’t much for eating either. Just a dead man walking. The only thing going through his mind was surviving to see another day and to protect the only person he seemed to have left. But the most painful part of it all was every time he looked at Beth, he saw you. Her kindness resembled your own, along with the light she held behind her eyes that could only be described as hope. The same kind of hope you always possessed. It was somewhat of a bittersweet feeling that was for certain, finding himself to be pathetic that he missed you so terribly, he was starting to pick apart someone else in hopes it would somehow bring him back to you. It wasn’t fair; none of it was.

Though just when Beth began to find a crack in Daryl’s armor, getting him to finally begin to bring down his walls…he lost her too. He wasn’t even sure how it happened. One minute they were escaping the small herd of walkers that had somehow gotten into the funeral home, and the next he was watching some car speed down the road with her inside. Driving further and further away with no kind of indication of where they were going or what they planned to do with her. The familiar feeling of grief wasn’t lost on him, but that didn’t make it any less painful. The only way he was able to see it, was that he failed to save someone else. And when he attempted to find her, he only ran into more trouble.

There were the claimers, a group of men that turned out to not be men at all. Instead they were disgusting monsters that just preyed on fear. Then there was Terminus, a seemingly bright light at the end of the tunnel that led him back to his family, only to be revealed they were cannibals. Leading them like lambs to the slaughter. 

By the end of it all the group was exhausted and defeated, having to literally fight for their lives to make it out of there and now watching it burn to the ground as an end result. Carol’s unexpected arrival had saved them all. But what came next, no one could’ve predicted. The woman led them back to a small cabin hidden within the trees, only for the door to open to reveal Tyreese holding Judith securely in his arms. Both Rick and Sasha took off in a sprint when they recognized their loved ones, reuniting with them in hugs and tears whilst the rest stood back and watched.

But the wind was suddenly knocked out of Daryl when he caught sight of who stepped out of the cabin next, the harsh blow was enough to nearly bring him down to his knees. It was you.

Your eyes widened greatly when you spotted him from across the way, seeing him safe and unharmed despite the horrible things you heard about the community they walked into. You had been worried to the point of feeling nauseous ever since Carol had left to save them, but now seeing that he was alive, the relief that washed over you was unimaginable.

With a breath you immediately began to rush over to where he stood, watching as he stayed frozen in place and just stared. As if he were scared to move, or even attempt to touch you in fear that you would vanish into thin air the moment he accepted this moment was real. He couldn’t deny the sudden racing of his heart as you got closer and closer, the anticipation almost beginning to be too much for him to handle. And then you touched him, tentatively brushing the hair away from his forehead as you had done a thousand times before. The familiar need to see his eyes.

That’s what ultimately caused him to crumble.

His body all but melted at the feel of your soft fingertips dancing against his rough skin, a shuttering and emotional breath leaving his lips as he leaned his head down to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Making himself smaller. Your hand instantly moved up to cradle the back of his head, keeping him steady while he practically leaned his whole body weight onto you. His legs suddenly felt like jelly, like he could no longer support himself and needed you to help with the heavy burden he carried. Every emotion he had kept buried deep down was now unleashed all at once.

You felt his hands come up to hesitantly hold onto your waist, his fingers curling around the fabric of your clothes in a way to somehow keep him grounded. His breathing grew more ragged as he kept his face tucked away and hidden from view, his nose brushing along your pulse to feel you were alive, to breathe you in. The emptiness he felt was unexpectedly being replaced with a sudden ache, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. It was a reminder of the longing and sadness he had felt all those weeks you were apart, the utter heartbreak he wouldn’t dare let anyone see.

His lips pressed a kiss against your skin, the action being so soft and delicate like he feared of leaving even the tiniest mark on you. He couldn’t even imagine what you must’ve gone through on your own, and he wanted to make it known that he wasn’t planning on letting anything hurt you again. A silent vow only you would be able to receive. 

After a few moments of holding him you gently pulled back ever so slightly to really look at him, your heart sinking when you noticed the black eye and scrapes along his face. But those hardly mattered to him, not really. Not when the only pain he could focus on was losing you.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, your tone no louder than a whisper.

When he heard you speak he could hardly find the strength to respond. Your soft spoken voice that he was convinced he would only hear in his dreams, now seemed to echo throughout his mind. Soothed his weary soul. His eyes glistened with tears as he simply looked at you, his lip quivering as he desperately tried to hold back the intense emotions he was feeling. As for your question, all he could do was nod his head. His real answer being far too complicated for even him to process. 

He saw the sadness etched on your face before you wrapped your arms tightly around him again, not willing to let go so easily this time. And it was clear the both of you found what you had been desperately missing.

~ Thanks for reading!

[walkingtalkingsomething]

protective daryl™️ 🙌🙌🙌

Hello!!

I have kind of a specific ask. I have shit eyesight (my glasses lens are thiccc) and I am screwed in an apocalypse (and real life temporarily) if my glasses break.

I was thinking Daryl/Reader and the Reader has thiccc glasses (I never see an xReader with glasses and that is a crime lol) and the lenses get broken during an emergency (either walkers or people). Set during early seasons, relationship can be established or just beginning, but Shane starts to think that Reader isn't worth the trouble because now she’s essentially blind and can't tell a person with a limp from a walker and keeps trying to convince the group to leave her during the next emergency. Daryl will have None of That™️ and takes responsibility for the Readerwell-being.

Idk if that's too specific or a weird ask, feel free to let the plot bunnies fly with it!!

Thank you!!

I LOVE THIS I HAVE GLASSES AS WELL BUT NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THIS

(set on hershel's farm)

The morning sun cast a gentle, golden hue across the fields of Hershel's farm, painting the dew-kissed grass in shimmering light. A symphony of birdsong filled the air, a stark contrast to the ever-present, underlying tension of their world. You emerged from the farmhouse, the worn wooden door creaking softly behind you, and inhaled deeply, the fresh, earthy scent a welcome change from the stale air inside.

Life on the farm had settled into a fragile rhythm. There were chores to be done, crops to tend, and constant vigilance required to keep the walkers at bay. But despite the hardships, a sense of community had blossomed, and within that community, something even more precious had begun to bloom between you and Daryl Dixon.

It was new, this thing between you, tentative and unspoken at first, built on shared glances across the campfire and quiet moments of understanding born from the chaos that surrounded them. Daryl wasn't one for grand gestures or flowery words. His affection was woven into the small acts of kindness: ensuring you had the best spot by the fire, silently offering you the choicest piece of game after a hunt, or simply meeting your gaze with a rare, fleeting smile that sent a shiver down your spine.

You adjusted your glasses, the familiar weight on your nose a comforting constant. They weren't just a tool for seeing; they were a part of you, a familiar shield in a world that often felt overwhelmingly sharp and dangerous. You needed them to see the world clearly, to navigate the intricate details of their survival, to read the expressions on the faces of those you cared about.

You scanned the surrounding field, searching for Daryl. He was usually up before everyone, tending to the perimeter, a silent guardian watching over their fragile sanctuary. You spotted him near the edge of the woods, his crossbow slung over his shoulder, his movements fluid and purposeful.

As you made your way towards him, you couldn't help but smile. The way he carried himself, the quiet strength that radiated from him, it was all so undeniably captivating. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was raw, untamed, and fiercely loyal. And somehow, against all odds, he was yours.

"Mornin'," you greeted him as you approached, your voice soft against the backdrop of the awakening farm.

He turned, his blue eyes, usually guarded and wary, softened slightly as they met yours. "Mornin'," he replied, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that always sent a pleasant shiver through you.

You stood beside him, the silence comfortable and familiar. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the fields.

"Think we'll have a good harvest this year?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Daryl shrugged. "Too early to tell. Gotta keep an eye on them walkers. They get close enough, they'll ruin everything."

His words, though practical, carried a deeper weight. It was a constant struggle, this battle against the dead, a fight to preserve the fragile hope they were cultivating on this farm.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the morning air. It was Patricia, Hershel's neighbor. Before you could react, a chorus of guttural moans erupted from the woods, growing louder with each passing second.

"Walkers!" Daryl barked, his voice sharp and urgent. "Get back to the house! Now!"

He grabbed his crossbow, his movements lightning fast, and sprinted towards the source of the chaos. You didn't hesitate. You knew the drill. You ran, your heart pounding in your chest, towards the safety of the farmhouse.

As you reached the yard, you saw walkers pouring out of the woods, their decaying bodies lurching forward with relentless hunger. People were scrambling, shouting, fighting. Chaos reigned.

You joined the fray, grabbing a rusty garden hoe from the shed and swinging it with all your might, connecting with the skull of an approaching walker. You felt a sickening crunch, and the walker stumbled and fell. But there were too many. They were everywhere.

Suddenly, a walker lunged at you from the side, its decaying hand reaching for your face. You reacted instinctively, raising your arm to protect yourself. The walker's hand connected with your glasses, knocking them askew. They flew off your face and landed on the ground, the impact shattering one of the lenses.

Panic surged through you. You were blind without your glasses. The world blurred into an indistinguishable mess of shapes and shadows. You couldn't see clearly, couldn't judge distances, couldn't defend yourself.

"Damn it!" you cursed, your voice lost in the din of the battle.

You crouched down, frantically searching for your glasses, your hands fumbling in the dirt. But the walkers were closing in, their moans growing louder, their decaying bodies pressing closer.

Suddenly, you felt a strong hand grab your arm, pulling you to your feet. It was Daryl.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled above the chaos, his eyes filled with concern.

"My glasses," you stammered, your voice trembling. "They're broken. I can't see."

Daryl's expression softened. He understood. He knew how much you relied on your glasses.

"Get behind me," he ordered, his voice firm and unwavering. "I got you."

He positioned himself in front of you, his body a shield against the onslaught of walkers. He fired his crossbow with deadly accuracy, each bolt finding its mark, dropping the walkers one by one.

But they kept coming, a relentless wave of decaying flesh. Daryl fought fiercely, his movements precise and efficient, but he couldn't be everywhere at once. Walkers were closing in from all sides, their grotesque faces a terrifying blur.

You felt utterly helpless, a burden to Daryl, a liability in this life-or-death struggle. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision even further.

Suddenly, you stumbled, your foot catching on a root. You fell to the ground, landing hard on your knees. A walker loomed over you, its fetid breath hot on your face. You closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

But it never came.

Instead, you heard the sickening thud of Daryl's crossbow, followed by the sound of the walker collapsing to the ground.

Daryl knelt beside you, his face etched with concern. "You okay?" he asked, his voice rough with exertion.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "I can't see," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm useless."

Daryl cupped your face in his hands, his calloused thumbs gently wiping away your tears. His blue eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with a tenderness that took your breath away.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within you. "Look at me."

You opened your eyes, your blurred vision struggling to focus on his face.

"You ain't useless," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. "You're strong. You're smart. And you're damn good at killin' walkers. You hear me?"

You nodded, his words a lifeline in the chaos.

"I'll protect you," he promised, his gaze intense and unwavering. "I always will."

He helped you to your feet, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, supporting you. "Now come on," he said, his voice laced with determination. "Let's get the hell out of here."

With Daryl by your side, you stumbled back towards the farmhouse, your blurred vision making every step a challenge. But you weren't alone. You had Daryl. And in that moment, surrounded by the chaos and the dead, you knew that as long as you had him, you could face anything. His strength was your strength, his vision your vision. And together, you would survive. You would find a way through the darkness, together.

However.....

Shane, ever the self-proclaimed leader, barked orders, his voice laced with impatience. "Get her out of here! She's just gonna slow us down!"

You stumbled, your foot catching on a loose piece of wood. You fell, landing hard on the ground, the breath knocked out of you. The blurry figures of walkers loomed closer, their groans sending shivers down your spine.

Just when you thought it was over, a crossbow bolt whizzed past your head, piercing the skull of the walker closest to you. Daryl appeared, a whirlwind of motion, his knife flashing in the sun. He dispatched the remaining walkers with brutal efficiency, his movements precise and deadly.

He reached down, pulling you to your feet. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gruff with concern.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you."

Shane strode over, his face flushed with anger. "She's a liability, Daryl! She can't even see! Next time, we leave her behind."

Daryl's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "She ain't a liability," he growled, his voice dangerously low. "She just needs a little help."

"Help? We don't have time for help! This is about survival! She's gonna get someone killed!" Shane retorted, his voice rising.

Daryl took a step closer to Shane, his fists clenched. "You watch your mouth," he warned, his voice a barely audible snarl. "She's more useful than you'll ever be."

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone around them stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation with bated breath.

"Oh yeah? And how's that, Daryl? Because you're sweet on her? Sentimentality's gonna get us all killed," Shane sneered.

That was the last straw. Daryl lunged, his fist connecting with Shane's jaw with a sickening thud. Shane stumbled backward, his hand flying to his face.

Rick stepped in, grabbing Daryl's arm. "Daryl, stop! This isn't helping anyone!"

Daryl shook off Rick's grip, his eyes still blazing with anger. He turned to you, his expression softening slightly. "Come on," he said, his voice quieter now. He took your hand, leading you away from the crowd.

He led you to a quiet corner of the farm, away from the chaos and the judgment. He didn't say anything, just sat beside you, his presence a silent reassurance.

After a few minutes, you spoke, your voice trembling slightly. "I…I am trying, Daryl. But it's just so hard without my glasses."

He squeezed your hand. "I know," he said softly. "And I ain't gonna let anyone talk to you like that again."

He looked at you, his blue eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "We'll figure it out," he said. "We'll find you some new glasses, or…or something. We'll find a way."

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit. He didn't dismiss your fears or belittle your struggles. He acknowledged them, and he promised to help you overcome them.

In that moment, you knew that your relationship with Daryl was more than just a fleeting connection born of desperation. It was a bond forged in trust, loyalty, and a shared determination to survive, together. He saw you, not just your limitations, but your strength, your heart, your worth. And that, you realized, was more valuable than perfect vision ever could be.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the farm. The air cooled slightly, offering a brief respite from the heat. You leaned your head against Daryl's shoulder, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. The world was still blurry, uncertain, but with Daryl by your side, you knew you could face anything. He was your anchor in the storm, your light in the darkness, and you were his. And together, you would find your way.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

💙🤗

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Strangers

⌇daryl dixon x reader

summary⌇years after daryl disappeared into the woods to search for rick, the fair at the kingdom reunites the communities—and you never expected it to reunite you with him. not after all that time. not after the way he left.

warnings⌇none! (the title sounds like angst but it’s not i promise)

word count⌇2.4k

a/n⌇ive been working on this all day and i lowkey don’t really like it but hopefully yall do :p

No one ever found Rick’s body.

No blood to bury. No final breath to hold on to. Just that hollow, brutal silence where his voice used to be.

In the weeks that followed, everyone coped in their own way.

Carol buried herself in the Kingdom. Michonne broke in half trying to stay whole for Judith. Maggie left altogether. And Daryl—Daryl slipped into the woods like a shadow, like a man trying to disappear inside his own grief.

You stayed in Alexandria.

You didn’t know where else to go. And more than that, you didn’t want to leave.

Because deep down, you thought—maybe—if he ever came back…

He’d come back here.

To you.

—

You and Daryl had never been official.

Not once. Not out loud.

No kisses. No sex. No whispered I love yous. No hands tangled in sheets.

But everyone knew.

They saw it in the way he moved toward you in a crowd.

In the way your name always softened on his tongue.

In the way he learned how to braid just because you mentioned missing how your mom used to do it. In the way his hand found the small of your back like it belonged there.

You weren’t together. But you were something.

And in a world like this, that meant more than most titles ever could.

So when you saw him and Michonne returning through the gates, your breath caught in your chest.

It had been days. Weeks maybe.

You jogged over, boots scuffing the dirt, trying not to smile too hard. His hair was longer. Skin darker from the sun. There was something heavier about him now.

But he was here.

Michonne greeted you with a quiet nod.

“Hey,” you said gently. “Any luck?”

She exhaled and gave a small shake of her head. “Not yet.”

Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, and only then did you notice the gentle curve beneath her layers.

Your eyes widened. “Wait—”

She nodded with a tired smile. “I should get to the infirmary. My checkup’s overdue.”

“That’s amazing Michonne!” you whispered, warmth blooming in your chest.

She gave your arm a squeeze. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

And then she was gone.

And it was just you and Daryl, standing in the evening sun.

You shifted your weight, suddenly aware of every beat of your heart.

“Hey stranger,” you teased. “Remember this place?”

He huffed, already walking ahead. You fell into step beside him.

You walked past the gardens, past the old windmill, through the soft, golden stretch of Alexandria that somehow hadn’t lost all its light yet.

Kids were playing in the distance. Judith was laughing. Something in the air felt gentle—like the world had paused just long enough to let you feel like yourselves again.

You turned your head, caught him looking.

“What’s with that look?” he asked, mouth twitching.

“What look?”

“That smile. Like you know somethin’ I don’t.”

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “It’s just been a while, that’s all. Since you’ve been here for more than five seconds.”

“Ain’t true.”

“Mm. Let’s see…” you pretended to count on your fingers. “One, you’re always out there. Two, I think you’ve forgotten what a shower is. Three, you’ve become an actual forest cryptid. Be honest—do you sleep in a nest made of moss and guilt?”

His groan was low and grumbly. “‘s not funny.”

You burst out laughing. “It is a little funny.”

“Oh i’m not funny anymore? Has the woods drained your sense of humor?” you added, wiping tears from your eyes.

He tried to scowl, but it melted too fast. You swore you saw a smile ghost across his lips.

For the first time in days—maybe longer—you felt like you again. Like you and Daryl was still a thing that could exist in the daylight.

—

Night came quickly.

You were on your porch when you spotted movement near the gate.

You squinted through the dark.

It was him.

Bag on his back. Crossbow slung over one shoulder. His bike waiting just outside.

He looked like he was leaving.

You stood up slowly, heart knocking against your ribs. You walked toward him without thinking.

“Hey,” he said when you reached him.

Your eyes fell to his gear. “All packed up?”

You tried to joke. “Got a big camping trip I should know about?”

Daryl shifted. “You could say that.”

Something in your stomach twisted.

“Where are you going?”

He looked past you, eyes dark. “M’goin’ out again. Gonna look for Rick. His body was never found. Michonne… she deserves that closure. I gotta try.”

He swallowed.

You nodded slowly. It made sense. Of course it did.

But the ache in your chest didn’t care about sense.

“You were leaving without saying goodbye?”

His eyes flicked back to yours, wide now. Sad.

“‘s not like that,” he murmured. “I just…”

Your voice cracked into a soft laugh before he could finish.

“I’m just messing with you, Daryl!”

You smiled through the pain, nudged him gently with your knuckles.

But he didn’t smile back.

He just stared.

“Daryl,” you said softer, “I know how important this is to you.”

You stepped closer, resting your hand on his shoulder.

His breath caught.

“No matter how long you’re gone… Alexandria will always be your home. I’ll be here. We all will. You’re doing this because you care. Because you’re good. I admire that.”

You gave him a small smile. “Just… don’t be a stranger.”

His eyes searched yours.

Then, slowly, he lifted his hand and pressed it over yours.

Warm. Calloused. Familiar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

He paused.

“I—uh…”

His voice faltered. Like he wanted to say something else. Needed to.

But the words never came.

He looked down. Then back up.

“See you ‘round,” he said instead.

You nodded, trying not to let your throat close.

“See you, Dixon.”

And then you watched him walk away.

Again.

This time with no promise he’d come back.

—

Six years passed.

Not quickly. Not easily. Just… slowly. Like healing bones. Like water dripping through stone.

Daryl didn’t come back to Alexandria.

Not anymore.

The afternoon light spilled across Alexandria like warm syrup, casting long shadows over the dirt paths and wooden fences, softening the sharp edges of the world for just a moment. You sat perched on a sun bleached picnic table just outside the walls, your eyes fixed on the horizon as if it might shift, as if something—or someone—might come walking out of the trees.

Aaron was pacing nearby, boots crunching gravel, arms crossed loosely as he scanned the outer perimeter. His steps were casual, but his glances in your direction gave him away. He was waiting—for you to speak, for you to feel ready, for something to shift in the stillness between you.

“Heard the Kingdom’s throwing a fair,” he said finally, voice light, like he was just tossing the words into the wind.

You turned your head slightly, brows lifting. “A fair?”

He nodded. “Ezekiel’s idea. Wants to bring everyone back together again. Says it’s time.”

You mulled over the thought. A fair. Something good, something loud and warm and… alive. It almost felt too good to be real.

“That’s… actually kind of amazing,” you murmured, brushing your fingers over the wood grain beneath you. “Wonder who’ll be there.”

Aaron turned, and when you met his eyes, he was already smirking.

“What, you hoping to run into someone?”

The sharpest side eye of your life was instantly deployed. “No.”

He raised both hands, grinning. “Hey—I’m just asking!”

You inhaled slowly, eyes drifting to the tree line again. You didn’t say his name. You didn’t have to.

Because even now—six years later—the ache still sat in your chest like a scar that hadn’t faded. Daryl Dixon hadn’t come back. Not really. He’d left with a bag slung over one shoulder, a stubborn look in his eyes, and the promise to find Rick… and that was it.

He didn’t come back to visit. Not even Judith heard from him much, and she asked often. Tugging at your sleeve with those wide, knowing eyes.

“Where’s Uncle Daryl? When’s he coming back?”

You always smiled. Always told her a story.

And always cried when no one was looking.

Aaron finally sat beside you on the table, voice lowering.

“You should go,” he said. “To the fair.”

You didn’t answer right away. But a small part of your heart stirred. Hope, tiny and dangerous.

“He could be there,” he added.

God, you truly did hope so.

—

The day of the fair arrived wrapped in sunlight and banners waving from rooftops, laughter echoing through the halls of the Kingdom, the scent of baked bread and something sweet in the air.

You came alone.

But the moment you stepped through the gate, warmth found you. Ezekiel’s broad smile, Jerry’s crushing hug, Carol’s steady hand cupping your cheek. Henry beaming like he’d just won a prize. You hugged them all tightly, like you could fold the years between you and make them disappear.

It felt… good. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the world had color again.

Eventually, you found a quiet spot at a wooden table near the outer edge of the square. You sat and let the voices blur around you, scanning faces instinctively. Not that you expected to see him. Not really.

But you looked.

And you remembered—

It had been a day not unlike this one. A trade run to the Kingdom. You and Daryl sitting on a crate, watching Carol and Ezekiel argue over storage methods for pomegranates.

“They’d be cute together,” you whispered to him, nudging his arm.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, not even glancing up.

“Just say it. Say they’d be like fairytale adorable.”

“Ain’t sayin’ shit,” he grumbled, shoving a bag of carrots at you.

You had laughed so hard your ribs hurt. You remembered how he’d glanced at you, just for a second, like he was watching something he didn’t quite understand.

You blinked away the memory.

And then a shadow fell over your table.

“This seat taken?”

Your head jerked up, breath catching halfway through your lungs.

Daryl.

He stood there like some ghost pulled from memory, weathered and older, hair longer, eyes the same. He looked exactly like you’d imagined and nothing like you’d imagined all at once.

You stood before you could stop yourself. His arms were around you in seconds.

And just like that, six years collapsed between your bodies like dust.

—

You found yourselves in the old theater, dust dancing in the light that filtered through cracked windows. Dog curled up near the stage, tail thumping once when he saw you.

“So you named him…Dog?” you said, sitting beside him, amusement in your voice.

“What’s wrong with that?” he muttered.

You broke into laughter that echoed against the rafters, and he didn’t stop you. Just watched, his eyes softer than you remembered.

You talked for what felt like hours. About Judith. About Michonne. About the woods. You told him about Alexandria, how the crops were growing again, how RJ was walking now, how everyone still missed him. How you missed him.

Eventually, the conversation quieted. You sat in that soft, familiar silence, one you hadn’t felt in years.

And then he turned, like he was going to say something—

But stopped.

“Hey,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You okay?”

You wiped your face without realizing you’d started crying.

“I just… I missed you,” you laughed, watery and shaking. “It’s been so long. I’m just happy you’re here.”

His voice was quiet. “Don’t be a stranger, remember?”

You blinked. “You still remember that?”

“’Course I did.”

But the moment was interrupted, Henry burst through the doors.

“Daryl! My mom needs you!”

And just like that, he was gone again.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he promised. “When the movie starts.”

You nodded.

—

Night had long fallen and the movie was playing in the theater now. The kids were wide eyed, faces glowing in the screenlight. You sat near the back, waiting for him.

He never came.

Your chest ached, but you didn’t let it show.

Until—

“Psst.”

You turned.

He was peeking through the side door again.

You rolled your eyes and followed him outside, where the night had settled, dark and velvet-soft.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Eugene got me talkin’. Wanted my help with somethin’.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay.”

You sat beside him in the grass, the stars glittering above. You could smell the smoke of a nearby torch, the warmth of him beside you.

“I missed this,” you said. “You.”

He turned to look at you. You didn’t meet his gaze, eyes fixed on the sky.

“Remember them runs we’d do? Long ones. Campin’ out. You’d always be lookin’ up, starin’ at the sky.”

You nodded. “Still do.”

“When I was out there,” he said, voice gravel-soft, “I’d look up too. Think about you.”

You turned to face him. “You thought of me?”

“’Course I did. Always did.”

You let out a half laugh, half sob and shoved him lightly. “You’re such a liar.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered.

The silence that followed was thick. Electric. Heavy with something neither of you had touched in years.

“Kept thinkin’ about that day,” he said. “When I left.”

You exhaled. “Yeah. Big moment.”

“I wanted to say somethin’. But I didn’t know how. I ain’t good with words. Or feelin’s. Or any of that shit.”

You looked at him fully now, his features half-lit in the dark.

“But I love you.”

You didn’t breathe.

“Wanted to say it. That day. Before I left. Couldn’t. I—I didn’t wanna leave you. But I had to. I just… I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

You smiled. Eyes full of tears. “Daryl,” you whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

Your voice cracked.

“When you left, it felt like losing my best friend. But worse. Like… like I didn’t know how to breathe without you. I realized it after you were gone. I loved you. I still love you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

He reached for your hand in the dark.

“I know,” he said. “Me neither.”

And in the silence that followed, nothing else needed to be said.

You’d found each other again.

And this time, neither of you would be strangers.

a/n okay guys plz ignore how rushed the ending is i didn’t know how to wrap it up they lowkey should’ve kissed but it’s too late to write that it now just imagine it in your heads alright okay bye everyone like and subscribe for more

tag list! @xx-lostgirl-xx @darylsdelts @ye-ooo @t-folklore13 @madyb17 @dead-sirens @theskinniestjackson-denny @littlelovingideas @angelically-yours

[walkingtalkingsomething]

yay for reunions 🤗

Found Again”

The run had started like any other quiet roads, blue skies, and a whisper of hope that maybe, just maybe, things would go smoothly this time. You were walking beside Maggie, both of you laughing over something Carl had said. Daryl was ahead, scanning the treeline, always alert, while Glenn stayed close to Maggie, hand resting on his knife. Michonne trailed just behind, her sword glinting under the sun, and Rick walked beside his son, his eyes never really leaving the horizon.

It was almost peaceful.

Until the shots rang out.

“Ambush!” Rick shouted, diving for cover behind a rusted truck.

Gunfire erupted from the trees. You hit the ground, heart pounding, ears ringing. The group scattered, taking cover wherever they could but in the chaos, you got separated. A walker lunged from the ditch beside you and you bolted into the woods, ducking low and running as fast as your legs would carry you.

“(Y/N)!” Daryl’s voice echoed behind you, full of panic but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You just kept running.

⸻

Back at the road, the rest of the group huddled behind a toppled guardrail, breathing hard.

“We need to go back for her,” Daryl growled, pacing like a caged animal. “She’s out there alone.”

“She’s smart,” Michonne said calmly, though her brows were furrowed with worry. “She’ll find cover. But we can’t split again.”

“I should’ve grabbed her,” Daryl muttered, voice tight. “I saw her run she was right there.”

“Daryl,” Rick said gently, “we’ll find her. She’ll find us. We just need to think. She’s tough. You know that better than any of us.”

Maggie nodded, holding Glenn’s hand. “She knows this area. She’ll circle back if she can.”

Carl kicked at a rock, jaw clenched. “She’s not just tough. She’s family. We don’t leave family.”

⸻

You spent hours sneaking through the forest, heart pounding with every sound. You avoided walkers, ducked low when you heard movement that didn’t feel right, and kept your eyes peeled for signs of the group. At one point you thought you saw a piece of Rick’s jacket snagged on a branch. That gave you just enough hope to keep going.

Finally, as the sun began to dip low and the sky turned orange, you saw it.

The group.

They had made a small camp near the edge of the woods. A fire was barely flickering. Glenn was kneeling, tying something down, and Michonne stood with her sword in hand. Maggie and Carl were talking quietly Rick was posted up with his rifle, scanning the trees.

And Daryl he was pacing again.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped from the trees.

“Daryl?” you called out, voice hoarse.

His head whipped around.

His eyes widened.

“(Y/N)!”

Before you could take another step, he was running fast, desperate, like nothing else mattered. His arms wrapped around you and lifted you right off your feet, pulling you into the tightest, most overwhelming hug you’d ever felt.

“Goddammit,” he muttered into your hair, voice shaking. “Don’t ever do that again. Thought I lost you.”

You held onto him just as tightly. “I thought I lost all of you…”

Maggie came running over next, tears in her eyes. “Thank God,” she breathed, hugging you both. Carl followed with a wide smile, and even Rick allowed himself a relieved nod.

“You okay?” Daryl asked, cupping your face to look at you, his eyes full of worry.

You nodded, smiling through tears. “Now I am.”

And for the first time all day, it felt like the world wasn’t falling apart. Not when Daryl was holding you like that. Not when you were home again.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

Summary: In a world where the living have long since surpassed the dead in threat level, Tess Foster had made it one of her top priorities to keep her distance unless absolutely necessary. However, after a bad encounter leaves her barely standing, she may have no choice but to accept the forced company that is suddenly thrust upon her. A Daryl Dixon x Original Female Character sloooooooooooooow burn story that I would call largely platonic. A 'They have a Thing™️ but just don't know it' kind of deal

Chapter 18: Apologies and Loss, Sprinkled with a Pinch of Magic

Chapter Warnings: Talking Without Talking, Unhealthy Avoidance, Soft Daryl™️, The Discovery of A New Form of Ambien, Awkward Tension, Apologies, Mentions of Wounds and Stitches, Mentions of Removing Stitches, Mentions of Shame and Feeling Vulnerable, Mentions of The Aftermath of Loss

Word Count: 2,705

It was almost comically stupid.

When Tess and Glenn had come back that day they were informed of the plans that were made in their absence. As a way to honor Beth's final wishes, and almost even more so just to have an actual purpose going forward, it had been decided that the group would be traveling to Richmond, VA in hopes of reuniting Noah with his family and, hopefully, to settle down in a secure area. Tess actually found herself being a major fan of the idea. Not only was she more than ready to just get out of the area and leave the state she used to call home behind, but as someone who had been separated from someone she loved dearly, she wanted to see Noah back with his loved ones. She wanted to play her part in any way that she could, even if it wasn't much, to give him what he had helped give her by keeping Luke safe and brought back to her.

In theory, it should have been a roughly eight hour drive.

It was not.

Between trying to find fuel, cars breaking down, stopping every so often to avoid potentially dangerous or sketchy looking situations - or taking advantage of places to look for and stock up on supplies - or plain just having to reroute due to walker overpopulation, that eight hour drive took them just over two weeks.

Comically. Stupid.

Tess had noticed early on in the trip the way that, despite there not being any kind of real animosity, the group seemed to splinter off some after the events at Grady Memorial. They were all working together just fine, sure, but at night when they would be settling down for dinner and unwinding from the day it would show. Glenn, Maggie, Tara and Noah were usually grouped together. Sasha and Tyreese would often be a part of that grouping as well, though sometimes Sasha would excuse herself, still very much reeling from the loss of Bob. Maggie was the same. There were times where she would seem ok, then she'd get this distant look about her and she and Glenn would go off somewhere private.

Abraham and Rosita were always huddled together but, despite many attempts on the latin woman's behalf to smooth things over between Abraham and Eugene, things were nowhere close to being ok on former's end. It left Eugene and Gabriel to team up in a sense, both being the two biggest outcasts. Tess was always left surprised she wasn't lumped with them herself.

Daryl and Carol spent a lot of time together, Daryl sometimes taking off to have one on one time with Rick where they discussed whatever it was they talked about, planned. And Rick, Michonne, Carl and Judith were almost always together.

Which left Tess and Luke.

She tried to keep them separate, the feeling of starting to belong and being a part of something fizzing out, in her mind, after Atlanta. Although she wasn't getting death glares any longer and wasn't being actively avoided, the tension between her and Maggie was still clear. Glenn, bless him, tried at every avenue to bridge the gap. He constantly brought Tess and Luke to eat with them, a time or two literally dragging her with him. It was mainly him that she endured for. After that morning of their solo scavenging trip she felt like there was a deeper connection that had been formed between the two. He was a sweet kid, incredibly smart and inventive. The tricks he had been showing and teaching both her and Tara when it came to the art of finding hidden treasures never ceased to amaze her. And his never ending hope, jesus. Even her bitter heart bought into his world peace like mentality. Plus he was always great with Luke - would make a great father, she thought often - and he and Noah were always going over the sign language book with him. Tess couldn't believe how quickly Luke was picking it up. Two weeks time and he already had the full alphabet, as well as some common words, down pat. She only had memorized about half of what he did and even that was iffy if she didn't have the pictures in front of her to verify. But Glenn was right, it was slowly but surely helping Luke and a few of them communicate a little easier.

The most perplexing state of limbo between relationships easily went to Daryl and herself though. She had had no direct interaction with him since the night Beth had died when they had their...whatever it was they had. Tess still wasn't sure. Four nights of radio silence and then the fifth night came around. She had been having a nightmare again, similar to the ones she had been having on and off since the clearing. Once again Daryl brought her out of it and, once again, she nearly punched him for it. He took off the moment he saw she had her bearings about her but the following night he planted himself across from her and Luke. The nightmare episodes happened three more times in that two week period, and each time he brought her out of it and kept a steady hand on her wrist until her mind cleared up. After a few days they would talk a few words here and there, mindless chatter mostly, and he too would practice ASL with Luke, but he never once attempted to bring up their 'disagreement' from before. Which was more than fine with Tess, avoidance was one of her specialties after all. That and, although uncomfortable at first, they slowly found themselves in that place where they could just have their peaceful silence like before.

Tess didn't want to admit how much she had missed it. How much she had craved it.

It was the day they finally made it to Virginia, the night before they would venture over to Noah's gated community that would always stick with her and that would always hold a special place in her heart.

She hadn't slept much at all the night before due to a particularly nasty and vivid nightmare, and after a grueling supply run that had them in a too close run in with some walkers, she had actually crashed shortly after dinner that night. Some time later she started waking up slightly, vaguely aware of shuffling nearby before feeling those familiar tiny hands on her arm. She was still pretty deeply under, so it was taking a few moments for her body to catch up with her brain but before she could get there herself, someone else intervened.

"Hey little man," she could hear Daryl's deep rumble call out lightly, floating around her in her hazy state. "Can' sleep?"

Something in her brain told her to stay down, pretend to still be asleep, far too curious as to what he would do.

There was a pause in sound, in which she assumed Luke indicated his answer before Daryl's voice cut in again.

"...Yeah, me too."

Me too? Me too, what?

"Yer mom, she usu'lly reads ta ya when you can' sleep, yeah?"

Another beat of silence.

"Why don' ya go ahead an' let yer mom sleep, maybe I can tell ya a story? ...if'n ya wan'."

Tess wasn't sure what shocked her more, the fact that he was offering to do it at all or the hint of shyness that suddenly laced his voice.

Daryl Dixon, ever the enigma.

There was some light rustling, signaling that Luke was moving away from her before Daryl's voice cut into the nighttime silence again.

"Alrigh'," he started with some hesitancy. "It's Peter Rabbit ya like, righ'?" a brief pause and then a grunt. "Righ', well I don' really know much 'bout 'im, but uh, my mom, when I was a boy she used ta read me The Velveteen Rabbit...I can tell ya tha' one."

Clearly Luke gave the thumb's up on that option because with a mumbled 'alrigh' then' Daryl began reciting the old tale, going off memory the same way Tess did with the stories she told. She wanted so badly to crack an eye open, take a peak at the scene playing out before her just to verify it was actually happening, but she knew the second he realized she was awake and he had an audience, he would clam up.

And so she continued to stay as still as the night around them, listening to the tale of nursery magic and the small rabbit's desire to become real and letting Daryl's soothing voice lull her into a peaceful slumber.

The following morning saw Rick, Michonne, Glenn, Tyreese and Noah setting out to complete the roughly fifty mile journey to Noah's old community to check things out, Rick not wanting the whole group together in the chance that things weren't on the up and up or went badly. The rest would be staying behind to wait on word of whether or not to follow.

Tess had noticed, from the moment she woke up that morning, that Luke seemed to be trying to stay close to Daryl's side. And, by the odd looks he kept sending her way, he had clearly noticed as well. Not that she was surprised, next to nothing seemed to pass by the hunter's trained eye. Not wanting to give up the fact that she had been eavesdropping on their storytime the night before, she would shrug off his questioning gaze every time, enjoying a small smile to herself when he would turn away again. When he was getting ready to head off into the surrounding woods to see if he could wrangle up any kind of meat, he was stopped by the small boy following after him.

Daryl looked down to Luke with a raised eyebrow. "Wha'?"

Luke held up his two index fingers and pointed them forward.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, Daryl looked to Tess for an explanation.

"Pretty sure he wants to go with you." she offered.

The confirmation came with Luke's excited head nod.

Daryl looked between them for a moment before giving a light shrug. "Alrigh' with me if it's alrigh' with yer mom."

That gave Tess pause. Luke's eagerness had her wanting to say yes immediately, but there was minor conflict. She still struggled with being apart from him, even though she had been doing it steadily more and more during the trip to Virginia. It never really got any easier though. But she just needed to take a moment to breathe. They wouldn't be going far, and this was Daryl, after all. She knew she could trust him above all else.

So, letting the breath out slowly through her nose, she gave her blessing.

"Okay, yeah that's fine."

Daryl gave her a serious look. "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure," the words left her mouth and instantly Luke was taking off. "Hey!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at her and walking back over when she beckoned him with her finger. She knelt down so she could be eye level with him and grabbed both his hands in hers.

"No just runnin' off your own, you hear me? And you listen to everything Daryl tells you, understand?" she asked him sternly, only to be met with a more subdued nod. She couldn't help the small smirk that pulled at the corner of her lips. "Well, then, have fun."

And with that he walked more calmly to join Daryl, Daryl himself giving her a brief nod which delivered a clear message: I got him.

She returned the gesture and watched the two walk side by side into the woods.

Just because she trusted Daryl fully to keep Luke safe did not negate the fact that she still had a host of nerves to battle through.

Roughly an hour after the boys had departed she wasn't sure what to do with herself. She had gone through the ASL book but she couldn't concentrate much on any of it. She had gone down to the nearby creek with Tara and gathered some water, the two of them talking lightly about old movies they each loved. It was when they made it back that she discovered she had an unexpected visitor waiting for her in the form of Maggie.

"Hey." she greeted, looking about as awkward as Tess suddenly felt, not helped at all by the fact that Tara chose that moment to make herself scarce.

"Hey."

The two women stared at each other silently, Tess fighting to maintain some form of eye contact before Maggie let out a heavy sigh.

"Those stitches of yours, I really think we should get them out."

It took a few beats for Tess to form a thought, thrown off a little not only by Maggie suddenly speaking to her, but also by the fact that she wanted to help her with something that, honestly, Tess hadn't really thought about much with everything else that had been going on.

"Oh...Oh! Yeah, um, yes. That'd..." Tess felt ridiculous for the sudden stammering, she just couldn't process the sudden turn of events with the woman who had openly been ignoring her like the plague, still not blaming her one bit for it. "Yeah, that'd probably be good."

Maggie nodded, grabbing a small knife from her back pocket and gesturing towards Tess' shirt. "Mind if I...?"

Realizing she would actually need to see the wound, Tess quickly put down the water bottles she had been carrying.

"Right, sure." she turned around and braced her hands against a nearby tree, trying to steady herself at the familiar discomfort of having to showcase the wound once again. Maggie may have seen it before, back at the beginning, but it still felt so vulnerable to unveil it. To her, all it did was prove that she had failed both Luke and herself, and how that failure had almost cost them both so dearly.

Both women felt her tense up the second Maggie started lifting the bottom of her shirt, causing Maggie to pause in her movements.

"If you need me to stop, just say." she spoke softly.

Tess nodded wordlessly.

Maggie continued rolling her shirt up, all the way up to her neck where she then instructed Tess to hold it to keep it from falling back down and getting in the way. She took a few minutes to examine the area, poking and prodding for tenderness and making sure there was no unhealthy looking tissue or any infected areas.

"Looks pretty good, all considering. I'm gonna start cuttin' out the stitches now, just let me know if anything hurts or you need a break, 'kay?"

"Yup."

Maggie got started, working silently and with gentle hands, careful not to be too rough. Especially in the area that had had to be redone by Bob after Terminus. She started from the bottom and swiftly worked her way up towards the top. She was nearly done when she finally spoke up again.

"I need to apologize to you."

Tess immediately started shaking her head. "No, Maggie you really don't -"

"Tess please," Maggie cut off her refusals. "I do, and I want to. After Beth, I..." with her back still turned, Tess felt rather than seen Maggie take a shuddering breath. "I never wanted to put that on you, I never really meant to. It's just, so close to the prison and my...my dad...I just didn't know what to do with it all, and I'm sorry it got directed towards you. It wasn't right, and I don't want you thinkin' I blame you, at all, because I don't," she cut the final stitch before pulling the shirt back down in place. "There, all done."

Tess turned around and tentatively met Maggie's eyes, suddenly feeling hers misting over slightly for a reason she couldn't quite identify. "Thanks."

Maggie's own eyes welled up just a touch before she gently pulled Tess in for a hug that was instantly returned.

The moment was broken by Tara suddenly running up to the woman.

"Something happened."

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[walkingtalkingsomething]

Summary: In a world where the living have long since surpassed the dead in threat level, Tess Foster had made it one of her top priorities to keep her distance unless absolutely necessary. However, after a bad encounter leaves her barely standing, she may have no choice but to accept the forced company that is suddenly thrust upon her. A Daryl Dixon x Original Female Character sloooooooooooooow burn story that I would call largely platonic. A 'They have a Thing™️ but just don't know it' kind of deal

Chapter 18: Apologies and Loss, Sprinkled with a Pinch of Magic

Chapter Warnings: Talking Without Talking, Unhealthy Avoidance, Soft Daryl™️, The Discovery of A New Form of Ambien, Awkward Tension, Apologies, Mentions of Wounds and Stitches, Mentions of Removing Stitches, Mentions of Shame and Feeling Vulnerable, Mentions of The Aftermath of Loss

Word Count: 2,705

It was almost comically stupid.

When Tess and Glenn had come back that day they were informed of the plans that were made in their absence. As a way to honor Beth's final wishes, and almost even more so just to have an actual purpose going forward, it had been decided that the group would be traveling to Richmond, VA in hopes of reuniting Noah with his family and, hopefully, to settle down in a secure area. Tess actually found herself being a major fan of the idea. Not only was she more than ready to just get out of the area and leave the state she used to call home behind, but as someone who had been separated from someone she loved dearly, she wanted to see Noah back with his loved ones. She wanted to play her part in any way that she could, even if it wasn't much, to give him what he had helped give her by keeping Luke safe and brought back to her.

In theory, it should have been a roughly eight hour drive.

It was not.

Between trying to find fuel, cars breaking down, stopping every so often to avoid potentially dangerous or sketchy looking situations - or taking advantage of places to look for and stock up on supplies - or plain just having to reroute due to walker overpopulation, that eight hour drive took them just over two weeks.

Comically. Stupid.

Tess had noticed early on in the trip the way that, despite there not being any kind of real animosity, the group seemed to splinter off some after the events at Grady Memorial. They were all working together just fine, sure, but at night when they would be settling down for dinner and unwinding from the day it would show. Glenn, Maggie, Tara and Noah were usually grouped together. Sasha and Tyreese would often be a part of that grouping as well, though sometimes Sasha would excuse herself, still very much reeling from the loss of Bob. Maggie was the same. There were times where she would seem ok, then she'd get this distant look about her and she and Glenn would go off somewhere private.

Abraham and Rosita were always huddled together but, despite many attempts on the latin woman's behalf to smooth things over between Abraham and Eugene, things were nowhere close to being ok on former's end. It left Eugene and Gabriel to team up in a sense, both being the two biggest outcasts. Tess was always left surprised she wasn't lumped with them herself.

Daryl and Carol spent a lot of time together, Daryl sometimes taking off to have one on one time with Rick where they discussed whatever it was they talked about, planned. And Rick, Michonne, Carl and Judith were almost always together.

Which left Tess and Luke.

She tried to keep them separate, the feeling of starting to belong and being a part of something fizzing out, in her mind, after Atlanta. Although she wasn't getting death glares any longer and wasn't being actively avoided, the tension between her and Maggie was still clear. Glenn, bless him, tried at every avenue to bridge the gap. He constantly brought Tess and Luke to eat with them, a time or two literally dragging her with him. It was mainly him that she endured for. After that morning of their solo scavenging trip she felt like there was a deeper connection that had been formed between the two. He was a sweet kid, incredibly smart and inventive. The tricks he had been showing and teaching both her and Tara when it came to the art of finding hidden treasures never ceased to amaze her. And his never ending hope, jesus. Even her bitter heart bought into his world peace like mentality. Plus he was always great with Luke - would make a great father, she thought often - and he and Noah were always going over the sign language book with him. Tess couldn't believe how quickly Luke was picking it up. Two weeks time and he already had the full alphabet, as well as some common words, down pat. She only had memorized about half of what he did and even that was iffy if she didn't have the pictures in front of her to verify. But Glenn was right, it was slowly but surely helping Luke and a few of them communicate a little easier.

The most perplexing state of limbo between relationships easily went to Daryl and herself though. She had had no direct interaction with him since the night Beth had died when they had their...whatever it was they had. Tess still wasn't sure. Four nights of radio silence and then the fifth night came around. She had been having a nightmare again, similar to the ones she had been having on and off since the clearing. Once again Daryl brought her out of it and, once again, she nearly punched him for it. He took off the moment he saw she had her bearings about her but the following night he planted himself across from her and Luke. The nightmare episodes happened three more times in that two week period, and each time he brought her out of it and kept a steady hand on her wrist until her mind cleared up. After a few days they would talk a few words here and there, mindless chatter mostly, and he too would practice ASL with Luke, but he never once attempted to bring up their 'disagreement' from before. Which was more than fine with Tess, avoidance was one of her specialties after all. That and, although uncomfortable at first, they slowly found themselves in that place where they could just have their peaceful silence like before.

Tess didn't want to admit how much she had missed it. How much she had craved it.

It was the day they finally made it to Virginia, the night before they would venture over to Noah's gated community that would always stick with her and that would always hold a special place in her heart.

She hadn't slept much at all the night before due to a particularly nasty and vivid nightmare, and after a grueling supply run that had them in a too close run in with some walkers, she had actually crashed shortly after dinner that night. Some time later she started waking up slightly, vaguely aware of shuffling nearby before feeling those familiar tiny hands on her arm. She was still pretty deeply under, so it was taking a few moments for her body to catch up with her brain but before she could get there herself, someone else intervened.

"Hey little man," she could hear Daryl's deep rumble call out lightly, floating around her in her hazy state. "Can' sleep?"

Something in her brain told her to stay down, pretend to still be asleep, far too curious as to what he would do.

There was a pause in sound, in which she assumed Luke indicated his answer before Daryl's voice cut in again.

"...Yeah, me too."

Me too? Me too, what?

"Yer mom, she usu'lly reads ta ya when you can' sleep, yeah?"

Another beat of silence.

"Why don' ya go ahead an' let yer mom sleep, maybe I can tell ya a story? ...if'n ya wan'."

Tess wasn't sure what shocked her more, the fact that he was offering to do it at all or the hint of shyness that suddenly laced his voice.

Daryl Dixon, ever the enigma.

There was some light rustling, signaling that Luke was moving away from her before Daryl's voice cut into the nighttime silence again.

"Alrigh'," he started with some hesitancy. "It's Peter Rabbit ya like, righ'?" a brief pause and then a grunt. "Righ', well I don' really know much 'bout 'im, but uh, my mom, when I was a boy she used ta read me The Velveteen Rabbit...I can tell ya tha' one."

Clearly Luke gave the thumb's up on that option because with a mumbled 'alrigh' then' Daryl began reciting the old tale, going off memory the same way Tess did with the stories she told. She wanted so badly to crack an eye open, take a peak at the scene playing out before her just to verify it was actually happening, but she knew the second he realized she was awake and he had an audience, he would clam up.

And so she continued to stay as still as the night around them, listening to the tale of nursery magic and the small rabbit's desire to become real and letting Daryl's soothing voice lull her into a peaceful slumber.

The following morning saw Rick, Michonne, Glenn, Tyreese and Noah setting out to complete the roughly fifty mile journey to Noah's old community to check things out, Rick not wanting the whole group together in the chance that things weren't on the up and up or went badly. The rest would be staying behind to wait on word of whether or not to follow.

Tess had noticed, from the moment she woke up that morning, that Luke seemed to be trying to stay close to Daryl's side. And, by the odd looks he kept sending her way, he had clearly noticed as well. Not that she was surprised, next to nothing seemed to pass by the hunter's trained eye. Not wanting to give up the fact that she had been eavesdropping on their storytime the night before, she would shrug off his questioning gaze every time, enjoying a small smile to herself when he would turn away again. When he was getting ready to head off into the surrounding woods to see if he could wrangle up any kind of meat, he was stopped by the small boy following after him.

Daryl looked down to Luke with a raised eyebrow. "Wha'?"

Luke held up his two index fingers and pointed them forward.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, Daryl looked to Tess for an explanation.

"Pretty sure he wants to go with you." she offered.

The confirmation came with Luke's excited head nod.

Daryl looked between them for a moment before giving a light shrug. "Alrigh' with me if it's alrigh' with yer mom."

That gave Tess pause. Luke's eagerness had her wanting to say yes immediately, but there was minor conflict. She still struggled with being apart from him, even though she had been doing it steadily more and more during the trip to Virginia. It never really got any easier though. But she just needed to take a moment to breathe. They wouldn't be going far, and this was Daryl, after all. She knew she could trust him above all else.

So, letting the breath out slowly through her nose, she gave her blessing.

"Okay, yeah that's fine."

Daryl gave her a serious look. "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure," the words left her mouth and instantly Luke was taking off. "Hey!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at her and walking back over when she beckoned him with her finger. She knelt down so she could be eye level with him and grabbed both his hands in hers.

"No just runnin' off your own, you hear me? And you listen to everything Daryl tells you, understand?" she asked him sternly, only to be met with a more subdued nod. She couldn't help the small smirk that pulled at the corner of her lips. "Well, then, have fun."

And with that he walked more calmly to join Daryl, Daryl himself giving her a brief nod which delivered a clear message: I got him.

She returned the gesture and watched the two walk side by side into the woods.

Just because she trusted Daryl fully to keep Luke safe did not negate the fact that she still had a host of nerves to battle through.

Roughly an hour after the boys had departed she wasn't sure what to do with herself. She had gone through the ASL book but she couldn't concentrate much on any of it. She had gone down to the nearby creek with Tara and gathered some water, the two of them talking lightly about old movies they each loved. It was when they made it back that she discovered she had an unexpected visitor waiting for her in the form of Maggie.

"Hey." she greeted, looking about as awkward as Tess suddenly felt, not helped at all by the fact that Tara chose that moment to make herself scarce.

"Hey."

The two women stared at each other silently, Tess fighting to maintain some form of eye contact before Maggie let out a heavy sigh.

"Those stitches of yours, I really think we should get them out."

It took a few beats for Tess to form a thought, thrown off a little not only by Maggie suddenly speaking to her, but also by the fact that she wanted to help her with something that, honestly, Tess hadn't really thought about much with everything else that had been going on.

"Oh...Oh! Yeah, um, yes. That'd..." Tess felt ridiculous for the sudden stammering, she just couldn't process the sudden turn of events with the woman who had openly been ignoring her like the plague, still not blaming her one bit for it. "Yeah, that'd probably be good."

Maggie nodded, grabbing a small knife from her back pocket and gesturing towards Tess' shirt. "Mind if I...?"

Realizing she would actually need to see the wound, Tess quickly put down the water bottles she had been carrying.

"Right, sure." she turned around and braced her hands against a nearby tree, trying to steady herself at the familiar discomfort of having to showcase the wound once again. Maggie may have seen it before, back at the beginning, but it still felt so vulnerable to unveil it. To her, all it did was prove that she had failed both Luke and herself, and how that failure had almost cost them both so dearly.

Both women felt her tense up the second Maggie started lifting the bottom of her shirt, causing Maggie to pause in her movements.

"If you need me to stop, just say." she spoke softly.

Tess nodded wordlessly.

Maggie continued rolling her shirt up, all the way up to her neck where she then instructed Tess to hold it to keep it from falling back down and getting in the way. She took a few minutes to examine the area, poking and prodding for tenderness and making sure there was no unhealthy looking tissue or any infected areas.

"Looks pretty good, all considering. I'm gonna start cuttin' out the stitches now, just let me know if anything hurts or you need a break, 'kay?"

"Yup."

Maggie got started, working silently and with gentle hands, careful not to be too rough. Especially in the area that had had to be redone by Bob after Terminus. She started from the bottom and swiftly worked her way up towards the top. She was nearly done when she finally spoke up again.

"I need to apologize to you."

Tess immediately started shaking her head. "No, Maggie you really don't -"

"Tess please," Maggie cut off her refusals. "I do, and I want to. After Beth, I..." with her back still turned, Tess felt rather than seen Maggie take a shuddering breath. "I never wanted to put that on you, I never really meant to. It's just, so close to the prison and my...my dad...I just didn't know what to do with it all, and I'm sorry it got directed towards you. It wasn't right, and I don't want you thinkin' I blame you, at all, because I don't," she cut the final stitch before pulling the shirt back down in place. "There, all done."

Tess turned around and tentatively met Maggie's eyes, suddenly feeling hers misting over slightly for a reason she couldn't quite identify. "Thanks."

Maggie's own eyes welled up just a touch before she gently pulled Tess in for a hug that was instantly returned.

The moment was broken by Tara suddenly running up to the woman.

"Something happened."

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[walkingtalkingsomething]

the eagle has landed, and it was glorious 🥰 so worth the build up and wait

note: Back in April I was writing some “forced proximity” Daryl stories. Here’s a continuation of that but there’s nothing forced about this one—they’re out in the wide open. 😜 Enjoy!

warnings: All the smut. Language. DarylxFem!Reader. 18+ YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

*******

Beside the dying fire.

The fire is dying.

Daryl sits in the shadows with a worn bolt in his grip—sharpening it by memory alone. His eyes are locked on you. The soft crackle of the dwindling flames painting your skin in flickering orange and you’re laughing.

Sitting across the fire with all your attention on Carol. He can’t process the quiet words—just the soft sweet sound rushing from your lungs.

Real.

Easy.

The kind of laugh that shouldn’t exist in this world anymore.

And it makes him feral.

Carol never falters in her story while you let your eyes linger a moment too long. Sitting with your legs tucked under you, head tilted as you sneak a glance at him and smile.

It lights him on fire.

His chest’s tightens, burning him from the inside out—hands slowing with the bolt, stilling. You’re wearing that damn shirt again—the one that’s too big, slipping off your shoulder like it doesn’t give a damn what it’s doing to him. His eyes close tight; a flash of memory—forced inside a closet, your body against his—crawling under a bed—the kiss that started all of this.

And what you almost finished in that damn gas station.

Your eyes dart back to his and when you smile like that… like you’re soft for him, sweet even…

He’s done for.

He want’s you—wants to press his face to the curve of your neck—hear your breath stutter when he touches you. He wants to leave his mark so every damn person in this camp knows whose you are.

And the worst part?

You’re not doing a damn thing to stop him from thinkin’ like this.

Your legs shift causing your shorts to ride up your thighs and Daryl to swear under his breath—adjusting in his seat—trying to ignore the pressure building hard and thick in his jeans.

You’re making him crazy.

You always make him crazy.

“Do you regret kissing me?”

“No.”

“I want you to kiss me again.”

The bolt in Daryl’s hand nearly snaps as Carol leans in close to whisper something to you before rising with a soft chuckle. “I’m gonna head in.” She says, voice light. “You kids don’t stay out too late.” Carol walks toward the clearing with a knowing grin, joining the others for the night.

Now it’s just you and him and everything that’s still left unsaid between you. Daryl hasn’t said a word since being forced out of that empty gas station. Every night he sits by this fire and burns for you in silence—leaving you both wondering what would have happened there.

You stretch your body slowly—dragging it out—legs parting, chest rising and eyes falling to his. Daryl’s jaw ticks. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch when your voice cuts the silence.

It’s as soft as the smoke between you.

“You gonna keep staring or say what’s on your mind, Dixon?”

He doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t cross the fire.

Doesn’t dare let himself have this moment.

Not again.

This is a mistake. One that will cost someone their lives. The world’s too far gone to be chasing after some doe eyed girl like a man starved. He knows this better than anyone—but he can’t stop thinking about it.

Fantasizing about it.

Wanting it.

So he watches you.

Starving.

Like he’s trying to memorize the curve of your lips and the way your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt like you don’t know what to do with yourself. He sees it in the way your thighs press together, how your eyes lift up to his then dart away only to come back.

You’re waiting on him to break.

Again.

The fire’s nothing now, just red coals and thin smoke. The fading light flickering over your face, over that slow glowing flush that spreads up your neck and blooms in your cheeks.

You shift.

Tuck your hair behind your ear.

Try not to look at him.

Fail miserably. You can’t stop thinking about what happened—or more importantly what didn’t happen in that rundown gas station. How close you came to finally giving in to this feeling that consumes you.

“Daryl.” His name comes out like a question.

What are we doing?

Do you feel this thing between us?

Do you want me as much as I want you?

Daryl doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t let his eyes fall from yours—he just burns in silence.

Like yesterday.

And the day before—and every day since that damn supply run.

The tension between you pulls tighter than his bowstring.

“You’re giving me whiplash.” You whisper with a grin like this is a game. Like he’s not dying inside by denying you. His eyes fall to your shoulder as the material of your shirt falls further down exposing your collarbone to him.

Daryl groans.

His jeans are tight. Too tight and it feels like all of the air burnt up in the fire between you. He shifts once—barely—and the pressure gets worse. You’ve got him worked up with nothing but your eyes and that damn mouth of yours.

You lean forward slightly, chest brushing your knees—shirt dipping further to give him a flash of skin. He whimpers. Your voice is soft. “Whatever happened in that gas station—you wanted it.”

Still no answer but his breathing is different now. Deeper. Rougher. Controlled only by a thread. His eyes flick away for a second.

“Yeah.” His words are low and full of ache. “I do.”

Not did.

The moment isn’t lost—he said do.

Does.

And you smile, moving a little closer.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like you’re trying not to startle a wild animal. His fingers twitch, cock throbs—unrelenting in the confines of the denim he wants to rip off just to be able to breathe.

“You ever gonna do anything about it?” You ask, voice low and teasing. He doesn’t answer. He can’t. Every time he tries something ruins the moment—what makes this time will be any different?

Daryl glances around the makeshift camp. The night is eerily quiet. There’s traps up around the camp to warn of danger—nothings getting to them without him knowing. So he sits here motionless. Tortured. Skin burning. Breathing like a man trying to survive a fire.

You lean forward, so close your knee brush his. Delicate fingers graze his arm—light, innocent deadly touches. His name falls from your parted lips—this time not in question—more like a plea and it’s not fair. The way you say it like it belongs in your mouth.

Like he belongs there too.

He drops the bolt. Ignoring it in the dirt as his hands clench into fists to try to stop their shaking. His eyes close and for half a second he prays for mercy as you push to your feet and cross the low fire, standing before him—waiting.

Close enough to feel the heat off his skin.

His fingers unclench, trembling as they reach out to curl around your waist. You barely feel it at first—his strong grasp as he pulls.

Pulls you down into his lap as his other hand sinks into the back of your hair, holding you against his chest—mouths close but not touching. Your hands lift instinctively—running over his shoulders, sliding to the back of his neck where his hair curls soft and wild.

Daryl leans into you.

Finally.

His eyes lock on yours, fingers tightening in your hair as you finally move. Not fast. Not desperate. Slow—intimate. Your thighs slide across his—weight sinking down onto him like you belongs there.

And he’s hard.

Painfully hard and he’s holding onto you like his very life depends on it. You lean in—lips brushing against his ear as a soft, desperate sound escapes him.

“Daryl, you’re shaking.”

Like a tremor in the earth before it breaks wide open.

“You want me to stop?” You whisper as his breath hitches and your hips rut against him. Daryl swears under his breath. One word. A breathless rasp that comes out like a warning but he doesn’t stop you. He jerks your hips forward, eyes closing as your lips brush his jaw, ghosting across his mouth as his fingers grip you harder—bruising—bringing a soft moan from inside of you.

“Don’t.” The word vibrates in your chest as you lean back to meet his desperate gaze. “D-don’t what?”

He places his forehead against yours.

“Don’t stop.”

His grip in your hair tightens hard—pulling you to him. Desperate. Possessive. His other hand slides around your back flattening against your spine as he brings you flush against him before finally crushing his mouth to yours.

It’s not soft. Not gentle. It’s everything he’s held back for too long. Teeth. Tongue. Hands that can’t stop gripping, touching. He kisses like he’s drowning in you—like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered to him.

His hips jerk up—completely involuntary—grinding into you in a way that makes both of you gasp. He curses against your mouth, like he hates how good it feels. Like it hurts to want someone this much. Daryl tears his mouth from yours, panting against her neck. “Ya feel that?” You rock your hips over the thick bulge in his jeans and his whole body jerks. “Feel what ya do to me?”

Your fingers rake through his hair, body melting into his. “Y-yeah. I feel you. Feels good.” You whisper as his hands drag down your back—fingers digging in like he’s holding on for dear life.

Because he is.

He’s burning alive.

His hands are everywhere now, rough palms sliding under your shirt, skimming along your ribs and over your breasts. Strong hands capable of feather light strokes making you whimper against his lips as your fingers rake into his hair.

“Fuck.” Daryl groans, voice low and strangled. He grabs your hips—bringing you down to him as his head falls forward, forehead pressing into your collarbone. “I c-can’t…, can’t take much more.”

You can feel him throbbing through his jeans—the tension rippling along his thighs like he’s barely holding it together. “Wanna feel you.” He begs against your skin. “All of you.”

You slow your hips, cupping his face in your hands. “Then take me.” Daryl’s eyes—impossibly blue search yours then glance around the fire to check for interruptions.

If a walker stumbles into this camp right now he’ll burn the whole fucking world to smoke and ash.

“It’s okay. Carol’s watching for us.” You whisper against his lips then he’s kissing you again, sinking his hands into your hair and jerking you closer. This time he doesn’t stop, dragging his mouth to your neck and he nips—sharp enough to make you gasp, gentle enough to make you melt into him further.

You shift in his lap, fumbling for the button of your shorts but your fingers are shaking too bad to work it free. “Let me.” Daryl mutters—calloused fingers popping the button open, dragging your shorts down your shaking thighs. “I got you.” He whispers, holding you steady as he presses his forehead to yours and you lift yourself up just enough—one hand cupping the back of your head while the other works his belt loose.

“Ya sure this is what you want?” Daryl whispers against your jaw. “Y-yes. Daryl. Please.” You groan, kissing him slowly as pulls you down to him—sinking into you in one deep thrust.

“Fuck.” He chokes as you move with him in that slow, relentless rhythm. Every aching thrust. Every desperate breath. Every whispered plea he tries to hold back. You take it all. The tension inside of you coils tighter and tighter, a deep ache building at the base of your spine then spreading like wildfire. You try to chase it, rocking your hips into his—raking your fingers into his hair. You fall into him completely—body shaking, breath catching and when your release hits it’s not a scream, not a sob—it’s the gasp of his name whispered against his mouth while your body shudders in his arms.

And for a moment time stops.

Daryl’s groans turn to whimpers as you wrap yourself around him, let him feel every second of it—every wave of pleasure that quakes inside of you. His hands tremble against your back, memorizing every inch of skin he’s been dying to touch.

“I need you.” Soft words he’s never said before rush from his throat. They cost him more than you’ll ever know. “Not just now. Not just like this. I—” His forehead falls against yours—arms locking around you like a vice as he fucks up into you one last time, coming hard and desperate with a shattered sound that’s so raw it makes your thighs clench. You both ride it out in silence. Heavy breaths. One hand fisting in your hair, the other sliding down to your waist to slow your rocking hips.

Then everything is quiet.

Bodies pressed tight—breaths tangled. His arms lock around you fiercely like he’ll never let you go again.

Daryl stays buried inside of you long after the trembling fades, both of you wrapped in heat and sweat and the scent of firewood. His forehead rests against yours, breath ghosting across your face in shallow puffs.

The only sound is the distant pop of the forgotten fire and the slow calming thud of his heartbeat against yours. His hands move—absent, tender—tracing slow lines down your spine. Calloused fingertips ghosting over the curve of your breast like he still doesn’t believe this is real. You feel him exhale deep and low like he’s finally letting go of something heavy he’s carried too long.

In the quiet, with your heartbeats slowing together you both know there’s no coming back from this.

X

[walkingtalkingsomething]

cute 😊

Happy Birthday, Woman.

summary - It’s your birthday!!!! 🎉

pairing - daryl dixon x reader

warnings - noneeee

notes - Ahhhhhhh!!!! ITS MY BDAYY!!!!

main masterlist | daryl dixon masterlist

A subtle crash from downstairs wakes you from your slumber. Usually, random loud noises meant danger but now you don’t have to worry about that anymore—well…not as much as you used to. Sitting up, you hear faint whispering and footsteps making their way upstairs. A smile paints its way across your face as you lay back down, facing away from the door.

“Shh…Don’t wake her up yet, Uncle Daryl!”

“Yer the one yellin’..”

It’s hard to stifle your laughter when they come in, you can’t see them yet but you assume it’s all of your little family, including dog. You were right about that when he jumps on the bed, licking your face. “Ah! Dog, Stop it!”

“Damn it, Dog.” Daryl sets the tray with your breakfast on the bedside table while Judith and RJ jump on the bed.

“Happy Birthday, (Y/N)!”

You look at the full tray at your side and your eyes widen. There’s 4 slices of surprisingly good looking cake, instead of the burnt eggs and toast you were expecting. Nothing against Daryl he just…couldn’t cook sometimes. “Wow…Cake for breakfast?” Daryl recognizes that look and decides to ignore it, sitting by your feet on the bed.

“Yeah…It’s a special day.” You smile at him, moving the blanket back and leaning towards him.

“Thank you…” Your lips meet, “It’s amazing.” A lopsided smile can be found on his face as well.

“Hurry up and eat, you got presents to open.”

words: 243

Thank you for reading!! C U L8TER!! 💚💚

[walkingtalkingsomething]

poor boy, emotions make him dumb 🤭

hehe making a request for every twd character

could i get prompts ¹²⁷⁾ “get in the fucking car!” and ¹⁶⁾ “i’m so mad at you for this, but i’m angrier at myself for knowing i’ll forgive you for it.” with daryl dixon?

title; emotions unclear (Daryl Dixon x fem!reader)

prompts; 16) “i’m so mad at you for this, but i’m angrier at myself for knowing i’ll forgive you for it” and 127) “get in the fucking car!” — from three hundred assorted dialogue prompts 

warnings; established relationship, daryl struggles with his feelings, reader has a run in with a group of walkers, uhm that’s it? but lmk if i missed any!! (724 words)

one year masterlist | main masterlist

— come celebrate my one year!!

you and Daryl were out on a supply run you insisted he take you out on, only for you to have a close call with a group of walkers. 

to say Daryl was pissed would be an understatement. 

his annoyance evident as he led you back towards the car you had driven out in, keys firmly grasped in his hand. 

“Daryl i’m sorry! i didn’t mean it”

your apology fell on deaf ears, the walk silent safe for the groans of walkers in the distance and the faint chirp of birds in the tree. 

“the room was clear when i first checked it, i don’t know where they came from!”

his head tilted towards you this time, though he stayed quiet. 

he watched as you went to apologise again, but it was too much, Daryl didn’t want to talk about it, at least not out here in the open where anything can happen. 

“get in the fucking car!”

you paused.

this had been the first outburst Daryl’s had in… you don’t even remember how long. he never took his anger out on you.

normally, he would go on a hunt if he was annoyed, or he’d smoke. but never take it out on you, never shout the way he just had. 

“i’m so mad at you for this, but i’m angrier at myself for knowing i’ll forgive you for it”

he was being irrational, you both knew that, but god did it still hurt. 

Daryl was never good at sharing his feelings, sharing what he truly meant, even if everything in his head was shouting at him to get it out properly. 

“forgive me?!”

your voice came out harsher than intended, a mix of hurt and confusion lacing your words. 

“shit—didn’t mean it like tha’, just..”

Daryl trailed off, drowning in the thoughts flooding his head. 

“know you didn’t mean ta have a run in with tha walkers, shit happens. can’t lose ya though, didn’t come out right”

he took a pause, running a hand down his face. 

his head fell back against the seat headrest, eyes on the ceiling of the car as he continued. 

“meant i’d’a been angry if anything happened to ya, i let ya come on tha run with me”

you frowned at his words. 

“i’m sorry..”

you mumbled, slowly slinking into the car and waiting for him to get into the drivers seat. 

as he opened the door, you heard him sigh, the car rocking slightly as he sank into the seat before he looked over at you, not bothering to put the key into the ignition just yet. 

he watched you for a minute, refusing to meet his gaze until he hooked a finger under your chin to force you to meet his eyes. 

“‘m sorry for shouting”

his voice had softened, only the faint hint of his annoyance remained. 

you nodded slowly, his thumb stroking softly across your cheek before it pulled a sigh from your lips. 

“know you’re only worried, i’m sorry for worrying you and having a close call”

Daryl shook his head, moving his thumb across your cheek again. 

“don’t be sorry. ‘m sorry for shoutin’ and bein’ an ass—shouldn’t be so..”

he trailed off, getting in his head again. 

you waited a minute, until he met your eyes again, before you carefully leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. 

“it’s nice that you’re protective, that you worry—everything about you is nice, don’t ever think you have to change”

he gave a nod, letting his eyes flutter shut as you moved your hands to cradle his face. 

“now why don’t we go back to the prison and i’ll help you out of your head? ease all of that worry out of you”

he nodded, a small smile gracing his lips before it left again. a fleeting moment that only happened with you. 

carefully you pulled your hands away from him, letting him start up the car and start the drive back to the prison. 

“thank you, for takin’ care of me all tha time”

you nodded along to his words, understanding exactly where he was coming from. if anyone knew Daryl, it was you, and you knew exactly how hard he found it to regulate his emotions properly. 

“always going to take care of you, that’s a promise Daryl”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[walkingtalkingsomething]

yay 🥰🥰🥰

Can’t Continue Being ‘Just’ Friends

A/n: okay this is a sorta pt two of THIS fic here but it can be read in any order. I dunno why it took me so long to write this but here we go! also this was also requested by @sasha-37 in may ooops

☽ Summary: You both knew that this is not what best friends do. sure maybe if they didn’t have strong underlying but obvious sexual tension and soft want between them. But this is you and Daryl, soft simering want and the sexual tension is becoming so incredibly hard to ignore but for the sake of comfort and security you both continue to ignore it.

☽ Warnings: None really! just fluff <3

☽ Word count: 2.5k

“ugh…F-..Fuck sake” You mutter under your breath, It’s late around 1 AM you can’t sleep you’ve been tossing and turning for the last three hours or so but no position seems to sooth your restless mind. All you want is a cigarette but with each flick of your light it only seems to lead to empty sparks which only serves to grow your frustrations and unease stronger. “Fuckin’ perfect” You mutter throwing the lighter to the pavement just ahead of the porch stairs you have perched yourself on. You let out a deep pissed off sigh and just as you are about to stand up and go back inside a familiar but comforting grumbling voice appears. 

“You havin’ a tantrum over th’ lighter?” Daryl says with a small smirk that is concealed by the cold darkness of the night. As you shoot him an annoyed but almost grateful glare Daryl is already clearing the six foot gap between you two and he sits shoulder to shoulder with you on the stairs. “Need help?” He questions as he holds up the lighter to the unlit cigarette that remains between your lips.

“Thanks…” You mumble around the cigarette as you take a long much needed and craved inhale of the now lit cigarette before exhaling the smoke into the cold bitey winter air. You sit shoulder to shoulder with Daryl in a comfortable silence for an unmeasured amount of time but that's how you like it, uninterrupted and quiet just you and Daryl. Maybe it’s a subconsciously selfish desire to have the man to yourself even though he’s not technically yours to claim but in the back of your mind you know he’s considered himself yours for a while. His actions make it clear the way he seeks you out even in the depths of the night when the whole world is in a quiet slumber, he’ll invite himself in your house through the backdoor you leave open for him and he’ll climb into your bed or when you’re in public he’ll actively ask Rick, Carol or Sasha for your whereabouts.

Tonight is no different, except tonight you are already awake sitting on your porch steps trying to soothe your restless mind. “S’ good you came now.. I was gonna come to your house” You mutter quietly as to not wake up your sleeping roommates Sasha and Tyreese. Daryl furrows his eyebrows in surprise as he turns his head to look at you, this would’ve been the first time you’ve actively seeked him out. “You were huh?” Daryl mutters back his lip twitching up, voice soft but still gravely and gruff in his own way before he takes a drag of his own smoke before turning his gaze forward again. 

“Mmmh.. don’t act so surprised Dar” You hum with a slow eye roll accompanied with a lazy drag of your smoke. You watch his expression changed subtly as he figures out how to answer you. 

“You don’t come find me often s’ all” Daryl shrugs his voice gruff but almost shy in his stupidly endearing way. Daryl stays silent again as he blows smoke into the air. "Yeah cause when i wake up you're already usually in my fuckin bed or at my door waitin to be let in like a stray" you say your voice quiet as it is late at night, but there’s a teasing tone to her voice but also a hint of softness as it's clear you don’'t mind Daryl coming into your room.

“I ain’t waitin’ outside ya door like a stray.. I knock or just come in” Daryl says with a small scoff as he looks at You. “there's a big difference”

You chuckle lightly at his statement, Daryl has always been one to deny things like this even when it’s very much true. “You keep tellin ya self that big boy” You tease quietly as you stamp out your ciggy before standing up and tilting your head as you motion to go inside wordlessly. Daryl follows close behind you like the good dog he is. You and Daryl sneak past Sasha's room then Tyreese's room silently, you haven’t been caught yet with Daryl in your bed not that it’d be a big deal apart from Carol saying “told you so” a million times over. 

Once you both make it to your bedroom Daryl shuts the door behind him before watching you toe off your boots and slipping out of your jacket and jeans before snaking your way into the right side of the bed. Daryl follows suit as he toes off his own boots then slipping out of his vest and shirt then his jeans fall to the floor. The bed frame creaks under his weight as Daryl gets into bed and lays down on his back waiting for you to carry out the usual routine which is you sighing before scooching over to lay down on his chest, your arm draped over his midsection and your legs tangled with his own. You both knew that this is not what best friends do. sure maybe if they didn’t have strong underlying but obvious sexual tension and soft want between them. But this is you and Daryl, soft simering want and the sexual tension is becoming so incredibly hard to ignore but for the sake of comfort and security you both continue to ignore it. As usual you both melt into the touch of each other as you lay intertwined and fit together like a perfect puzzle. 

You let out a final sigh before your eyes flutter shut quicker than they do without Daryl and you surrender to the fatigue that flows through your body as you circum to sleep. 

The soft winter sunlight filters through the blinds of your room but that isn’t what rips you from your sleep. Instead it is the door of your bedroom opening followed by a surprised gasp and a quick squeaked “Sorry!” from Sasha. It takes you a moment to understand why she apologised then you hear the annoyed groan of the man beside you and you remember Daryl is entangled with you, shirtless and sleeping. You hadn’t told Sasha or Tyreese about your “platonic sleepovers” with Daryl yet, not that you planned to tell anyone anyway as it was a part of your life you wanted private not out of shame but because it became your sanctuary of peace that no one could disturb until this morning. “Fuck sake…” You grumble as you rub your eyes with a loud sigh coming from the hunter. Daryl runs one hand through his hair and one hand along your leg from your hip to your lower knee. “Who was that..” Daryl mutters his voice husky from sleep as he squints at you. “That was Sasha I think..” You reply with a slow lazy chuckle as you sit up and stretch. You don’t blame Sasha for shutting the door so quickly as from the outside it looks like you and Daryl hooked up, both of your jeans lay on the floor at the end of the bed Daryl's shirt on the other side of the room. But that is far from the truth, all you two did was sleep like almost every night. You have never done anything sexual with Daryl, you have never even kissed even if there's a small part of you that really wants to. There's another part of you that knows if you get the signals wrong you could ruin a friendship that is so dear to you that you’d be so utterly lost without Daryl Dixon.

“Well shit… how we gonna explain this?” Daryl says with a small laugh but he’s more grumpy than anything. You honestly don’t know how to answer his question as you are too busy wrapped up in figuring out how to make sure this doesn't get back to Carol as you’re never going to hear the end of it from her. “Uhhh wish i knew big man… Guess we are just gonna have to cop the awkwardness” You shrug as you step out of bed with a sigh and you raise your arms to the sky as you stretch your sleep ridden body. Daryl watches you like a predator watching his prey as you slowly walk over to your jeans on the floor and slip them back on before following suit and tugging on his own clothes. 

“Hey..” Sasha says with a small laugh as she stands in the kitchen, you are standing in front of her Daryl lingering a few feet behind you. “Morning” You nod before walking off with full intentions of playing it off as if it never even happened.

“Carol” Sasha says with a shit eating grin plastered on her face as she walks over to the older woman as Carol stands near a small fire drum stoking a fire, usually Sasha isn’t one for gossip, she's not a teen girl but her and Carol had been making theories about you and Daryl's relationship for the past few weeks.Clearly this time is an exception for gossip. “I just walked in on them wrapped in each other's arms asleep in her bed” Sasha doesn’t even need to speak your names for Carol to know who she is talking about. Carol lets out a surprised laugh as she sits down at the table with Sasha “well it was really only a matter of time” Carol says with a laugh, if anything she’s less surprised and more happy for Daryl as you are exactly what he needs in Carol's mind and there's no denying how dear Daryl is to Carol.

It is later in the afternoon, the sun is at its peak for the day, but it is shielded by sad greying clouds that are beginning to plague the sky. Daryl is helping Carol patch a hole in the outside of the wall of Alexandria, he knows she can do it herself but he likes making sure she’s safe. They work in a comfortable silence for a while before Carol hums slowly and delicaly like she knows what she’s about to say may spook him. “I heard you had a little embarrassing incident this morning with a certain lady” Carol says slowly and carefully but with a small smirk. Daryl looks straight at Carol with a small glare before he sighs running his hands through his hair. “Sasha tell you huh?” He sighs as he hammers some pegs into the ground, he doesn’t seem overly mad or annoyed, more just inconvenienced. Which is new as Daryl hates being embarrassed in any sense. “She’s rubbing off on you.. Her calmness” Carol says with a light entertained chuckle which elicits a scoff from Daryl “her calmness? I dunno if we are thinking of the same woman right now because the woman i’m thinkin of..she ain’t calm” Daryl jokes as he looks at Carol but she just chuckles more “Well she has her moments of calm and clearly they are rubbing off on you”

“Tch whatever” Daryl says with a shrug and a wave of his hand. Carol sighs as she suddenly becomes more serious as she looks at the man in front of her. “Daryl-”  “No, we ain’t hookin up or anythin.. We just sleep in the same bed sometimes- it helps me.. Us sleep” Daryl says suddenly shy and embarrassed as he focuses on his shoes for a moment. Carol almost laughs at Daryl's words but the shy and vulnerable look on his face stops her as she realises he’s telling the truth. “Well if it helps you sleep, that's good but Daryl the way you two are.. It ain't what regular best friends do” Carol says softly as she looks at the hunter, Daryl is very important to Carol and she hates to see him hurt. She’s been watching him yearn for your love since the prison but he’s always been too scared to say something.

“You can’t continue being just friends. Not with the way you look at eachother” 

Carol’s words are Daryl's official wake up call, he decides tonight is the night he’s going to confront you even if it scares him shitless. Carol walks Daryl halfway to your house before saying goodluck and letting him walk the rest of the way, the whole time Daryl is sweating bullets he’s never felt more scared and excited at the same time. It starts raining when he’s about 10 feet from your house so he is lightly damp when he arrives. 

Once Daryl reaches your front door he lingers in front of it for what feels like hours before he knocks once, then twice, then three times. Thankfully you answer the door because he has no idea what he would’ve done if it was Sasha or tyreese. 

“Oh, Hey.. wasn’t expecting you” You say with surprise but it’s always a happy surprise. You look at Daryl and a small worried frown forms on your face as he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen the man and you’ve watched him face 20 walkers by himself and he barely flinched. You brace yourself for bad news. “Yeah I uh… I gotta talk to you if that’s okay?” Daryl says shyly his voice gruffer and huskier than usual as he rubs the back of his neck. You nod silently and subconsciously bite your lip without realising as you are waiting for him to tell you someone died. For what feels like several lifetimes Daryl just stares at you not being able to speak he’s frozen in place. “Daryl.. You’re worrying me, what's wrong?” You say with a small shake to your voice as you look at the man in front of you who is trying to make himself smaller.

“I uh.. Look.. shit” Daryl fumbles as he looks down at his boots then at you again, he is blushing now and looking more nervous and it dawns on you possibly what he’s trying to get out and he’s never looked cuter. “You’re my closest friend okay? You’re my best friend and i don’t wanna fuck this is up ever but.. Shit.. I love you, okay? And what we are doin, this sleepin in the same bed it ain't what friends do” Daryl blurts out. 

Even though you were expecting it, his words to be like a semi, you are left completely speechless. Daryl closes the distance between you two and he cups your face in his hands before kissing you deeply but softer than you expected ever. Once he pulls away you try to go back in for another kiss but he dodges it and just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re real. “After this, i don’t wanna just go back to being friends yeah? I want you, i want you to be mine” 

 “I love you too Daryl Dixon” You finally whisper back against his lips as you kiss him sweetly again.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

guard dog daryl = one of the best daryls

“Don’t Touch Her”

It had been a long day too hot, too loud, too much work. You’d meant to rest for just a minute beneath the big oak tree at the edge of the base, where the breeze still rolled through the tall grass and the shade softened the sun. You leaned back against the trunk, eyes slipping shut as birds chirped somewhere in the distance and your breathing slowly evened out.

Daryl had seen you go out there, sweat still clinging to the back of your neck, that tired look on your face. He didn’t say anything, just followed at a distance, settling into a crouch a few yards away like a silent guardian. Crossbow resting across his knee, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He kept his eyes on you, watching the way your chest rose and fell with every soft breath.

You looked peaceful. Maybe the most peaceful he’d seen you in weeks. And he liked that.

Then he saw the guy some new recruit Rick had taken in, cocky in that way only people who hadn’t seen enough death could be. The guy walked up, boots crunching too loud in the grass, his eyes lingering a little too long on you asleep in the shade.

“Hey,” he said casually, nudging your foot with his boot. “You good? You can’t just nap anywhere, you know.”

You stirred, confused, blinking groggily as you started to sit up.

Before you could even answer, a low voice cut through the space like a knife.

“Back up.”

The guy turned, startled.

Daryl was on his feet, jaw tight, cigarette tossed to the dirt and forgotten. He stalked over, eyes dark and cold, every inch of his body radiating tension. Protective. Angry. Ready.

“She’s fine,” Daryl growled, stepping between you and the guy like a wall. “Don’t touch her.”

“I was just ——”

“You don’t touch her,” Daryl snapped again, voice sharp enough to draw blood. “You see someone sleepin’, you leave ‘em the hell alone. Especially her.”

The guy put his hands up, backing off fast. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean anything.”

Daryl didn’t say anything else didn’t need to. One look was enough to send the guy walking fast in the other direction.

You rubbed your eyes, still half-asleep, confused. “What… what happened?”

Daryl turned back to you, his whole expression softening the second his eyes landed on your face.

“Nothin’, sunshine,” he said gently, crouching in front of you again. “Just some idiot didn’t know how to mind his business.”

You smiled sleepily, leaning your head into his chest without a word.

Daryl wrapped his arms around you like it was second nature, his hand sliding up to your hair, thumb gently rubbing against your scalp. “You go on back to sleep. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And he didn’t.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

🥺🥺🥹🥹🤗🤗

“No” is a full sentence.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem! reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Requested by @astridphantom

Era: season 1

Word count: 1.2k

⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains depictions of attempted sexual assault and its aftermath. While care has been taken to handle this subject with sensitivity, the content may be distressing or triggering for some readers. Please prioritize your well-being and feel free to skip this story if needed.

Resources for survivors are listed here and remember you are loved and if you haven't heard it today, I love you and i'm proud of you.

a/n: If you are a survivor of sexual violence, know that you are not alone. There is help and support available, wherever you are in the world. Below are resources for confidential support:

RAINN (U.S.): https://www.rainn.org/

UK - Rape Crisis: https://rapecrisis.org.uk/

Canada - Sexual Assault Centres: https://endingviolencecanada.org/

Australia - 1800RESPECT: https://www.1800respect.org.au/

International - Women Against Violence Europe (WAVE): https://www.wave-network.org/

You deserve to be heard, you deserve safety. and you most definitely are not what happened to you. ❤️

The camp had grown more crowded than it was just a week ago, with more and more people slipping through the cracks of Atlanta to seek refuge beyond its smoking edges. Shane and Rick just didn’t have the heart to turn anyone away.

You had been one of those desperate souls. Shane found you almost a month ago, rummaging through abandoned cars at a massive traffic jam, desperate for water, food…anything to keep yourself alive. You’d been skeptical, of course, but when he’d said he had a kid with him your guard slipped, a little naïvely, you realized now. But that security shattered when Glenn brought Rick back to camp and you learned that Carl wasn’t Shane’s son and Lori wasn’t his wife. 

From that moment on, Shane’s kindness twisted into something else, something predatory. Your chores vanished, you weren’t allowed to hunt with Daryl anymore and your dinner portions grew, which you declined. Then, your tent tore, “a bear,” Shane had claimed and now you were sleeping in his. But every night, he scooted closer and his wandering hands grew colder.

You sought distractions during the day that would keep you away from him. That morning, you'd gone looking for Daryl, your anchor, who’d become far more than a friend despite his rough edges and sharp tongue, but found only a note left for you, wedged between some rocks where he knew you’d look. Went huntin’. Be back soon. He hadn’t said it the night before, but the fact that he left the note at all said enough.

As a silent thank-you, you did him a favor he’d never ask for, gathering his dirty laundry and heading down to the quarry before breakfast.

The sun reflected off the surface, and for a moment, with your hands submerged and your voice softly singing to yourself, the world almost felt normal, until a voice startled you from behind.

“Morning,” he rasped, making you freeze. It was Shane, always following you around. “You skipped breakfast.”

Crouched at the water’s edge, you barely looked up when answering. “I wasn’t hungry,” 

“Well, sweetheart, life ain’t about that anymore. When there’s food, you eat.”

“Don’t call me that,” you muttered.

“What? Sweetheart?” He stepped closer. You didn’t notice his hungry eyes on you, nor the way he licked his lips. “Ain’t that what you are?”

You felt his hand grip possessively the back of your neck, thumb stroking your skin. Your whole body tensed for a second and in a single motion you shot to your feet and shoved him back with wet hands, his laughter cold in your ears.

“I said I wanted you to stop, all of it. The looks, the comments, the pet names…”

“Lower your damn voice,” he snapped, a finger stabbing the air.

“The touches while I sleep!”

His hand moved quickly, clamping over your mouth and jaw as terror sparked in your eyes. He dragged you further from camp’s view, ignoring your muffled screams, hits and struggles. With a single jerk, he yanked at your shirt, the fabric tearing easily, baring your chest to the cold air. 

“No! Please, Shane! I don’t want this. Please…” Your begging grew desperate, tears burning down your face.

“It’ll be fast. You want this. I see how you look at me—”

He pressed your face against a rock, rough stone scraping your cheek and temple. The pressure of his hand silenced your scream and you fought to breathe, words lost beneath his weight as he struggled to tug down your pants.

“Shut up. I saved you!” he shouted in your ear as if that granted him a reward. You yelped, willing your eyes shut.

And then suddenly, in a rush of movement and angry shouts, a body tackled Shane off you and with his weight gone, you crumpled to the ground, paralyzed by terror. From where you crouched, you watched Daryl pin Shane down, fists flying in blind rage until Shane finally stilled under him. Even then, you saw Daryl struggle to let him go, which he only did when he saw you there, trembling, wide eyed and vulnerable, with deep sobs cutting through the breeze.

In an instant, Daryl was kneeling beside you, fists red and chest still heaving as he stripped off his button-up and draped it over your shoulders to cover you. His shaky hands stilled and became gentle, cupping your face as you sobbed.

“Hey. You okay? Sunshine, look at me.” His voice was rough but soft, thumb gently brushing blood away from the gash on your cheek. “I’m here. Y’ain’t alone no more.”

You nodded numbly through tears, barely hearing him while your entire body froze in shock and by the time you had the courage to look up again, Shane was gone.

It took hours before you could stand, hours where you didn’t speak either. Your throat was raw and tears threatened to spill whenever you tried. Daryl stayed close but gave you space, never once rushing or pressuring you. When you were finally ready, he snuck you back into camp, careful to avoid unwanted attention and brought you to his tent only after you’d agreed. He then brought you a change of clothes and stepped out so you could change in peace.

When you called him back in, he entered quietly with medical supplies in hand, pausing when he saw you’d put on the shirt he’d given you, a flicker of emotion in his eyes. You made a move to take it off but he stopped you gently, stopping before he touched your hand.

“Ya can keep it,” he said softly.

“Thank you…” you whispered, then sniffled, letting silence stretch between you. “I didn’t think anyone would hear.”

“Ya don’t gotta thank me.” He said, stopping you before you could proceed.

Daryl had been on his way back to camp when he heard a single scream. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had recognized your voice or not but the truth was, he ran much faster when he did. 

He knelt in front of you, laying out gauze and ointment with practiced care. “Can I?” he asked softly.

You nodded, letting him clean your wounds with feather-light touch that never lingered longer than necessary.

“I’m sorry I left your laundry down at the quarry,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“Ya don’t gotta—”

“And for coming in here, touching your stuff—”

“Hey.” He interrupted, catching your gaze. “Take a breath fer me.”

You did, matching his slow, deep and steady inhales until the panic faded.

“Listen,” he said quietly, “ya can come in here anytime ya want. Touch whatever ya need ... .Hell ya can take anythin’. Ain’t nothin’ in here I wouldn’t give ya myself.”

Then, you met his eyes for the first time and he continued, even softer than before.

“I’m sorry this happened t’ you.” He hesitated. “If ya wanna tell Rick—”

“No,” you said, shaking your throbbing head quickly. “Not a good idea. Lori and Shane…and now Rick… I just don’t trust him. Not yet.”

He nodded, understanding plain on his face. “Do ya trust me?”

The word sat in your throat, but finally, you nodded. “Yes.”

He nodded back. “Alrigh’. You’ll sleep here now. I’ll be righ’ outside all nigh’ and If ya need me, you just call. Tomorrow, I’ll go get yer stuff and we’ll figure the rest out…That okay?”

You didn’t answer with words but simply melted into him instead, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

SHANE'S GIRL ➵ D. DIXON [14]

Part Fourteen | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh & Merle Dixon are the worst, angst, canon violence, mentions of tobacco use, story follows the show but dialogue and events are paraphrased, abusive behavior, a very slow burn

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: Alright. I'm back after a work induced hiatus. I have missed this story deeply and even though this isn't the most eventful chapter, I'm excited for what it's setting up. I've also updated the playlist on Spotify if any of you want to give it a listen — I think it encapsulates our two favorite apocalypse idiots very well. As always, let me know what you all think and if you want to be added to the taglist.

attack seems to have shaken everyone; however, for Daryl, it’s different. He’s dealt with plenty of walkers during his various hunts after the world’s end, but this wasn’t just one or two stragglers in the woods that he could sneak up on before they noticed him. No, this time they were too close to home, and they managed to get the jump on him. He almost died. The realization almost made him sick to his stomach. It’s not that Daryl fears death. He’d come to terms with his own demise long before the dead started walking. Hell, he always assumed he’d die young anyway. The fear that settled deep into Daryl’s bones last night was not for himself, but for the woman softly snoring into his shoulder: you.

You saved his life. And the terror in your eyes afterwards, as you stared at the bloody knife in your hands, will haunt him for the rest of his days. Because it’s his fault. You killed to save him. And maybe it’s not his place, but Daryl was hoping to shield you from the horrors of this world for as long as possible. He knows the toll that taking another life does to a person — the guilt and pain that lingers in the back of his mind every day. He knows that it doesn’t matter that they’re technically already dead — that walker was still a human being once. He didn’t want that burden on your shoulders, but now it’s too late.

The sun is just cresting over the horizon when Rick’s voice slices through the thick silence that settled over the quarry camp, officially ending the longest night that Daryl has ever experienced.

“I know we’re all running on fumes, but we need to bury our dead.”

Rick’s voice is quiet, but there’s an urgency to his tone as his eyes shift from Daryl to T-Dog and Glenn. The two men had hunkered down near the RV once the chaos had settled and exhaustion consumed the camp for just a few hours. Even though he hasn’t spoken to either of them since you’ve all gotten back from Atlanta, Daryl’s grateful that they stuck close to both of you. Now, more than ever, Daryl believes that there is safety in numbers. Still, he couldn’t sleep. Even though his shoulders sag due to the weight of the last twenty-four hours, the warmth of your body keeps him up. A constant reminder of what he has to protect — of what he could have lost last night amidst the devastation. So, even though every single fiber of Daryl’s being yearns to stay by your side, he nods at Rick’s words.

“Not you, Daryl.”

Daryl’s brow furrows, and he's not the only one confused by his words. Both Glenn and T-Dog look skeptically at Rick until they follow his gaze. Rick Grimes is watching you peacefully sleep against the camp’s, so-called, notorious brute. Daryl suddenly feels uncomfortable and shifts slightly under the weight of their attention. The movement causes you to stir in your sleep and he fights off a smile at the content sigh that escapes your lips as you press your face further into his shoulder. Rick raises a brow at you both before continuing.

“You’re busy. I haven’t seen her get a good night’s sleep since I’ve gotten back.”

He’s right. Daryl’s not sure if you’ve truly rested at all since he’s met you. And a part of him believes that has more to do with Shane Walsh than the end of the world. After all, it’s probably hard to relax when the most dangerous threat to your well-being is lurking in your tent. So, Daryl simply gives Rick a firm nod.

“Man, why does Dixon always get to play bodyguard?”

Glenn’s eyes immediately widen, and he elbows T-Dog in the side. T-Dog’s eyes land on Glenn before following his gaze to Daryl. He raises his hands up in defeat as the archer glares daggers at them both.

“I’m just kidding, man.”

“You better be.”

Rick huffs out a laugh before placing himself between the men. He gives Daryl a momentary, warning glance before turning to T-Dog.

“You best get to work or else you might need a bodyguard.”

T-Dog’s eyes shift from Rick to Daryl. Daryl juts his chin up at the man. He doesn’t want to fight — not when you look so peaceful right now — but he’s not one to back down. Luckily, T-Dog sighs defeatedly before walking off with Glenn in tow. Rick watches them walk away for several moments before turning back to Daryl. He raises a brow at the youngest Dixon brother before collapsing into the lawn chair T-Dog had been lounging in. Daryl watches as Rick roughly runs his hands over his face — it looks like he got about as much sleep as Daryl did last night.

“Listen, I feel like you and I got off on the wrong foot.”

Daryl scoffs at Rick’s words. Off on the wrong foot seems like an understatement. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Rick had a gun pointed at him in Atlanta. But he’s important to you, so Daryl bites his tongue and lets him continue.

“But I know her.”

Rick’s gaze drops down to you, and Daryl’s eyes follow.

“And she trusts you.”

Daryl tears his eyes away from you at that admission. He expects to find confusion or judgment on Rick’s face, but instead, he’s looking at you with the tenderness of a loving brother. And when Rick looks back up at him, there’s a sadness in his eyes that he cannot place.

“I don’t know what happened while I was gone, but I know you looked out for her. Thank you.”

The earnestness in his tone surprises Daryl, but he gives the man a firm nod. In all honesty, he doesn’t need his thanks. It has never been a burden to look out for you, and he’s certainly not trying to pass off the responsibility onto someone else. No, Daryl Dixon has begrudgingly come to terms with the fact that he cares about you. The two men sit in comfortable silence together until another muffled sob escapes Andrea, who is still clutching Amy’s limp hand in hers.

“What are we gonna do about that?”

Daryl motions towards the sisters with his free arm, and Rick glances towards them before letting out a deep sigh. He rakes a hand through his hair, and Daryl almost feels bad for asking. After all, Rick never asked to become the de facto leader of this group. But someone has to call the shots, and Daryl sure as hell doesn’t want it to be Shane.

“I already talked to her. She said she’ll take the shot — but only after she turns.”

A sudden rage courses through Daryl’s veins. Waiting for Amy to turn into one of those monsters endangers everyone in this camp. Rick knows the risk, and yet he’s still allowing it to happen. Daryl isn’t in charge — he doesn’t want to be — but he will not risk your life for the convenience of others. Maybe it’s selfish, but he really doesn’t give a shit.

“You can’t be serious. That girl’s a time bomb and you know it.”

Rick’s face hardens, and his jaw clenches.

“What do you suggest?”

“Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

You mumble the words into Daryl’s shoulder, just loud enough for both men to hear. Your face scrunches up immediately once you open your eyes. A groan escapes your lips as you try to adjust to the morning sunlight.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Rick snorts, which causes you to peel yourself away from Daryl so you can shoot the sheriff a playful glare. For a moment, Daryl is disappointed by the loss of contact, but then he spots the blush that’s creeping across your cheeks due to the nickname he’s given you. It tumbled off Daryl’s lips before he could think twice about it. He meant it as a lighthearted jab — understanding the way your eyes meet the rising sun with nothing but disdain. After all, he didn’t become a morning person until the world fell apart. He recalls the nickname rolling off his mother’s lips on the mornings she remembered to wake him up for elementary school. And the groan that escaped you reminds him of the ones he’d let out as Merle would exclaim that nickname in the kitchen when Daryl finally stumbled out of his room late in the afternoon with an intense headache due to the hangover he had from the eventful night before. But honestly, in Daryl’s heart, it’s less of a nickname and more a term of endearment — one he could find himself using more as long as you keep letting him.

“What’s so funny, Grimes?”

“Nothin’. It’s good, sunshine. Fitting, even. Just wish I’d thought of it myself.”

You roll your eyes at the sheriff before shifting your eyes back to Daryl. Your playful expression suddenly turns serious as you regard him.

“I’m serious, Daryl. Let her be. She needs to do this her way.”

Daryl studies you for a moment. And Rick watches as you both seem to have an entire conversation without speaking. The interaction confuses him deeply, and he desperately needs to sit down with you to catch up on everything he’s seemingly missed. To his surprise, Daryl shifts on his feet slightly before giving you a nod.

“‘Lright.”

You give him a small smile — a silent thank you to him for trusting your intuition. Daryl’s eyes shift from you to where T-Dog and Glenn are burying the dead. Even though he knows it’s not his responsibility, he suddenly feels guilty that he’s not helping. You follow his gaze and put the pieces together. You know how hard it is for Daryl to stay still, especially when he knows there’s something else he can be doing. You reach out, grabbing his forearm to get his attention. His focus is immediately on you — his expression brimming with concern as his eyes check you over.

“Go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Rick. Go.”

Daryl’s eyes shift to the sheriff before finding their way back to you once more. You understand how he feels. After last night — after watching that walker almost tear into his flesh — you don’t want Daryl out of your sight right now. But you’ve both got things to do and there will always be responsibilities that will pull you away from one another. Finally, Daryl seems to relent.

“You need anything, you come get me. ‘Lright?”

You nod at his request and watch as he slings his crossbow over his shoulder after getting up. He looks down at you one last time before walking off towards Glenn and T-Dog. Your eyes follow Daryl for longer than you care to admit, and once you finally peel your gaze away from him, you’re met with an incredibly perplexed Rick Grimes. He looks like your protective older brother — arms crossed tightly across his chest and brow raised in confusion.

“I think you and I need to have a little talk.”

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[walkingtalkingsomething]

props to requester because heightened senses with daryl on its own is always so swoony, and you've done the idea to perfection 💙

what if u lost your eyesight, temporarily maybe. and daryl tries to teach u to start relying on ur other senses. “it’s not all about what ya see,” maybe he throws a rock at a tree and u hear it and shoot in the same spot.

idk him just being there for u to help u until ur vision comes back. he’d be so patient

Even If We Can’t Find Heaven, I’ll Walk Through Hell with You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (unestablished)

Warnings: Typical TWD violence & gore; injuries; blindness

Summary: When an accident leaves you (temporarily?) blind, Daryl steps up.

A/N: I, by no means, know anything about being blind. I tried my best with this.

Maybe they didn’t realize you could hear them. You yourself were surprised that you could. They were in the other room. You shouldn’t be surprised though. You knew that other senses would heighten when you lost one. You just never thought you would experience that firsthand. But then the accident. Falling from that height should have killed you. You almost wished that it had. It would have been preferable to the state in which it had left you. Blind. Hershel had said it could be temporary. Could be. That wasn’t a comfort in a world gone mad. So you sat against the heavy barred door of the cell that you had chosen when the prison was first acquired. Even with its familiarity, it was nothing but a labyrinth to you now. You had been trying to navigate it, tripping over everything. You had busted your knee on the concrete floor twice. Overcome with exhaustion and hopelessness, you could only listen as your future was discussed without you. “We have to be realistic. The likelihood that she’ll make it now is—” Rick sounded so broken even as he tried to reason with everyone. He was likely reasoning with himself just as hard. “So what exactly are ya suggestin’?” Daryl barked. Even from a distance, his tone made you flinch. “She ain’t some lame horse we gotta put down. She’s a fuckin’ person.” “I’m not saying that, Daryl.” Rick was trying to calm his friend. Beyond the darkness that enveloped you, you could nearly picture him trying to place a hand on Daryl’s shoulder only for the hunter to shrug it off. “S’what it sounds like you’re sayin’.” The sound of boots scuffing on the concrete—defined short crunches that came with a footstep on gravel or debris—came next. “I got ‘er.” “What’s that mean?” Carol called, concern evident in her tone. Obviously, Daryl was retreating, and from the sound of his footfalls, he was headed straight to you. “Said I got ‘er.” He shot back. What did that mean? You could hear your own heart beginning to hammer a tattoo into your ribcage, your breathing becoming erratic. No, Daryl would never hurt you. You were friends. You were all friends. How could they give up on you so easily? 

“Y/N.” Daryl was in your doorway now, standing just above you. You could smell cigarettes and leather. A hint of pine. A musk that was just—him. You had never noticed it before, not even when he had been the one to sit at your bedside while you recovered. Or when he had led you to your cell when Hershel said you could leave the makeshift infirmary. You swallowed around the sudden tightness in your throat. “Yeah?”

He was quiet for a moment but the way he sucked on his teeth was loud. “S’go outside.” His fingers brushed your shoulder, a touch so light that a feather would be heavy handed in comparison. “C’mon.”

“O-okay.” You had to grab the bars of your cell, sliding your hands up as you rose. Daryl didn’t help you, but you could at least hope he would catch you if you fell. “Why are we going outside?” You asked, your voice quavering. It was difficult to move without your hands instinctively being out in front of you, preparing for the inevitable fall. Another light touch, this time on your elbow. “Y’need some fresh air.” He answered. There was the slightest twitch in his grip. If you weren’t so tuned in with every other sense, you would have missed it. He had shrugged, a gesture that was classically Daryl. “Hold up. Stairs.” You stopped instantly, waiting for him to pick you up and save himself the time. He didn’t. “Daryl?” You turned your head toward his quiet breaths, his grip tightening slightly on your elbow. “S’go, then. Y’gotta learn.” A gentle tug on your arm had you feeling for the edge of the top stair with the toe of your boot. The anticipation of that first step had your gut twisting. “Ain’t gonna letcha fall.” When you began to lower your foot, he stopped you with his free arm reaching across your body. Your hand in his, he guided them both to the railing. “Hold the rail. Can’t always depend on someone to be ‘round to help ya.” Can’t always. So, he wasn’t going to mercy kill you when you reached the outdoors. “Okay,” was all you could say. It seemed like a time when a word or two of gratitude would be warranted, but your voice didn’t want to cooperate. Continuing to slowly descend was what you chose to focus on. Unsteady step after unsteady step. Daryl let you set the pace. He didn’t even huff with impatience. “Doin’ good.” When you stumbled, he would stop and let you correct yourself, find your bearings. “There ya go.” 

When the warm summer air greeted you, you tilted your face upward, closing your eyes as if you were confined to the darkness by your own will. “Feels nice.” You breathed, more to yourself than him. He didn’t reply but instead tugged on your arm to keep you moving. “Where’re we going?” 

You thought he might not answer, the silence stretching past the point of any reply becoming unwarranted. “Gonna teach ya.”

Huh? “Teach me?” What was that supposed to mean?

“Mhm.” Daryl Dixon, a man of few words and even fewer answers. 

It wasn’t until you could sense a change in the terrain—walking downhill—that his crossbow nudged the round of your shoulder. There was something else there too. It tapped against your hip, unfamiliar and daunting. 

“Open the gate.” Daryl barked. You paled. 

“Are you insane?!” Maggie. Her exclamation gave your own incredulity a voice.

“No more than yesterday.” 

You just knew a shrug accompanied that flippant response. 

“You can’t take her out there!” Glenn, from the tower. How did you even know that? 

Daryl huffed a laugh through his nose. “Know where they are, don’cha?” His voice was quieter now. That was meant for your ears only. He wasn’t wrong. Maggie was on the right side of the gate. Glenn high on the left. “Gonna teach ya how to use that.”

Daryl had always been a man of action, and he never wasted time or energy on anything he believed to be futile. So, he must have believed in you and your ability to survive. 

“Daryl, I—” you began as you heard the gate roll against the gravelly pavement. “The walkers—”

“I gotcha. Just walk.” He urged. He never released your elbow. Even as the walkers’ sinewy snarls drew ever closer. Even as you felt him move all around you, the thwacking squelch of his knife of a threat ventured too close. “Alright. Clear but gotta keep movin’.”

You nodded, even though you barely registered his voice. Your heart was too loud. “How exactly—”

“Can’cha just trust me?” He blustered. “Christ on a cracker” followed immediately after. You wished you had it in you to satirize him with playful banter. 

The sounds of the forest quickly swallowed you. The crunch of the leaves beneath your boots, embrittled as if they’d given up on the world. The creaking trees at the mercy of the warm breeze that disturbed your hair. The melodious call of birds. 

The scent of earthy resin, the trees wearing it like perfume. The herbaceous and floral aromas of all the species of flowers. A whiff of damp wood brought about by the high humidity. 

Even if your sight returned, you’d never forget experiencing nature in such a manner. 

“This should be good.” Daryl spoke abruptly, startling you out of your reverie. He finally released your arm, the action followed up by the heavy shifting of his crossbow. Then there was a sound you didn’t recognize at first. Maybe it was just that you had never appreciated it until now. 

A traditional bow. 

Your jaw fell open. “You’re not suggesting—”

“Ain’t suggestin’ nothin’. You’re gonna do it.” He wasn’t fucking around. He really believed that you could manage to use a loose an arrow while totally blind. “Seen ya use this more than once. Take it.” He didn’t put it in your hand. What the hell? “Ain’t got all day.”

Oh. He wanted you to reach for it, use your knowledge of where he stood to accept the weapon. Your fingers searched, grasping at air before they finally brushed the smooth arch of the bow. And then it was pulled away. 

“Gonna hafta to do better than that.” There was an undertone of patience there that Daryl just wasn’t known for displaying. 

“Daryl, I can’t see. How do you expect—”

“Ain’t ‘bout whatcha can see.” He was moving, circling you. “Ya got ears.” He stilled. “Use ‘em.” Angling your head, you listened. “Focus on whatcha wanna hear. Tune everythin’ else out.”

It took a moment. Longer than you would have liked. Eventually, you picked up on his breathing, the minute creaking of the wooden arrow rest within his grip. Your hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his. 

“Atta girl.” He praised. You could hear the pride there, practically see that small smile he’d give when something went his way. You couldn’t help but curve the corners of your own lips, the expression souring when the bow was pulled away. He was moving. “Again.”

He circled and crouched and held the weapon high. Each time, you managed to locate it, even if you never seemed to grasp the same place twice. Finally, he released it and left it in your hand.

“Ya did good. Gonna come back tomorrow.” There was no room for argument there. He was determined to see this through. And maybe he had enough faith to compensate for what you lacked. 

The two of you did indeed go back the next day. And the next. And it was more of the same. He moved farther and farther away, encouraging you to seek him out and take your bow. There were a few pauses when walkers would stumble upon your training ground, but other than that, things went smoothly. 

“Nock your arrow.” 

“But where are they?” You questioned, already tilting your head to listen. You heard the clatter of the arrows being dumped onto the forest floor. 

“Find ‘em.” 

“Son of a—” You took a step, then another. An arrow snapped beneath the weight of your boot. “Shit.” Daryl said nothing. Find them, he says. You moved more deliberately, lowering your toe first. Until you heard it: that slight groan that stood out. Keeping your foot still, you bent at the waist and found what you were looking for beneath the softly pressed sole. 

“Nock it.” He directed as he moved, his footfalls growing further away. You did as you were told, pulling the string taut and waiting. “Now ya gotta find your target.” He said from somewhere off to your right. 

You lowered the bow. “Are you nuts?! You want me to shoot at you?!” Your voice was high-pitched, panicked. “What if I hit you?!”

“Ain’t gonna hit me.” He slapped the trunk of a tree, indicating he had coverage. “Now find me.” 

You lost count of how many arrows you let loose, each one missing the mark—either by you stumbling when you turned or just by not finding the correct trajectory. 

“This is hopeless.” You murmured, hearing Daryl approach from collecting the arrows.

“Rome weren’t built in a day.” When he tugged on the bow, you released it immediately. “Gonna try again tomorrow.”

“It’s not even dusk.” 

The ticking of the arrow shafts went silent. “How y’know that?” The words tumbled out, rushed and breathy. Surprised. 

You closed your eyes breathing in the air, cooler than just moments before. The cicadas had come to life, replacing the birdsong. “I can hear it, feel it.”

There was a beat before Daryl cleared his throat. You wished you could see him in that moment, quiet and thoughtful. Maybe staring at the sky while trying to experience things as you were. 

“Should still head back. Be late ‘nough as it is when we get there.” He was shouldering everything in preparation to head out when you stopped him. 

“I can carry something. My balance is better.” You could tell he was considering you. He did that a lot more lately. Or maybe he always had but you could fill the silence by holding his gaze. Those pretty blue eyes. God, you missed them. 

“A’ight.” 

You felt the strap of the quiver pass your face, then his hand tapping your arm for you to lift it and slide it through. “I can do it.”

“Know ya can,” was all he said as he continued, adding the bow next. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was making an excuse to be close to you. Touch you. 

You did know better, right?

“Thanks.” You murmured, audibly tracking his movements. The squeaking slide of leather on leather; crossbow strap against his vest. His footfalls. His breathing. It was strange how each person’s respirations sounded different. With Daryl, there was a roughness, as if the air carried weight and scraped his throat as it passed. 

He hummed in reply, his fingertips brushing your elbow before he actually took hold of it. “S’get goin’.” It was the one thing that hadn’t changed. He maintained a hold on you when you walked to and from the prison. It was comforting, even as you felt yourself adapting to your new life. It was more than just a touch. It was a reassurance. It was a promise.

“I can’t do this, Daryl.” A week. A fucking week of training. Cycle after cycle. Failure after failure. You had managed to graze two trees and never the ones that shielded Daryl. How was he maintaining any level of calm and patience while you were defective time and time again? He had been shucking his duties around the prison to cater to a lost cause. It was only a matter of time before his hand was forced. “Yeah, y’can!” He called out, his voice barely carrying over the rain that surged around you. It was impossible to hear him clearly. “Focus!” His constant heartening was really beginning to grate on your nerves. Why couldn’t he comprehend that they were all better off without you? “I can’t!” You countered, spinning in place, an arrow nocked but the bow lowered. There was too much noise. You couldn’t lock down his location. “Quit your whinin’ an’ concentrate, for fucksake!” He commanded with an undertone of austerity. Finally. He was getting angry. Maybe he’d see reason now and just go back without you. “Ain’t lettin’ ya quit, woman.” Well, fuck. “Daryl, you know this isn’t—” There. The chafing of footfalls on wet leaves. You angled your head just so, narrowing unseeing eyes. The thick slurp of boots pulling free of mud. Movements that defied the rhythm of the rain, standing out in a cadence of their own. You didn’t think. The bow raised, the twang of the string setting the arrow free echoing in your ears. And then all you could hear was the rain. “Daryl?” “Holy sheep shit.” There was a breathless quality to his words. “Y’missed the tree.” You felt your heart sink. Another fucking failure. “But ya damn near took my nose off.” Wait. “What?” You nearly dropped the bow. “I almost hit you?! Daryl, you said—” “Would’a if I didn’t slip an’ nearly bust my ass.” You came to two very different conclusions at the same time. First, you’d nearly shot Daryl. This wasn’t worth him dying. You weren’t worth it. Second, you had used the sound to locate him between the trees. Not when he was stopping behind them. You dropped the bow, stumbling toward where you could hear him walking. There was an indignant oomf when you collided with his chest. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He was stock still for a moment, muscles tense and breath hitching. “Daryl, I didn’t—I would never—” When his arms wrapped around you, it was your breath catching in your throat. The point of his chin pressed against the crown of your head. “Take the win, Sunshine.” His words were a soft rumble in his chest as you hugged him. You didn’t smell blood but it did little to combat the need to search him for wounds he might be hiding. “Are you sure I didn’t—” “Not leavin’ with any more holes than I came out here with.” You scrunched your nose. “Gross.” Your laughter mingled with his soft chuckle. He didn’t do it often, but it wasn’t lost on you how much you liked hearing it. If only you could see him smile—

“Reckon ya might be able to change that if we keep doin’ this.” He moved, your head instinctively turning to follow the noise. He was picking up the bow and quiver, completing his daily ritual of sliding them over your head to secure them to your back. “Prolly gonna change things up now.” “Thank god.” You tittered, holding out your arm for him to grasp your elbow. He didn’t. He held your hand instead.

Training from that day forward consisted of Daryl standing beside you, firing bolts into trees with you using the sound of impact to hit the same mark. It wasn’t perfecting your ability to hit moving targets, but he was adamant that you didn’t deal with walkers until he knew for certain you would be able to protect yourself. At least this way, Daryl kept his nose. It was eight weeks after the accident that left you blind when Daryl held out an arm to stop anyone from following you into the guard tower. Your steps were slow but sure as you climbed the stairs. You could hear the arguments, the pleas for the archer to stop you. But no one followed. At the top, you used your bow to locate the railing. “She can’t be up there, Daryl!” “Go get her, you idiot!” “If you won’t, I am!” “No, y’ain’t. Just watch.” Daryl silenced the onlookers while you could feel his gaze never leaving you. “Go on now!” He called up. You gave him a nod, tilting your chin just so. Soft rustles of feet dragging through grass. The tracheal growls of walkers. The chaotic chinkling of hands pushing against the prison’s fencing. Sliding the first arrow from the quiver, you nocked it and inhaled as you pulled the bowstring taut. Exhale. Release.

“Thank you.” You said quietly. You were in your cell, lying on the bed and pressing the point of an arrow against the tip of your finger. Not hard enough to break the skin. Just enough to feel. Daryl was on the floor, adjusting the tension of his bowstring. His hands never stopped moving. Your gratitude was either welcome—you doubted it—or he had simply expected it. “For not giving up on me.” There was a quick pfft while he continued to tinker. You took it for what it was: just Daryl being Daryl. “Should know by now that it weren’t likely to happen.” It was you that froze, your brow furrowing as you pondered his words. “That what wasn’t likely to happen?” You asked, ducking your head to clear the metal of the top bunk as you sat up. Strange that you were learning things like that just from memory. “Me givin’ up on ya.” He was right. You should have known. When everyone else had given up on Sophia—Daryl hadn’t. When everyone had given up on Merle—Daryl hadn’t. For all his irritability and lack of social decorum, Daryl was nothing if not loyal. He’d deny it until his dying breath, but when he found it in him to care, he cared with his whole heart. And you were happy to know that he cared about you. “You’re right. I do know.” You smiled, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor to sit next to him. You nudged him with your elbow, smirking when he nudged back. Another nudge from you. Then him. Back and forth it went until you snorted and he grumbled “knock it off”—even though you could feel him smiling. Being blind wasn’t ideal but the company wasn’t bad. Two more months passed like minutes, everyday a new struggle. Daryl was your one constant. It was obvious that he trusted you to handle yourself now even though you still made mistakes. You weren’t always steady. When those moments happened, he was always there. 

“Can’t always depend on someone to be ‘round to help ya.”

That was what he had said. He couldn’t have been more wrong. For every misstep. For every arrow that missed its mark. For every threat that got too close. He was there. 

And when the world eventually swiveled back to greet you, his face was the first you saw. 

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it had been a hot day and you had been practicing clearing the fences with Carol. You had been bone weary when you came inside. It was always a slow trek but you had learned to count your steps from the door to the stairs before you climbed, and then the same method from the top stair to your cell. 

After flopping onto your mattress, you were out. 

The first thing you noticed was light behind your closed lids. What the hell? You didn’t dare to hope. You couldn’t. Not with how much the world had already taken. So you laid there, eyes clenched shut until you could summon the courage for the inevitable next step. 

It was bright. So much so that you needed to close your eyes again and cover them with a hand. “Shit.”

“S’wrong?” Daryl. Daryl was there. “Head hurtin’?”

You shook your head, your chin wobbling. “The light.” You couldn’t focus on what he was doing while being so overwhelmed, but whatever it was stopped. Something clattered to the concrete floor just before the thin mattress dipped beside you. The frame groaned with the added weight. 

“Light?” Daryl’s hand wrapped around yours and eased it away from your face. “Y/N, can—” You turned your head toward the wall, but the light was still there. Waiting to sear you. You whimpered when Daryl gently grasped your chin. He didn’t hurt you—didn’t even scare you—but the sound had him pulling away abruptly. “Open your eyes.”

“I can’t.” Your words were fragile, threatening to shatter the moment they touched the air. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, y’can. C’mon.”

When you tried to raise your other hand, he caught it and held it immobile. His touch was gentle and soothing—-a balm. If he wasn’t holding you in some way, you would certainly shake apart. 

“What if it’s not real? What if—what if I lose it again?” You had yet to turn your face back to where you knew he was looking down at you. 

“Then m’gonna be here.” There was a softness there you had never before heard from Daryl. The words were a physical touch, a gentle caress that calmed the waves of anxiety. “S’gonna be okay.” He gave you a moment to pull yourself together. He never let go of your hands. “Lemme see them eyes.”

You turned your head slowly, nearly retreating before forcing yourself to complete the task. You didn’t open your eyes right away. First you focused on relaxing your muscles, unclenching your jaw. Just do it. 

And you did. 

There was a lack of depth, his features flat with dark patches obscuring a portion. The way your hands pulled free of his and framed his face made him flinch, but when you began to pull away, he covered one of yours with his own. 

“I can see you.” You breathed words you had thought you’d never get to say. “Sorta. You’re blurry.”

“Small favors.” He snorted. “C’mon. Let’s getcha to Hershel. See what he says.” His hand fell away, but when his head started to turn, you held him in place. His brow furrowed. 

“In a minute.” Your smile was soft, an expression of pure velvet. “I wanna look at you.” Just in case. Your thumb brushed over the apple of his cheek. Those pretty blues stared back at you, confused. 

“Better things to look at other than my ugly mug.” There was no amusement. He really thought so little of himself, inside and out. 

“Shut up.” You shook your head. “You’re a good man, Daryl Dixon.” Your expression hadn’t changed, hadn’t faltered. “Pretty too.” 

“Been called a lot’a things but that’un’s new.” He scoffed. “Would ask if ya was blind but don’t think that’d be funny considerin’—y’know.” He pulled a face, one that suggested he thought he shouldn’t have said that at all. You only laughed. 

You could see him a little clearer now. He was still blurry, all wavering edges through a faulty lens. It was like looking at him through a steamy window. You could make out his sun-kissed skin, the shade a little darker where there was facial hair. But his eyes stood out, two blue pools in a sea of east coast sand. 

“Mm-mm. Pretty’s a good word.” There probably should have been some sort of evaluation of risk versus reward before you leaned up from the pillow, your lips positioned a mere hair’s breadth from his. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, your stomach fluttering. Where did that courage come from? “To say thank you?” Daryl didn’t pull away. That had to count for something. “No.”

Oh. Swallowing hard, you lowered to the pillow once again, your hands moving away from his face. “I’m sorry. I just—” Your eyes snapped over to where he had wrapped his fingers around one of your retreating hands, the image fuzzy but the warmth very much recognizable. “I don’t understand.” You said quietly, the words forming more of a question than a statement. “Don’t wantcha to do it cause ya think ya owe me somethin’.” He lingered exactly where he had been for the past few minutes, his head slightly tilted. “Rather ya do it cause ya want to.” Oh again. Once the initial shock wore off, your lips stretched into a smile that lifted your cheeks and showed all of your teeth. “Oh, I definitely want to.” You pushed onto one elbow, moving the hand he held in midair back to his face as you slanted your mouth over his. It was alarmingly obvious how inexperienced the both of you were. It was frantic and untamed. Downright sloppy. It was perfect. “That was awful.” Daryl scowled. You could see him enough to appreciate the way his eyes widened and cheeks went red. “Not that. That was—you were—I mean, me—uh—the way—eh, fuck.” His hand fell away from yours that was still cupping his face in order for his fingers to rake through his hair. “Shut up.” You pulled him in again, silencing him with another kiss. This one was slower, more about deliberate connection. 

It had become second nature to observe with your other senses. This was no exception. His bottom lip was chapped where his top one was smooth. His whiskers scratched your skin in a pleasant tickle. 

His breaths had quickened. After a moment, you realized they were synchronized with your own, passion disguised as a quiet backdrop. Then there were the sounds of your mouths moving. Tongues caressing. The benign click as you disconnected only to find each other over and over again. 

When you finally parted, slight as it was, your eyes opened to find that his were still closed. He had been just as lost in you as you had been in him. Oh, to have been able to see him clearly. 

He didn’t seem to react at all until your thumb swept over his bottom lip. “Come on. Let’s go see Hershel.” Your hand dropped away while you began to sit up properly, only to stop when Daryl didn’t move. “Daryl?” 

“In a minute.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Wanna look atcha.” He murmured. He was the one to lean in this time, fingertips wrapping around the back of your neck seconds before his lips met yours. 

For someone who had been both terrified and thrilled to see the world again, you were more than happy to spend a little time with your eyes closed.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

Summary: In a world where the living have long since surpassed the dead in threat level, Tess Foster had made it one of her top priorities to keep her distance unless absolutely necessary. However, after a bad encounter leaves her barely standing, she may have no choice but to accept the forced company that is suddenly thrust upon her. A Daryl Dixon x Original Female Character sloooooooooooooow burn story that I would call largely platonic. A 'They have a Thing™️ but just don't know it' kind of deal

Chapter 16: Mission: Impromptu

Chapter Warnings: Murder/Suicide, Death of Children, Brief Blood and Gore, Anxiety, Parental Guilt, Language, A Dash of Cinnamon Bun Glenn

Word Count: 3,345

Tess watched with tired, bleary eyes as the sun started peaking through the trees, slowly but surely lighting up the area to prepare for a new day. She never did get any real kind of sleep during the night, save for dozing off for twenty minutes here and there. Not that she was surprised or expected anything else. As exhausted and bone tired as she was, her mind wouldn't quiet down much. Besides all the major stuff like the loss of Bob and Beth and the fall outs with Maggie and Daryl, some time in the early hours of the morning her mind circled to the boy still fast asleep in her arms.

She had sent him off without her. Again. 

At the church, when the walkers had broken through, she sent him off alone with Carl while she helped Michonne fend off the intruding walkers. Sure, she knew that given the situation and quickly impending threat that it was the best option. But it had been the best option when she sent him off with Beth alone, too. Just look how that turned out. Now, all she could think was that she was constantly putting him in danger and then leaving him alone. It was a shitty feeling, like she could never do right by him despite how hard she tried.

And those fucking hospital scrubs.

If she didn't get him into some new clothes soon she was sure she'd lose it, fully, finally.

It was the only thing she could think about. It had her ready to crawl out of her skin. She tried to busy herself with Luke once he had woken, probably due to the fact that she was squirming around so much trying not to disturb him. She had taken him off so they could both relieve themselves and, when that was done, had made sure he had some of the leftover water and food from the night before. While he was slowly munching on that, she took to pacing around in front of him while he watched silently. She knew she was affecting him, knew he always got upset when she was clearly distressed, but she couldn't stop it. She felt like she was about to explode and damn near wanted to pull her hair out. Something, anything to fend off the rapid anxiety building in her chest.

"You look like you're about to bolt."

She didn't bother stopping her pacing or the snarky comment that left her lips.

"Why, so you can sic your guard dogs on me to drag me back?"

Rick paused and furrowed his brows. He knew everyone was having a rough time and struggling at the moment, himself included. They had just lost two important members of their group, everyone, even the newer ones who hadn't known Beth or Bob were clearly being affected. But Tess, she looked like she was spiraling big time. Even the other morning when he had postponed their continued search for Luke and Beth she hadn't been in this bad a state. She was openly unhappy with his decision, but she hadn't been this outright aggressive with him.

"Hey," he attempted but was completely ignored by her. He stepped into her path and stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder, again like the other morning not missing the tiny flinch she gave at the contact. "Hey, what's goin' on?"

She contemplated knocking his hand off her but let out a harsh breath through her nose instead and finally met his gaze, somewhat, before letting her eyes drift to Luke.

"He needs new clothes." she told him quietly.

He let his own eyes follow hers to Luke, slightly confused for just a moment before the real meaning of her words became clear - She needed any visual reminders of everything gone.

"Hey Rick?"

They both turned to see Glenn standing somewhat awkwardly nearby.

"I can go out with her, try to gather up some more supplies." he offered.

He wasn't thrilled about the idea. They had just gotten everyone back together, it didn't particularly sit well with him to let them go off for something that didn't really need to be done. But Tess was clearly in a bad head space, and he was pretty sure if he tried to prevent her from doing this in any way she'd just take off on her own, his threats of sending people out to bring her back be damned. He knew Glenn could be trusted, wouldn't allow either of them to go into any unnecessary dangerous places. And, plus, there were talks to be had and decisions to be made about what their next steps were going to be from here. He didn't have the time to deal with this himself. So, with a heavy sigh, he conceded.

"Alright, fine. But, no goin' out too far. I mean it. And I want you both back here in two hours, no longer." he stressed sternly to both of them.

Glenn nodded. "Two hours. Stay close. You got it."

When his eyes came back to rest on her Tess also nodded her agreeance before again looking at Luke with a worried expression. Once again Rick picked up on her unsaid words.

"I'll look after him, promise." he assured her.

She was hesitant, thinking how she was just once again leaving him behind, but she needed to do this. And she did trust Rick, so she nodded along wordlessly to that as well before giving him, what she hoped, was a thankful look.

The last squeeze to her shoulder let her know he received it clearly.

A short time later Tess and Glenn were on the road. They had decided - Glenn had decided - that since the group that had gone out scavenging the day before had gone east it would best for them to head west. She wasn't thrilled about being away from Luke again, but she also couldn't deny the fact that being out on the road and moving with the purpose of doing something productive was settling her nerves some. The only real downfall was Glenn. She could see, from the glances she would steal at him, that he was a little fidgety himself suddenly. She had her guess as to why, but had no desire to address it at all. 

"So I'm thinking," he began after a few minutes into their quest. "Given our restrictions and all, our best bet is probably looking out for abandoned cars? Hopefully we'll come across some luggage, clothes, maybe some other stuff we could use. What do you think?"

"Yeah, sounds good." she mumbled back before stopping for a second and bending, then twisting her body around some with a slight grimace.

Glenn stopped as well when he noticed.

"Hey, you ok?" he inquired with concerned.

"Yeah, yeah," she said with a slight wave of her hand, not wanting to be fussed over. "Just...side is cramping up some."

"Do you need to stop for a few minutes? Or maybe we should just head back -"

"No," she shot the idea down quickly. "No, I'm fine. Just sat up too long last night, should have laid down for a bit. I'm good."

Like most of the group when it came to things she tried to brush off, he looked dubious.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she straightened up so she could look at him properly. "Please, just wanna get this done." 

He looked at her for a few moments, trying to gauge how honest she was being, before giving a massive sigh.

"Alright. But you get another attack, of any kind, and we're going back."

"Fair enough."

They began walking again, not before he insisted she at least take a few drinks of water from the canteen he had brought with him. They kept a steady pace going forward, though coming up empty as far as finding any vehicles to rifle through. It was roughly fifteen minutes before Glenn finally broke the silence again.

"Hey, so um," he started nervously, clearly trying to work through what he wanted to say. "About Maggie...."

And there it was. It was exactly what she had guessed he was fidgety about once they got onto the road, and exactly what she didn't want to get into.

"Glenn..." she had to stop walking again and scrubbed a hand down her face. The current situation was so uncomfortable and she wasn't sure how to really handle it or express herself. As per usual. "Just...it's alright, ok? I...I get it, ya know? I really do. No...no hard feelin's or ill will or anything, just..." she waved her hand in the air in front of her. "It's fine."

She could tell he wasn't exactly thrilled with the answer. Or maybe it was just he wasn't sure how to go about the conversation either. She imagined it probably was just as weird for him, trying to defend his wife while also trying to console the person who had gotten hit with his wife's outburst while also sticking by her side and defending her actions. Tess just wished everyone would understand there was no need. She didn't want apologies when she didn't feel they were warranted in any way. She didn't want the pity.

She watched as Glenn's shoulders slumped some, knowing this was as far as the conversation on this topic would go and also probably the best outcome he could achieve, all things considered.

"Ok. Just one more thing then."

She couldn't control the way her body turned away from him just tiniest bit in apprehension. "What?"

"Well I, I got you something."

"You...got me somethin'?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

He suddenly went a little shy.

"Yeah. Well no. Well, actually I got something for you and Luke. Except, really, I guess it's kind of something for the whole group?"

Tess almost wanted to laugh at his rambling and the way he seemed confused by his own actions. She simply tilted her head to indicate she was waiting. He then reached into the bag he had brought with him and pulled out a small paperback book and handed it to her with somewhat downcast eyes. She took a hold of it so she could read the title, only to be surprised by it.

Practicing American Sign Language

She was a little speechless as to what to say, so Glenn took the opportunity to continue.

"When we were on the way to D.C, we stopped at a library for the night. I happened to see that when we were looking around the place and, I don't know. I mean, I know you and Luke have your own way of communicating and all, but I know it's still gotta be tough at times. I thought maybe learning some things would be helpful. And I thought it might be nice for the rest of us to learn some things too, that way we can all talk back and forth with him."

Now Tess was completely speechless. For one, she didn't even remember telling Glenn anything about Luke not talking. Maybe she had told Maggie? Maybe that was one of the things she had told her and Bob and Sasha when she had first met them. It was hard to say, there was so much of that time frame that was completely fuzzy to her. But, more then all that, she was so overwhelmingly touched by his thoughtfulness.

She cleared the small lump in her throat.

"Thank, thank you, Glenn. This is great." she told him with complete sincerity and a small, but genuine smile.

He returned it with a small pat on her elbow. "You're welcome."

She tucked the small book into one of the pockets of her - Bob's - cargo pants and they continued on their way. A much more calming silence befalling them this time. It was another ten minutes or so before they finally came upon a promising find. They were just getting ready to pass by a overcrowded area of brush when they both slowed to a stop. They stepped forward and started slowly clearing the thick bushes and vines to finally reveal a big enough opening for them to see through.

Glenn already looked like he had won a prize.

"A dirt road." he declared, triumphantly.

"Dirt roads usually lead somewhere." Tess thought out loud.

"Exactly," Glenn pushed the brush aside just a little more, making room for him to squeeze through before holding the branches aside for Tess to get through without anything snagging on her injured side too much. Once they were both on the actual road he gave a quick scan of the immediate area before checking that his gun was still secure on his thigh holster. "Stay alert." he warned.

She nodded her understanding while also checking that her own gun and knife were both in easy reach. They walked along silently, all the while keeping eyes open for anything that might become a problem. There were a handful of dead walkers, but besides that there was nothing. Not until they came to the end of the road that led right to a modestly sized cabin. The property was an absolute mess - vines growing up the side, several broken shutters, gutters clogged and stuffed with leaves, overgrown grass and weeds in the front yard area and a beat up rust bucket of a truck parked off to the side.

It was the truck that put them both on edge instantly. It stood to reason that the owner could very well be close by. Wordlessly, Glenn took his gun out and held it in front of him while Tess did the same except she kept hers lowered in front of her slightly, following his lead when he motioned for her to get behind him before they slowly started creeping towards the cabin and then heading off around the side so they could check the back for any signs of life. The back of the property was, seemingly, just as deserted as the front had been. That is, until they heard a very distinctive click and a small sob that rose the hairs on both their necks. 

They both went stiff and pointed their weapons straight and at the ready, Glenn giving a sideways glance to Tess to assess if she was ready to move forward to investigate. She nodded her affirmative and together they moved in tandem to the edge of the backyard to discovered that the property was on a slight slope. When they got to the edge and peered down, they saw a figure sitting on a rock in front of what appeared to be a ditch facing away from them. As they looked on, they could see the man's shoulders start to shake some as more cries left him. Glenn once again looked towards Tess, giving a pointed look to her outstretched gun as a sign for her to stay on guard why he lowered his a tad.

"Hello?" he called out.

The man gave no visible reaction that he had heard them at all, and Glenn was just about to call out again when he finally turned around to look at them.

He was a white male, dirty blond hair, maybe in his early forties and, even from the distance between them, the pair could easily see how dead behind the eyes he looked. It was almost as disturbing as seeing the actual dead. And the way he just stared at them with complete nothingness in his face and gaze was beyond unsettling. It was a stare down between the three for an extended period of time before he finally spoke up in a gravelly voice that was fully devoid of any emotion.

"Whatever you find, take it. It's yours," he told them as he turned back around. "Doesn't matter anymore anyways."

Glenn and Tess looked at each other, neither really sure how to handle the situation. Finally, Glenn dropped his weapon to his side completely as he made slow steps towards the stranger, Tess right on his heels.

"Hey man, are you alright?" Glenn ventured, cautiously. "Maybe, maybe we can help?"

The man just gave a humorless laugh.

"Nobody can help me now."

Tess thought she understood. She thought, clearly, he must have been bitten or scratched or infected in some way and was dying. She thought this was just a man who knew he was on borrowed time and was coming to terms with it.

She was wrong.

When her and Glenn finally got close enough to come around to the front of the man they saw what had caused the clicking noise that first drew their attention. In the man's hands was a sawed off shotgun, pointing straight up at himself. The sight instantly had Tess raising her gun again, Glenn somewhat doing the same. But it was the other sight in front of them that had her lowering hers in shock.

In front of the man, in the small ditch that had been dug up, were three bodies resting inside at the bottom.

A woman who looked to have been around the same age as him and two twin boys who couldn't have been any older than ten.

All with a bullet wound in the center of their foreheads.

"I couldn't do it anymore. This world, what it's become..." he broke off as the tears started rolling down his face and another sob racked his body. "I wouldn't do it, you hear me?! I love my family and there was no way I was gonna make them live through that anymore!" 

Tess could feel her nerves shooting up. The more the guy ranted the louder he was getting. Plus he had started waving his shotgun around wildly. Not only was she worried about his yells drawing unwanted attention but he was rapidly becoming more and more erratic and there was no way to tell what else he might be capable of.

"Glenn..." she said lowly, nervously.

He held up a hand to her, a silent gesture to just hold back and let him handle things.

"Look we, we've all been through things...we've all - "

But before Glenn could continue whatever speech he had planned, the man swiftly lifted the shotgun up under his chin.

Glenn and Tess both yelled out a 'No!' at the same time.

But it was to no avail.

He pulled the trigger, the blast taking off half his face and sending blood and brain matter flying all around him before the body hit the ground with a thud.

Tess brought a hand up to her mouth, instantly feeling the bile rise in her throat. The scene was gruesome enough as is, but it wasn't just that.

She couldn't help but be reminded of another moment in her life.

Glenn was just as stunned. He couldn't move for a few minutes, couldn't really think of a thing to say or do. It wasn't until he spared a glance as Tess that he finally got his mouth working again.

"C'mon," he all but whispered, solemnly with a hand placed on her elbow to start guiding her back towards the front of the cabin. "We'll see what we can find, then we gotta get back."

Tess just nodded along, knowing full well her voice wouldn't work right now.

They made fast work of searching the cabin. They even managed to gather a pretty impressive haul. Clothes, a small first aid kit that was a little more than half full, several blankets, a small can of gasoline, two one gallon jugs of water, some spare batteries and a small box of canned goods.

It didn't feel like nearly the victory or win it should have.

They made their way back to their camp with roughly five minutes to spare on the two hour time limit Rick had given them. He was quite pleased with the load they were able to find.

Neither one of them made mention of what else they had found that day.

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[walkingtalkingsomething]

Summary: In a world where the living have long since surpassed the dead in threat level, Tess Foster had made it one of her top priorities to keep her distance unless absolutely necessary. However, after a bad encounter leaves her barely standing, she may have no choice but to accept the forced company that is suddenly thrust upon her. A Daryl Dixon x Original Female Character sloooooooooooooow burn story that I would call largely platonic. A 'They have a Thing™️ but just don't know it' kind of deal

Chapter 16: Mission: Impromptu

Chapter Warnings: Murder/Suicide, Death of Children, Brief Blood and Gore, Anxiety, Parental Guilt, Language, A Dash of Cinnamon Bun Glenn

Word Count: 3,345

Tess watched with tired, bleary eyes as the sun started peaking through the trees, slowly but surely lighting up the area to prepare for a new day. She never did get any real kind of sleep during the night, save for dozing off for twenty minutes here and there. Not that she was surprised or expected anything else. As exhausted and bone tired as she was, her mind wouldn't quiet down much. Besides all the major stuff like the loss of Bob and Beth and the fall outs with Maggie and Daryl, some time in the early hours of the morning her mind circled to the boy still fast asleep in her arms.

She had sent him off without her. Again. 

At the church, when the walkers had broken through, she sent him off alone with Carl while she helped Michonne fend off the intruding walkers. Sure, she knew that given the situation and quickly impending threat that it was the best option. But it had been the best option when she sent him off with Beth alone, too. Just look how that turned out. Now, all she could think was that she was constantly putting him in danger and then leaving him alone. It was a shitty feeling, like she could never do right by him despite how hard she tried.

And those fucking hospital scrubs.

If she didn't get him into some new clothes soon she was sure she'd lose it, fully, finally.

It was the only thing she could think about. It had her ready to crawl out of her skin. She tried to busy herself with Luke once he had woken, probably due to the fact that she was squirming around so much trying not to disturb him. She had taken him off so they could both relieve themselves and, when that was done, had made sure he had some of the leftover water and food from the night before. While he was slowly munching on that, she took to pacing around in front of him while he watched silently. She knew she was affecting him, knew he always got upset when she was clearly distressed, but she couldn't stop it. She felt like she was about to explode and damn near wanted to pull her hair out. Something, anything to fend off the rapid anxiety building in her chest.

"You look like you're about to bolt."

She didn't bother stopping her pacing or the snarky comment that left her lips.

"Why, so you can sic your guard dogs on me to drag me back?"

Rick paused and furrowed his brows. He knew everyone was having a rough time and struggling at the moment, himself included. They had just lost two important members of their group, everyone, even the newer ones who hadn't known Beth or Bob were clearly being affected. But Tess, she looked like she was spiraling big time. Even the other morning when he had postponed their continued search for Luke and Beth she hadn't been in this bad a state. She was openly unhappy with his decision, but she hadn't been this outright aggressive with him.

"Hey," he attempted but was completely ignored by her. He stepped into her path and stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder, again like the other morning not missing the tiny flinch she gave at the contact. "Hey, what's goin' on?"

She contemplated knocking his hand off her but let out a harsh breath through her nose instead and finally met his gaze, somewhat, before letting her eyes drift to Luke.

"He needs new clothes." she told him quietly.

He let his own eyes follow hers to Luke, slightly confused for just a moment before the real meaning of her words became clear - She needed any visual reminders of everything gone.

"Hey Rick?"

They both turned to see Glenn standing somewhat awkwardly nearby.

"I can go out with her, try to gather up some more supplies." he offered.

He wasn't thrilled about the idea. They had just gotten everyone back together, it didn't particularly sit well with him to let them go off for something that didn't really need to be done. But Tess was clearly in a bad head space, and he was pretty sure if he tried to prevent her from doing this in any way she'd just take off on her own, his threats of sending people out to bring her back be damned. He knew Glenn could be trusted, wouldn't allow either of them to go into any unnecessary dangerous places. And, plus, there were talks to be had and decisions to be made about what their next steps were going to be from here. He didn't have the time to deal with this himself. So, with a heavy sigh, he conceded.

"Alright, fine. But, no goin' out too far. I mean it. And I want you both back here in two hours, no longer." he stressed sternly to both of them.

Glenn nodded. "Two hours. Stay close. You got it."

When his eyes came back to rest on her Tess also nodded her agreeance before again looking at Luke with a worried expression. Once again Rick picked up on her unsaid words.

"I'll look after him, promise." he assured her.

She was hesitant, thinking how she was just once again leaving him behind, but she needed to do this. And she did trust Rick, so she nodded along wordlessly to that as well before giving him, what she hoped, was a thankful look.

The last squeeze to her shoulder let her know he received it clearly.

A short time later Tess and Glenn were on the road. They had decided - Glenn had decided - that since the group that had gone out scavenging the day before had gone east it would best for them to head west. She wasn't thrilled about being away from Luke again, but she also couldn't deny the fact that being out on the road and moving with the purpose of doing something productive was settling her nerves some. The only real downfall was Glenn. She could see, from the glances she would steal at him, that he was a little fidgety himself suddenly. She had her guess as to why, but had no desire to address it at all. 

"So I'm thinking," he began after a few minutes into their quest. "Given our restrictions and all, our best bet is probably looking out for abandoned cars? Hopefully we'll come across some luggage, clothes, maybe some other stuff we could use. What do you think?"

"Yeah, sounds good." she mumbled back before stopping for a second and bending, then twisting her body around some with a slight grimace.

Glenn stopped as well when he noticed.

"Hey, you ok?" he inquired with concerned.

"Yeah, yeah," she said with a slight wave of her hand, not wanting to be fussed over. "Just...side is cramping up some."

"Do you need to stop for a few minutes? Or maybe we should just head back -"

"No," she shot the idea down quickly. "No, I'm fine. Just sat up too long last night, should have laid down for a bit. I'm good."

Like most of the group when it came to things she tried to brush off, he looked dubious.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she straightened up so she could look at him properly. "Please, just wanna get this done." 

He looked at her for a few moments, trying to gauge how honest she was being, before giving a massive sigh.

"Alright. But you get another attack, of any kind, and we're going back."

"Fair enough."

They began walking again, not before he insisted she at least take a few drinks of water from the canteen he had brought with him. They kept a steady pace going forward, though coming up empty as far as finding any vehicles to rifle through. It was roughly fifteen minutes before Glenn finally broke the silence again.

"Hey, so um," he started nervously, clearly trying to work through what he wanted to say. "About Maggie...."

And there it was. It was exactly what she had guessed he was fidgety about once they got onto the road, and exactly what she didn't want to get into.

"Glenn..." she had to stop walking again and scrubbed a hand down her face. The current situation was so uncomfortable and she wasn't sure how to really handle it or express herself. As per usual. "Just...it's alright, ok? I...I get it, ya know? I really do. No...no hard feelin's or ill will or anything, just..." she waved her hand in the air in front of her. "It's fine."

She could tell he wasn't exactly thrilled with the answer. Or maybe it was just he wasn't sure how to go about the conversation either. She imagined it probably was just as weird for him, trying to defend his wife while also trying to console the person who had gotten hit with his wife's outburst while also sticking by her side and defending her actions. Tess just wished everyone would understand there was no need. She didn't want apologies when she didn't feel they were warranted in any way. She didn't want the pity.

She watched as Glenn's shoulders slumped some, knowing this was as far as the conversation on this topic would go and also probably the best outcome he could achieve, all things considered.

"Ok. Just one more thing then."

She couldn't control the way her body turned away from him just tiniest bit in apprehension. "What?"

"Well I, I got you something."

"You...got me somethin'?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

He suddenly went a little shy.

"Yeah. Well no. Well, actually I got something for you and Luke. Except, really, I guess it's kind of something for the whole group?"

Tess almost wanted to laugh at his rambling and the way he seemed confused by his own actions. She simply tilted her head to indicate she was waiting. He then reached into the bag he had brought with him and pulled out a small paperback book and handed it to her with somewhat downcast eyes. She took a hold of it so she could read the title, only to be surprised by it.

Practicing American Sign Language

She was a little speechless as to what to say, so Glenn took the opportunity to continue.

"When we were on the way to D.C, we stopped at a library for the night. I happened to see that when we were looking around the place and, I don't know. I mean, I know you and Luke have your own way of communicating and all, but I know it's still gotta be tough at times. I thought maybe learning some things would be helpful. And I thought it might be nice for the rest of us to learn some things too, that way we can all talk back and forth with him."

Now Tess was completely speechless. For one, she didn't even remember telling Glenn anything about Luke not talking. Maybe she had told Maggie? Maybe that was one of the things she had told her and Bob and Sasha when she had first met them. It was hard to say, there was so much of that time frame that was completely fuzzy to her. But, more then all that, she was so overwhelmingly touched by his thoughtfulness.

She cleared the small lump in her throat.

"Thank, thank you, Glenn. This is great." she told him with complete sincerity and a small, but genuine smile.

He returned it with a small pat on her elbow. "You're welcome."

She tucked the small book into one of the pockets of her - Bob's - cargo pants and they continued on their way. A much more calming silence befalling them this time. It was another ten minutes or so before they finally came upon a promising find. They were just getting ready to pass by a overcrowded area of brush when they both slowed to a stop. They stepped forward and started slowly clearing the thick bushes and vines to finally reveal a big enough opening for them to see through.

Glenn already looked like he had won a prize.

"A dirt road." he declared, triumphantly.

"Dirt roads usually lead somewhere." Tess thought out loud.

"Exactly," Glenn pushed the brush aside just a little more, making room for him to squeeze through before holding the branches aside for Tess to get through without anything snagging on her injured side too much. Once they were both on the actual road he gave a quick scan of the immediate area before checking that his gun was still secure on his thigh holster. "Stay alert." he warned.

She nodded her understanding while also checking that her own gun and knife were both in easy reach. They walked along silently, all the while keeping eyes open for anything that might become a problem. There were a handful of dead walkers, but besides that there was nothing. Not until they came to the end of the road that led right to a modestly sized cabin. The property was an absolute mess - vines growing up the side, several broken shutters, gutters clogged and stuffed with leaves, overgrown grass and weeds in the front yard area and a beat up rust bucket of a truck parked off to the side.

It was the truck that put them both on edge instantly. It stood to reason that the owner could very well be close by. Wordlessly, Glenn took his gun out and held it in front of him while Tess did the same except she kept hers lowered in front of her slightly, following his lead when he motioned for her to get behind him before they slowly started creeping towards the cabin and then heading off around the side so they could check the back for any signs of life. The back of the property was, seemingly, just as deserted as the front had been. That is, until they heard a very distinctive click and a small sob that rose the hairs on both their necks. 

They both went stiff and pointed their weapons straight and at the ready, Glenn giving a sideways glance to Tess to assess if she was ready to move forward to investigate. She nodded her affirmative and together they moved in tandem to the edge of the backyard to discovered that the property was on a slight slope. When they got to the edge and peered down, they saw a figure sitting on a rock in front of what appeared to be a ditch facing away from them. As they looked on, they could see the man's shoulders start to shake some as more cries left him. Glenn once again looked towards Tess, giving a pointed look to her outstretched gun as a sign for her to stay on guard why he lowered his a tad.

"Hello?" he called out.

The man gave no visible reaction that he had heard them at all, and Glenn was just about to call out again when he finally turned around to look at them.

He was a white male, dirty blond hair, maybe in his early forties and, even from the distance between them, the pair could easily see how dead behind the eyes he looked. It was almost as disturbing as seeing the actual dead. And the way he just stared at them with complete nothingness in his face and gaze was beyond unsettling. It was a stare down between the three for an extended period of time before he finally spoke up in a gravelly voice that was fully devoid of any emotion.

"Whatever you find, take it. It's yours," he told them as he turned back around. "Doesn't matter anymore anyways."

Glenn and Tess looked at each other, neither really sure how to handle the situation. Finally, Glenn dropped his weapon to his side completely as he made slow steps towards the stranger, Tess right on his heels.

"Hey man, are you alright?" Glenn ventured, cautiously. "Maybe, maybe we can help?"

The man just gave a humorless laugh.

"Nobody can help me now."

Tess thought she understood. She thought, clearly, he must have been bitten or scratched or infected in some way and was dying. She thought this was just a man who knew he was on borrowed time and was coming to terms with it.

She was wrong.

When her and Glenn finally got close enough to come around to the front of the man they saw what had caused the clicking noise that first drew their attention. In the man's hands was a sawed off shotgun, pointing straight up at himself. The sight instantly had Tess raising her gun again, Glenn somewhat doing the same. But it was the other sight in front of them that had her lowering hers in shock.

In front of the man, in the small ditch that had been dug up, were three bodies resting inside at the bottom.

A woman who looked to have been around the same age as him and two twin boys who couldn't have been any older than ten.

All with a bullet wound in the center of their foreheads.

"I couldn't do it anymore. This world, what it's become..." he broke off as the tears started rolling down his face and another sob racked his body. "I wouldn't do it, you hear me?! I love my family and there was no way I was gonna make them live through that anymore!" 

Tess could feel her nerves shooting up. The more the guy ranted the louder he was getting. Plus he had started waving his shotgun around wildly. Not only was she worried about his yells drawing unwanted attention but he was rapidly becoming more and more erratic and there was no way to tell what else he might be capable of.

"Glenn..." she said lowly, nervously.

He held up a hand to her, a silent gesture to just hold back and let him handle things.

"Look we, we've all been through things...we've all - "

But before Glenn could continue whatever speech he had planned, the man swiftly lifted the shotgun up under his chin.

Glenn and Tess both yelled out a 'No!' at the same time.

But it was to no avail.

He pulled the trigger, the blast taking off half his face and sending blood and brain matter flying all around him before the body hit the ground with a thud.

Tess brought a hand up to her mouth, instantly feeling the bile rise in her throat. The scene was gruesome enough as is, but it wasn't just that.

She couldn't help but be reminded of another moment in her life.

Glenn was just as stunned. He couldn't move for a few minutes, couldn't really think of a thing to say or do. It wasn't until he spared a glance as Tess that he finally got his mouth working again.

"C'mon," he all but whispered, solemnly with a hand placed on her elbow to start guiding her back towards the front of the cabin. "We'll see what we can find, then we gotta get back."

Tess just nodded along, knowing full well her voice wouldn't work right now.

They made fast work of searching the cabin. They even managed to gather a pretty impressive haul. Clothes, a small first aid kit that was a little more than half full, several blankets, a small can of gasoline, two one gallon jugs of water, some spare batteries and a small box of canned goods.

It didn't feel like nearly the victory or win it should have.

They made their way back to their camp with roughly five minutes to spare on the two hour time limit Rick had given them. He was quite pleased with the load they were able to find.

Neither one of them made mention of what else they had found that day.

divider credit: @saradika-graphics