Only Daryl Fanfic

Masterlist The rest is just other people’s work.

[weretheones]

Doctor’s Orders

Plot/Request: When a sprained ankle takes you off run duty, the new girl goes in your place. Which would’ve been fine– if she didn’t have that brilliant wit, gorgeous smile, and effortless skill. But she did. And it was only a matter of time until Daryl noticed too.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count:
 6.6k (this is ridiculously long SORRY lol)

Warnings: insecurities, mentions of injury, 

A/N: not another sick fic, but apparently the reader has a nasty habit of getting herself hurt/sick, huh? also, she’s super jealous… cue evil laughter. 

—————————————————————————————

“Two weeks, at least.” 

You groaned. 

“I’m serious,” Dr. S scolded, “without proper time for rest and recovery, you’ll just make it worse.” 

“Fine.” 

Dr. S stood from the chair at the end of the bed, packing the rest of the bandages in his black duffle, “Hey, far as I’m concerned, you’re one lucky lady getting away with only a sprained ankle and a mild concussion.” 

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More Than Anything (Bonus Scene)

(Click HERE to read More Than Anything Part 1)

(Click HERE to read More Than Anything Part 2)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader’s feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: “I’d love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?” - @pulplorrd

A/N: Welp, here we are. One last hoo-rah! For those of you that haven't read parts 1 and 2, I highly suggest you do so before reading this! For those of you who are caught up, this is a *certain scene involving a near-drowning*, but from Daryl's POV!

I'm SO sorry it took so long for me to get this out to y'all! (Literally 10 months lol) But I'm happy with how this turned out and am now ready to put this story to rest.

I hope you enjoy it and hope it was worth the wait!

Happy reading :)

xx Jess

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Daryl had learned at a young age not to trust the things that came easy to him.

There had to be a catch — there was always a catch. Nothing good ever came without consequence in his experience.

Well, except you.

You were different — you were everything.

He’d been buried elbow-deep in the hood of an abandoned car, tinkering around with the rusted metal, hoping to find a way to get it up and running once more. Finding the motel had been like winning the fucking lottery — somehow, throughout all the bullshit that’d happened since the dead started walking, it’d essentially been left untouched. He’d figured a place like that would’ve been picked clean through this far into the end of the world.

Yet here it was.

The archer had caught a glimpse of you in the parking lot a few minutes earlier, packing up the trunk of the car with Tara. He’d watched you walk back towards the motel, only pausing to glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his. The tension in his body melted away, in its place a warmth he couldn’t quite decipher — but the corner of his mouth quirked as you’d sent him a wink and then you were gone, disappearing down the main stretch of the motel.

His face felt fuzzy as he’d focused back on the car, his thoughts filled with the sweetness of you.

But nothing good ever came without consequence.

“Look out!”

Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your sudden and panicked cry, sending his stomach plummeting, his blood turning to ice.

And he took off.

His heart slammed against his ribcage, mimicking the sound of his boots pounding the pavement as he lessened the distance between him, you, and every horrible thing he imagined to be happening at that very moment.

But then he heard a different noise.

A splash.

The sound seemed so misplaced, foreign almost, that Daryl nearly assumed he’d imagined it. Except when he finally rounded the corner — skidding to a halt, spotting the murky swimming pool just ahead, noticing the rippling of waves coming from the center — he realized just how horribly wrong he was.

“Daryl!” Tara suddenly yelled, drawing him back. She stood just a few yards ahead, facing off against a small herd of walkers that’d formed. “She’s — she’s in!” she shouted in a panic, yanking her knife from the skull of the dead at her feet and pointing wildly at the pool. “She fell in!”

The archer didn’t think twice — he drew the pistol he’d shoved into the waistband of his jeans and fired at one of the dead nearing Tara, landing an easy headshot. Daryl ran towards her then, half-tossing, half-handing his gun off to her, unable to focus on anything other than the fact that, at that very moment, you were fucking drowning.

The sound of gunfire began as the archer turned towards the pool, inhaled a deep breath, and dove in.

The water hit him like a ton of bricks — dark, grimy, swamp water. His body slid across the bottom of the pool, his hands fumbling blindly in front of him, feeling for any inkling of you. He ignored the burning in his chest, refusing to resurface until he had you in his grasp — or until his lungs gave out altogether.

He pushed away the plastic tarp he felt drift towards him, coiling around his body and drawing nearer like a siren’s song, sinking him deeper into the depths of darkness. When his hand brushed against another, his heart leapt into his throat, thinking he’d found you at last — but it only took a moment for him to realize something was off, something was wrong.

He knew the feeling of your hand in his — and it wasn’t yours he’d grasped.

He gnashed his teeth together, features twisting as water threatened to force its way past his lips. But he held steady, maneuvering around the body he’d discovered and continuing his search, growing more and more frantic as precious seconds ticked on.

Daryl didn’t think — he didn’t think about your body, floating lifeless just beyond reach; he didn’t think about what would happen once he found you, once he dragged your still body from the water and realized that the big, beautiful heart inside your chest had stopped beating; he didn’t think about having to drive his knife through your temple to stop your reanimation, because there was no way — no way in hell — he’d be able to leave you like that.

If you were dead, if he was too late, if this…if this was it?

Nothing good ever came without consequence.

Daryl nearly folded — nearly gave in to the fire burning inside his lungs, the reddish-white pulsing around the edges of his darkened vision — but just before the emptiness came, he felt something.

Cold, unmoving, familiar.

His hand wrapped around another.

And he knew in an instant it was you.

The archer pulled you near, your body drifting motionlessly towards him until your back connected against his chest. He could feel the material of the tarp wrapped around your center, having anchored you to the bottom of the pool. He fumbled for just a moment, but managed to unwind the material from around you before gritting his teeth together and pushing off the bottom of the pool with all the force he could muster, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

Daryl broke through the surface with a gasp, sputtering for mouthful after mouthful of air, the pressure in his chest finally relenting. He flicked away the hair that’d stuck against his face, swimming as fast as he could to the edge of the pool, dragging you along with him. He managed to grab onto the side, the blistering concrete burning the tips of his fingers.

Your head lolled listlessly against his shoulder, strands of your hair splayed out across your face — you were still…unresponsive…blue.

He tried to hoist you from the pool, but you were dead weight in his arms. “Tara!” he hollered, attempting once more to lift you out — but every time he tried, he’d sink and lose his grasp. “Tara!” he roared, his voice breaking as he swallowed the panic that rose.

Tara ran over a moment later, out of breath and wide-eyed. “Shit — oh shit,” she swore, dropping to her knees and fumbling for you.

“Help — help me get her out!” he snapped, hating the desperation laced around his words as he heaved your body upward.

Tara quickly wound her arms beneath your armpits, holding your head above water as Daryl pulled himself out of the pool in one swift motion. He grabbed hold around your center and, with Tara’s help, finally managed to drag your lifeless body out of the water.

He dropped to his knees beside you, frantically brushing the hair away from your face, careful not to touch the bloody gash across your forehead before leaning down and pressing his ear against the center of your chest, holding his breath.

He heard nothing.

“Fuck,” he growled, intertwining his fingers, ignoring the way they shook.

Tara crouched down on your other side, her hand pressed against her stomach like she was fighting back the urge to be sick. “Daryl, is — is she —”

“Get the car,” he rasped, laying his clasped hands against your middle, right below your sternum. Tara jumped to her feet and took off without another word. “Alright, alright,” he murmured as he began chest compressions.

He wasn’t sure how fast he was supposed to do it, wasn’t sure the strength needed to restart someone’s fucking heart, and wished he’d paid more attention in health class — but he’d flunked, he’d barely even shown up to begin with, and now he’d have to tack that on to his ever-growing list of regrets.

Once Daryl counted to ten, he tilted your head back and pressed his lips against yours, pinching your nose and breathing a long stream of air into your lungs.

Nothing.

He repeated the action.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

And over and over and over until his arms ached and his lungs burned and he’d cursed every god damn thing he could think of.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he pleaded, refusing to give up despite the little voice in the back of his head that told him he was too late. “Come back ta’ me.”

Daryl learned down once more, his lips nearly grazing yours when all of the sudden your eyes shot open.

He fell back on his haunches, watching as water began to expel itself from your lungs, spurting from your mouth like a faucet that’d been turned on. “Shit — oh shit!” he swore, grabbing onto your arm and rolling you onto your side, allowing the water to flow easier.

After your coughs finally died down, Daryl grabbed onto either of your arms and pulled you upright — you swayed limply in his grasp, your inhales sounding more like gasps than anything else. “Hey, hey, you’re alright,” he rasped, unsure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

But when you continued to merely stare straight ahead, eyes wide and vacant, not so much looking at the archer but through him, Daryl felt his heart skip a beat. “Hey, can ya hear me?” he asked, waiting for a response that never came. “C’mon, Y/N, say somethin’,” he pressed, more desperately, giving your body a quick shake like he was hoping to jostle something loose. “Y/N!” he tried again, this time the word coming out in a strangled shout.

His hands fell away from your arms, instead slipping around either side of your neck, cradling your head in his grasp. He quickly brushed away the strands of hair that’d fallen across your face, your skin cold to the touch, your lips still tinged blue.

Daryl’s fingertips trembled as he leaned forward a fraction, his ragged breathing syncing up with yours. He was frantically studying your features, his distraught gaze bouncing back and forth between your absent one when your mouth opened as though you were about to speak.

But no sound came out.

The archer felt the breath he’d been holding rush past his lips — what if something was seriously wrong? What if you’d been down there too long? What if he had been too late?

Except before his thoughts could derail completely, you suddenly lifted your hands, wrapping your fingers weakly around either of his wrists.

Daryl glanced down at your hands, a small huff of relief escaping him, the weight that’d sat on his chest dissipating. He felt his throat clog with an unexpected flood of emotion, his vision going blurry as his eyes met yours — yours, no longer vacant, warm and familiar, a little bit of life filling them with each moment that passed.

You’d come back to him.

The archer’s hands slipped behind your head before he closed the space between you, pressing his forehead carefully against yours and squeezing his eyes shut.

When he pulled back, he noticed your muddled gaze flicker upward, your brow knitting together. You cleared your throat then, cringing like it physically pained you to do so. “You’re —” you paused, your voice raw. “You’re bleeding, D,” you finally managed to croak out.

Daryl’s expression darkened as he glanced up at the cut right below your hairline, his jaw clenching as he unsheathed his hunting knife. “It ain’t mine,” he rasped simply, slicing a long strip of fabric from the bottom of his dampened shirt and balling it in his fist, ringing out some of the water.

He reached forward, pressing the material gingerly against your forehead to stop the blood flow, forcing himself to ignore the way you winced at the contact. He wrapped the makeshift gauze around your head, tying the strip into a knot to keep it in place.

But before he could do anything else, he heard the sound of a car door slamming, followed by Tara’s sudden and panicked shouts.

“They’re coming!” she yelled from across the way, pointing urgently at something behind him.

Daryl didn’t need to look — he already knew.

Without another word, he jumped to his feet, looping his arms beneath your armpits and scooping you off the ground along with him. You teetered once standing, feebly grabbing onto the front of his shirt as you fought for stability.

“I got ya,” the archer rumbled, slinging one of your arms across his shoulders, his grip snaking around your waist as the moans and groans from the dead amplified.

Tara appeared at your opposite side a moment later, wide-eyed and out of breath. “Welcome back, chicka,” he heard her say, shooting you a slightly strained smile before winding your other arm across her shoulders, keeping you upright between them.

Daryl could feel the tension in your body, like you were trying to get your legs working to take some of the pressure off them, but to no avail. They merely half-dragged, half-carried you across the stretch of concrete, leading towards the parking lot where Tara had left the car running, away from the hellish nightmare that’d just taken place.

The archer kept his gaze forward, determination to get you to safety being the sole thought coursing through him.

Once at the car, Tara slipped away, jumping into the driver’s seat as Daryl flung open the back door, maneuvering you inside as carefully and quickly as possible. Following suit, he slid inside and yanked the door shut just before the dead could grab at him. He held onto the back of the driver’s seat as Tara peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing against the asphalt.

And then it was quiet.

Eerie, almost.

The motel rapidly disappeared from sight as Tara drove out onto the main road, the only sound coming from the gentle roar of the engine and your wheezing breaths beside him.

Daryl’s grip tightened around the seat at the sound.

He could feel your eyes on him then, the sensation prickling the side of his face. He glanced over, the sight of your body curled up against the door causing some of the tension in his frame to melt away. Without a word, he shuffled closer, gently grabbing your arm and re-situating you more comfortably in the backseat.

Your body slumped against him, the little remaining energy you had depleting entirely as the archer reached behind your shoulders, grabbed the seatbelt, and wound it around you, locking it in place.

He fell back against the seat beside you with a huff, staring straight through the windshield as his churning thoughts began to take over, the fear that’d lodged itself like a knot in his stomach tightening.

Nothing good ever came without consequence.

Daryl felt you shift a moment later, closing the small gap he’d purposefully placed between you before leaning your head against his shoulder — he stiffened, though made no move to pull away. He heard your breathing even out, your body resting heavier against him. He chanced a glance down at you, feeling the knot in his gut loosen at the sight of your closed eyes, the warmth seeping back into your features, your steady breaths washing over him, giving him goosebumps.

His throat constricted and he focused ahead once more.

He didn’t look at you again — he couldn’t. He couldn’t face what almost happened, couldn’t think about your cold, lifeless body floating in the abyss, couldn’t process just what in the fuck he would’ve done had he lost you.

Because he loved you.

He’d always loved you.

But he’d been too chicken-shit to tell you, terrified that once those words were out there in the open they would somehow shatter the goodness around him, like the rug would be pulled out from under him and he’d realize that none of it had been real to begin with.

And he couldn’t risk that.

He couldn’t risk losing you.

Daryl exhaled a soft breath, squeezing his eyes shut and gently resting his cheek against the top of your head once he knew you wouldn’t wake. He felt you nestle closer, like you missed him even in your sleep, and he felt something inside him break.

He’d learned at a young age not to trust the things that came easy to him.

But you were different.

You were everything.

Fin.

A/N: AHHHHH we did it! We made it to the end of this story! I'm so glad I was able to get this little bonus scene done for y'all, I hope you enjoyed it, and once again, I'm sorry for the near-year long wait lol if you want to see the full resolution of this story, check out Part 2 linked above :)

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More Than Anything (Part 2)

(Click HERE to read More Than Anything Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader’s feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: “I’d love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?” - @pulplorrd

A/N: See, you'd think I would've learned after making you guys wait a year and a half for No Way Out Part 2, that I should probably FINISH my stories before actually posting the first part...yet, here we are, one month later lol I'm sorry for the wait but hopefully it's worth it!

Happy reading and let me know what you think :)

xx Jess

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Previously...

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

Now...

When the world ended, you’d accepted the idea of death — your death, specifically.

You knew that one day, your life would undoubtedly end — most likely at the hands of the dead, ripped to pieces, torn to shreds, the way so many others before you had been taken. But you’d always hoped your death would at least mean something — maybe laying your life on the line, sacrificing yourself so the people you loved could survive.

Something noble, something brave.

Not like this.

Before the fall, you’d managed to inhale a sharp breath — though once you’d submerged into the grimy pool water, the coldness, the darkness, the shock of it all, had zapped the air right out of your body. You were becoming increasingly aware of the tightness in your chest, the burning in your lungs as you struggled against the walker pressed against you, its weight sinking you further into the depths of the pool.

Then, the panic set in — your heart pounded against your ribcage, right alongside the immense pressure crushing your lungs. Glimpses of sunlight hung just above you, peeking through parts of the drifting tarp you frantically attempted to push aside. You were completely disoriented, your vision obscured by the murkiness surrounding you, floating specks only visible beneath the shattered light above.

When your back connected against the bottom of the deep end, you managed to wriggle out from under the dead’s listless body — though the tarp remained twisted around your limbs. No matter how hard you fought, how hard you struggled, you couldn’t free yourself from the suffocating material. You could’ve sworn you were caught in a dream, your movements lagging and sluggish as you thrashed beneath the surface.

It felt as though someone had reached their hand directly through the center of your chest, squeezing your insides in a vice-like grip. A tingling sensation crawled down your spine, settling atop your churning stomach as the throbbing behind your ears began to slow.

You were listening to your last heartbeats.

It became unbearable, the water threatening to force its way past your clamped lips, the simple need to breathe. A sharp stab of pain shot through you as the blackness in your vision intensified, pulsing reddish-white around the edges as the fire in your chest consumed you at last.

Then, with nothing else left to do, you inhaled.

You weren’t sure what happened next — everything felt faint and fuzzy and quiet. The darkness that lingered no longer struck fear in you — instead, it was warm, enveloping you in its arms like a long-lost lover. The silence was soothing as you drifted in the emptiness, like careless whispers and forgotten melodies. You were weightless, you were freed, you were everything and nothing all at once.

You were dying.

That you were sure of.

Yet much to your surprise, you weren’t afraid — no, instead…you felt at peace.

But the brevity of calm didn’t last as you were suddenly aware of a vague pressure, though it wasn’t all-consuming nor constant. It was distant at first, a feeling you could’ve easily brushed aside had it not begun to gradually grow in force, in vigor — a steady pounding, coming from the center of your chest, over and over again.

The warmth around you began to splinter, shattering like shards of glass, the fallout piercing your skin as it collapsed around you. The pain was deep and burning and you longed for just a moment ago when all you felt was the sweetness of oblivion. The pressure pounding against your chest increased, becoming the sole thing you could feel, the only thing you could focus on, the unwavering thuds drawing you back from whatever place you’d drifted off to.

In the next moment, you were awake.

Your body flailed, jolting upright, but you’d only managed to get an inch or two off the ground before water began to suddenly spurt from your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut as you choked on the liquid, every nerve ending in your body red-hot. You were vaguely aware of hands, rough and calloused and familiar, gripping onto your arms and forcing you onto your side, the motion allowing the water leaving your lungs to flow easier.

You gasped a constricted breath, coughing harshly on the exhale, completely and entirely disoriented as to what in the fuck just happened. Your chest tightened as you spit up more water, your throat closing around the sensation as you fought for control of your breathing, the feeling of concrete against the side of your body grounding you.

When your coughs finally died down, the same hands from before grabbed onto your arms, pulling your deadweight upright, maneuvering your limp body as if you were a rag doll. You blinked your bleary eyes open, wincing from the sunlight directly above as you drew in shaky breaths.

And then you saw him.

Daryl knelt in front of you, his ragged breathing mirroring your own, soaking wet from head to toe. Strands of hair stuck against his forehead, droplets of water still dripping from the ends as he stared at you, wide-eyed, his expression a mixture of horror and shock — something you rarely witnessed when it came to the archer.

He was mouthing something — no, he was shouting something — but you couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t hear a damn word he was saying as you sat there, dazed and confused, wondering if what just happened actually happened.

His hold around your arms slipped away, his hands cradling either side of your face instead, tilting your head up and brushing your drenched hair back. He leaned forward a fraction, frantically studying your features, his haunted eyes bouncing back and forth between your own as though making sure you were there — really there.

The silence was becoming a little less resounding, the world around you gradually seeping back, though muffled and dull — but the way Daryl was looking at you, the apprehension in his gaze, shook something loose inside you. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You wanted to tell him it was okay — that you were okay — but damn it, why couldn’t you speak?

So instead, you slowly lifted your hands, weakly grasping onto Daryl’s wrists, the small motion all you could muster — you had to let him know you were here. He glanced down at your hands, a small huff of relief escaping him.

But when he looked back up, you noticed the moisture that’d built in the corners of his eyes.

Daryl’s hands slipped behind your head, holding you still as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently against yours.

You, on the other hand, silently thanked whatever God or higher power was out there for giving you one more moment like this.

When the archer pulled back, you spotted a red streak smeared across his forehead that hadn’t been there before. Your brow knitted together as he sat back on his haunches. You tried clearing your throat, the sensation burning the rawness that’d spread. “You’re —” you croaked, your voice sounding foreign. “— you’re bleeding, D.”

Daryl’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he lowered his gaze and unsheathed his hunting knife. “It ain’t mine,” he rasped, suddenly slicing a long strip of fabric off from the bottom of his dampened shirt and balling it in his fist, ringing out some of the water.

Before you knew what was happening, he was reaching forward, pressing the material gingerly against your forehead and wrapping it behind your head, tying the strip into a knot to keep it in place. You were surprised at the sting of pain you felt, unsure when you managed to cut your head open in the midst of what had happened — everything was still sort of…fuzzy.

The sound of a car door slamming drew your attention. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, spotting Tara jogging towards you, the car you’d driven to the motel running idle in the parking lot.

“They’re coming!” she called out, motioning towards something just behind Daryl.

You craned your neck, attempting to get a look, but before you could, the archer was looping his arms beneath your armpits and hefting you up to your feet. The world tilted unsteadily around you, and had it not been for Daryl’s hold, the ground would’ve surely rushed up to meet you.

“I got ya,” he rasped, slinging one of your arms across his shoulders, his grip snaking around your waist.

Tara appeared at your opposite side, slightly out of breath. “Welcome back, chicka,” she shot you a slightly strained smile before following Daryl’s lead and winding your other arm across her shoulders, keeping you propped upright between them.

You wanted to tell them you were fine, that you were more than capable of walking on your own — but your strength had depleted, your legs shook beneath you, and the shock was beginning to wear off, making all the little aches and pains in your body alarmingly obvious.

Then, you were moving.

They half-dragged, half-carried you across the stretch of concrete, hurrying towards the parking lot where Tara had left the car. You peeked over your shoulder, managing to get a glimpse of what you were leaving behind — the small herd from earlier had been taken down, their bodies splayed out sporadically on the other side of the pool. Some sporting knife wounds, others bullet holes. The pool itself was rippling, the water sloshing back and forth, air bubbles visible at the surface.

Some of the dead had followed you into the water.

Just beyond the pool, you spotted exactly what you were running from — another herd, three times the size of the first one, ambling in from the woods behind the motel, most likely drawn in by gunfire.

When you reached the car, Tara slipped away and jumped into the driver’s seat. Daryl flung open the back door and maneuvered you carefully inside. You grimaced as you inched further into the car, only stopping once your back was pressed up against the opposite door. The archer quickly slid in after you and slammed the door shut, grabbing onto the back of the driver’s seat as Tara peeled out of the parking lot.

The silence that followed rang heavy.

Your heart hammered against your chest, your breaths coming out slightly wheezy, almost like there was still some water left in your lungs. You met Tara’s eyes in the rearview mirror before she focused back on the road — you noticed then that the sleeves of her shirt, up to her elbows, were wet.

She’d helped drag your body out of the pool.

You glanced over at Daryl, the archer’s grip on the driver’s seat white-knuckled as he stared at the back of the headrest. Waves of tension rolled off him, the feeling nearly palpable. But his eyes flickered towards you a moment later, as though he felt you watching him, and some of the rigidity faded.

He wordlessly shuffled closer, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the door you leaned against. You were too tired and too sore to object, your body slumping against his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders — you thought for a brief moment that he was hugging you.

But instead, he wound your seatbelt around your body and locked it in place.

Daryl fell back against the seat beside you with a huff, keeping his gaze focused ahead, staring straight through the windshield. He didn’t look at you again — he remained still, like he was carved from stone. You weren’t even sure he was breathing. His arm just barely grazed the side of yours, but despite whatever hidden turmoil was surely happening inside of him, he made no effort to move away.

He needed time to process what happened — what almost happened.

But so did you.

You shifted, closing the small gap between you and resting your head against his shoulder, ignoring the way he stiffened. The material of his shirt was still damp and smelt like a mixture of chlorine and mildew from the murky pool water, but you couldn’t find it in you to pull away either.

You hadn't realized you’d dozed off until the archer gently shook you awake, the car now parked outside Alexandria’s makeshift infirmary.

You still felt weak and lethargic, but you managed to make your way inside without any help — although Daryl, silent and stoic as ever, remained at your side, his hand hovering over the small of your back.

The infirmary was quiet as Denise checked you over — Tara had gone to update Rick and the others on what happened, as well as distribute the supplies you’d managed to bring home. Daryl, on the other hand, paced — back and forth, like a caged animal, on the opposite side of the room. Almost like part of him desperately wanted to run, but a bigger part of himself needed to be there.

“Are you feeling any nausea? Confusion? Loss of basic motor skills?” Denise suddenly asked, breaking the silence that’d stretched on, looking up from the textbook she was reading from. She’d never dealt with an ‘almost drowning’, but had been able to scrounge up some old medical textbooks for help.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, shaking your head once. “No. No, nothing like that.”

“Okay, good. Yeah, that’s good…” she murmured, mostly to herself, before flipping to the next page and skimming the stretch of words. “Besides your forehead, any other lacerations?” she looked up at you once more, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t —” you shot Daryl a look, but he was too busy pacing to notice. “I don’t think so,” you shook your head again, your fingertips ghosting over the bandage Denise had patched your head up with.

“Good, good. We’ll want to keep an eye on that in case of infection,” she informed before flipping to the next page, mouthing the text to herself. “Okay, and any soreness?”

You grimaced as you sat up a little straighter. “Just — just right here mostly,” you admitted, motioning towards your center, below your chest.

Denise shut the textbook and placed it on the metal table you sat on top of. “Can you show me?”

Your brow knitted together but you obliged, sliding off the table and grabbing the hem of your shirt. You fought back a wince as you rolled the material up, stopping just below your chest, exposing your skin.

The first thing you noticed was the way the room suddenly stilled — you glanced up, spotting Daryl standing frozen across the way, pacing no longer. But he wasn’t staring at you — he was staring at your midsection, a look in his eyes you’d never seen before.

When you lowered your head, getting a good look at yourself for the first time, you realized exactly what he was seeing.

Bruises. Dark and discolored. Scattered down your sternum and along the center of your ribcage.

Your head snapped up at the sound of the front door slamming shut.

And Daryl was gone.

You tried to ignore the pinprick of tears that grew, the hurt that settled across your chest as you lowered your shirt back in place — but when Denise suddenly reached out and placed her hand on top of yours, patting it softly, your features crumpled.

Everything that happened seemed to catch up to you in that moment — the fear, the shock, what Daryl must’ve felt pulling your unmoving body out of the water. You’d nearly died. What would’ve happened if he hadn’t been able to bring you back? Would he have been the one to put you down when you undoubtedly turned? Or would Tara have done it — the act far too painful for the man you loved to follow through with.

The man you loved.

Denise wrapped her hand around yours, squeezing gently and drawing you back. “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed.

You quickly swiped at the tears that slipped down your cheeks, huffing a hitched breath. “I know, I’m just —” you glanced up at the front door, hanging onto the foolish hope that it’d swing open once more. “I don’t know,” you finally mumbled, albeit defeatedly.

Denise followed your gaze, scoffing slightly. “Men suck,” she finally shrugged.

You sniffled softly before shaking your head. “Not that one,” you murmured fondly.

Denise squeezed your hand once more, shooting you a sympathetic smile before she pulled away. “It could’ve been worse — most people who have CPR done on them end up with broken ribs or punctured lungs. You, my friend, are one of the lucky ones.”

You inhaled a deep breath, fighting back a wince, the motion stretching your bruised body. “Thank you. For everything.”

Denise nodded before taking off her glasses, using the hem of her shirt to clean the lenses. “Y/N, I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but,” she paused, sliding her glasses back on as she regarded you seriously. “You smell like a sewer rat.”

You faltered, completely caught off guard by her statement before remembering that you were still wearing damp, swampy, pool water clothes. Then, despite everything, a laugh slipped past your lips, breaking the tension. You let out a hiss as the movement sent a wave of pain through you. “Ow, fuck, don’t make me laugh,” you bit back another chuckle, lightly swatting her arm.

Denise smiled before motioning towards the door. “Go home, shower, get some rest — Doctor’s orders,” she grinned, turning away and beginning to clean up her workstation.

You thanked her again before hobbling out of the infirmary.

As night drew near, most residents of Alexandria were already in their respective homes — you were grateful for that. You didn’t want to see anyone right now, their worry and endless questions something you were more than happy to put off until tomorrow.

When you made it back to the apartment you and Daryl shared, you were, yet again, fighting back feelings of disappointment — he wasn’t home. You felt a pinprick of worry, but knew he needed time and space to process whatever it was he was feeling.

And when he was ready, you would be too.

You walked through the kitchen, the morning you’d shared earlier feeling like a lifetime ago — the pan he’d used to make eggs, now dry, remained sitting on the counter. The bedroom was untouched, looking exactly how it had this morning, just the way you’d left it. You grabbed a fresh set of clothes before making your way into the master bathroom attached, ignoring the bone-deep tiredness settling over you.

Showering was a good call — the warm water rained down as you scrubbed your body of the muck that clung to you, being extra careful not to get the bandage on your head wet or make any sudden movements. When you were finished cleaning up, you stood beneath the shower head for a few minutes, eyes closed, inhaling the steam around you with deep, calming breaths.

You were okay. You were alive. You were here.

You shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and dried yourself off, gingerly patting down your chest and around your ribs, before slipping into clean clothes. You wiped away some of the steam that’d collected on the bathroom mirror before hanging up your towel, combing out your knotted hair, and brushing your teeth — the same routine you did every night.

The normalcy was soothing — you were already beginning to feel better, more like yourself. You were ready to put what happened behind you and move forward, sure to never take another day for granted.

But when you opened the bathroom door, ready to curl up in bed and doze off, all of your feelings from earlier came rushing back at the sight of Daryl.

Once again, he’d been pacing the length of the bedroom, only stopping after you’d entered the room, his gaze snapping towards you. He shifted his weight back and forth, opening his mouth before clamping it shut. You could feel his energy, rolling off his body in waves — tense, rigid, wild. He was struggling to say whatever was on his mind, only furthering his evident frustration. He flicked his hair away from his eyes, turning to face you head-on, clearly gathering up the gall to speak.

You took a small step forward. “Daryl —”

“Ya were blue,” he suddenly rasped, a fire in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Tara was shoutin’ for ya an’ I — when I went in an’ pulled ya out, there wasn’t — I didn’t —” he huffed a breath in frustration, his face tinged red. “God, damn it, Y/N, ya were fuckin’ blue,” he finally growled, chest heaving, hands balled into fists at his side.

His anger wasn’t directed at you, but the situation itself, you knew that. But still, his words — or more so the emotion, the truth hidden behind them — had you recoiling from him, your heart breaking at the thought of what he’d seen, of what had run through his mind when he realized you weren’t breathing.

You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been.

And that was what was beneath his outburst — not rage, but fear.

But he wasn’t finished with what he needed to say — if anything, he was just getting more and more worked up as he began to frantically pace once more. “This is why — I fuckin’ told ya — I didn’t need ya comin’ out there. I didn’t need ya on that run but ya — ya didn’t listen ta’ me an’ then —”

“I love you.”

Daryl stilled, mid-stride, his gaze widening as if all of the air had been sucked from his lungs.

You felt your face flush, the air between you so thick it could be cut with a knife. You hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but the words just sort of…tumbled out? And now, there they were, hanging between you. Part of you wondered if the archer could hear your heart pounding from where he stood — or maybe it was his heartbeat, synched up to yours.

You sputtered a soft breath, shaking your head in disbelief, trying not to panic because the last thing you wanted was for Daryl to look at you the way he was looking at you after telling him you loved him. “I’m —“ you took a breath, regarding him earnestly. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. And I promise — I promise — you do not have to say it back. Hell, you don’t even have to feel the same way,” you huffed an awkward laugh, but the noise hitched somewhere in your throat, betraying your words. You grew serious once more. “I just — I couldn’t have another night going by without you knowing. Not after what happened today,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, shrugging a shoulder up meekly. “So, I love you — I love you more than anything.”

You weren’t sure what sort of reaction you were expecting from him. But you absolutely refused to acknowledge the tiny part of you that secretly wished he’d swoop you into his arms, pull you close, tell you he loved you too — because that wasn’t Daryl. That wasn’t the type of man he was — and you were okay with that.

Because you hadn’t fallen in love with that type of man.

You’d fallen in love with the man standing shell-shocked in front of you.

You cleared your throat and stepped forward, moving away from the bathroom doorway. “The shower’s all yours,” you murmured, needing to break the uncomfortable silence that carried on.

You sidestepped around his frozen form, ignoring the way your legs shook like jelly beneath you as you made your way towards the bed. You took a seat on the edge of the mattress, keeping your back towards him, staring ahead at the blank wall in front of you instead.

After what felt like forever, the floorboard squeaked beneath the shifting of his weight, his footsteps growing faint as he slowly walked away and entered the bathroom, closing the door shut after him.

You strained your ears, listening for any movement beyond the door he’d disappeared behind — but you heard nothing. It was like you could feel him through the panel of wood between you — you could almost picture him, just standing there, trying to process whatever the hell was going on inside that mind of his.

A moment later, the shower turned on.

And you released the breath you’d been holding.

Exhaustion swept through you, the day’s events wearing you down. You carefully maneuvered yourself into bed, pulling a thin sheet over your body and settling onto your side. Your eyelids grew heavy, the sound of the shower lulling you to sleep despite the strange, sort of freedom your admittance had brought you, the feeling buzzing through your veins.

You didn’t regret your vulnerability — he needed to know he was loved, damn it.

When you heard the shower turn off, you snapped your eyes shut. You listened to the archer move about the bathroom until the door finally creaked open. He seemed to be just standing there, and you could’ve sworn you felt him staring at the back of your head as if he was gauging whether or not you were actually asleep. But a moment later, you heard his footsteps padding across the bedroom before the mattress dipped beneath him.

You held your breath, covers drawn to your chin as Daryl shifted in bed, eventually lying down beside you. Another beat of quiet passed, neither of you moving, nor breathing it seemed.

But then suddenly, you heard him speak, so softly you almost missed it. “I know ya ain’t sleepin’,” he rumbled.

The corner of your mouth quirked up — because of course he knew.

You sighed, shifting gingerly onto your back, the sheet pooling at your waist as you looked over at him. He laid on his side, facing you, propped up on his elbow. He was dressed in clean clothes, his hair still wet from the shower, pushed back out of his face.

He really was rather beautiful.

“Busted,” you smiled, though the archer’s expression remained solemn.

Ever so gently, he reached towards you, his fingertip grazing the material of your shirt, over your ribcage, below your chest, hovering the bruises that lingered. “Does it hurt?” he rasped, the mouth turned downward into a small frown.

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Daryl’s eyes met yours, his expression skeptical and knowing.

You never were a good liar.

“At least you didn’t break a rib?” you offered sheepishly, your lame attempt at a joke falling flat given the current audience.

But when Daryl’s features fell, a flash of what looked like guilt settling over his face, you placed your hand on top of his, resting them against your stomach. “Don’t do that,” you murmured, reading him like a damn book as you rubbed circles with your thumb over the back of his hand.

The archer grumbled something indistinct, staring down at your intertwined hands.

Your grip tightened around his. “I mean it,” you spoke, an edge to your voice, only softening when he looked at you instead. “You saved my life, D — that’s it. You can let go of anything else you’re holding onto.”

Daryl’s lip twitched as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, seemingly mulling over your words.

You were sure he’d hang onto whatever unnecessary guilt he carried — because that was just who he was — but eventually, he nodded once and settled down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You were too tired to press the subject further so you curled into his side and rested your head against his chest, winding your arm across his midsection. His arm automatically wrapped around you, his fingertips trailing absently up and down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You weren’t sure how long you laid like that, melting into the warmth he exuded, the steady pounding of his heartbeat easing you to sleep.

You’d nearly faded away when Daryl suddenly spoke.

“Did ya mean it?” he rumbled, the noise vibrating from deep within his chest. “What ya said before?” he grunted, his hand pausing at the small of your back.

You could’ve imagined it, but you almost felt the slight tremble of his fingertips against your skin.

You slowly pushed up onto your elbow, your faces mere inches apart. You searched his uncertain gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course I meant it,” you whispered. “Every damn word.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, as though not entirely believing what you said could be true.

So you leaned forward, closing the remainder of space between you, and pressed your lips gently against his. He returned the kiss, a quiet desperation growing as one hand came up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb sweeping back and forth across your cheek. You broke away from the kiss, brushing his hair back before meeting his lips once more, settling your hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath your touch.

When you pulled back, you noticed his skin flush, surely mirroring your own. He looked up at you, slightly breathless, a fondness in his gaze that sent your stomach somersaulting. He cleared his throat, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. “Well, alright,” he finally resigned, accepting your answer to his question.

You snorted a breathy laugh, leaning forward and kissing his cheek before burrowing against him. A soft sigh slipped past your lips as Daryl’s hold tightened around you, as though afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of contentment, unsure how many more moments like this you, or anyone else for that matter, had left in this kind of cruel and harrowing world.

But for at least tonight, you could be at peace.

“I love you,” you murmured groggily, beginning to sink deeper into unconsciousness.

Right before sleep came, long after Daryl thought you’d drifted away, you heard him whisper three, simple words.

“More than anythin’.”

Then he pulled you closer and the world dimmed.

A/N: Aw...a happy ending! (I figured I owed ya after putting y'all through Honey & Whiskey lol)

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you’d like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[crossbowking]

More Than Anything (Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader's feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: "I'd love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?" - @pulplorrd

A/N: Thank you all for the love regarding "Honey & Whiskey" - I loved writing that story, but I'm also super happy to finally be able to move onto something else! I very rarely write established Daryl x Reader stories, so this one was super fun to do!

This is part 1/2.

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Sunlight trickled in through the open window, a gentle breeze rousing you from an otherwise undisturbed sleep.

Cracking an eye open, you squinted against the sun rays streaming over your features as a soft sigh escaped past your lips. Burying your face into your pillow, you extended an arm out across the mattress, your brow furrowing when you felt an empty space beside you. Pushing up onto your elbow, you rubbed your eye with the heel of your palm before glancing over at the vacant spot.

“D?” you murmured softly, voice still thick with sleep. You cleared your throat, twisting onto your side as you surveyed the rest of the bedroom. “Daryl?” you called out once more, feeling a familiar pinprick of worry when no response followed.

You flipped onto your back with a huff, taking a moment to stretch out your tired muscles before untangling yourself from the sheets and climbing out of bed. Fighting back a yawn, you padded across the floor and out into the hallway, listening for movement. When you heard a sudden clatter, followed by a rasped cuss, the corner of your mouth quirked up.

You made your way towards the noise, feeling some of the tightness in your chest fade with each step you drew near.

The end of the hallway led to a small, yet quaint, kitchen. When you reached the entryway, you faltered, observing the scene before you — Daryl was crouched down, one hand wielding a frying pan, the other scooping up a small mound of partially cooked eggs from off the floor and tossing them back into the skillet.

You stifled back the laugh building up inside you. “Hi,” you remarked, making your arrival known.

The archer’s gaze snapped up to meet yours, a flash of what looked like embarrassment flitting over his features before he ducked his head back down, effectively concealing his face with his hair. “Mornin’,” he rumbled, quickly wiping up the rest of the egg residue with the sleeve of his shirt.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the doorway. “Whatcha doin’?” you singsonged playfully, eyebrows raised.

Daryl’s brow furrowed as he stood, staring down defeatedly at the frying pan in his grip. “Cookin’,” he finally sighed, shrugging a shoulder up.

“I see that,” you laughed softly, crossing the length of the kitchen as the archer placed the skillet back onto the stovetop. “Smells good,” you remarked, coming to stand at his side.

“Dropped the —” Daryl spat out another curse as he attempted to scrape the burnt egg bits off the bottom of the pan. “— the damn — the damn thing,” he growled exasperatedly, waving at the pan with the spatula he held.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “No one expects you to be Gordon Ramsey,” you teased, thoroughly amused.

But the reference seemed to go right over Daryl’s head as he turned to give you a confused look.

Your brow furrowed. “You know…Gordon Ramsey,” you reiterated pointedly.

“Huh?” the archer grunted, clearly at a loss.

“Oh, come on, you don’t — you’ve never heard of Gordon Ramsey?” you asked incredulously. “You know, Gordon Ramsey! The mean British chef!”

Daryl scrunched his nose up before shaking his head. “Ain’t never heard a’ that,” he rumbled, focusing back on the frying pan.

“Wow,” you murmured in disbelief. “That is so…so devastating,” you sighed, mockingly dramatic.

The archer snorted a laugh, the sound eliciting a rush of warmth through you. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You grinned cheekily, leaning over and resting your head against the curve of Daryl’s shoulder. He froze for a moment, old habits reappearing briefly before he relaxed beneath you and continued stirring the eggs.

An overwhelming sense of calm rushed over you, a feeling only the archer ever seemed to evoke. You closed your eyes, breathing in the comfort he so effortlessly exuded — and it wasn’t in anything he said or anything he did, it was just purely and wholeheartedly who he was. He was grounded, he was stable, he was here.

You’d missed this — you’d missed him.

The past month hadn’t been the easiest — Alexandria was still recovering from the destruction the dead had caused — but things were beginning to look up. The hundreds of slain walkers had finally been removed from within the community, Carl was recovering from his gunshot wound, and the wall that’d been destroyed was almost entirely rebuilt. There was a sense of hope, of purpose, in the air — your people had stared death in the face and prevailed.

But supplies were beginning to wear thin.

Most were hesitant to venture outside the walls, to leave the sanctuary that was Alexandria, and honestly, you didn’t blame them for that — especially after the attack brought on by the Wolves. You’d seen what other horrors existed outside those walls — hell, you’d lived through it. There was a big, bad, scary world just behind the scraps of steel and metal welded together surrounding the community — there was the dead, the undead, and the living.

The latter was most terrifying.

Still, there were mouths to feed, injuries to tend to, and somebody would have to leave eventually. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Daryl volunteered himself — that was just the kind of man he was. Aaron had decided to join him, determined to continue his search for any other lost souls seeking asylum.

But the supply run had taken longer than expected.

They’d only planned to be gone for three days — but after the fourth, fifth, sixth day that rolled by without any sign of return, you were nearly beside yourself with worry. It wasn’t that you thought they couldn’t handle themselves out there, you just wanted them home — you wanted him home. The tightness in your chest expanded with each day that passed, unease gnawing at your insides, fear settling like an anchor in the pit of your stomach.

Then just yesterday — day seven — right before sunset, Daryl and Aaron had come marching through the front gate. Apparently, their intended route had been cut off by a horde, which led to some rerouting, which resulted in an empty gas tank, which forced them to abandon their car, which meant walking the near-fifty miles back home.

“I was so worried,” you suddenly murmured, drawing yourself back to the present as you lifted your head off Daryl’s shoulder and glanced up at him.

The archer’s eyes flashed towards you for just a brief second before focusing downward, turning off the stovetop, and pulling the frying pan off the heat. “I came back,” he finally rasped after a long pause.

“Yeah,” you sounded, nodding your head absently, his words not making you feel all that better.

Daryl caught your gaze once more before he reached out and placed his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “C’mon, let’s eat,” he rumbled, pulling away a moment later.

You made a soft noise in protest, savoring the rare show of affection and earning an amused eye roll from the archer as he turned away — though you noticed the tips of his ears redden in the slightest.

When you’d first arrived at Alexandria, Deanna had provided two houses to be split amongst your entire group. As time went on and the safe haven had proven to be just that, slowly but surely, everyone began branching out and finding their own homes to settle into. Part of you had reservations about moving into one of the empty brownstone apartments, just you and Daryl, but things had been going well between you — really well, actually.

You settled atop one of the stools lining the small island in the middle of the kitchen, resting your elbows against the smooth marble countertop as you watched Daryl move about. He grabbed a plate from the cupboard, along with a fork from the utensil drawer before swinging around and sliding the items towards you. It was almost eerie how natural things felt in that moment — like a glimpse of what life might’ve looked like had the world not ended and the dead had stayed dead.

The archer grabbed the frying pan, turning towards you once more before using the spatula to dish out a hearty helping of eggs onto your plate. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the look of intense concentration masking his features — as though diffusing a bomb and not simply serving breakfast.

Daryl glanced up at you from beneath his hair, doing a quick double-take. “What?” he grunted defensively, appearing increasingly self-conscious all of the sudden.

“Nothing,” you quickly shook your head, letting out a soft laugh and picking up the utensil. “Thank you,” you grinned, gathering up a forkful of eggs.

“Mhm,” he grumbled in response, drumming his fingers against the counter as he carefully watched for your reaction, his nervousness evident — and incredibly endearing.

You took a big bite, humming a noise of satisfaction soon after. “Mmm,” you sounded around the mouthful of food before swallowing. “Chef Dixon,” you remarked cheekily.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah right,” he rasped sarcastically, though you watched him visibly relax. He remained standing opposite of you, opting out from using a plate and eating the remaining eggs straight from the frying pan instead, scooping up a handful with his fingertips and shoveling them into his mouth.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the pair of you continued eating, sneaking glances at one another while the other wasn’t looking. You couldn’t help yourself — he was just so damn captivating. Even standing before you, devouring a panful of eggs with his bare hands like some kind of wild animal, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip-flop.

You’d never felt this way about anyone in your entire life — even before the end. But now…well, now you’d live this terrifying life a thousand times over if it meant finding him.

The sudden realization of what exactly you were feeling hit you hard, catching you off guard and causing you to choke on the mouthful of eggs you were chewing. Daryl’s head snapped up as you abruptly coughed, covering your mouth as your eyes began to water.

The archer was at your side a moment later. “Hey, ya alright?” he rumbled, gently patting his hand against your back.

You quickly nodded, attempting to wave him off as your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Yeah — yeah, no, I’m —” you coughed once more, the eggs finally dislodging from your throat. “I’m — I’m good,” you managed weakly, wiping at your eyes. “Jesus,” you wheezed as a sheepish laugh slipped past your lips, your coughs finally dying down.

“Ya sure?” Daryl pressed as he pulled his hand away from your back and rested it on top of your shoulder instead.

“No, no, yeah, no, I’m fine,” you quickly brushed him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe,” you lied, hoping your excuse sounded convincing enough as the feeling of vulnerability threatened to consume you.

If the archer was suspicious, he kept his expression neutral. He nodded once before softly squeezing your shoulder and pulling away — though he lingered nearby instead of moving back to where he’d originally stood.

“Anyways,” you pushed forward, clearing your throat, desperately wanting to ignore the revelation you’d had. “We, uh — we almost finished rebuilding the wall while you guys were gone. Rick’s got a crew working on dismantling the old one, too.”

Daryl watched your expression for a second longer than necessary, like he knew something was up but wasn’t exactly sure what. But after a moment, he relented. “Saw it on the way in las’ night,” he murmured, leaning down and resting his forearms against the edge of the counter. “Looks pretty solid.”

You nodded, huffing a breath. “Abraham’s leading the team — I’m pretty sure you couldn’t drive a tank through that wall.”

The archer scoffed. “Damn right,” he rasped before lowering his gaze, wringing his hands together atop the counter.

You studied his demeanor, feeling a pinprick of unease. “What is it?”

Daryl glanced up, flicking his hair away from his eyes with a quick jerk of the head. “M’, uh — m’ headin’ out again today,” he finally confessed, standing up straight.

You tried to keep your expression indifferent despite your stomach dropping. “Oh,” you voiced dishearteningly. “But — but you just got back,” you pointed out softly, hoping you didn’t sound as disappointed as you felt.

“I know,” he said, staring down at the counter, avoiding your gaze. “Jus’ a day trip, is all — Tara heard ‘bout a motel strip, maybe fifteen miles from here. Shouldn’t take more than a couple a’ hours. We’ll be in an’ out.”

You nodded slowly, pushing around the leftover eggs on your plate with your fork. “Alright,” you straightened up on your stool. “Well, I’ll come —”

Daryl started shaking his head before you could even finish your sentence, his eyes meeting yours. “Y/N —”

“Come on, Daryl,” you interjected, already figuring his response, swiveling in your seat to face him head-on. “I’m losing my mind here, okay? I’ve gotta get back out there and — and actually do something for this place.”

“Ya do enough already,” he shot back vehemently.

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as you slid off the stool. “And besides, we’ll cover more ground faster if there’s three of us versus two,” you continued brusquely, gathering all the stray dishes on the counter.

“That ain’t the damn point,” Daryl growled, following you towards the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, and it's also not your decision," you finally snapped.

When the archer didn’t respond, stiffening beside you instead, a wave of guilt washed over you.

Exhaling a heavy breath, you gently set the dishes down in the sink before turning to face him. “Look, I get it,” you murmured softly. “I get it, D. But I can’t just hide out here for the rest of my life,” you explained. “Especially when you’re the one risking yours.”

Some of the fire in Daryl’s gaze diminished, replaced with a heaviness that wasn’t there before as his shoulders drooped.

You felt something tug at your heart as you stepped forward, reaching towards him and brushing away the hair that fell over his face. “I just got you back,” you whispered. “And I’m not ready to let go of that yet.”

When another long moment passed without a response, you were almost certain Daryl was going to object once more — but then, despite the tension in his features, his eyes softened.

“Alright,” he finally rumbled, the word seemingly caught in his throat — as though it physically pained him to say it.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Alright,” you reiterated with a resolute nod.

Daryl sighed, shaking his head as he nudged you forward. “Well, go on an’ get some shit together before I change my mind,” he grunted.

You quickly straightened, imitating a soldier’s stance. “Yes, Chef,” you saluted the archer, breaking the tension.

Daryl narrowed his eyes, shooting you an unamused look. “Shut it,” he rasped — though you noticed his lips twitch up a moment later as he turned on the kitchen sink, picking up one of the dirty dishes.

You stood up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss against the archer’s cheek, the skin where your lips touched tinging pink soon after. “Just give me two minutes,” you said, squeezing his arm as you brushed by him.

Daryl cleared his throat gruffly, caught off guard by the gesture. “M’ countin’!” he called after you.

“Yeah, yeah!” you shouted back, allowing the warmth that filled your chest to carry you the rest of the way down the hall.

Within the hour, you were on the road.

A cool rush of air swept through the passenger side window as you tilted your head back against the headrest and closed your eyes, basking in the sun's gentle rays. The wind danced amongst strands of your tousled hair before settling them back down against your features. Tucking away the freed wisps behind your ears, you opened your eyes, studying the scenery flashing by.

Rows and rows and towering trees lined either side of the long and winding road you found yourself on, a seemingly endless forest just behind it. The car hummed beneath you, passing by long-since abandoned vehicles and scattered debris, continuing to barrel down an otherwise empty highway.

It was strange — there was something somewhat comforting, something sort of nostalgic about being back on the road. Like a glimpse into another lifetime.

“— and I swear, this dude was like, six feet tall. He was one of those, you know, typical chauvinistic pricks, thinking every woman he meets at a bar wants to have sex with him,” Tara’s voice rang from the backseat, drawing you from your reverie. “But you should’ve seen the look on his face when I knocked him on his ass — priceless,” she jeered, an air of pride in her tone.

You shifted in the passenger seat, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you looked back at her. “So, is that when you realized you wanted to join the police academy?” you asked curiously.

“No,” Tara shook her head, a smirk toying at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “That’s when I realized I like women.”

A laugh bubbled out of you at her response, Tara’s smile simply widening as she shrugged unabashedly, picking up the map splayed out across her lap. As your laughter died down, you started turning to face forward — though you’d only made it halfway when Daryl caught your eye.

The archer sat in the driver’s seat, one hand resting casually on top of the steering wheel, the other propped up against the door. His window was rolled down, the breeze from outside stirring the hair that hung just above his eyes. But what grabbed your attention were his eyes, glinting ocean blue as he glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth faintly lifting.

God, the way he looked at you…

You fought back a smile as you faced forward, wondering what you could’ve possibly done in your life to deserve to be looked at like that. The feeling you’d shoved away earlier at breakfast came rushing back, setting your senses ablaze as you worked on controlling your thrumming pulse.

You loved him.

A heaviness grew in the pit of your stomach as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Fuck.

“Here’s the turn,” Tara’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

The motel came into view, set back behind a mass of trees, partially hidden from the main road. The car jostled side to side as Daryl drove it down the gravel driveway, leading to the complex. There was a handful of abandoned cars parked sporadically throughout the small parking lot, some trash and debris littering the area, and four lone walkers ambling aimlessly.

Daryl pulled the car off to the side, parking it near the trees and out of sight from the main road, the engine drawing the dead’s attention. “I got ‘em,” he rasped, unsheathing his hunting knife and sliding out of the car in one swift motion.

Your lip quirked up as you watched him dispose of the dead, as quickly and effortlessly as breathing — he’d been made for this world, you were sure of it.

“You coming?” Tara’s voice broke through your thoughts once more, the hint of a mischievous smile ghosting over her features — she’d clearly been watching you ogle at the archer.

You felt your cheeks flush at the scrutiny. “Mhm, yep,” you nodded quickly, shaking away the embarrassment and climbing out of the car.

Daryl crossed back towards you, wiping the walker blood from the blade of his knife onto his jeans and flicking the hair from his face.

“Show-off,” Tara smirked, adjusting the straps of her backpack as she passed him, heading towards the stretch of rooms just ahead.

The archer simply scoffed a breath, rolling his eyes, though you spotted the hint of amusement in his gaze as he waited for you to catch up.

“It’s so weird seeing you without your crossbow,” you remarked, nearing a moment later.

Daryl grunted a breath, swiveling around and falling in step beside you, neither of your momentum’s faltering. “Jus’ wait ’til I find that asshole,” he grumbled, recalling the man he’d met in the woods all those days ago.

“We’ll get you a new one someday,” you smiled, unsheathing your own knife as you approached the motel. “Or you could use the RPG and blow more shit up.”

Daryl snorted a laugh.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” Tara called from up ahead, pausing in front of the center of the strip.

“Room by room?” you suggested, stopping at her side. “One of us can stay on watch, maybe check these other cars for supplies?”

“I got it,” Daryl offered with a nod, re-holstering his gun. “I’ll see if I can get any a’ these guys up an’ runnin’, bring ‘em back home.”

“There’s also an empty gas canister in the trunk,” Tara motioned towards their car. “Salvage what you can,” she shrugged before turning on her heel and heading towards the first room.

You moved to follow, only stopping when Daryl reached out and grabbed your wrist. You turned, spotting the worry in his gaze he tried to hide. “Ya be careful, ya hear me?” he rasped, sliding his grip down and squeezing your hand softly.

“I will,” you nodded, squeezing back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a fraction.

God, you loved him.

The three of you moved quietly and efficiently — you and Tara swept through each room, working your way down the entire motel strip while Daryl picked through the parking lot. The building had been left practically untouched — and besides the supplies you’d managed to scavenge from the motel itself, you’d even found luggage and suitcases left behind by guests who’d apparently vacated in a hurry.

By the time you'd made it halfway down the strip, the packs you brought had been filled to the brim.

“Holy shit-balls, this place is a goldmine,” Tara huffed, tossing her backpack down beside yours in the trunk of your car.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. “I can’t believe it,” you shook your head before scanning the parking lot for Daryl — you spotted him hunched over the hood of a car, his hands buried in the engine, tinkering around. “We should use some of the suitcases we found for the rest of the stuff,” you continued, focusing back on Tara.

“Cool beans,” she shot you a thumbs-up before motioning towards the center of the strip. “Wanna check out the front office before we hit the other half?”

“Sure,” you nodded, slamming the truck shut and falling in step with her as the two of you headed back towards the motel.

When you felt someone watching, you glanced over your shoulder, catching Daryl’s eye — his furrowed brow softened, the corner of his mouth twitching as you sent him a wink and turned back around.

God damn it, you loved him.

Dividing either side of the motel strip was the front office, built just beyond a large swimming pool. There was a tarp draped across the pool, covering most of the swampy green water, though debris floated around the murky edges. Your nose scrunched up as you passed, a funky smell wafting from the mucky water.

“Gross,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself before you glanced over at Tara. “So, you and Denise, huh?” you asked curiously, waggling your eyebrows.

Tara huffed a breath, but you didn’t miss the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I could say the same about you and Dixon,” she shot back, fighting off a smirk.

You rolled your eyes despite the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Oh, come on —”

The rest of your sentence died away, falling from your lips when a sudden growl sounded, breaking the otherwise silent air. You stopped short, Tara halting just beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as you strained your ears, listening for where the noise had come from.

Sure enough, a moment later, a lone walker stumbled into view, coming out from behind the front office.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling Tara do the same. “Hang on, I got it,” you motioned for her to stay put as you jogged ahead, pulling your knife from the holster around your waist. You braced your arm against the biter’s throat, plunging the blade of your knife into its skull in one, swift motion before it dropped at your feet.

But just before you turned to head back, you heard it again — snarling.

Except for this time, it wasn’t just one.

Your stomach dropped as a small herd, about a dozen dead ones, suddenly rounded the corner behind the office, their sights set on you.

“Oh fuck,” you swore, stumbling backward, vaguely aware of Tara yelling your name. But when you spun around, you realized that she too was no longer alone. “Look out!” you shouted, motioning to the two additional walkers quickly approaching from behind her.

As she turned away from you, fighting off the dead that’d snuck up on her, you took off into a sprint, putting some distance between you and the horde.

Tara stabbed her knife into the temple of the first, though the second was on her just as soon. It gripped its fingers around her forearm, pulling her flesh closer and closer towards its snapping jaw…

Just before it could sink its teeth into her skin, you managed to grab it, twisting a fistful of its hair around your fingers and yanking its head backward. You drove your blade through its decaying forehead, stilling it instantly.

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

A/N: EEEEEEK! Y'all know me and how much I love cliffhangers :)

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[halcydn-deactivated20151101]

Reblog if you write fan fiction

Doesn’t matter if you write in a frequent basis, or once in a blue moon, just how many of us are there?

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 2,839 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, violence Summary: Daryl and Y/N experience something unexplained and unexpected. A/N: This is part of a series! You can find the previous parts on my Master List.

Previous Chapter

Your name: submit What is this?

It was still dark out but Daryl was wide awake. When he looked out the window of the cabin, the shadows blanketing the snow were still deep blue but he could barely see a growing lightness in the sky over the tree tops. There wasn’t a single cloud—a sign that it had likely been bitterly cold the night before, and indeed the cabin felt extra chilled and drafty as he padded across the main room. Your bedroom door was still closed but the light was off and Daryl was relieved that you seemed to be getting more sleep than him. He planned to get an early start on the day by clearing off the solar panels which still were buried from the last snowfall several days before. He wanted to get the power back on in the cabin.

He hesitated in front of your door for a moment and listened. It was silent. He quietly turned the knob and opened the door a little, thinking he’d let the dogs out in hopes you’d be able to sleep longer. You still had a lot of healing up to do.

Bear and Strider were immediately at the door when they heard the handle and eagerly pushed out into the main room. With the door open, the dim light from the fire he’d just stoked illuminated your form in the bed. You were lying on your back, hands resting on your stomach. He could see the rise and fall of the blankets with your breath and the way your hair was just a little messy against the pillow. You looked peaceful and content and it was with some surprise and curiosity that he marked a warmth growing from between his lungs outward as he looked at you. He ducked his head and pushed the feeling away. A moment later he snapped out of it and softly pulled the door closed. He put on his winter gear and stepped into the frigid morning air outside, the dogs bounding ahead of him.

Keep reading

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

In case you missed it, Dead of Winter was updated last night! <3

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,047 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: blood and gore, graphic descriptions, death of a character, language, violence, frightening scenarios Summary: Y/N tries to process Daryl’s shocking statement.

Previous chapter

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl gulped and when he next spoke his deep voice was strained and heavy with gravel. “I was there… when he—when it happened. I was there. And I couldn’t—I didn’t—” He sighed heavily and shut his eyes. “S’my fault he died. S’my fault. ‘N m’so sorry…”

You felt like your stomach had dropped through the floor. “…what?” you breathed. You didn’t even really remember saying it. The word just fell from your lips. And Daryl didn’t seem able to meet your eyes. He was staring down at his hands, which were fiddling anxiously. Your mouth went suddenly dry. All you could do was stare at the way the shadows on his face were flickering slightly, the only light from the fire burning merrily in the fireplace. It was a sharp contrast to how suddenly everything around you seemed to darken, like a weighty veil had settled over the room. You felt like you were struggling to breathe beneath it.

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[sourwolf-32]

Sunshine ( Daryl Dixon One-shot )

Summary: Plus Size Reader fic! Based off the prompts: “Oh, I don’t- I don’t think that’s suppose to look like that.” & “Don’t look at me like that" 

This is for @spnhollis​ writing challenge, you all should give her a follow, I absolutely love her fics and she is such an amazing person! Sorry it’s taken me so long to finally post this. 

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings), insecurities, injury

“Think we’ll find anything?” You called out over the rumble of Daryl’s motorcycle while you sat on the back with your arms wrapped around his midsection.

“Doubt it.” Daryl muttered over his shoulder before he focused back on the rode causing you rolled your eyes.

“C'mon be optimistic. I have a good feeling about this supply run.” You responded leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head.

Daryl slowed the motorcycle down, pulling over onto the side of the road and turning the engine off. The town you were scavenging was about a mile down the road, so you figured you’d walk the last part and enter the town silently.

Keep reading

[jenlikesdarylfanfic]

An oldie and goodie. Here’s to those who haven’t read it. It’s good.

[negansangel]

Scavenging (part 1)

synopsis: you and Daryl drive off to the city to scavenge for supplies together.

warnings: smut (not included on this part), slight swearing.

pairings: (season 4) Daryl x Reader

word count: 1689

You sat in your little cell with Judith in your arms. You don’t do much around the prison, you start to wonder what your role really is there. Although, you enjoy being alone and feeling at peace, it’s good to forget what’s going on outside in the new world.

Sometimes you help Rick with planting vegetables, take care of Judith, clean the prison, go for runs, but most of the time you just sit alone inside. Taking care of Judith was your favorite thing, you’ve always loved kids and always wanted to have one.

Just a few moments after Judith falls asleep in your arms, you hear footsteps coming closer. You looked to the side to see Daryl approach your opened cell.

You loved everyone in the prison, but Daryl seemed to be different. It’s no big secret that you two have the strongest connection of the group, you seem to always understand each other better than the rest.

You liked Daryl, probably a lot more than you should’ve.

“Hey, you good?” He began talking in a quiet yet husky tone like he always did.

“Yeah, just watching over the little ass-kicker.” He chuckles when he hears you mention the name.

“I’m goin’ on a run for supplies” He lowers his voice trying his best to not bother the people that were resting inside.

“Okay, stay safe.” You give him a small smile, you thought he was going with some of the others so you didn’t think much of it.

“I was thinking of going with you.” He admits, looking down at Judith who you still held in your arms.

“Alright, who else is going?” You asked, standing up quietly to get ready and making sure Judy was still asleep.

“No one else, just us.” He answered like what he said wasn’t the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.

“We’re not going alone, it’s unsafe.” You furrow my eyebrows as you sat back down, letting him know that you weren’t going anywhere.

“I’ve gone for runs alone, always came out alive and well.” He tries to reason, making sure you were on his side.

“I’m not going, I’m not taking the risk. Besides, Judith needs someone to take care of here when we’re gone.” You explain.

“Beth’s available, she always is when it comes to Judith.” He affirms as I look down at Judith to see her sleeping peacefully.

“Hey…” He whispered, making you look up at him, Daryl takes a step closer before our eyes finally meet, “do you trust me?” he asked in which I replied with a slow yet sure nod.

“Then you’re coming, let’s go.” And before I could say anything he just leaves.

I let out a long sigh before I left my opened cell to find Beth.

———————————

You were now leaving the prison to take off. You had already told Rick about Judith having to stay with Beth and surprisingly he agreed with us going alone.

Rick has a lot of trust for Daryl, maybe he knows that whatever happens he will always keep us safe. You’re just scared things might not turn out the way they’re supposed to.

Just before you opened one of the cars doors, you hear a whisper coming from behind you which made you stop your movements.

“What d’you think you’re doin’?” Daryl yells in interrogation.

“Getting in the car, why?” You almost laugh at at his question. Maybe opening a cars door is too much for him?

“Nah, you’re going with me on the motorcycle, C’mon” he yelled as he looks away and walks over to his vehicle.

“Have you lost your mind? We’re already going alone, the least we can do is to make a safe drive.” You yelled back.

“I thought you trusted me.” He yells, already getting on his motorcycle.

Sometimes Daryl can be a real pain in the ass and it’s moments like this where you realize it.

You walk over to his motorcycle and wait for him to get on it first. But you stop, not sure of wether or not this was really the right thing to do.

“If something goes wrong I will kill you.” You threatened, raising your eyebrows.

“Whatever, c’mon” Daryl shook his head at your words. You just hopped on the bike and waiting for him to start it.

“Hold onto me, you don’t want to fall out of your seat do you?” I heard him speak.

You hesitate, then slowly wrapping your arms around his torso, leaning on him. That’s when you feel the vibrations from your seat indicating we were taking off.

You watched the walkers stumbling and walking coming in your direction. You were scared of them getting close to you two but Daryl was driving fast.

You couldn’t stand to look at the walkers so you decide to close your eyes and relax. Calming down, you realize the tension between you two building up.

The way you held him tight from your nerves, your body vibrating every second we kept going, the fact that it was only you two now.

You slowly let your head rest on his back and keep your eyes closed, you could hear his heartbeat like it’s the only think you could hear at that moment.

Every other sound was inaudible to you, his heartbeat was all you cared about. You opened your eyes and find yourself staring at the bright sunshine.

Blinding by the brightness, you move your head up to look at Norman. His hair flew through the hair from the speed but he stayed concentrated.

You close your eyes once more and wait until Daryl stops.

———————————

“Don’t fall asleep on me.” You hear Daryl speak unexpectedly as he pulls over.

“Didn’t realize we were here already.” You replied, squinting your eyes as you bring your head up.

You look around to find yourselves near a building in the city, you could hear a few walkers from far away which didn’t make you concern.

The heat felt so good in your skin, you could just sit there all day getting sun bathed. The little things in life mean so much now.

“Are you gonna take your hands off of me or what?” He chuckles a bit.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” You admit, unwrapping your arms from him, allowing him to get off the bike.

“It’s a beautiful day today.” You affirm.

“Yeah, but we gotta get goin’.” You hear the sound of him grabbing his crossbow, ready to go.

You took your silencer off your gun belt and follow Daryl. You walked through the sidewalk, looking for the right places to scavenge.

“What are we scavenging for exactly?” You talked quietly to not draw attention.

“Medical supplies… but mostly food.” He speaks in a quiet tone, similar to yours.

“There’s a pharmacy very close to where we’re going, I’m not sure of what is left in it because when we come here in groups we take a lot of stuff from there.” You explained.

“Guide me to it, if we don’t find what we need then we just go somewhere else.” He speaks as I nod my head to him.

At a certain point, you realize you weren’t going to need to speak so quietly and aiming your guns at the air, so you just start walking faster to get to the pharmacy.

“It’s like it’s summer, I’m not sure if I can walk for much longer.” You sigh.

“We’ve gotta keep movin’ until we get there, we’ll get some water after we go to the pharmacy.” You hear Daryl slightly panting between his words, he was getting tired too.

You remember that this wasn’t like the old days, people giving you weird looks or staring at you as you’re walking on the street.

Maybe it was better that way instead of having literal walking dead beings following you around to tear your flesh apart.

You noticed your loose tank top was getting soaked by your sweat. You and Daryl are pretty close and you know Daryl wouldn’t judge you for anything, so you decide to take the piece of clothing off your body.

You fix up your sports bra and folded your shirt over your forearm, still walking behind Daryl.

Just a few moments after the two of you heard a growl, you raise your weapons both at the same time and shoot the same walker that came out of a building next to you.

You caught Daryl watching you through the corner of his eyes, when he notices you looking back at him he just turns his head down, looking at the rotting corpse.

“Just one?” Daryl asks after clearing his throat, and you peek inside. You looked around and there were no signs of walkers so you nos at him.

“And it looks like we’re here.” You spoke, recognizing the insides of the building. You give Daryl your empty backpack so he can put the supplies in it.

You two entered, you kept your gun raised while Daryl lowered his. He was the one that knew what he was supposed to get, I was just there to protect in case a walker would appear.

I looked at him searching the shells and taking out some meds. I looked over and I see a small bottle of pain killers and putting them in the backpack.

He put in pain killers, aspirin and more meds someone from the prison probably asked him for. As you looked around, you spot a shelf with toothpaste and other hygiene supplies.

“Give me the bag when you’re done, I’m taking stuff too.” You find yourself smiling at the shelf.

“I’m done already, you can have it.” He says handing you the backpack, fortunately it still had room for more supplies.

While you were taking more stuff from the shelf, Daryl kept walking around the pharmacy to see what was left there.

He wasn’t really paying attention. He passes through a shelf which contained some first aid supplies, and then he finds himself staring at a box of condoms and a few more.

He stopped moving, staring at the box. Too many thoughts ran through his mind in that moment, completely zoning out.

“I think that’s it.” You say out of the blue, making him aggressively turn his head to you.

“Let’s go…” he muttered, leaving the walking away from the pharmacy as I followed him.

Now you were on your way to the nearest store you could find to look for food. Daryl has been quiet ever since you two left the pharmacy, somethings must’ve gone wrong.

You don’t want to ask what’s wrong just yet, maybe he just wants to have a moment of peace or doesn’t want to draw attention.

You see a grocery store from far away and walk towards it, you kept our weapons raised for walkers.

As you got closer, you start hearing the sounds of multiple growls, way more than you wanted to hear.

“Careful now.” Daryl advices as you two got close to the entrance.

We took a quick look inside and it was full of walkers, none of them could see you because they weren’t facing your way.

You and Daryl leaned on the wall, next to the entrance, hiding from what was inside.

“We’ve got to draw them out to take them down.” You mumble but loud enough for Daryl to hear.

“No shit. Too many.” Daryl mumbled back. A short pause formed, making you both wonder what to do.

“I saw something in your backpack earlier.” He begins, this time a bit louder.

“I packed a grenade, just in case we needed to take down a big herd.” You remembered.

“Or we can draw ‘em away with it. I can throw it far away and they‘ll follow the noise. We’ve gotta be quiet when they’re leavin’.” Daryl makes up a plan.

You quickly took the backpack off your back and search for the small piece. When you finally have the grenade on your hands, you have it to Daryl so he could throw it the other way.

“Alright, quiet.” He whispers before he pulled the grenade’s pin. He threw it so far away you lost the grenade as it flew.

Next thing you know, you just hear an explosion and see smoke everywhere. Just a moment after the explosion you, a short shout escaped your lips unintentionally.

“Hey!” Daryl whispered yelled and came closer to me.

Suddenly, he sneaked his arm around my waist and with his other free hand he covered my mouth. You wrap both of your hands around his wrist as a reflex but in a way that you didn’t apply much force.

You could feel Daryl holding you tight, burying his fingertips deeply into your skins, you could feel the adrenaline between you two and you squeeze your eyes shut.

The walkers started limping their way towards the explosion, not seeing us next to the entrance. Daryl looked to the side to watch them leave as you kept your eyes shut.

Seconds later the walkers were out of the store but they were still walking on the road, if you made any sound they would probably change directions.

Daryl was still holding you. Your heartbeat was beating fast and you could feel like your bodies trembling against each other from the adrenaline. Sweat ran down both of you as you stood. Both of you panting shakily and quietly.

“I think we’re good.” Daryl mumbled as his panting decreased. His hands loosen and you let out a sigh in relief.

Slowly, we both entered the building with our guns up. Checking if there were any walkers still inside.

“All clear?” Daryl asked, still looking around.

“Yes.” You replied awkwardly. You were still thinking of that moment by the entrance, how it made you feel.

The way he held you tight, it might have been uncomfortable but you felt like he was trying to make you feel safe, and you appreciate a bit of caring.

You take a couple of water bottles off a shelf and pack one of them up, keeping the other one in your hand. You threw the bag at Daryl who catch it perfectly and let him pack food.

You took some sips before pouring some of the water down your head, letting it drip down your hair and skin. The heat was killing you and you could use some water.

“You should do it too, it’s too hot out here I feel like we’re burning up.” You spoke as you threw another water bottle at him, he catches again.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, he wasn’t even concentrating when packing the things he needed, he kept looking back at you, reminiscing that moment.

[pascalsslut]

first times a charm.

daryl dixon x oc

warnings: rough smut, m loss of virginity, f receiving oral, dry humping, fingering, sub! daryl, dom! farrah, handjobs, unprotected sex, these two being horny little shits.

era: the prison

- - - - - - - - - -

they'd taken refuge in a prison.

it was cold, but at the same time so damn muggy. most spent their time outside by the fence, taking care of any walkers that may be an immediate danger. some took to the cafeteria, and some took to some alone time in their cells. but it was still the early hours of the morning and the sun had only began to rise.

and bit by bit, daryl dixon woke.

arms were wrapped around his middle, and soft breaths came from above with the occasional rise and fall of farrah's chest. merle might've called him a sap, and maybe he was, but hell, he'd risk being a sap for her. daryl huffed softly, and was quick to shift himself above her, her back to his chest and his arms securely around her waist.

“morning.” her voice was groggy. daryl looked down at the top of her head, arms tightening around her waist and bringing him impossibly closer to her so that the only thing separating them was the fabric of their clothes. “mornin’.” he greeted softly, watching her spin around in his arms and set her palms flat against his bare chest.

“time’s it?” daryl craned his neck back, peering out of their cell. the sunlight met his eyes in a matter of seconds, and he grunted. “mornin’.” he repeated, and farrah smiled faintly, giving a firm nod as she nestled further into his chest. rick was probably out farming. as he so often done now. it seemed to be some sort of.. weird relationship he had. daryl snorted. despite what they had to do, daryl was certainly staying far away from the farming department of it. he will not step foot near those goddamn overalls.

“you’re thinking.” farrah pointed out, and daryl side-eyed her. way to point out the obvious, he wanted to say, but held his tongue. instead, he grunted and peered back towards the cellblock outside. farrah narrowed her eyes, shifting to nestle into his side, blue eyes staring up at him curiously. “what about?” the hunter shrugged, gaze darting around the cell. he was reluctant to speak, because he didn’t even know what was on his mind.. farrah seemed to understand though, and only nodded weakly.

it seemed they understood each other well. they peered at each other for a moment, farrah’s gaze heavy as she met his. and in a moment, her lips were locked on his. everything happened so quick, daryl couldn’t get even a mere moment to comprehend what was happening. yet the familiar pair of lips on his made him succumb to his confusion. “i bet i can.. take that away from you.” daryl’s look of confusion made farrah giggle. “the stress you seem to carry.” just to justify her words, to get them through, she slowly rocked her hips against his, causing a low rumble to leave daryl’s throat.

“i ain’t- never..” off farrah’s look of confusion, daryl grunted, gaze darting away as a blush rose on his cheeks. farrah nodded slowly. “oh. we don’t have to-?” daryl rapidly shook his head, eyes wide with panic. “nah! nah, we can.. just don’t wanna blow my goddamn load early.” he grumbled, face ridden with genuine annoyance, and the blonde bit down on her lip to conceal laughter that threatened to slip out. “you wanna stop, just say.” daryl nodded in understanding.

it was a good view, that’s for certain. arms folded behind his head, all of his past embarrassment had seemingly slipped away as farrah moved on top of him. god, her jeans were fucking soaked. but it’s not like either of them cared. intentionally, he tensed his thigh, and that just seemed to give the girl a whole new eye-opening experience, because she’d most certainly picked up a lot more speed. his dick was straining in his pants, and constantly with each grind of her core against his thigh, he could feel her stroke against it.

“mhm, okay. get off.” the neediest whine he’d ever heard in his goddamn life left the woman on top of him, and he chuckled quietly, settling calloused hands onto soft hips to guide her down beside him. he watched her settle onto her back before he climbed on top of her, hands sliding down to her chest. he groped at her tits, and groaned softly at the warm flesh against his hands. his head dipped down to take a rosey bud into his mouth, and the girl below him squirmed, soft whimpers escaping through parted lips. his tongue swirled and his teeth tugged gently before he decided that enough is enough.

his hands slid delicately down her front and her body arched into his touch. he could totally get used to this. his hands hit the silver button of her jeans, and he peered down at her. the blonde parted her legs, and he let out a breath. removing the black denim from her person, he lay down, head between her legs. farrah waited in silent anticipation, and when he finally took that experimental lick, she gasped. daryl hummed quietly against her, beginning to lap at the juices that escaped her cunt. “god.. more, please,” daryl lifted his gaze towards her and was already lifting a hand, thumb prodding gently at her entrance before he pushed his index in. she writhed and whined under his hand, and he’d never seen such a pretty sight.

“goddamn, girl.” he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking softly, he listened to farrah’s pleasured whimpers. her breathing grew rapid as daryl slowly added a second finger, thrusting the two digits into her heat at a rough pace. “fuck, daryl!” she whined, hips arching into his touch as he continued his merciless pace. he never thought it’d get to this point, yet here he was. he’d never regret this moment for as long as he lives. “don’t cum.” he growled, pulling his fingers out of her. the loss made her huff, yet his dominance made heat pool in her stomach.

suddenly they were flipped. she was on top of him, and daryl looked bewildered. she giggled softly, slim hands running down the length of his sturdy chest before finally reaching the button to his pants. meanwhile, daryl took in the form of the nude woman on top of him. she looked so inviting, he couldn’t wait to make sweet, sweet love to her. unfortunately for him, his thoughts were interrupted by a hand wrapping around his dick. he hadn’t even noticed that she’d stripped him of his pants. boxers too, apparently.

“like that?” she purred, gaze dark and lustful as she stared at the man beneath her. her hand worked at him, pumping and twisting in all the right ways. her thumb flicked over his tip, and daryl nearly came right then and there. her lips twisted into a smirk, and her gaze was so damn seductive.

she was like some sex goddess, daryl swore.

he’d never felt so much pleasure in his life.

guiding the woman on top of him, all he could hear was the filthy moans wandering from her lips as she bounced on his dick, hands flat against his chest for leverage. daryl continued to stifle his moans, opting for a few grunts or groans. “god, you’re so big-!” she choked, and daryl could’ve sworn he felt a swell pride rush through his veins. she’d be saying that a lot more often.

“so damn tight.. like that, huh?” he returned, hands roaming around the small of her back until they finally found her ass, greedily groping and them landing a firm smack! farrah seemed to be practically falling apart, face scrunched in pleasure as daryl repeatedly hit that spot inside of her. “feel so good inside me,” she drawled, voice thick with lust, head thrown back as her hips repeatedly slammed down against his. maybe it was all him, or maybe it was her clit brushing repeatedly against his pubic bone, or maybe it was just imaginative images, but she should feel the coil in her stomach start to slowly snap.

“gonna cum.” she gasped, and daryl seemed to take that as an invitation to flip them over, settling between her legs. his forearms caged her in, resting beside her head. she stared at him, face burying in the crook of her neck just before he started to mercilessly pound into her. she’d never had such an intense experience in all her years of living. her thighs trembled dangerously as she wrapped her legs tight around his narrow waist, forcing him deep into her dripping cunt. “fuck!” she didn’t know who came first, but all she knew was that daryl lay still on top of her, slowly sliding out of her with a low groan.

“still stressed?”

so smug, as always.

“shuddup.”

- - - - - - - - - -

GAH DAYUM 😩 longest AND filthiest thing i’ve written on here !! i hope you enjoyed. farrah and daryl certainly did ;)

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ask to be added to taglist ! <3

[roxince]

morning bliss · daryl d.

summary: slow morning around yours and daryl's little house

pairing: Daryl Dixon x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

type: one-shot

word count: 1316

category: fluff

a/n: this was my first ever daryl fic, so I had to repost before delving into more twd!

You woke up that morning before Daryl did, probably one of the few instances it happened because Daryl was an early bird. A smile quickly found its way to your lips as you turned to look at him, sound asleep beside you, sheets barely covering his lower back and quick snores coming out of his lips every so often. You had never expected to find something like this, not after the world went to shit but there you laid, next to the man that had managed to make you fall in love with him as he did for you.

You laid beside him for a while, simply adoring his features, moving the hair that fell onto his face carefully not to wake him up. Daryl had managed to make you feel things you thought were close to impossible. You'd do anything for him, protect him with your life if you had to. You knew he'd do the same but you hoped it'd never come to that. You had found peace after so long and you hoped it'd last.

Stealing a final glance at his sleeping figure, you sat up on your shared bed, stretching your arms over your head and looking around the room until your eyes landed on precisely what you were looking for. A black shirt. You stood up, quietly moving to the chair it laid on, picking it up and pulling it up your arms, walking into the hallways toward the kitchen as you buttoned it up, taking in the scent. That was one of the benefits of waking up before Daryl did, taking his clothes before he did.

As you got to the kitchen, you were quickly well-received by Dog, whose tail you were sure would break if he moved it any faster. You sat on the floor with him for a while, scratching behind his ears like he liked, gaining a couple of happy barks before you realized if you kept going like that, he'd wake up Daryl.

"Okay, who's ready for breakfast?"

Dog followed you around the kitchen, knowing exactly what was to come, finally settling for sitting next to his plate until you gave him his food which you didn't take long to prepare, refilling the water bowl as well, and petting him before he started to devour his food, making you chuckle. You weren't sure who could eat more, Dog or Daryl, but maybe each other's habits had rubbed onto the other.

Since neither you nor Daryl had anything big to do that morning, you decided to prepare a proper breakfast, knowing exactly what Daryl liked besides his morning cup of coffee, quickly finding your rhythm and humming and lowly singing a song just for yourself as you moved around the kitchen. Dog ended up settling at your feet once he was done with his food. You had quickly come to realize he just loved having your attention on him and, honestly, who were you to deny the good boy?

You were almost done, settling the food in the plates and putting it on the table, checking the clock to see what time it was, wondering if you should go wake Daryl or be nice and let him sleep. However, you didn't have to go over that decision for long, a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist as Dog stood up and started barking and moving its tail.

"Now I know why I couldn' find ma shirt."

"You mean our shirt?"

You chuckled as you turned around in his arms, settling your eyes on his sleepy ones, looking down at you with so much love you could melt right in his arms if he let you. He shook his head at your comment but didn't say anything else, simply leaning closer to you until his lips found yours for a lazy morning kiss, making you smile as he moved his head to rest it on your shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with his hair.

"Smells good."

"Hungry?"

"Ya know it," Daryl moved his head, a look in his eyes you knew all too well as his hands moved lower down your back. "But I meant ya."

You chuckled, allowing him to pick you up and settle you on the counter behind you, wrapping your legs around his to pull him closer and kissing him, your smile fading into his lips as butterflies erupted from your stomach. You wished you could feel just like that every moment of the day, forever and with only just him. His hands settled on your thighs, his mouth on yours like bees to honey, letting out a quiet whine as he bit your lip. You moved your hands to his face, forcing him back to keep his mouth on your when the sound of the toaster startled you and made you jump on your place making Daryl start laughing as he squeezed your things.

"Not funny, Daryl!"

You hit him on the upper arm, pretending to be more annoyed than you really were as he tased you for a bit longer, saying you were too jumpy to be in your house with him. You rolled your eyes, attempting to get down but his body trapped yours again and his lips found yours. This time, what interrupted you was the growl that came from his stomach, being you the one laughing uncontrollably now.

"Ya think that's funny?"

Before you knew it, Daryl had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder, walking with you into the living room, watching as Dog followed you, jumping and trying to lick your face. You landed on your back on the couch, Daryl jumping over you and starting to tickle you before you could make sense of what was happening. You laughed, pushing away his hands but soon it was Daryl and Dog against you and you were clearly outnumbered, only able to laugh and cover your face, not landing first-face on the floor because Daryl was kind enough to keep you on the couch with him.

"Okay, okay, I yield!" You spoke between laughter, catching one of Daryl's hands as the tears fell down your cheeks from laughing too hard, using your other hand to keep Dog's tongue away from your face. "Daryl, please!"

"Please, wha’?"

"Please, stop!" Daryl moved his free hand to keep Dog from completely showering you with his tongue, patting his head as he waited for you to continue. "But it was funny."

"Ya don't learn, do ya?"

"You know me so well."

You stuck your tongue at him, pulling on his hand that you had previously grabbed, catching him by surprise. With that advantage, you let go of him and moved your hands behind his back, pretending you were going to kiss him but, instead, you both landed on the floor with Daryl on his back, you straddling him, having him at your mercy with Dog going to lick his face as you tickled Daryl. But he was fast and strong, managing to get rid of you, catching your hands, and pulling you down to kiss you, giving in to his touch. You rubbed your nose against his as you pulled back to breathe, intending on going into another kiss when your tummy growled.

"Someone's hungry."

"Yeah." You chuckled as you sat up over him. "And our breakfast will go cold if we keep going at this."

"Let's go."

Daryl stood up, picking you in his arms as you laughed, going back into the kitchen followed by Dog. Maybe it wasn't every day that you both could relinquish in a slow, late morning but that didn't mean you wouldn't take as many chances to be together just like that as you could. Maybe the world had gone to shit but you had found everything you could ever need amidst that chaos. And he had found you.

That’s it! Thank you sm for checking out my piece and giving me a chance. I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback so I can improve.

[acozysoulwrites]

Euphoria

Description: Hey! Im going to be working on those requests soon! Tysm to those who sent in || Daryl and reader just share a cuddly moment <3 No warnings or spoilers

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Her arms wrap around his neck and her head rests on his chest. The material that his poncho is made of feels soft against her skin despite everything it's been through.

"Daryl?" She whispers, feeling his arms slink around her waist.

His fingers run up and down her back softly. "Mm" He hums.

"When you leave tomorrow..." She lifts her head and looks into his eyes, the moonlight outside only illuminating the room enough for them to glisten slightly as they fall from her eyes to her lips. "Do you think I could keep this thing?" She asks, lifting the poncho slightly off his shoulder.

Daryl nods, heat rising from his chest and reddening his cheeks. "Yeah" He mumbles softly. "Yeah ya can"

"I miss you a lot when you're on these long runs, ya know?" She asks, laying her head back onto his chest.

His heartbeat quickens as she runs her hand through his hair and she smiles.

Daryl stops rubbing her back to pull the covers over them both. "I miss ya too, a lot" He says.

"Mhm" She sleepily hums back, closing her eyes for a moment to take in his warm scent. "I missed being with you like this... can't you stay home more often?"

Daryl lets out a little sigh, he knows the feeling... he misses her too. Sometimes so much he can't sleep out there and he's never had an issue with camping before.

"I know, after tomorrow I'll talk with Rick about staying back some, its just that-"

"No, I know, don't worry. It's why I fell in love with ya" She smiles a little. "You wanna help everyone. You're a good man Dare".

There was that word again. Love. He loved her too, so much. After meeting her he started giving a shit about staying alive. She saved his life by simply existing with him.

He shifts onto his side and she hugs into him, his arms wrap around her again. "I love ya too” he says, “n hey, next time I go out I’m takin you with me”.

Her head pops up from under the covers, her hand squeezing the free cloth on his poncho again. “Wait really?” She asks, shock sparking her eyes. “Why?”

Daryl looks down at her, his eye catching her hand on his shoulder still. “Because I miss this” he hums, kissing her forehead softly. “I miss ya”.

The corner of her mouth curves and she plops her head back down on his chest, her arms wrapping snuggly around him once again. “Thanks Dare” she whispers.

His eyes meet the ceiling and he tightens his hug around her a little. She’d never know how much she meant to him because he couldn’t show it, he didn’t know how. Still, he’d never stop trying.

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