Daryl found you outside, standing on the steps of the big porch. You turned to look over your shoulder at the sound of the closing door, but quickly redirected your gaze again.
He came to stand beside you and sighed heavily, wiping his hands nervously on his pants. "Whatcha doin' out here?" he asked. He wondered if you were just feeling as unsettled as he was being in this new place, Alexandria.
You shook your head slightly. "I dunno. Justโyou can't see the stars from in here," you commented. Your gaze was fixedly staring up into the night sky. "The light pollution." He hummed an acknowledgment and stared up too. You were right. The lights on in the settlement drowned out the stars. You went on. "It's strange, right? When we were out there on the road we were hoping to find someplace, anywhere even a tiny bit like this. But now that we're here I can't feel... I don't feel entirely right in the walls now either."
Daryl was silent, just chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully.
"Am I crazy?" you asked him, suddenly self-conscious.
Daryl's blue eyes met yours and he shook his head firmly. "Nah. 'Cuz tha's exactly how I've been feelin' since we got here too. I dun fit in here." He ducked your gaze and stared down at his hands, picking at a hangnail near his thumb. "Ya fit here way better than I do."
He didn't see the soft but sad look you gave him. But he certainly felt that jolt of electricity as you looped your arm through his and leaned in toward him, resting your head on his shoulder. That did make him feel as though perhaps things would be okay here...
daryl dixon would absolutely call his girl โbambi.โ
not because itโs cute. because it makes sense.
he notices movement before faces, footsteps before voices. heโd clock immediately that she couldnโt make it twenty feet through the woods without catching a root, stumbling over a log, or snapping enough sticks underfoot to send every deer running.
the first time, โstumblinโ around with two left feet like bambi. gonโ get us killed.โ brushing past her.
as time passes, i can just hear him shaking his head with that little half-smirk and going, โcโmere, bambi.โ
Y/N, rolling her eyes: I know how to hold a knife Daryl.
Daryl: Obviously ya don't.
Y/N, looking him up and down with a slow smirk: Well, if you're so worried about my grip, why don't you let me practice on you later and then you can tell me how I'm doing?
Daryl, ears going bright red: Iโ
Daryl, swiftly walking away: The hellโs wrong with that girl?
These will be updated here and there. Itโs likely that thereโs some I wonโt stick to when it comes to requests and even story ideas where they wonโt fit.
โขHe hates pickles. Anything that is green and smells that bad does not belong in the food section.ย But he loves pickled pigs feet.
โขHe likes sex but can easily live without it.ย
โขHe hasnโt been a virgin since his early teens (thanks to Merle and a handful of drug money)
โขIt would take some serious, repeated encouragement and assurance (and a lot of time) before heโs comfortable having sex.
โขHe is the type of guy that goes one step at a time, testing the waters. Making out, touching you, letting you touch him (slowly because his brain has been conditioned to flinch away). Everything would be through the clothes and then progress. Slow and steady wins the race.
โขHeโs a switch. Sometimes, he wants all the say (so to speak) in the bedroom, watching you whimper and beg. Sometimes he just physically needs to give up control to balance the chaos.ย
โขRarely, when heโs extremely needy, he wants you to tell him heโs a โgood boyโ and praise him for how incredible he makes you feel. Heโd never ask for it but when you call him that on accident, his reaction was quite telling.
โขHe can easily go from gentle to rough. He would never want to hurt you. Squeezing your throat, slapping your ass, teasing your breasts, or leaving love marks with his teeth absolutely do not count as hurting you.
โขConsent is a huge deal to him.
โขHeโs always been quiet during anything sexual; On the rare occasions he talks, itโs reassurances and quiet, gentle praise. Otherwise, grunts and whimpers and low growls are what you get until heโs about to orgasm.
โขHowever, sometimes heโs just so wound up, so needy for you, that he canโt help but moan loudly or call your name.
โขHe always tells you heโs close to or has already started cumming. No real rhyme or reason. Maybe just his way of letting you know that you took him there.
โขHe has a genuine dislike of cats. He doesnโt hate them by any means but if he had to pick an animal that was secretly plotting world domination, itโd be cats.ย
โขHe prefers boxer briefs.ย
โขThe only name brand clothing he ever owned was underwear because his junk deserves only the best.
ย
โขHeโs superstitious, even if he pretends not to be.ย
โขHe doesnโt like giving his significant other pet names beyond โsunshine,โ โpipsqueakโ, or โwoman.โ Things that you find endearing regardless. On rare occasions, heโll use โdollโ or โdarlinโ.โ
โขHe secretly adores when you call him โbabyโ or โsweetheart.โ Pretty much any endearment that labels him as yours.
โขHe rarely (but it does happen) says โI love you.โ Heโs more of an actions guy and if you say it first, heโll usually only say โme tooโ or rub his knuckles over your jaw.
โขHe canโt sleep if his feet are hot.ย
โขSpiders freak him out.ย
โขHe wears cords/laces around the bottom of his jeans to keep ticks out of his boots.
โขHe hates showers, not because he just doesnโt like them. Being in a space with scars on display makes him feel vulnerable. The water touching the scars forces him to relive when he received them.
โขContrary to popular belief, he does keep specific areas of his body acceptably clean, using the bathroom sink or river/lake/creek when heโs in the forest.
โขThe dirt and grime that coat his skin is a grounding reminder of who he is, so he doesnโt completely lose himself in that dystopian world.
โขHe has never hunted for sport, only for survival. He respects nature and what it provides.
โขHe loves to read. His favorite book is The Outsiders.
โขHe doesn't/wouldn't understand why his girl can't talk to him instead of a stranger. He would need some mental health education as the urging of Carol or Michonne before even remotely understanding. He wants to be supportive, first and foremost.
โขHe fights tooth and nail to avoid getting "his head shrunk" but in the end, if it meant not losing his girl, he'd give in.
โขHe is a horrible patient for physical ailments and even worse for mental ones.
โขHe would 100% pass out while watching his partner give birth.
โขHe would go above and beyond to give his kid everything he wished for as a child. He would risk life and limb for material objects: bikes, candy, stuffed animals.
โก "back to you" taglist: @leslierabbit @t0xicsl33p @moss4brainss @saintloverie @firefirefeline @babycheech @dixonangel @gglittergoddess @tuesday469 @lavandine @bbning @clussyposts @kiki-reedus
Daryl waited for you.
He waited in the trailer for two whole months, stubbornly clinging to routines that no longer made sense. He kept the porch light on every night even after the power failed. He checked every car that managed to pass the road with the irrational hope that somehow, against all reason, you'd be behind the wheel with Benjamin in the backseat. He kept expecting the sound of your voice, kept thinking he'd hear you fussing over him. But nobody came.
Merle, of course, had no patience for hope, or a tragic love story, specially not one that involved you.
By the first week, he had already grown tired of watching his baby brother sit on the porch every evening like some faithful dog waiting for its owner.
"Boy, she ain't comin'."
Daryl barely glanced up from the knife he was sharpening. "Quit it."
"I'm serious."
"Didn't ask."
Merle snorted.
"Didn't ask? What are you? Thirteen?"
Daryl's jaw tightened. "Shut up."
"Nah, you gon' listen." He sat down heavily beside him, cracking open a beer. "You waitin' on a woman that ain't even thinkin' 'bout you no more."
Daryl's eyes narrowed.
"Don't."
"I'm just sayin'."
"Don't."
"World ended, baby brother. Rich folks got themselves bunkers and private compounds. Hell, if she made it, she probably snuck herself into some fancy-ass shelter with enough food to feed the next generation and a bunch of rich people drinkin' wine and bitchin' 'bout the apocalypse."
"Shut the hell up."
Merle raised his hands dramatically.
"What? You know I'm right."
"Nah, I know yer an asshole."
Merle scoffed. "Boy, I been tellin' you since day one. She was slummin' it with ya."
Daryl stood immediately. "Watch yer mouth."
"Or what?"
"Or I'm gonna forget you're ma brother."
Merle simply laughed.
"You think I don't remember? Every damn night after work you'd disappear with some rich brat you met on the side of the road. Thought you'd gone stupid."
"She ain't no brat."
"Oh, come on. You really thought y'all had a future?"
Daryl didn't look mad, he looked sad. Even his family replicated what your parents tried to glue to your heads. You didn't belong together.
Merle noticed, and for some miracle, his expression softened slightly.
"Ain't sayin' she didn't love ya" he admitted quietly. "Girl gave ya Ben, didn't she? That's somethin'."
Daryl's eyes dropped.
"Yeah."
"But if it weren't for that boy, she'd've left years ago." And there it was again.
"Look, I'm just sayin'... maybe if she made it, she had to make choices that didn't envolve you."
Daryl swallowed. He knew there was some sense to Merle's line if thought. You were stupid rich, but still, he never heard from you about a plan B bunker casually there to be lived in, he figured that's something he'd know at some point, still, he wondered. But ever stopped looking. Not even when Merle called him a fool, or after the trailer was overrun and they were forced to leave.
When he joined Rick's group, he never mentioned you, not once. He felt like explaining it out loud made your absence real, and that made him stupidly vulnerable. So nobody knew. Nobody knew he had someone, maybe thinking if him too. Nobody knew he had a boy, old enough to be in high school, if fate had been kind.
Nobody knew that every time Carl laughed, Daryl's chest tightened with memories of a little boy who used to sit on his shoulders and tug on his ears.
When Sophia disappeared, Daryl made it a personal quest, he had to find that girl. Every time he faced Carol's despair from losing her only child, he'd think if you, what if you'd been though something like that and he wasn't there for you?. And the thought made him shiver.
No one knew his real reasons behind it. He was pure if heart enough to be this invested if he didn't have kids too, but all that crossed his mind was you and Benjamin, and how he had to cling to hope that if he could find this little girl, then maybe he could find you too.
He'd considered, many times, to open up about his past to Carol. When he saw her mourning someone that she wasn't sure was really gone, he saw himself on her, he wanted to approach and say he understood the feeling better than anyone could. But before he could wonder more about tearing down his walls, the barn happened, and the girl appeared. Lifeless, her body only moving by command of that devious infection. And Daryl build his walls right back up.
He recalled feeling physically sick, not only because Sophia was gone, but because a terrible thought had wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed hard. What if that was what waited for him? What if after years of searching he found you or Ben like that? Would he even survive it? For the first time since the world had ended, he was afraid of hope itself. Because hope implied answers, and answers had the power to destroy him.
The weeks that followed only taught him that monsters had always worn human faces long before the dead began walking. They had built more than a shelter, but a home, at the prison, and before he could stop to breathe, once again the world crumbled beneath his feet, and he felt stupid for ever hoping again. After the governor's attack, he got separated from everyone, stranded with Beth Greene.
Daryl found himself in the strange company of someone too young and too stubborn to accept his usual grunts as conversation. Beth had a gift for prying into people's souls while smiling sweetly enough that refusing her felt almost cruel. What began with innocent questions eventually became more personal, until one evening she casually asked whether he'd ever been married. Daryl had answered with the first thing that came to mind. "Sorta."
The answer immediately fascinated her. She laughed, insisting that "sort of married" wasn't an actual category, and spent the next ten minutes pestering him with increasingly ridiculous theories. By the time he surrendered, he'd found himself smiling. And then, quietly, with the fire crackling between them and the stars spread overhead, he told her everything. About you. About the rich girl with the broken-down car who had changed his life. About Benjamin. About the breakup neither of you had wanted. About loving each other anyway. Beth listened with tears shining in her eyes and the kind of hopeless romantic expression only she could wear without embarrassment. "You've been in love with her for fifteen years?" she'd asked in disbelief.
Daryl had looked away immediately, embarrassed. "Closer to sixteen now, ain't never let go." Beth had laughed softly and shaken her head.
"Oh, Daryl, that's the saddest and sweetest thing I've ever heard." He'd scoffed, muttering that she was crazy, but she simply smiled and asked the question he'd spent years avoiding.
"Do you think they made it?"
The answer had come before he could stop it. "Have to." His voice had broken around the words. "Don't know how not to."
And as if the world kept pulling distasteful jokes with him. He lost Beth too. After that, Daryl it felt like a piece of your memory had gone with her, because for the first time since the world shifted completely, someone else had known about you. Someone else had known learned your name, and Ben's. She had known about the life he'd lost, about the love he carried around like an old wound, and somehow she'd made him feel less alone with it.
So when he carried her lifeless body out of that hospital and heard Maggie's screams echoing around him, something inside him broke all over again. Sitting outside afterward, his face buried in his hands, tears streaming freely while the others grieved around him, Daryl found himself thinking of you as he always did in moments of unbearable pain. And despite the pain, despite the losses, the growing certainty that the world was cruel beyond reason, one stubborn, irrational part of Daryl Dixon refused to let go.
They spent more time wandering than he could count, after going though extreme hunger, they were forced to eat dog and found some kind of shelter. That's when they found out they were being chased by a man who allegedly wanted to help, Daryl was already too scarred to trust that easy, but something that came out of that man's mouth broke his brain entirely.
The man was tied to the pillar, explaing his mission and the story of his community, when he mentioned a name. Deanna.
"What's that you said just now?" Daryl grunted, his heart beating rapidly to his ears.
"Uh-um that we're all assigned functions by our leader, she uh-"
"Yeah, I got that part, what's her name?" Daryl cut him impatiently
"Deanna."
"And the place is called?"
"Alexandria."
Daryl's breath broke rhythm, he turned to Rick and said in a whisper "We gotta check this place."
"Why?"
"It's- uh... It's a long story."
"Might be an important one to make it worth putting ourselves on risk for." Rick impatiently added.
"Trust me in this." Daryl pleated. "Please."
Rick reluctantly agreed. He trusted Daryl's instincts, afterall. He turned to the tied down man on the pillar and cut the cord, his pupils staring straight into the stranger's.
Daryl, glaring and swatting at the mug: Told ya, I donโt need no damn leaf water. I ainโt sick.
Y/N: Daryl, your forehead is hot enough to fry an egg on, and I think you coughed up a lung. Youโre gonna drink the tea when it cools a little.
Daryl, growling: No. Go away โfore I kick your ass.
Merle, chuckling from the other side of the tent: Oh, don't worry โbout lilโ brother, sugar. Heโs always a prickly lilโ feral cat when heโs got the bugs. But me? -cough, cough- Oh, the lightโs fadinโ, darlin'. I think olโ Merle needs someโa that tender lovinโ care.
Y/N, sighing: Merle, you have a mild head cold. Sit down.
Merle: Now, see, yโshouldn't be wastinโ your time on a lost cause like him. Why don'cha come over here, check my pulse, anโ see if ya can't make a dyinโ man's last wishes come true? Mโhighly cooperative when a pretty thing is holdinโ the cup.
Daryl, eyes darting to Merle before snatching the mug out of Y/N's hand: โฆ
Y/N, blinking as he chugs the entire cup of boiling hot tea in three seconds: Daryl, that was scalding.
Daryl, tossing the mug down, wiping his mouth, and all but yanking Y/N onto the bedroll: He ainโt the patient. He don't get shit.
Y/N, smiling knowingly at Daryl while Merle rolls over with a huff: 102ยฐ fever and still cognizant enough to get jealous. Impressive, Daryl.
Daryl, trying to glare but his eyes are beginning to water: Thatโฆ was actually really hot. Think I need some water.
sadly im a sucker for jealous daryl, i know he would look like a wounded pup :<
Same dude. That man could have any hole he wanted if he gave me that little kicked puppy routine.
Also, I would like to introduce the thought of Daryl being pathetically jealous, but youโre lowkey mad at him for something, so it looks something like this:
โYa ainโt gonna leave me,โ Daryl said, trailing behind you as you entered your shared bedroom. It sounded more like a question than a statement. You didnโt respond. Of course, you werenโt going to leave him, but if he was going to be a dick, he could suffer for a minute. Turning to give him a hard look, you realized he'd gotten close enough that you had to tilt your head back. Despite that fact, he still managed to look small, curling into himself as he stood over you.
"(Y/N)? C'mon, 'm sorry. Talk to me, darlin'," he said.
"Hhm," you hummed.
"Damn it, woman!" he snapped, voice suddenly going panicky. "Yell if you wanna. Scream 'til everyone comes bustin' in here. Just please fuckin' say somethin'."
When you met him with more steely silence, it was like a switch flipped. Daryl slid to his knees, wrapping his strong arms around your hips, and looked up at you with a wrecked, desperate expression. The look alone felt like a punch to the ribs. His big, blue eyes were filling rapidly with tears as his lips quivered around words he couldn't seem to get out. Before you could open your mouth to soothe him, he found his voice again.
"Please don't leave me," he sniffed. The misery was so thick in his voice that it stunned you into silence.
"You're still my girl, ain't ya?" he asked.
"Daryl-"
"Ain't ya? Please?" Daryl pressed his face to your stomach like he was too afraid to look at your face. Your heart shattered.
"Aw, baby, I'm still your girl," you said softly, running your fingers through his hair. His shoulders sagged, and he leaned into you with total relief. You couldn't have felt worse if you tried. Sure, you'd wanted to screw with him, but not this much.
"Swear?" he asked, muffled by your shirt.
"I swear," you said. Sighing, you cupped his chin and gently tugged him to look up at you. He came easily. The combination of hope and sadness in his face made him look like a freshly kicked puppy still wagging its tail.
"I'd never leave you, Daryl. I was just mad at you for that stunt you pulled out there. That was an overstep, though. I'm so sorry, baby," you said, stroking your thumb over his cheek. Leaning into your touch, he half-smiled at you.
"Probably kinda deserved it. I was bein' an ass," he said. He was, but that didn't matter now.
"Well, don't expect me to disagree with you being an ass," you teased.
"Shuddup," he said, but there was no bite to it.
"Alright, alright, but seriously, I love you. I'm still your girl." Pressing his cheek to your stomach, he sighed happily.
I have a request I believe fits nicely with your other work ๐ฉถ
Female reader and Daryl are a couple. When they spend time together it's usually comfortable silence or reader doing most of the talking and Daryl listening. That turns into Reader reading to him while he works on his bike, on the porch, at the end of the day before turning the lights/candles off. Daryl isn't one for reading but enjoys listening to her narrating more than he'll admit and always keeps an eye on books during runs. Maybe they end up having a bit of a fight (Daryl being stuborn) so reader being petty says she won't share the ending of the book leaving it on a cliffhanger as payback. You see her reading the books near by, gasping dramatically knowing he's listening and pissed off being left out pretending like he doesn't care (He does) They make up eventually, all sweet. The ending of the book they share together.
hi angel! thank you so much for requesting เซฎ หถแต แต แตหถ แ daryl and books are two of my favorite things, so i absolutely loved this idea. though i changed up some minor details, i hope this still does justice to your vision! ๐ค
Settling into Alexandria hadnโt been easy for Daryl.
In fact, he had more troubles than anyone else adjusting. Makes sense, looking at him. All grimy and dirty with his worn leather jacket and the blood clinging to his skin. The group had become used to it, but it must have been a frightening display for the sheltered people of Alexandria.
Daryl didnโt care about impressions, though. He didnโt even take a shower for the first couple of days, muscles tense as if ready to run at any moment given it suddenly proved neccessary.
This sudden confrontation with civilization made him realize some things that didnโt fail to shock him. Walking trough the town, it almost seemed like the outbreak hadnโt happened at all. Most of the others seemed to actually want to forget about it, and if it werenโt for food rations and the watchtower, they just might have.
It scared him, though he wouldnโt ever admit it. How they immediately discarded the hardened shells they had worked so hard to build now, at the first possibility. It was dangerous.
Sure, it was nice to not worry about starving every other minute. But in all honesty, he would have preferred that, would have went back to it in a heartbeat.
Because now, they were shutting out the dystopian outside world behind their little iron walls without even batting an eye.
And Daryl realized that in some sick and twisted way, he had actually been thankful for the apocalypse. Itโs crazy, he knows. Might be good at runs and surviving, but itโs not like he enjoyed being on the verge of death all the time. Nah. Was just already used to not being comfortable in his own life, thatโs all.
Itโs just that for the first time in his life, he had a purpose โ and it was thanks to the undead taking over the world, believe it or not. He mattered. People relied on him for protection, they actually cared, something would have changed if he just disappeared from the face of the earth.
Now, immersed in this weird game of playing pretend, he wasnโt so sure it would anymore. The forest was his element. Not some suburban town with houses like mansions in a neighbourhood he wouldnโt have set a foot in if heโd gotten paid for it years ago. Where people would have given him disdainful looks, or, at best, pitiful glances; as if that wasnโt worse.
It made him uneasy, walking trough Alexandria with his crossbow slung across his shoulder, wearing his tattered leather jacket. Like everyone was watching and secretly condemning him for dirtying their streets with his muddy boots.
He didnโt belong, just like before.
Though it was completely different, Daryl feared that this would be the prison all over again. Because damn, these people really were more vulnerable than they actually were aware of. Prison had been the opposite, but it fell in spite of it.
Most of all, he feared that you might slowly realize that you didnโt need him anymore. No walkers in immediate proximity he had to shoot before they got to you, no rabbits to kill so youโd have something to eat.
It was questionable whether Daryl Dixon was a good boyfriend at all, but he certainly was better out there than in here. In here, the vast distance between the two of you became even more obvious. You werenโt like him, noโฆ you fit right in. As if you had lived here all your life.
Nearly took the air out of his lungs when he saw you clean and in fresh clothes for the first time; heโd forgotten what you were like in the beginning. Of course, you kissed him like you used to. But still. He stiffened, โcause it felt like he was dirtying you and he really, really wanted this to work out for your sake. You deserved it. Deserved to be accepted into a community like you didnโt have a weird dirty biker boyfriend at home.
Daryl was really worried about all these things when the group first settled into Alexandria. But just like with everything else, youโฆ you made everything seem easy again.
Hugged him tightly that very first day even though youโd just showered and he was still covered in dirt. Didnโt let go even after he grumbled something about your new clothes getting all stained again. Held him until he melted visibly into your arms, coiled muscles relaxing finally.
You had him sleep next to you after youโd been assigned one of the houses, and โ even though he was still wary about that whole good-hearted civilian thing โ he had to admit that it felt nice. Sleeping in a real bed, in a room bigger than the whole trailer he lived in before the outbreak. And again, you let him settle in at his pace. Curled into his side, snug against his body. He went to bed in his grimy old clothes that night, and you just โ didnโt mind. Simply washed the duvet each morning until he was ready to take a shower.
Smiled at him after he emerged from the bathroom that day. Told him he was handsome when he sheepishly adjusted the collar of the slightly too small dressing shirt youโd found in the closet. You mustโve known he felt weird in those stiff, office-appropriate pinstripe slacks though, since in the afternoon he found his own clothes lying on the bed, neatly folded and still warm coming out of the dryer. The leatherjacket, his old pair of jeans with holes in themโฆ No comment when he immediately wore them to dinner that day and put the other clothes back into the closet. Just a quick kiss on the lips, a giggled โLooking even more handsome now, Daryl!โ, and that was that.
God, if he had you by his side, he could get used to anything, it seemed.
Though the thing that really did it for Daryl was this other little routine you established: reading to him. Youโd begun back at the prison, when he brought you an old copy of โPride and Prejudiceโ heโd came across on a run. He knew you liked reading, so he immediately thought of you when he saw it.
Thoughtful actions like this soon melted into book talk, little conversations he held cherished in his heart where you chatted on and on about literature while he worked silently, and he listened. Naturally, it would awaken his own interest in those books you liked so much. And since you already got all giddy merely about him wanting to know exactly why you loved Jane Austen, you impulsively offered to read it to him, and thatโs how his favorite pasttime was born.
At first, he was mainly just listening to your pleasant voice, but soon, he grew actually invested in the story. When you got together, this little ritual only became more important to the both of you.
And now, thatโs something he actually liked about Alexandria: itโs huge library. You discovered it during the second week of your stay, and boy, did your eyes glow when you excitedly told him all about it. You went back there the next day and carefully selected an array of novels you wanted to show him. Some you knew, some you didnโt. The one you started with that same night, reading the first chapter aloud to him in bed, just before going to sleep, was one you didnโt know, though youโd heard about it. Some famous murder mystery, Agatha Christie he thinks? Sherlock Holmes or whatever. Something easy to take our mind off everything else, youโd said.
It was even more endearing to read a book with you for the first time, he quickly found. It was adorable how invested you got into the story, awaiting plot twists and sharing your theories with him. You usually sat on the grass in the front yard while he fixed up the broken motorcycle Aaron had found in his garage. Stopped sometimes to admire his expert hands working on the engine, just for a little while.
โYou really know whatโs wrong with it just by taking it apart?โ
โGuess so.โ
โWow! When did you even learn all that? I couldnโt do it if I had a guide with pictures! Were you a mechanic?โ
โNah. Jusโ picked up on some things, โs all.โ
โStill. You must be a technology genuis or something!โ
That got a huff of a laugh out of him. โAinโt no genius.โ
โSure you are! Basically built that bike from scratch, and you look super hot while doing it too.โ
He stopped answering to such comments a while ago, gave up on changing your mind. Just looks back at the machine, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. No matter how hard he tries, youโre just dead set on believing heโs a good person. Itโs like that with everything, and itโs been like that from the beginning.
He doesnโt even have it in himself to argue anymore, not when your voice was so cheerful and you went back to reading the story to him all happy and carefree like you hadnโt just made him blush.
God, he loved you. And everything that came with it, like this mystery story and the reading to him. This is what made him feel a little more normal about himself. If it hadnโt been for you and fucking Agatha Christie and what not he probably wouldnโt have even tried (and to his surprise, succeeded) at settling into Alexandria.
Fucking bugs him that he lost that privilege now.
And over such a stupid thing, too!
There wasnโt really all that much different about this morning.
Really! He swears! Only, well, he got up a little earlier that day because he had an idea for the engine and he just couldnโt fall asleep again without checking if Aaron had the part he needed in his garage. And, okay, by โa littleโ he means four oโclock in the morning.
Yeah, that was his initial mistake. He knows you donโt sleep well when he isnโt beside you. In fact, whenever his warm body is missing, you toss and turn, plagued by nightmares.
Itโs terrible, and one of the reasons why he always makes sure to cradle you to his chest so you get a good nightโs rest. That and, he just has to be close to you or else heโll go crazy. Heโs pretty sure of that. Came close to it more than once, with Alexandria and this dumb job system keeping you apart for a good portion of the day. It feels weird, seperation, after being glued together for survival for months.
So, of course he wasnโt planning on staying away for a long time. Not at all, not when it already caused a painful pang in his heart that he had left at all. Daryl never wanted to be the reason why you were suffering.
Just, well, one thing led to another. And even though he felt more guilty with each passing second, there was nothing he could do about it. Turns out Aaron really did have the part he needed but Daryl also woke him up as he made his way to the garage. And โcause well, now Daryl was already there, Aaron politely inquired if he could maybe fix the sink while heโs at it. Heโs so handy, after all. And of course, Daryl couldnโt really say no after the couple had done so much for him, so he obliged right then and there.
It took longer than he anticipated, but he managed. Itโs just that, right as he was making his way back to the house, the only thought on his mind being his bed and you lying in it, stupid fucking Rick had to stop him. Damn โconstable patrolling dutyโ or whatever led to him roaming the streets at seven oโclock when most people were only just getting up.
Daryl was already grumpy at this point, but heโd never cross Rick. Man was a little paranoid abut the whole Alexandria situation, really. Sure, Daryl didnโt trust the walls, but he wasnโt all that wary about the people. They were good men and women, he was sure of that. Youโd made friends already and for most of them, itโs obvious that they wonโt do no harm.
Yeah, not to Rick. And โcause heโs the leader, and Daryl owes him, and he has a history of going a litte, well, crazy sometimes, Daryl agrees to have a talk.
โฆ Only he didnโt think said talk would stretch well past noon and include long discussions with Carol, too. And then that whole gun storing thing, ugh. Normally, heโd like to be involved and gladly share is opinion, but right now all he can think about is that youโre waking up without him. And that heโs not home to bring you a cup of tea to your bedside and youโre not giving him a sleepy good morning kiss to thank him. His thoughts drift off and to that excited face you made when you realized the kitchen came with a kettle. Such a simple thing compared to the other luxuries and yet, thatโs what youโre still most excited about. Man, sometimes he thinks youโ
Wait, now theyโre adressing him again.
God, he wishes this was already over.
Next time he sees you that day is after lunch. You had cooked for him and were in the process of reheating the pasta when he stormed into the house, boots thudding on the wooden floors.
โDaryl?โ Youโd called out, sticking your head through the door.
He seemed to be in a bad mood, though you werenโt sure why, since you only knew that heโd been gone the whole morning.
Now he was stomping through the hallway, violently hanging his jacket onto the rack.
โHuh? What're ya starinโ at?โ He was basically growling at this point. This happened sometimes.
Though confused, you knew he wasnโt angry at you. Probably just had a hard day. Youโd come across Aaron earlier and he seemed really thankful, going on and on aboutโฆ his sink? You inquired what exactly had happened and then, surprised you didnโt know already, he told you that Daryl had fixed his sink at five oโclock in the morning. You were stunned initially, but it explained a lot.
Not where he was the whole rest of the morning, but this became clear when somene knocked at the door. You were going to answer it, but Daryl was faster.
It was Rick. โDaryl, I forgot to ask earlier. Have you fixed that motorcycle yet? I really need you to go on a run next week, can you do that? You know I donโt trustโโ You heard them whispering from the kitchen. Ah, so that's where he spent the morning then.
You heard the door slamming shut, and Daryl calling out a gruff, โMโgonna work on the bike.โ
โWait, Daryl! Arenโt you hungry? I made you some pasโโ He wasnโt listening. Didnโt even answer. Trough the window, you could see him stomping towards his makeshift working space in the front yard.
Sure, you knew he must be stressed since the bike isnโt all that close to being finished yet. Still, it wasnโt nice of him to ignore you like that all day even though you just wanted to help.
Made you wanna teach him a little lesson that might just take his mind off of everything else that was going on, too. Lately, everyone seemed to want a piece of him. But you did too! Might be fun to show him just what it felt like to be ignoredโฆ Oh, you had a good idea already.
Still prepared a plate for him and brought it outside, though. You loved him, after all, even if what youโd be doing next would make it look a little different.
God, you really wanted to see his face afterwardsโฆ
Yeah, it was his fault, definitely. He knew that.
He shouldnโt have ignored you, not after wanting nothing more the whole day than to be with you. It was stupid to act like this, really. Sometimes he didnโt even know why he did the things he did if not to punish himself. Youโd been so sweet too, cooking spaghetti for him. He insisted that he didnโt like it and that he would go out hunting again soon, so thereโd be some real food โ but that was bullshit, of course. And apparently, you knew that. Knew him way too well, actually.
It wasnโt right of him to be this dismissive, he knew that, too.
But did he really deserve this?
You knew he was sorry, even though heโd become all grumpy and didnโt want to admit that he was in the wrong.
Yeah, he was certain you knew all about it, โcause you must be doing this on purpose. There just isnโt any other explanation. Itโs maddening.
Daryl didnโt think you could be so cruel, perched on the wooden railing, sitting pretty and seeming completely immersed in the book you were reading. The book you had been reading to him throughout all of last week. The book you had promised youโd finish together. Hot anger curled in his gut.
He didnโt think you could be this cruelโฆ He should have known better. Because just now, as he was stepping back from the bike and wiping his hands with the oil-stained rag, he caught your gaze. Only for a second, but that glint of amusement flashing in your orbs was enough to convince him of your true intentions.
Yeah, you were definitely doing this on purpose. That concluded it, even if it werenโt for the exaggerated surprised gasps and loud laughter you let out every few pages, leaving him yearning to know what it was that you found so funny.
โNo way!โ
โOh my God.โ
โI knew it!โ
You were taunting him, right there in the middle of Alexandria. Worst thing was, nobody passing by would have even realized. To an outsider, it might have looked like you were just enjoying your book. While he was standing in front of the porch all pouty for no reason.
Man, he was steaming. Must have looked stupid glaring daggers at you while you pointedly ignored him. It annoyed him that you were continuing without him like this wasnโt your thing, but what he hated even more was the fact that he was so worked up about it. You really had him wrapped around your finger, damn it.
And he wanted to know who the murderer was!
He was this close to wiping the mocking smile off your face. No, wait, he was already making his way over to where you were sitting, heavy boots thudding over to the front porch.
โWhat dโya think yer doinโ, huh?โ He spat, crossing his arms over his chest as he came to a halt right in front of were you were sitting, staring you down.
He was sure you sensed how offended he was. And yet, you had the audacity to fucking smile right into his face.
โMhm? Isnโt it obvious? Iโm reading, silly.โ With a tsk, you shook your head at him, like you were thoroughly amused at his expanse.
โYโknow what I mean, damn it.โ He grumbled, still not making any sign of giving in.
โNo, Daryl, I donโt. Youโre not very vocal, you know. Starinโ at me from across the yard all afternoon. You havenโt even made any progress on the bike.โ You tut, head tilting nonchalantly. You were observing his expression, which quickly changed from agitated to embarrassed.
He overplays it with a grunted, โHow wouldโya even know that?โ
You smile again, this time almost pitiful. Heโd feel bad actually if he didnโt know you were just messinโ with him. โOh, I know. Canโt exactly work when youโre looking at me the whole time. Iโd be flattered if you didnโt look so angry. Like a child who had his toy taken away.โ
He caves, then. Averts his gaze, muttering something unintelligible.
Your eyes softened, โWhat was that?โ
Daryl looked up, face contorted into something close to a pout. โโฆ Yโwere readinโ our book.โ
โAnd thatโs a problem how?โ
He nearly growled, then. โYa promised weโd finish it together!โ
He glared at you, and it looked too cute. A giggle bubbled out of your lips, and you let your mask fall. Though he seemingly hadnโt realized it yet.
His face grew warm and his brows furrowed, โWhatโs so damn funny, woman?โ
You dropped the book then, laughing softly. โIโm sorry, that was too far.โ Jumped off the railing and stepped a little closer to him.
โHuh?โ Poor Daryl didnโt even know what was happening. He looked taken off guard, confused even, standing there lookinโ all tough like he didnโt know what was going on.
You smiled up at him kindly, then. โHey, I was just messing with you.โ
Daryl huffed, frowning at you. โYeah, quit actinโ like I dun know that. Ya were readinโ it out here on purpose so Iโd see.โ
โNot exactly.โ Bashfully, you opened the book on the page with the bookmark. Turned it around to show him, and you saw his eyes scanning the first few sentences. He looked more confused by the second. Finally, he glanced at you again, a big fat question mark written across his face.
A wave of warmth washed over your heart. Cute. You smiled, putting the book down before adressing your boyfriend again. โThatโs where I left off.โ
Daryl scoffed, โNah, ya didnโt. Thaโs where we left off."
And then, suddenly, it dawned on him. His blue eyes widened for a split second, before he huffed, looking visibly relieved. His voice was low when he cleared his troath to speak.
"Really?"
You giggled, taking a final step so you're standing right in front of him. "Huh?"
He shook his head, the hint of a gruff smile on his lips. "Did ya really spend the whole afternoon pretendin' to read jus' to rile me up?"
"Did it work?" You asked innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.
Daryl just grumbles, not wanting to admit just how affected he'd really been by your little charade.
"I'll take that as a yes." And then you grin up at him in that adorable way, and he almost forgets that he was angry on the spot. It's completely wiped off his mind when you wrap your arms around his waist in a gentle hug, apologetic even.
"Sorry." It's quiet, whispered against his neck.
His breaths fans over your hair, and he returns the hug, holding you close. "Nah. 's me who's gotta 'pologize. Shouldn't have ignored ya earlier."
You peek up at him then, eyes teasing. "No, you shouldn't have. Gonna do it again?"
He's flustered, wrapping his other arm around you to press you tighter against him so you won't see him blushing. "Nah."
"That's what I thought!" Your voice is muffled by his leather jacket, but he can feel you smile against his chest.
In a moment of weakness, partly because he's still baffled you spent this whole time just gauging for his reaction and partly because he loves you, he presses a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. Your grip around his waist tightens then, and he suddenly feels stupid for even thinking you'd finish that story without him in the first place. When you know how much he likes it when you read to him and that he's still feeling a little lost in front of this huge house that you've got all to yourselves.
You part from him, then, but only to give him a kiss. He returns it, silently telling you that he's not angry.
When you pull back, you smile at him. "So, wanna find out who's the killer?"
Though morning the loss of your lips against his, he gives a reconciliatory nod. "Mhm, sure."
He thinks that he's really lucky when you cheerfully walk over to the railing to grab the book, leaving him standing on the porch. You've already begun going on and on about your newest theory that you've apparently spent the afternoon constructing. You reread a couple of the latest chapters and are absolutely sure you found the vital clue.
Daryl just watches and listens attentively, mesmerized by you once again. You take his hand then and pull him inside, promising to read him the last two chapters as long as he takes a shower first.
And suddenly he doesn't even mind that at all, not when he knows you're shuffling around in the kitchen making that herbal tea you always have before bed. Especially not when he knows that you're pouring two cups as always, and that one's reserved for him.
Domestic, that's what this is. He hasn't really had it before, but he's pretty sure that's the thing. And he knows now that all this time, all his life, he missed something he didn't even know he could have.
Stupid, really. Thinkin' he might not manage to feel at home in Alexandria when in reality, he already does, 'cause it's true what they say, all that crap about "home is where the heart is".
His heart belongs to you now, and he doesn't even miss it.
