d e v o n

blake kathryn

tannertan36
Stranger Things

Andulka

JVL
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Peter Solarz
Cosimo Galluzzi

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
cherry valley forever
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
RMH
DEAR READER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

No title available
Claire Keane
seen from Italy
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seen from United Kingdom

seen from Germany

seen from Japan
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seen from United States
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seen from Uruguay
@jazzy1118
gif @daryl-dixon-daydreams
Rick, rubbing his temples: Those two are fighting again.
Carol: She’s got this.
-Meanwhile, across the room-
Daryl: I ain’t apologizin’!
Y/N: Okay.
Daryl, narrowing his eyes as Y/N starts sadly humming funeral music while staring out a window: The hell y’doin’?
Y/N: Mourning our relationship.
Daryl, storming out: Jesus fuck!
-Ten minutes later-
Daryl, shifting from foot to foot and muttering: Sorry I yelled.
Y/N, all but flinging herself at him: I still love you!
Rick, blinking: That should not have worked.
Carol: I’m telling you, she has a Daryl Dixon for Dummies book hidden somewhere.
gif @reedus-and-weep
Daryl: Gonne be rules if’n you’re gonna stay at our camp.
Merle, plopping down to grab a stick and reach for Y/N’s knife: Oh yeah? An’ what are they?
Y/N, swatting away his hand: Don’t touch my stuff.
Merle, rolling his eyes: Fine.
Merle, reaching for Daryl’s knife: Just gonna use—
Daryl, slapping away his hand: S’her stuff too.
Merle, arching a brow: Where the hell’s your stuff?
Daryl: S’her stuff.
Merle: Your crossbow?
Daryl: S’hers. Lets me use it.
Y/N: Correct.
Daryl, smirking: M’gettin’ good at this whole husband thing.
a/n: Welcome to my Daryl masterlist! Have fun reading!
🏹 The Stranger with the Crossbow
🏹 Bottled Up Feelings
🏹 A Place to Stay?
🏹 A Close Call
🏹 Fate Can Be A Lousy Traitor / I'll Always Find You (Part Two)
🏹 Frozen Hearts?
🏹 Lost / Found (Part Two)
🏹 Eyes on You
🏹 Reunion
🏹 Missed Chances / You're My Destiny (Part Two)
🏹 A Touch of Destiny?
🏹 Dilemmas
🏹 Against the Wall (18+)
🏹 Sinful Distraction
🏹 Into Shards
🏹 Crossing Lines
🏹 Approaches
🏹 Clandestine Meetings (18+)
🏹 Caught in the Headlights
🏹 ... what the future holds...
🏹 Save a Bike, Ride a Biker
🏹 In the Eye of the Storm
🏹 In This Together
🏹 Safe Haven
🏹 He loves me - he loves me not... 🌼
🏹 What I do, I do for You
🏹 One Night or Forever? (18+)
🏹 Mercy
🏹 Yours For the Night (18+)
🏹 Guardian Angel
🏹 love isn't random, we are chosen
🏹 Heart of Gold
🏹 Making a Home
🏹 misunderstandings
🏹 making up for lost time (18+)
🏹 reset button
🏹 father figure
🏹 seeds of the future (18+)
🏹 together - or not at all
🏹 car alienation (18+)
car alienation
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: You and Daryl get a little freaky while fixing the car you need to catch up with Fallou and Laurent.
Warnings: MDNI! 18+! SMUT (Daryl is a munch, unprotected sex (don't do this)/public sex/car sex - kinda, doggy? cowgirl - kinda, pulling out), possible spoilers for S2? Daryl gets riled up, swear words, possible inaccuracies regarding cars and car components - I'm not a mechanic, but I tried, fluff, teasing, humor
Set in Season 2 of the Daryl spin-off!
Can be read without having watched the spin-off!
Word Count: 4,1k
a/n: In honor of Normi's birthday today, I'm gonna post this, hehe. 🤗
Huge shout-out to @dixonsstinkysock for giving me the idea and inspiration to write this fic! It was an honour. I hope you like it! 🫶🏻
Also, fair warning, I changed things up a little - plot wise.
Love In The Rearview Mirror °☆• EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist
Daryl Dixon x Reader (HE CHEATS, PART 2)
Over the last month you have been trying to keep your mind off things. Instead of Beth taking care of Judith like usual you took over the role as her caregiver instead, speaking almost all day and all night with her. Some nights Rick would panic, seeing Judith gone from her crib just to find you curled up in your bed with Judith in your arms both of you out cold. At first Rick wondered why you took such a big role with Judith... As much as you loved being around Judith before you did other things.
Like helping with the crops, going out on runs, etc. But now you seem to have completely changed, only spending time with Judith and not speaking much but sometimes helping Hershel with the crops... But you especially didn't speak about what happened between you and Daryl.
You hadn't fully grieved the loss of your and Daryl's relationship. Other than the night it happened you hadn't really cried about it and you tried your best to ignore it. Daryl on the other hand was a complete mess. He couldn't sleep, not without you anyways.. He barely spoke to anyone, only giving them light nods and if you were lucky enough one worded answers. He tried speaking to you... But you would just tell him you were busy with Judith or the crops and walk away without even looking at him during that entire 'conversation'.
The main group got so sick and tired of this situation they made up a plan... One you wouldn't like so much. "Hey Y/N." Rick says while walking over to you. You were sitting on the ground with Judith who was playing with some of her toys. "Hey Rick." You say with a smile. "Look I need you to go on a run today." Rick says and your smile fades. "Um.. I can't. I'm taking care of Judith." You say nervously. Rick smiles before bending down and picking up Judith. "Me and Judith are going to have a father daughter day. I need you to go." Rick says and you stare at him for a moment. "I... I need to help Hershel with the crops then." You say while standing up and turning to leave. "The crops have already been taken care of. And before you make any more excuses the water pipe is unplugged, food is being prepared and they don't need help, and everything is taken care of. Besides going out on a run." Rick says. You close your eyes in frustration. Fucking bastard.
"Fine. When am I going?" You asked while turning around. "Now." He says while walking past you. You follow him outside and you stare at your feet. You finally looked up and saw Daryl leaning against his motorcycle. You stopped in your tracks. "No." Rick stops too and stares at you. "Y/N we need more supplies." Liar. You all had a week full of extra supplies lying around.
"No." You repeat. Rick sighs. "Y/N. Please." You glare at him in frustration. "Fine. But you owe me." You whisper the last part. "Alright." Rick says while a chuckle as you brush past him. Daryl watched as you walked in his direction, still not looking at him. Daryl got onto his bike and you sat behind him, barely putting your hands on his waist. He started up his bike and began to drive.
As you two drove down the streets you barely held onto his side making you almost fall off at some points. He tried yelling to you that you needed to hold onto him better because you'd be making sharp turns soon but you ignored him. You honestly would rather fall off his bike and possibly break your neck than touch him anymore than you had to. But Daryl being the annoying bastard that he was he went to the side of the road and stopped the motorcycle, turning it off in the process. "Y/N you need to hold onto me tighter otherwise you'll fall off and hurt yourself." You ignored him again, staring off into the trees. "Look you can hate me all you like but I'm not letting you get hurt." You still ignored him. He sighed in annoyance. "Fine. Guess we're sitting here then." You moved your hands off his waist and into your lap.
After about five minutes of sitting in ear piercing silence Daryl got more and more agitated. "Can we at least speak like adults? You're acting like a child Y/N." You scoff with a smirk. "Piss off Daryl." You spat. "She speaks!" He cheers. You shake your head while continuing to stare at the trees. "Are you just going to ignore me forever Y/N is that your plan?" He asks. You ignored him again and instead of agitated he got pissed off.
"I'm sick of this shit. Y'know Y/N we're probably some of the last people on earth so you'll have to speak to me at some point." You chuckle. "Even if we were the last people on earth I'd rather die than carry a conversation with you ever again." He turned his head to the side to look at you through his hair. "What did you just say?" He asks. You ignore him again and he turns his head back forward. "You're a real bitch y'know that?" You chuckle again, turning your gaze onto your lap. "At least I don't whore around when things get tough Daryl. I have some self respect unlike you." He glared at the road and his breaths hardened. "I think now I finally understand." Your eyes flicked up to the back of his head. "Understand what." You ask, curious to what he was going to say.
"I think now I understand why your ex boyfriend would beat the ever living-shit out of you." You stopped breathing. Before the apocalypse you had an abusive ex who liked to beat on you for sport. You have scars all over your body from your many beatings and some surgical scars from your frequent trips to the hospital.
The last time you saw him was when the apocalypse started. Some walkers were trying to break into your shared home and he tried sacrificing you to get away. But lucky for you he got the karma that was waiting for him... As the walkers were eating his flesh you booked it down the street hearing his screams echo behind you. That's when you found Hershel's home, you were beaten, bloody and bruised and he took care of you. He also took pity on you. So you stayed on the farm with him and his daughters until Rick and his gang showed up and that's when you met Daryl. You and Daryl got together long before the 'incident' at the farm and you told him what happened to you. He understood and never made you feel bad about it or used it against you for having issues in the relationship. Maybe that's why you two have been arguing... Maybe you had such bad trust issues that instead of talking them out with Daryl you took your frustrations out on him.
But that wasn't the point here. He said an awful and very hurtful thing. Your heart began to race and your chest ached at the sudden rise of anxiety. Your breath hitched and in a sadden panic you got off his bike and walked down the road with tears blurring your vision. When he realized you were off his bike and walking down the road it hit him like a truck with what he said. "Fuck." He mumbled to himself while getting off the back and jogging towards you but keeping a distance.
"Y/N wait I didn't mean that." You ignored him. "Baby please I'm sorry." You shook your head as your bottom lip trembled. "Please get back on my bike we can talk about this when we get back to-" Daryl was suddenly stopped by you quickly turning out and swinging your fist to his cheekbone. Daryl stumbled back and held onto the side of his face. "Fuck you Daryl! Who the hell do you think you are?!" He looked at you in shock as you screamed in his face. "You don't get to fuck some other girl and think everything will be okay with a simple talk. And whatever small chance you had you just blew it." You stared at him like a rabid dog, feeling every single horrible emotion imaginable.
You then shoved him. And again. And again before your fists start to pound on his chest. You mumbled out profanities and a few 'I hate you's' in the mix of your hitting. Daryl sat there and took it, knowing he deserved it. You start to sob while hitting him and he thought that was enough. He grabbed your wrists gently and started to mumble your name until you stopped. Daryl moved your arms aside and took a step forward before engulfing you in a hug. You didn't hug back of course... You just rested your hands against his chest as you sobbed into the crook of his neck.
He hated himself. Even though you may have been a big reason why you two were arguing it was him alone that broke you both apart for good. He was afraid that you breaking up with him would hurt so he used something to cushion the fall but this... This was worse than anything he could've imagined. And now he had used something so sensitive and something you trusted him with against you.
"I want to go home..." You mumbled in between sobs. "I'll bring you home.." He sighed deeply. He then pulled away and you both walked back to the motorcycle. You decided to not act like a brat again so you wrapped your arms around his waist as he drove home. When you guys came back to the prison Rick greeted you both. "Hey that was-" You brushed past him with your head down, not saying a word. "Quick..." He watched you walk off into the prison before turning back to Daryl. He noticed the bruise on his cheek and he sighed. "What the hell happened out there?" Rick asks. Daryl looked at Rick for a few seconds before walking off himself, basically telling him he was a dick for forcing you to go.
Rick sighed again and shook his head in disbelief. 'Now what?' He thought to himself.
PART 3?
MASTERLIST
Daryl Dixon x Reader (HE CHEATS)
You two have been arguing a lot lately. Not understanding why but you both did. Everything you both did just seemed to annoy each other. And your arguments got so bad that Rick had to sit you both down and tell you, you can't be arguing late at night anymore. It kept the main group and everyone else in the prison awake. Worst of all it kept Judith awake.
So you both decided you needed some space. He slept in one cell and you slept in another. It had been days since you two decided to have some space and neither of you had spoken to each other. You both felt shitty, missing each other but too stubborn to apologize or say anything to each other. You were currently getting the crops with Hershel, he kept on looking at you with worry, seeing your frustrated and sad face. He decided to break the ice.
"Y/N? Can I ask you something?" You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him. "Yeah Hershel what's up?" You ask. "What's going on with you and Daryl?" He asks. You stare at him for a moment before looking back down at the crops. "I... I don't know. I just love him so damn much y'know? But being cooped up together is driving us mad. I'm worried I'm losing him." You say while bending down to grab more crops. "Maybe tell him how you feel. Sit him down and work it out. Even though you love each other you don't have to be together twenty four seven, just have time to be together and times where you're not." You chuckle. "Like a normal couple?" You ask. "I guess." He chuckles too. "That... That doesn't sound half bad Hershel. Thank you." You turned to him and smiled, he gave you one back.
But meanwhile as you were fawning over this the last couple of days in your head Daryl had been putting his frustrations out on... Something else. More like somebody else. For months Karen had been trying to get him into bed, but he refused. But on the first night you two had some space he sneaked into Karen's cell and had sex with her. Over the past few days that's all he had been doing was sex with her.
He was so sure you two were done... He had never seen you like this. You were usually so kind and sweet to him and now you were just screaming at him and calling him names. He thought you had finally grown tired of him just like everybody else and was just sticking around to not hurt him. And that same night he was walking over to Karen's cell when he heard someone call his name. He turned his head and saw you jogging towards him. "Hey.. Can we talk?" You ask. He looked down the hall before looking back at you, nodding. He followed you back to your cell and you ordered him to sit down. He stared at the ground as you both sat in silence. You were standing in front of him... Thinking of the first thing to say. His breath hitched, waiting to hear the 'we're over' words come out of your mouth.. But instead...
"I'm sorry." He froze. He looked up at you and saw how upset and sincere you were. "I'm sorry for everything I... I've just been frustrated because we've been cooped up in the place for.. Forever." You shook your head, staring at the ground in shame with tears in your eyes, one slipping from your eye. "I don't want to lose you Daryl.. I want to work things out... If you want to of course.." You whispered the last part. That's when the tears started to pour down his face. You didn't look up until you heard his breath hitch. "Daryl..?" He grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly and crying into your shoulder.
"I'm sorry.. I'm so so sorry..." He cried. You hugged him back tightly. "It's okay Daryl.. You're not at fault." He shook his head and continued apologizing. He apologized so much that it made you worry. You pulled away and looked at his teary eyes. "Daryl... What's going on?" You ask. He stared down in shame, taking in the possible last time he'd ever hold you like this again.
"I.. I've been sleeping with Karen." Your face fell. You stood up from him and he whispered a 'no' and wanted to hold you back but he knew he couldn't. "You... You did what?" You stumbled on your words. "Y/N I am so.. So sorry." You looked around in a panic, looking for answers, desperate for answers. "W-Why?" Was all you could mutter out. "I thought you were going to leave me. I was sure of it. I wanted to put my frustrations out on somebody else." He sniffled. "I love you-" "Don't touch me!" You smacked his hand away as he tried to touch you. "I love you." He muttered out again. "You just don't love me enough to not sleep with someone else when things get tough." You say while clutching your chest. "No.. No that's not true." He shook his head. "Why... Why would you do this to me?" You ask, your voice breaking as you broke into a sob.
His heart shattered seeing and hearing how broken you were. "Did you do this just to hurt me?" He stood up. "No... No god no. I thought that maybe if I distracted myself with something else before we broke up that it wouldn't hurt as bad." He explained. You chuckled through your sob. "Even if we did break up the pain I'm feeling now wouldn't even be a comparison." You sobbed. "Is that where you were going when I came and found you?" You asked. He didn't answer, he just stared at the floor with a heartbroken expression.
You let out a broken and exhausted deep breath. "Oh god..." You cradled your face in disbelief. "Y/N please..." He tried to hold you but you just shoved him away. "NO! Don't!" You yelled. "I can't even..." You started to hyperventilate. "I can't even look at you." You whispered while turning away and leaving the cell. Daryl just stood there and sobbed, hearing your footsteps echo down the cell block. He sat down on your previous shared bed and cried into his hands.
What had he done?
MASTERLIST
gif not mine
Daryl, watching Y/N lift a heavy box of supplies: Y’ain’t gotta carry that.
Y/N: It’s not heavy. I’m fine.
Daryl, taking it anyway: Nah. Said y’ain’t gotta.
Rick, matching step with Daryl: You’re flirting.
Daryl: No, m’liftin’.
Michonne, suddenly on Daryl’s other side: You already married her in your head.
Daryl, slowing down: …
Daryl, shoving the box at Rick and then stalking away, crossbow in hand: …
Rick, snickering: Where’re you going?
Daryl: Need to go—kill somethin’.
Rick, watching him go: Absolutely flirting.
Michonne, nodding: Yep. Head over heels.
together - or not at all
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: The CDC was suppossed to be a safe place - not a death trap. Can you, your unborn baby, Daryl and the group escape?
Warnings: the CDC? pregnancy and pregnancy things, swear words, weapons, Dr. Jenner? protective!Daryl, angst
Set in Season 2!
Word Count: 2,5k
a/n: This story is based on @dixondisease 's idea! I hope you like it. 🤗
Disclaimer: The quotes from Daryl, Rick and Dr.Jenner are not mine. I just used them to fit the plot.
Love In The Rearview Mirror °☆• EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist
gif not mine
Y/N: You’re so sweet to me.
Daryl: Ain’t.
Y/N: Are too.
Y/N: You’re my emotional support redneck.
Daryl: I dunno what that means but I feel a lil’ threatened.
gif not mine
Y/N: Do you like me, Daryl?
Daryl: …
Y/N: You sharpened my knife.
Daryl: Was dull.
Y/N: You found me new boots.
Daryl: Yours was busted up.
Y/N: You don’t let anything or anyone get too close to me.
Daryl: You’re a idiot an’ gonna get yourself hurt.
Y/N: You let me touch your hair.
Daryl: …
Daryl: Don’t make it weird.
Y/N: So, that’s a yes.
Daryl: Maybe?
Y/N: It’s definitely yes.
Daryl: What would no sound like?
Y/N, in her best Daryl voice: Nah.
Daryl: Well, ain’t nah.
Y/N: Are you flirting with me?
Daryl: Hope so cause I got no idea.
First Touch
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Summary: Both you and Daryl sustained minor injuries while on a run. You guys take turns patching each other up, and the moment is surprisingly intimate.
Warnings/Tags: fluff, description of a minor injury, wound care, touch-starved, slight reference to child abuse, slow-burn relationship, female reader (she/her), season three, no use of y/n
Word count: 625 words
A/N: This is a shorter piece, but it's been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I like it. It was one of the first things that I wrote when I began writing fanfiction again, so if it's not the same quality as my other works, that's why. This was supposed to be posted a few days ago but my reception was worse than I anticipated. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this one <3
Masterlist
As the antiseptic met the small laceration on Daryl's bicep, he felt the sting and grimaced slightly. You used a small scrap of fabric and a cleaning solution to treat the wound. You kept going and mumbled an apology. He had insisted that he was fine, but you wanted to help him. Besides, he was known for forgetting to take care of his wounds properly. It wasn't because he didn't know how - the countless years of living under his father's roof had caused him to grow accustomed to that, Daryl just didn't pay attention when it came to his health. He was more concerned with the people he loves' well-being.
“You ain't need to be doin' all this. I coulda handled it myself.”
making up for lost time
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader - for Kinktober
Summary: The mission was clear - and yet you and Daryl found yourself tangled up in a quite intimate encounter; driven by touch starvation.
Set in Season 3 of the DD spin-off!
Warnings: possible S3 spoiler! Nevertheless, you can read this without having watched the spin-off! You might be a little confused who Valentina is but beside that...
SMUT MDNI! 18+! (Reader is horny ops, handjob - kinda, unprotected sex (wrap it, guys), cowgirl, groping/slaps? dirty talk? missionary - kinda, not pulling out, slightly dom!Daryl - he's a bit possessive and primal, rough-ish sex? mentions of pregnancy because, uh, yeah...), fluff, teasing, thirst, swear words, humor?
Word Count: 5,9k
a/n: I am a lil' insecure about this tbh. I don't even know if this counts as a kinktober story, heh. 🫣 I really don't know what demon possessed me as I wrote this. I'm still trying to improve my smut writing skills. I hope it's okay and you enjoy reading it. 🧡
A huge thanks goes to @angelwings-crossbowstrings ! She helped me quite a bit along and gave me the needed bravery to actually really post it. 🧡
Love In The Rearview Mirror °☆• EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist
Insecure reader x Daryl Dixon
Female reader x Daryl Dixon (no use of y/n)
Tw: people being mean ig and self doubt
Word count - 1688
Notes: technically this is a draft whilst I am on the way to the bar so umm no time to proofread so enjoy?!
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
You were never the most popular person. Everyone thought you were too much or not enough or too loud or too opinionated etc, you name it, they probably thought it. At least that’s how you perceived yourself . You assumed you were not everyone’s cup of tea but those who mattered stayed and those who didn’t faded was your mantra. When the world ended tho, it all faded. Over night your entire life had been turned upside down while your support system was pulled out from underneath you. Not only were you now plunging into a dangerous new world physically, but also socially.
In the initial months of the outbreak, you hid out in abandoned buildings after learning pretty quickly to fear both the living and the dead. At first the solitude scared you more than the walkers. A constant uninterrupted stream of consciousness plagued with nothing but anxiety and frustration? Your personal idea of hell. But slowly you adapted. You became pretty decent at fighting and foraging. You were grateful to have had a boyfriend teach you the basics of hunting and tracking. Without his knowledge you definitely wouldn’t have made it this far. You always wondered where he was. Daryl was tough, there was no doubt he made it out of the city. But as time slipped away, so did your confidence in your archer’s survival.
You often pondered whether he would even still like you. Your once dewy and soft complexion was now harsh and caked in an almost constant mud. Where perfectly styled curls used to sit, is a birds nest of thick frizzy hair grows. And the smooth skin of your left cheek, had been claimed by a deep red scar.
The shop you were squatting in for the week was at risk of being hit by some newcomers to the area. As the sun rose on another dreary morning, you made your escape. Blinking the last bits of sleep from your eyes, you sluggishly set out, dragging your boots pathetically along the gravel road. It seemed to stretch for miles ahead. A chorus of birds sang as they lapped up the morning rays. You sighed in jealousy, missing the community you once had.
As you stumbled in a now memory filled haze, you failed to fully register the sounds in the distance. As the birds began to disperse, the sound of a motorbike buzzing crept louder and louder. The piercing sound turned your veins to ice. Before your brain could react, you flung yourself into the bushes. Unfortunately, you didn’t account for their density (or lack there of) as you took a chunk of the undergrowth with you in your dive. The loud rustling along with the now gapping hole in the thicket was enough to alert the passerby of your presence.
Your body tensed as you heard the stranger kill the engine. Your rapid heartbeat filled your ears, drowning out the sound of boots approaching. The sound was oddly faint, either you had stumbled upon a master of stealth or they were completely stupid. You silently prayed for the later. But alas it was not answered, as you felt a hand grip your shoulder.
A scream filled your throat but died at your lips. You stared open mouthed, in sheer disbelief. Blue eyes. His blue eyes. The ones that you could drown in. The ones that softened when you smiled and lit up when they met yours across a room. Your archer was alive. Not only alive but here? With you?
No words were needed as you both crumbled into each other’s embrace. “Though’ I’d lost yer” “I thought so too” A combination of both your tears and kisses were exchanged until it was unclear where your smile began and his ended.
Once you had untangled (mostly) you were quick to slide your palm over your cheek. You stared at him like he hung the stars, but he was not easily distracted and noticed your quick movements. Softly, he took hold of your wrist and gently pulled it away from your face. Your face flushed as you turned to look away.
“Sweetheart.” He uttered “look at me”
You shook your head looking down. Daryl sighed. His other hand slowly came under your chin and tilted your face towards him. “Dar don’t-“ you protest. You felt small and vulnerable under his tentative gaze. Yet, when you met his eyes you could see the love that emulated from them and the shame slowly subsided. He stared at you like your a work of art, an otherworldly being whose beauty he couldn’t quite grasp.
“Yer beautiful. Always have been” As if those words alone weren’t enough to pull you from your panic, he pressed a feather light kiss on the scar.
A few weeks later.
As you carried your harvest in from the garden a big grip crept up the corners of your mouth. The novelty of finally having people around you was not lost. You were almost giddy with delight from the past weeks and all the new friends you made at the prison. As you approached the canteen area you saw Susan and Janet, your new friends from Woodbury, gossiping whilst peeling carrots. Excitedly, you hurried over hoping to catch the end of the conversation and join in.
“I was shocked that she looked like that”
“I know. I understand it’s the apocalypse but she really let herself go. He could do so much better”
“And god her voice is just so”
“Annoying”
They both sigh in frustration. You stood there slightly taken aback by this side of your friends. The poor girl they were talking about would probably be devastated if she heard them.
Not wanting to interrupt, you began to back away. As you turned you heard the older one mutter
“And that ghastly scar on her cheek. It makes me nauseous just looking at it”
Your heart dropped. A small gasp left your lips causing the women to turn, catching a glimpse of you as you sprinted out of the room. Your basket of vegetables and remaining chores completely forgotten in your haste. Tears filled your eyes as you sprinted up the staircases, desperately trying to preserve some dignity.
Hours passed before Daryl was finally dismissed from his watch tower duty. The once grumpy man had a slight pep in his step heading back to his perch. Since finding you, his whole world seems to feel brighter. It was like your presence alerted him to another sense he never knew he had. Things felt clearer, more vibrant with you back in the picture. Sure he got a lot of shit from Carol, but he was on top of the world (not that the brooding archer would ever admit to such a thing)
He swung by the canteen but couldn’t spot you at your usual table. Daryl saw a few of the women you had befriended sat huddled in a corner. The archer began to approach only to be met with hesitant glances as they quickly retreated out of the area. He thought it was strange but didn’t pay it much mind, after all they were gracious enough to make you feel included after being on your own for so long. He worried you wouldn’t adjust well but you seemed to be coping better than he could have hoped. Daryl assumed you had gotten tired and retreated to your shared area in his perch at the top of the base.
As he approached he heard a sniffle under the covers. Wanting to respect your privacy, he knocked very gently on the wall to alert you of his presence. Instantly, he heard you inhale as you poked your head from under the covers.
Your face was blotchy and swollen, there was no way you could try and lie your way out of this one. You wiped your tears anyway and calmed your breathing.
“Darlin’” Daryl sighed, heartbreaking at the site of you so comfortable in his bed but so clearly devastated. Unsure how you felt being vulnerable after all this time apart, he hesitated. The urge to comfort you was overwhelming but he somehow he resisted. “Do yer want me to come closer?” He said softly, like trying not to scare a wild deer. He dared not make you feel even worse but was relieved as he saw you slowly nod your head. Your cheeks grew crimson in embarrassment but you couldn’t refuse.
Daryl pulled off his boots and engulfed your body in a gentle bear hug. You dug your face into his shoulder to muffle the cries that threatened to spill over. “It’s alr baby” he reassured you, holding you close. In that moment, it felt like the damn had broken as the flood gates opened. All your insecurities and worries had been true. In a sick way you were relieved that all your self loathing was not for nothing. But it didn’t make it sting any less.
“I thought they liked me.” Was all you could muster once the tears had gone dry. The wobble in your voice shattered Daryl. He put the pieces together and clung to you tightly, feeling the betrayal as if it was his.
“Sweetheart” he began. “Carol loves yer like yer one of her own. Beth thinks the world of yer and Maggie won’t stop goin’ on about how funny yer are. Hell’ even Glenn’s been givin’ me shit about I managed to pull yer” He paused.
“And to me, yer the answer to my prayers. You make me feel real for the first time since the world went to shit. Yer smile, yer laugh. Fuck. Those women don’t know what they’re missin’” You nuzzled in tighter trying to cling to the words he was saying. You both stayed like that for a while until your breathing evened out and the sky had turned dark.
“Yer perfect” he whispered. “Don’t let anyone tell yer otherwise”. Your heart swelled.
“Dar” you whispered back. “How did I get this lucky”
“By just being you. You deserve to be appreciated” he sighed peppering kisses along your cheek.
Buried Beneath Denial
He hates you. He despises you. He can't stand looking at you. And all this because he just can't deal with the thought of not being enough to earn your attention.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖
Daryl Dixon x fem!reader / prison era
Word Count: 6,8 k
Warnings: blood, mention of death
Masterlist
I don't really know how I feel about this one. I wrote it on my phone at work, but decided to share.
"Denial sleeps soundly until something cataclysmic wakes it up."
— Michelle Gochett Edwards
.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖
Daryl Dixon had never loved a woman before. Perhaps as a little boy he loved his mother, but then she died, leaving him and his brother with that pathetic excuse for a man that was their father, and all those warm feelings died out. All that remained in him was anger and regret. Oh, yes, Daryl was a very angry boy. And then a very angry teenager. And a very angry young man. It was only the apocalypse that gave him different priorities. Survival was still number one, of course, but above that were his obligations to his people, to the community. Defending the weak. What was definitely not there, however, was love.
Daryl didn't even fully understand the concept of love, especially in a post-apocalyptic world where every day was a struggle for survival. He couldn't comprehend the idea of having someone he would have to constantly care for, worry about, someone whose thoughts would cloud his rational assessment of a situation. Well, yes, he took care of the people around him every day, but only because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated to do so. No one told him to. He felt no obligation to anyone but himself and his conscience. In his mind, love was just a burden he didn't need in his life. An unnecessary ballast.
That's why, when his gaze began to linger on you a little more often than on others, he tried not to think about it too intensively. He simply blamed his heightened senses and caution for it—it wasn't that he wanted to look at you. You were just kind of there, another survivor from Woodbury, hidden behind high walls for many months while he and his people fought for their lives outside in this cruel world. Another princess who had no idea what reality was like. That's why he watched you—to make sure your inexperience didn't put anyone in danger, just as he watched all the other survivors that he brought inside the prison walls. He paid attention to every detail so that he would be prepared for anything. In a way, it was also because, by some strange coincidence, you were everywhere he went, like a fucking plague he couldn't escape. You couldn't just sit in one place for more than an hour. No, that was impossible. His eyes saw you everywhere, even where he didn't expect you to be. At one point, it even crossed his mind that he would soon see you in the shower or in his bed, and these thoughts evoked a strange feeling in him, as if he were being flooded with warmth from within. His aversion to you clearly began to border on something deeper, even more negative. How else could that weird feeling be explained?
Meanwhile, you tried your best to be useful, and that, in turn, irritated him so much that he felt it deep in his stomach whenever he saw you. Like a sudden cramp, only warmer and impossible to get rid of. You were a nuisance to him, and you didn't even realize it, because whenever you saw him, you nodded your head in greeting with a radiant smile so dazzling that it was unbearable.
Your irritating presence made him watch. He watched all your failed attempts at shooting a gun, he watched you flinch at the sight of blood, he watched your disgusted expression when you helped around the fence. He watched you not eat any of the animals he hunted and brought to the prison because you didn't eat fucking meat. Oh, how he wanted to walk up to you and shake you so you would start thinking rationally. He told himself that he only paid attention to you because you were dead weight; someone who would most likely be the first to die, and that could end badly for the people around you. He saw how much they craved your attention and didn't understand why. You were friendly, yes, and you smiled at them so broadly that it hurt to watch, but you were useless to the community.
The thing is, they liked you—all of them—and he was slowly losing his patience watching them cling to your company. Especially the guys. You were just an average girl, damn it. There was nothing special about you, and they acted like you were some fucking goddess. They followed you around with their tongues hanging out, just waiting for you to notice them, and of course you did, grinning widely like a crazy person, always so cheery. Daryl watched from a distance, barely refraining from dispersing the crowd. You should also find something more useful to do, maybe help with the fence or at least learn how to shoot a gun, which you haven't mastered yet. If you didn't irritate him so much that the very thought of being near you made him shudder, he could teach you himself. But he couldn't stand being around you for even a moment. His body began to sweat, and his hands trembled strangely. He seemed to have some kind of allergic reaction to you.
“Ain’t ya have anythin’ better to do?” he once snapped as he passed a group of people with you sitting in the middle, showing some old photos you had brought with you to the prison, which made everyone look at him strangely. But he didn't care. There was still a lot of work to be done, no time for silly photos. No time to live as if the world hadn't ended, which was clearly what you were trying to do. You were a distraction to too many people, at least in his eyes. If that many people couldn't stop staring at you, you must have been a problem.
And then, to make matters worse, one evening you joined Beth, singing some stupid love song, and that finished him off completely. Your voice was the final nail in his coffin. He never liked it when young Greene sang, it annoyed him, but when he heard you, his stomach twisted with a sudden wave of nausea. Pure despise. Until then, he hadn't even realized he hated music that much. He made an excuse, muttering something about checking the fence, and left the Block, his heart beating a little too fast, probably because of all the disgust, and his breathing heavy, as if he had been running. Yes, you were fucking annoying. He couldn’t stand being in your presence longer that a couple of minutes, because his body rebelled against that.
“Oh, I think he hates me,” he heard your voice the next day and froze in his tracks. He was going to join Maggie on her watch, but you had clearly beaten him to it. He stood behind the half-open door, so neither of you had noticed his presence yet. And he was eavesdropping.
“Do you think so?” Maggie asked, her voice sounding strangely amused. As if she knew something no one else did.
“Don't you?” you laughed. “When I'm around, he sneers and always looks at me like he wants to throw me into the horde behind the fence.”
If you were talking about him... and you definitely were... He didn't want to do that. Damn it, he didn't want to throw you into the horde, what the hell were you talking about? Yes, he didn't particularly like you, but he would never hurt you.
“Daryl is intense, but he's a good guy,” Maggie said, and you immediately tsked your tongue in disapproval.
“I'm not saying he’s not. I'm just saying that he doesn't like me, and I have no idea why.”
There was a strange tone in your voice that made him frown. Were you worried? Were you sad? Because of him? Why?
“Then ask him.”
There were a few seconds of silence, and Daryl really wanted to see your face at that moment; to see your expression.
“And I thought you liked me,” you said, and she laughed.
“He's not that bad.”
“He'd bite my head off, you know that.”
Something in your words made him uncomfortable, as if he wanted to deny them. But you were right, he didn't like you. You annoyed him. You made him nauseous and made his heart beats with anger. Your smile disturbed him so much that he often found himself stumbling over his own breath when he saw it. And that damn singing... He couldn't understand why something deep inside him told him to kick down the door and tell you that you were stupid for thinking that way. Why did he feel so... concerned at the thought that you could think... no, that you knew that he doesn't like you. He didn't care about you or your opinion. He didn't care if you hated him, he wouldn't even flinch if you did.
He turned on his heel and walked away before he did something stupid, with a strangely heavy heart in his chest.
After that incident, he began to notice that you stopped smiling at him when he came in while you were there. You just looked at him quickly and then turned your head, ignoring his presence. At first, he thought maybe you just weren't feeling well. Or that you were sad. Or something else he didn't care about. But you didn't change your behaviour towards anyone else but him. You still smiled at other people, talked to them, laughed, helped them... You were still yourself, just... You just didn't smile at him anymore.
Good, he thought. Finally.
So why did it bother him so much? Why did it annoy him that you suddenly started ignoring him? Even when he walked past you, glancing at you cautiously, you looked straight ahead as if he didn't exist at all.
He clenched his jaw, not saying a word, biting his tongue, because damn it, he wanted to tell you so badly... He didn't know what, but he felt a burning need inside him that made him desperately want to confront you.
He was obsessed with provoking you now. Wherever you went, he was there too. Just to see if you would finally give in. What had he done that made you smile at everyone except him? Didn't he deserve even a little of your attention? A little of the kindness you showed other people? Not that he cared, of course. It was just… weird.
About a week after he overheard your conversation with Maggie, he saw you outside with some idiot he'd save from the outside two days earlier. An idiot who had his hand on your lower back and his mouth so close to your ear he could easily have licked your earlobe. The idiot was teaching you how to shoot a gun, and before Daryl could think, he was standing next to you. He walked the distance way too fast.
“Who the fuck let ya take it?” he growled, snatching the gun from your hands and startling you a bit. But he wasn't looking at you. Oh no, you didn't take the rifle. That couldn't be. He was looking straight at the idiot, and the anger in his eyes could have killed him if it were possible.
“I just thought...” the guy started, but Daryl cut him off mid-sentence:
“Ain’t good at that, huh? Get the fuck outta here ‘n do sum useful.”
As the idiot backed away and headed toward the Block, looking like he was about to piss his pants, Daryl watched him without saying a word. He didn't take his eyes off him for a second, even though he could see you looking at him out of the corner of his eye.
And then you scoffed. You fucking scoffed at him and turned on your heel, muttering something that sounded like an irritated impossible.
“What the fuck is yer problem?” he growled before he could bite his tongue. You had only taken two steps when his voice made you stop. You froze, and he realized that this was actually the first time he had addressed you directly.
You slowly turned back, looking at him as if he had just lost his mind.
“My problem?” you asked, but it wasn't the sweet, warm voice you usually used when talking to people. Oh, you were pissed. He had never seen you pissed before.
You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, and even though you were smaller than him—both in height and width—you challenged him silently with your beautiful eyes.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
He had never heard you swear before either.
“My problem ‘s idiots shooting without permission,” he growled. “Yer ain’t good at it, ya could hurt someone.”
You raised your eyebrows, and your face showed a slight disbelief that couldn't be ignored.
“Idiots?” you asked. “Well, I knew you didn't like me for some unknown reason, but I didn't know you thought so little of me.”
He clenched his jaw but said nothing, watching your lips curve into a sarcastic smile. You shook your head in amusement.
“And I really had a high opinion of you,” you scoffed. “Turns out you're the biggest asshole I've ever met.”
You walked away, just like that, leaving him with a strange, bittersweet taste of defeat and cherries on his tongue. Cherries that somehow you always smelled with. The scent tickled his nose. Who the hell smelled like cherries during the fucking apocalypse?
He didn't move an inch, watching you walk away, breathing heavily. Something invisible rested on his shoulders, weighing him down, and his stomach clenched, making him almost groan. He must have been sick or something, maybe he had caught a stomach virus. He felt nauseous and shaky.
A shadow of regret washed over him as you disappeared into the building. But he hadn't done anything wrong, he was just being careful, and you made a scene. You couldn't shoot, everyone knew that. You knew it too. He didn't want you to accidentally shoot someone.
Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely a true. Maybe he wouldn't have minded if you shot that idiot who couldn't keep his hands to himself. But that wasn't the point. It was about safety. Just safety.
He didn't care how your expression towards him changed that day. How your eyes were now shooting him those irritated glances. It wasn't just about ignoring him anymore. He could see how much you despised him.
Good, he thought again, ignoring how the whole situation made his blood boil. How now, whenever you were around, he didn't know what to do with his hands. The tension between you was so obvious now that other people were slowly starting to notice. And comment.
“Just kiss her already,” Glenn said one morning at breakfast. You walked outside, heading for the dining area, in jeans that fell low on your waist, a small top that barely covered your stomach, and your hair braided, which was completely tousled after sleep. You looked like a pretty mess, to say the least. Daryl froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, staring at you in that state. With Glenn's not-so-quiet comment, your eyes fell on Daryl, and he felt his whole face turn red from the intensity of your gaze. Did you hear that? Did you find it as absurd as he did? Because it was absurd.
But you didn’t react. You turned your head away, and your wide smile lit up your face. You waved to someone, walked over to another table, and were now talking to the people Daryl wanted to strangle with his bare hands.
He looked down at his plate, put down his fork, and suddenly lost his appetite.
“Do you have a crush on her or something?” Glenn asked, smiling like another idiot who deserved a punch, and Daryl snorted. He should have said no. He should have laughed at the idea. Except... he couldn't. Why the hell couldn't he?
“Fuck off,” he muttered, getting up and walking away.
He didn't finish his breakfast that day. He didn't come back until late at night, hunting and killing zombies to stop thinking about you. He hated you even more now because he couldn't stop.
He didn’t have a crush on you. He had never had a crush on anyone before. All that mattered to him was survival. Always. There was no room in his heart for such weakness. Not then, not ever. Men like him didn't even deserve to fall in love with anyone, and certainly not with women like you—so different from him, so nice, so sweet. So annoyingly pretty. Because he thought you were quite pretty, with your long hair always braided, shining in the sun, that sparkle in your eyes, those pink lips that so often curved into a smile, that scent of cherries that always lingered in the air, even after you were gone.
Damn, you were very pretty, and now that Glenn had definitely messed up his mind, he had to be careful. He decided to put an end to this madness once and for all—to ignore you just as you ignored him; to avoid you.
Who would have thought that when the news of the walkers attacking Block D reached him, his first instinct would be to find you and make sure you were okay. He raced through the corridors with Rick, reaching Block D with a crossbow steady in his hands, but his heart was beating so fast that he was afraid it would jump out of his chest. Blood, screams, bodies, walkers... But you were nowhere to be found.
“Get up!” he yelled at a kid. “Get back!” He picked up the boy, shot the zombie that was about to attack him, and handed the boy to Karen. “There.”
He looked around frantically, saving as many people as he could, but still trying to spot you. It was your Block. Your cell was there. You had to be there somewhere. You had to be alive. He couldn't forgive himself if he didn't get to you in time. You couldn't be dead.
Daryl Dixon had never been so terrified in his life. First, because the very thought that you might be dead—or turned—made his blood run cold. Second, he had just realized that he really cared about you, and that realization terrified him even more. But it was true. He cared so much that he felt like throwing up when he heard a loud, girlish scream coming from the cells above his head. Your scream.
He ran upstairs, the anger pulsing through his body driving his actions. The adrenaline made him run the distance twice as fast. He reached your cell just in time. He wasn't thinking, his instincts were moving his muscles for him. He felt like a puppet on a string when he saw you on the floor, fighting the walker lying on top of you, its teeth so close to your neck.
You were fighting back, but you were close to losing. His hand rose on its own, his fingers made a quick movement, and he shot the geek right in the head. It didn't even have time to fall to the floor before he kicked it away with one powerful kick.
“Ya alright?” he asked, kneeling beside you. He looked for bite marks or scratches, scanning your body with his eyes, so terrified that he would find something. And you looked at him with your beautiful eyes, wide open with fear and trembling, and didn't say a word.
He looked at your face. Jesus, how could he have denied these feelings for so long? How could he not have seen what you had become to him? The relief that washed over him when he made sure you were okay would have knocked him off his feet if he had been standing.
“Thank you,” you whispered, and a single tear rolled down your cheek. Before he could stop himself, he wiped it away with his thumb. The gesture surprised you both.
“Let's go,” he said, standing up and reaching out his hand to help you. For a moment, he saw hesitation in your eyes and feared you would refuse his help. He almost withdrew his hand, feeling a tightness in his stomach, but then... you reached out and put your hand in his. His skin burned where it touched yours, but he remained calm. He helped you up and, without letting go of your hand, led you out of the Block. Now that you were safe, he could take care of the rest.
“What the hell was that?” Glenn asked, watching Daryl return.
“Ain’t yer business,” he growled in response, but he knew his face had turned red. Just a minute ago, he was holding your hand. He felt your delicate skin beneath his calloused fingers. Hell, he touched your cheek.
“Now that you're her hero, you can finally make your move.”
Daryl gave him a murderous look. He wasn't planning on doing anything. He could barely admit to himself that you had become important to him, let alone tell you about it. Besides, what could he say? He didn't even know exactly how he felt. And what had happened to all the irritation and contempt he used to feel towards you? Maybe he had never really been annoyed with you? Maybe he didn't mind your smile and laughter? Maybe he just wanted you to smile at him the same way you smiled at everyone else? He didn't dislike you, he was just paralyzed by the fact that he was paying that much attention to you and his defence mechanism took the best of him. All the details he noticed, all the little things about you... Would he really have noticed them if he hadn't paid any attention to you at all? If he didn’t care even a little bit?
The answer came faster than he expected. The flu spread. And you got sick.
“What the hell?” he muttered as he watched you stumble over your own feet a couple of days later. He was on watch when he saw you leaving the building, and even from a distance he could see that something was wrong.
“Ya good?” he asked, running up to you.
You didn't even look at him, keeping your head down and taking slow steps. Oh, something was really wrong.
He stopped you by putting his hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, look at me.”
You took a shaky breath. Your whole body was shaking. And then you looked up.
“Shit,” he groaned. “Ya’ve caught it.”
Your beautiful eyes were red and watery, your skin grey, your lips pale. You'd caught the damn flu. His chest felt too tight for his heart to fit in it; it felt like something was squeezing it from the outside and sucking the air out of his lungs. He clenched his jaw, cupping your face in his hand.
“We gotta take ya to Hershel.”
“Why?” you asked hoarsely, gasping for breath. You coughed, pulling your head away from his grip and trying to cover your mouth with your hand. When you looked at him again, your eyes were even redder.
He wanted to hug you and tell you that everything would be okay. It was an impulse deeply rooted in him that almost made him do it.
“’Cause yer sick.”
You shook your head.
“That's not it.” Your voice was painfully weak. “Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?”
Those eyes, full of confusion and incomprehension, bored a hole in his head and reached into his soul.
Because I care about you, he thought.
“Yer sick,” he said. „C’mon.”
You shook your head but didn’t even took two steps back before you gripped on his forearm, almost losing your balance.
“Shit,” you muttered. “Sorry.”
He wanted to tell you not to apologize. That everything was fine. That you could just hold on to him, and he would lead you inside. He had never been an affectionate person, he didn't like being touched, but feeling your fingers squeezing his skin, he felt that it was right. That's how it should be. But he wasn't a very talkative person either, so he just repeated, “C’mon.”
He helped you back inside and to your cell, and then he went to get Hershel.
“You need to stay away, Daryl,” the old man said, heading for Block D.
„’S too late fer that. Already had contact with ’em.”
Well, that was true. He had already been exposed to the virus, and if he was going to get sick, he would have gotten sick anyway. Your presence had no bearing on that. It mattered to him. He was afraid. He had seen people die and turn because of this damn flu, and now you could become one of them. Your body was fighting the fever, your lungs were struggling to breathe, your eyes could barely open. You were coughing and crying at the same time.
“Everything hurts,” you whispered to Hershel.
“I know, honey. I know.”
Daryl saw how that man looked at you, as if he were looking at his own daughter. Well, you were friends with both Beth and Maggie. And Glenn adored you. You often talked about history and literature with Hershel himself. You were not only sweet and kind, but also smart and funny. They didn't like you for your face, but for your actions.
How could I not have noticed this before? he thought.
He felt like an idiot. He had been watching you for over a month and hadn't realized how much he wanted your attention. But he didn't think he deserved it. He was angry at himself and at others because they were worthy of you and your love, but not him.
That weak smile you gave the old man when he was leaving your cell made Daryl clenches his fists. He was jealous. He couldn't stand it. Not now, when you were so sick you could die. Not when he knew he had ruined everything.
When he was alone with you, he slowly approached your bed, crouched down, and looked you straight in the eyes. He wanted to brush the hair from your forehead.
“Thank you,” you whispered, looking at him with half-closed eyes. “I don't know why you're doing this, but...”
You started coughing again. Your whole body jumped up, and within seconds his hands were on your back. He could feel how sweaty you were, your top was soaked, but he didn't care. He held you while you tried to catch your breath.
“’M gettin’ those meds fer ya,” he blurted out. “’S gonna be fine.”
Your tear-filled eyes looked at him with a slightly vacant expression.
“I thought you hated me.”
He took a shaky breath and shook his head.
“’S gonna be fine.”
No, he didn't hate you. He didn't despise you. He didn't dislike you. And you didn't annoy him. He just didn't want to admit that he, Daryl Dixon, could ever feel anything for anyone other than anger. His own feelings scared him so much that he convinced himself it was something else entirely.
There's an old saying that we don't appreciate something until we lose it. Well, Daryl didn't have you, but he could have lost you before he had a chance to explain why he acted the way he did. Before he understood it himself. He wasn't going to let that happen.
“'ll be back,” he said, helping you lie down and gently brushing your chin with his thumb, then he left. He didn't see the little smile you gave him before he disappeared from view. The first smile in weeks. Something you could have as well never gave him again.
He knew what leaving you now meant—that he might never see you again. He might return to you when you were no longer alive. But he had to try. Besides... those drugs weren't just for you. He had responsibilities he had to deal with, no matter how much it hurt his heart and made his hands shake. No matter how much all he wanted was to rush back and sit with you.
It was still the hardest thing for him to believe that he could have such warm and strong feelings for someone, but since he wasn't the type of person to back down from anything, once he realized that this was happening, he couldn't pretend anymore. For a long time, he hid his feelings deep under a layer of denial, but the truth was that they were there all along. Not believing he deserved your attention, he turned everything upside down. The truth was, he wanted it. He needed it. That warmth spreading through his body every time he saw you? That tightness in his stomach? The tingling in his fingertips? The clenching of his jaw when he saw you with that idiot?
He wanted to punch himself in the face. Well, he wasn't going to act on those feelings, but he couldn't believe he'd been so stupid not to see it before. He could have done things differently. He wouldn't have made you feel like he disliked you or even hated you. He wouldn't have just... been around. He would have cherished every moment you smiled at him. Maybe he would even have tried to talk to you, to get to know you a little. And he would have taught you how to shoot that damn gun.
He had a lot to do. He had to deliver the medicine on time. There was no other choice, no other way. And he did everything. With your image deeply etched in his memory, aware of your condition, he overcame every obstacle and won. And he came back. He came back on time. Barely, but he did.
You and Glenn almost died. If it weren't for Hershel and Maggie, it wouldn't have mattered that Daryl did everything in his power to save you.
You were lying on the ground when he reached your cell. Hershel checked your pulse, you were breathing, but barely. There was blood in the corners of your mouth.
“Shit,” he muttered, falling to his knees beside you. “What can I do?”
“Watch her.” Hershel stood up. “I'll get the antibiotics. If she starts coughing, help her up or lay her on her side so she doesn't choke.”
Daryl nodded. With one hand, he brushed your wet, sweaty hair from your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek. His heart was beating fast and heavy in his chest.
“Ya gonna be fine,” he mumbled. “Ya hear me? Ya still gotta yell at me fer bein’ an idiot.” The next twenty minutes were the most terrifying. Daryl could barely breathe as he watched your chest rise and fall in slow motion. You were fighting, and he couldn't do anything. All he could do was wait and hope that everything would be okay.
He had never cared about anyone so much, and what was even more absurd was that he had fallen in love with you without even knowing you. He hadn't spent even ten minutes with you, but there was something about you that drove him crazy. And he had probably completely screwed it up.
“Hi,” you whispered, making him jump. He was watching your breathing so closely that he didn't notice when you opened your eyes. He felt his chest break under the weight of your weak gaze.
“Hershel’s gonna be back with antibiotics,” he said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “Told ya ‘s gonna be fine.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but a cough interrupted you.
“Shit,” Daryl immediately put his hands on you. “Ya gotta sit up, sweetheart.”
You tried to take a breath, but you gasped and coughed up blood. The blood stained Daryl's shirt, but he didn't care. He could be covered in it if it meant you would survive.
“Hershel!” he shouted, practically pulling you out of floor. You were too weak to sit up on your own. You started to choke, the blood in your lungs slowly drowning you. “Hershel!”
Maggie was the first to run into the cell. She looked like she'd been through hell, but she didn't waste any time.
“We need to intubate her,” she said, throwing her bag on the table and taking out everything she needed. “Can you put her on the bed?”
She didn't have to tell him twice. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing and gently laid you on the bunk bed. You smeared more blood on his shirt as you grabbed it with your weak hands.
“Hold her down.”
The sight of Maggie pushing the tube down your throat while you choked made him think he'd rather fight a horde of zombies than ever witness something like this again.
“Just a moment, I know it hurts,” Maggie whispered, holding your shoulder. When the tube was finally in your throat and began pumping air into your lungs, your breathing slowly stabilized.
He didn't realize he had started crying until he saw Maggie looking at him. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and cleared his throat.
“Everything will be fine,” Greene said. “And you suck at communication, Dixon.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she sighed.
“Making a girl think you hate her isn't the best way to win her over, you know?”
He didn't say a word. He just looked at your face. That beautiful face that started to regain its colour after a few days. Meds were working. Daryl checked on you until you regained consciousness, and then he stopped. He was afraid you would ask him why he was there, and he wouldn't be able to answer. He avoided you like a little kid who had done something wrong and was afraid of the consequences. His behaviour was absurd, he knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to you.
So, you found him first. After three days, you slowly and weakly made your way out of the Block and reached the bridge. As he later learned, Maggie told you where to find him and even helped you get there.
He was looking ahead when he heard the door open.
“Ain’t need no rest,” he said automatically, thinking it was Rick or Michonne, but when no one answered, he turned his head to look. And there you were, leaning against the doorframe, holding yourself up with all your strength. Warmth spread through his chest and his stomach tightened.
“Hi,” you said weakly, but your eyes were as determined as ever.
“Hi,” he mumbled. Suddenly, he had no idea what to do with his hands. “Ya should rest. Yer still weak.”
You sighed, inhaling the fresh air and shaking your head slightly.
“I want to talk to you.”
That was exactly what he was trying to avoid.
“I don't understand,” you whispered, taking a step toward him and holding onto the railing. He almost lunged forward to support you with his arms. His legs almost moved, but he stopped himself. If you saw the hesitation in his eyes, you didn't show it.
“You saved me. Twice,” you said, taking another step. “And while I'm very grateful,” you paused briefly to catch your breath, “I don't understand why you did it.”
He clenched his jaw, looking at you as if trying to explain it without words. He wasn't good with words. He couldn't put them together to tell you why he cared so much.
“I thought you'd be happier if I just disappeared from your life. But you didn't let me die.”
“I couldn't,” he muttered, looking everywhere but at you.
“You hate me.”
“Nah,” he shook his head. “Ain’t hate ya.”
Oh, he screwed up if you thought he wanted you to die.
“So, you don't like me.”
He shook his head again.
“Ain’t that either.”
You sighed, leaning your hip against the railing.
“Then what is it?” you asked, looking at him with tired eyes. “What is it, Daryl?”
His name spoken by your lips in that soft voice made his heart contract in a spasm. He looked at you but said nothing. He didn't know what he could say. How could he explain it to you when it was all still so new and scary to him?
“I've always thought you were a good guy, you know?” you began again, undeterred by his silence. “We all do. But every time I tried to... I don't know... show you that I appreciated you, you looked at me as if you despised me, and I don't understand why. What did I do to you?”
“Nothin’,” he said, voice low and raspy. “Ya ain’t did nothin’ to me.”
“Then why...
“I ain’t good at that,” he blurted out, shaking his head. “Ya good at talkin’ but I ain’t. Ya always smile ‘n… Dunno, I jus’…” he stumbled over his own words. “Ya so sweet ‘n pretty, folks like ya ‘n I never…” He didn't know what to say, but he had to say something. His eyes darted around, looking at you nervously, as if he wasn't sure he should be looking at you at all.
“I ain’t used to pretty girls smilin’ at me.”
You frowned in surprise, but your cheeks turned light pink.
“You were acting like you hated me because you think I'm pretty?”
Now he felt his ears turning red. He ran his hand over his face and groaned. It was getting more and more embarrassing by the second.
“Dunno why I did that,” he admitted quietly, looking through his fingers. “Never know what to do when yer around.”
He didn't even want to look at you when he said it.
“You don't have to be embarrassed,” you giggled. “I think you're handsome too.”
He looked up, peered through his fingers, and lowered his hand. That strange feeling of warmth came over him again. He felt as if the air itself was trying to hug him.
“Ya do?”
You blushed, but you pushed through it and nodded.
“Should I be embarrassed?” you asked, and your playful tone made his face redden even more. You had never spoken to him like this before. Well... actually, it was the second conversation between you, and the first one where you weren't angry with him.
“No,” he replied, straightening up. “No, ya shouldn't.”
“See?” You pressed your lips together, holding back a smile. “It feels good, doesn't it?”
Oh, it felt incredibly nice. He never thought you could see him that way. Him? Handsome? Damn, the world had turned upside down. He was just some angry redneck with always dirty hands and sweaty hair. How the hell could a sweet girl like you see anything more in him?
And how the hell could he have screwed things up so badly?
“Next time a pretty girl smiles at you, just say hello and don't piss her off.”
He burst out a quiet laughter, “Yea, gonna remember that.”
“Good.”
Your beautiful eyes were still fixed on him, and a hint of a smile played on your lips. At that moment, he just wanted to be closer to you.
“’’M sorry,” he said resignedly. He was truly sorry. He never wanted to hurt you. “’M an idiot.”
You laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough. Well, you weren't completely recovered yet. With three long strides, he closed the distance between you.
“Ya should lay down.”
The no sight of blood didn't calm him down. You shouldn't stay outside for so long.
“I'm fine.”
He grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger and forced you to look at him. That blush could just as easily have been from a fever or something else. He didn't want to take any chances, but your big, beautiful eyes made him bite his lip. He wanted to stay like this for a while longer. He had never been this close to you when you were fully conscious, and there was no turning back now. It was too late.
Besides... he didn't even want to back down, not anymore.
“I’ll help ya get to yer cell,” he muttered.
And you smiled at him. You really smiled, much wider than at first. You smiled at him the way you smiled at people you liked.
His knees almost buckled beneath him.
“You have to get used to pretty girls smiling at you,” you whispered. “Because I'm not going to let you get away from me so easily now.”
You stood on your toes and, resting your hands on his chest, you placed a delicate butterfly kiss on his scruffy, hot, red cheek.
“That's for saving me the first time.”
You kissed his other cheek.
“And this is for saving me a second time.”
His skin burned where your soft lips touched him. And he almost leaned in to taste them himself.
Shit, he was doomed.
Daryl Dixon masterlist
Fluff- 🎀 / Smut- ❤️🔥/ Requests- 🦋
Notes in his backpack 🎀
Daryl with a yapper girlfriend 🎀
Happy moment 🎀
Gentle love 🎀🦋
Feeling understood 🎀❤️🔥
Jealousy jealousy 🎀🦋
Bound
(Daryl x Fem!Reader)
tags/warnings: fluff, mild angst, established relationship, soft daryl, alexandria era (no specific season), swearing, mild suggestive language, typical canon violence, no use of y/n
word count: 3.0k
summary: Daryl had fought walkers, gone to war, and almost starved to death countless times but asking you to marry him was the real apocalypse.
a/n: basically daryl just wants to call you his wife lol that's it. also, we're in daryl's insecure little head the whole way through this one guys... good luck and enjoy!
》 masterlist