A/N: Ahh… first TWD fic (and it’s a platonic Daryl x reader… whaaat?!) This is something kinda different. The reader is based entirely on my OC Willow, who is the daughter of a character in the show. If you’ve read the comics, I’m pretty sure you’ll know who (changed the background story only slightly).
Set during season 4 (ages may not be totally accurate. I wanted to have there be a decent time gap between seasons 1 & 4. Don’t kill me lol).
Summary: Who said Daryl Dixon wasn’t good at being a father?
First the first time in a long time, everybody felt hopeful.
Obviously it wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they were going to get. After the whole incident with the Governor, taking in the remaining people in his group was only right. They’d been hidden in the prison for way too long, turning away people who needed their help and were otherwise going to die… it was time to change. To become a group that survivors could rely on. And they believed they’d done that. Rick was learning to become leader of a bigger camp, and he was learning fast. Of course, his original group would always be closest to his heart, but he didn’t mind making room for more.
Glenn and Maggie’s relationship was slowly blossoming into something stronger. They were one of the things keeping everyone sane – a reminder that, despite all that was going on, there was still good in the world. Other reminders were the younger people in the group… Carl, Beth, baby Judith, and you. As well as the other children, you all helped to make the camp feel a little more youthful. A little more alive.
But, you soon came to believe that you were good for something more. That was what you’d heard Rick say once, anyway. “She’s special, that one.” And why was this? Because of Daryl Dixon.
It’d all started when the apocalypse started. Walkers were coming out of nowhere, and you were a twelve-year-old girl, sat next to your dying mother in hospital, your father sleeping in a chair next to her bed. The place had suddenly turned chaotic, and before you knew it, you’d been slung over your dad’s shoulder and he was rushing out of the building. He’d told you your mom had died. Maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t. You’d been too young to understand it then, and it’d happened too long ago for you to pick up any details, piece them together and create something believable now.
Your father had been an athlete. He‘d been strong, quick on his feet, and he wasn’t a bad fighter. The two of you had lasted out there together. Alone. It didn’t matter if you were in someone’s camp; you kept to yourself, sleeping in a corner and speaking to the other members of the group only if necessary. And when those people died after walkers got them, and you moved onto the next one, you did the same. The only time you’d ever been apart was when everything changed.
Though you believed it was for the good now, you hadn’t thought so back then.
The leader of your current group at the time had asked your father to join him and a few others on a run to the nearest town for food, having seen him fight walkers before. He’d gotten better as the months passed, and he clearly had experience now. They needed him. The group was a strong one, the both of you could see it, and you liked the people well enough. So, your dad had agreed. He’d given you strict instructions, and you could still remember them so clearly. “Stay in the camp, keep to yourself, and don’t get bit.” He’d given you a hug, told you he loved you, and that was that.
Things had been okay at first. You were the youngest at the camp, the only other kid being a thirteen-year-old who was the son of the leader, and so everyone looked out for you. You found it funny, really. Even at twelve, you’d practiced shooting and using knives with your father every day since it happened, and you’d been more experienced than they probably believed. And so, when the camp became overrun not a day later, it wasn’t a surprise that you’d been able to kill some walkers and then slip away easily. From what you’d seen, everyone else had died. The best fighters had gone on the run with your dad, and the only people left behind were the women and a few men who’d stayed to protect the camp. It would have gone okay if there were only a few walkers, but there must have been at least twenty. They’d had no chance at all.
After slipping away, you had ran and ran and ran. That was something else your dad had taught you; “if you think running will save your life, fucking do it.” And it had saved your life. You weren’t sure how long you were out there alone. You’d tried to follow the road you thought you’d heard some people saying your dad’s group had taken, but after a couple days you gave up. It was no use. You were following a road you didn’t even know was the right one. You’d killed more walkers than you could count. You were tired, not being able to sleep in case you were attacked. And so you’d sat on the grass, dropping the bag of supplies you’d managed to pick up – your dad had always made you have one ready just in case - before you fled the camp on the floor beside you, and cried. Just cried. For what was happening, for the people in the group, for your father, and for your mother you hadn’t yet had time to grieve.
Any walkers that came across you, you’d decided you’d let them be. You hadn’t cared anymore. Let them change you. You were alone, in the middle of nowhere, and you were scared. But, maybe if you closed your eyes and dipped your head, they’d come and bite you, and it’d be painless and would all be over-
Despite you wanting a walker to get you, the hand gently placed on your shoulder caused you to scream and scramble away. The man had been alarmed, to say the least, but seeing you were only a kid, had quickly relaxed his features and knelt down on the ground. He‘d taken his crossbow off and set it to the side. You were still breathing heavily, staring at him, your tired mind unable to figure out if this was a human or a walker, but eventually, as he’d slowly reached out to you, you’d crumbled.
Daryl Dixon had been pretty surprised to suddenly have an armful of you less than thirty seconds after you’d screamed at him, but he didn’t say anything, simply wrapping his own arms around your tiny waist. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, before he slowly pulled away and brushed a strand of hair out of your tear-stained face. “Hey, kid,” he’d said, “what’s your name?”
“Keep to yourself,” your dad had told you. In other words: “don’t you fucking speak to anyone we don’t know until I get back.”
And so you’d remained silent, simply crashing your head back down on his shoulder and burying your face in his jacket. Daryl hadn’t persisted. Instead, he’d asked a different question. “You by yourself out here?”
“You wanna come back with me?”
You’d sobbed at that, nodding your head furiously. “Okay,” he’d said, reaching out with one hand to pick up his crossbow, “let’s go.”
He’d taken you back to his group, the journey taking less than two days. In those days, you’d warmed up to him slightly. The words said to you by your father still echoed in your head, but you tried to ignore them. This man seemed nice enough. He’d told you his name, and you’d told him yours, eventually. You explained everything that happened, and he listened intently. The first night, you slept in his arms, too afraid to sleep alone. And Daryl… he didn’t mind it. He’d wanted to keep you close to him anyway, not willing to risk the walkers getting to you… this was merely an added bonus. He had no experience whatsoever with children, but with you, it just seemed to come naturally.
The day you’d returned to the camp was the day Rick joined. You’d watched with wide eyes as the sheriff told Daryl about his brother, and then cried yet again when he’d told you he was going to look for him. He’d promised he’d be back soon, and asked Lori to look after you while he was gone. You’d befriended Carl, and the other members of the camp, and things had started to look up. During the months, through both the good and the bad, you’d gradually grown closer to Daryl, and him to you.
It’d been quite a while since the day he found you, and the two of you were as close as could be. He looked after you, he protected you, he reprimanded you, he trained you, he loved you.
If ever you wanted to join Rick on a run, the answer would always be “ask Daryl first.” You wanted to learn to shoot? “Ask Daryl.” You wanted to go into the forest with Carl? “Ask Daryl.” It was pretty stupid for you to ask anyone but Daryl anymore, because the answer would always be the same.
He was the adult in your life, the guardian. The dad. Like Carl was Rick’s, you were Daryl’s. You were his kid. There was no explanation needed. Since day one, everyone had seen your relationship growing. At first, the man had been reluctant to show it, but after a while, he’d clearly said “screw it” and let it shine for all to see. It hadn’t been long ago you’d met Merle, his brother. “Guess that makes you my niece,” you could remember him saying. Nobody had disagreed.
You were fourteen (almost fifteen, as you liked to remind everyone) now. You were a good shot, you were improving greatly with Daryl’s crossbow, and, of course, your skill with the knives was a lot better than it had been when you were twelve. Your life, and everyone else’s in the prison, was secure. For now, at least. There was enough of you to have your own jobs, such as stabbing the new clusters of walkers trying to get through the gates (Daryl was a little more protective than he’d care to admit when it came to that) or simply mind the kids in the camp. You and Carl mainly did that, being two of the eldest, while Beth looked after Judith.
Rick had meant what he said about you being special. From what he’d heard and seen of Daryl, the man wasn’t very affectionate at all. He hid his emotions, having had a pretty crappy childhood, and preferred to be alone. If he was down about something, he handled it. Alone. No need to drag anyone else into his mess. That was what he thought, anyway. When he wasn’t around you, he was an entirely different person. He was the Daryl who helped out in the prison and killed walkers. His emotions were hiding under a mask. Nevertheless, when he was with you, the group was often blessed with a grin, or a chuckle. They’d seen him hug you, kiss your forehead before you went to sleep, hold you in his arms when they were all sat around the campfire, watch you from the door with a smile on his face as you and Beth read stories to the children, give you a high-five when you managed to hit your target with the crossbow, and none of them could forget the couple times they’d had to quickly step out the way as you ran past, Daryl thundering behind you, after you’d stolen his bandanna and refused to give it back. He’d caught up to you, thrown you over his shoulder, and proceeded to tell you what an utter asshole you were. When Merle had stayed with them, it hadn’t been rare to see him glancing at the two of you every so often, an unusually soft look on his face. Unbeknownst to you all, he’d felt happier than he had in years, seeing his brother with someone who could make him smile so brightly. As said, he’d grown up with a dickhead for a father. He’d been beaten and abused, and after a while, all traces of happiness had disappeared. You’d changed him, and that wasn’t a bad thing. At all.
Of course, you’d never forget your real dad, and you hoped with all your heart you’d see him again, but for now, you had a good thing going. You had Daryl, the man who’d saved you and who you called a father, you had Carl and Beth, your best friends, you had Hershel, the guy who would tell you stories only someone of his age could, you had Rick, another man you could call a father… this group was your family, and you’d be damned if you let anything happen to it.
You looked around as a barrage of kids came straight for you, jumping into you and wrapping their arms around your waist. You stepped back, only slightly surprised. The little guys practically made it their job to fully wake you up as soon as you stepped out of bed by barrelling into you every morning. You smiled tiredly and pet one – you didn’t know which, and you were too tired to care, to be honest – of their heads.
“Mornin’,” you said with a yawn, and the children giggled.
“You’re up late!” Lizzie said, a little girl who you’d taken a liking for. She wasn’t like the others; she seemed pretty brave, and, in the simplest term… she was different.
You frowned and lifted your arm to check the watch Maggie had given you. “You call seven-thirty late?”
The children laughed again and ran off as Carol came to shoo them away. The woman smiled at you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Maybe we should move you to a different cell block,” she said with a teasing grin, and you rolled your eyes.
“You think Daryl would let me?”
Carol made a face. “Mhm, maybe not, then.” The two of you laughed. The day Mister Dixon let you sleep in a cell that wasn’t next to his own would be the day the apocalypse ended. Even after that, you were pretty sure he’d still be wary.
You followed the woman through the block, giving a couple quick hugs to children not a part of the previous group and waving to some people who had come from the Governor’s camp, and outside. Breakfast was usually served around eight, when everyone started to wake up, but Carol tended to start making it whenever she was ready. You liked to help her. It was one of the only things Daryl let you do – can’t say no to chopping a few peaches and apples, can you?
“Mornin’, Carol.” Your hands moved away from where you’d been tiredly rubbing your eyes to see Rick walking towards you. He gave the woman a quick hug before looking at you and smiling. “Hey, dove,” he said. You smiled at the use of his nickname for you – something about being very small and innocent – and leaned into his hug.
“Are you gonna eat anything or go straight down to the pigs again?” Carol asked, giving the officer a knowing look. Rick had a habit of caring for the animals more than himself.
The man rose an eyebrow, an arm still slung around your shoulders, and rolled his eyes. “I’ll go down to the pigs and then eat somethin’.”
Carol scoffed, lifting her knife from the cutting board and pointing it at him. “You say that every time, Rick Grimes.”
Rick shrugged, ruffling your hair before moving to walk down to the animals. “What can I say? Violet needs her nutrients!”
“More than you?” Carol called back, hearing him laugh. She made a face at his back and you shook your head. That man was exactly what the entire group needed; he was strong, brave, and that added bit of familiarity made everyone feel safe. He was an inspiration to them all, if they were being honest. His ability to care for the camp and make sure everything was in order at the same time wasn’t easy. He’d gone through so much, especially with losing his wife and having to raise his baby as a single parent along with Carl, and the fact that there was still enough of him there to be able to keep everything sane was good. It was great. Sure, he had help, but that wasn’t the point. People helped him because they wanted to. He needed to be reminded sometimes that he wasn’t alone.
Both you and Carol handed out bowls of breakfast food for the next half an hour. That was one thing you loved about this; how close you’d gotten to everyone. After the incident with the Governor when you’d taken all the survivors from that camp in, everyone had banded together and created a new family. One that was reliable, and durable. Everyone knew the names of everyone in the group with absolutely no exceptions… it was just a family with… an overly big extended family…
“Have you seen Daryl, yet?” Glenn asked. Both you and Carol had finished handing out breakfast and were starting on your own, sat at a table with Glenn, Maggie and Sasha.
You shook your head, popping a grape into your mouth. “Nope. Must still be asleep.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Maggie spoke up, “the two of you were up in the watch tower for hours last night. You told Tyreese and Ryan to go back to sleep when they woke up for their turn to watch. I’m surprised you’re even awake.”
You laughed. “We were watching the stars. I don’t actually remember getting back to bed. Probably fell asleep up there.”
Sasha nodded, smiling at you as she took a bite from an apple. “Yeah, he carried you back to bed.” You groaned.
“You saw that?” you asked, and she gave you a wink. “Why were you awake?”
“Nature called,” the woman said with a shrug, and the group sat around the table laughed.
The five of you talked for a while, finishing off your breakfast. Glenn and Maggie started planning a run to town to grab a few more things for Judith, Sasha had gone off with Tyreese to get rid of a few more walkers down by the gates, and Carol was talking to a little boy about the story they were currently reading together. You were still sat there, not really knowing what to do. You could walk down to the animals, where Carl and Rick were feeding the pigs, but it was a long walk, and they’d probably be done by the time you got down there. Then there was the option of going to find Beth… the two of you could practice a little more on the song you were writing together. Or you could just take the boring decision and wait for someone to come find you.
You looked up as both Glenn and Maggie stopped talking, the two of them wearing huge smiles as they tried not to look in your direction. You frowned. What were they-
The scream which suddenly echoed around you probably would have drawn in even more walkers if it weren’t for the hand that suddenly clapped over your mouth. Your heart beat was racing a mile a minute. Who decided it would be a good idea to scare the teenager who jumped at the most stupid little things?
You narrowed your eyes and pushed the hand away from your mouth, turning in your seat and staring up at the man. He had a huge smile on his face, glancing around at the other tables where everyone else was either laughing or shaking their heads fondly. He was in his usual clothes, though his angel wings jacket was slung over his shoulder instead of actually on him. “You’re such an idiot,” you ground out, crossing your arms over your chest.
Daryl sat next to you, pushing you over slightly, and picked up one of the apple slices in your bowl. “Aw, don’t be like that,” he said, biting into it.
“First, you scare me, then, you take my food?” you asked, practically glaring at the man. “I’m going.” You moved to stand up, but Daryl reached out with one hand and pulled you back to him, perching you on one of his knees.
“Haven’t even said g’mornin’ to me yet,” he said.
“Piss off,” you grumbled.
“Where in hell did you learn to use that kinda language?” Daryl asked, tilting his head to look down at you.
Carol chuckled. “Well, she never used it before she became close to you.”
The man narrowed his eyes briefly at Carol, loosening his hold around you for just one moment. That one moment, however, was all you needed. Biting your lip, you quickly reached around with a speed Daryl had taught you to use and grabbed the jacket still hanging from his shoulder. Before he knew it, you’d jumped out of his arms and was running back to the cell block.
“Hey, you lil asshole!” you heard while you continued to run, increasing the pace as you knew how fast that man was.
“This is for not letting me go!” you shot back. You didn’t even dare to look around (mainly because otherwise you’d most definitely crash straight into someone, but also because you didn’t want to see how close he actually was).
You ran straight through the door and into cell block C, skidding to a stop once you got inside and desperately looking around for a place to hide. “Y/N, could you help me with this?” You looked down to see Mika, Lizzie’s younger sister. She looked utterly adorable stood there holding out a little bunny an elderly lady had been teaching her how to knit. It seemed like she only had a button eye to sew on, which you could easily do, but at the shout which suddenly echoed throughout the room, signalling to you that Daryl was just outside the door, you decided it simply would have to wait until later.
“Sorry, Mika!” you said, turning tail and running into the nearest cell through the curtains hanging on either side to act like a door. Despite the nerves tingling in your stomach and the way you were partially hiding the stolen jacket over your face, there was a ginormous smile on your lips. You loved times like these, whether they with Daryl, Rick, Glenn… it didn’t matter. It made you forget about all the walkers out there, and the father who could still be looking for you while you weren’t even making an effort to find him… it was a distraction. A good distraction.
“Well, hello there.” You turned quickly, almost gasping at the sight of Hershel sat on his bed, a book you remembered picking up for him earlier that month in his hands. “Are we bunking together, now?”
You smiled apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Hershel, I ran into the first cell I saw!”
The man chuckled. “Is Daryl after you?”
“Hey, freak! Where’re you?”
Hershel rose both eyebrows. “There’s my answer,” he said. “Sorry, I’m not much use. There’s not a lot of places you can hide in here.”
You shook your head at the man. “It’s okay! I’m the one who barged in here in the first pla-”
All it had taken was for you to let your guard down for one minute. One. Freakin’. Minute. Daryl Dixon, there were too many cells in this block for you to count. Why did you have to choose this one so quickly?
Daryl rose both eyebrows, a feral grin on his face. He pointed at Hershel. “You draggin’ him into your mess, now?”
“I’m not!” you said, an indignant tone in your voice as you turned to look at the older man for assurance. Hershel smiled and shook his head.
“I think I’m going to leave you both to it,” he said. You almost cried out when he rose from his bed and squeezed your shoulder – possibly as a sign of good luck – as he moved past you and Daryl. If anything, Hershel had been your protection. Now, Daryl was free to do pretty much anything and there was nobody there to save you. You looked at him, trying not to smile too widely at the grin currently plastered on his face. At times, it was strange to believe everything the rest of the group had told you about how Daryl acted before you’d met him. About how… cold and emotionless he‘d been. When he was with you, there was an – apparently rare – soft look in his brown eyes, and his whole body just seemed to relax a little. It was weird thinking that he was usually not like that at all. However, other times, it wasn’t difficult to see. As the two of you had become closer, he didn’t feel like he had to hide his emotions all the time anymore. You’d seen him get angry at something (or someone), you’d seen him in a mood, where he’d only talk to someone (usually including you) if absolutely necessary, and you’d even seen him break down. That was only once, and you’d never actually told him you’d seen it… you were too ashamed, to be honest. It’d been your fault he was crying in the first place. Both you and Carl had wandered off into the woods a little over half a year after Daryl had found you. The two of you had been told by him and Rick that no, you were not allowed to do target practice on the walkers themselves, yet, being the inexperienced children that you were, you’d completely disobeyed them and gone anyway. Not a good call. That had been the only time you’d ever gotten close to being bit. If Rick hadn’t jumped in when he did, you’d either be a walker by now, dead, or have an amputated arm. Daryl had been angry, of course he had… he’d and shouted and swore at you so much that Rick had had to step in. He’d told you to run, and you’d ran, moving to hide behind a bush when both men weren’t looking. And you’d seen it. You’d watched with a tearful gaze as the man you called your father – the man who was usually so strong and sombre – collapsed into the sheriff’s arms and just cried. Because he’d almost lost you. This was exactly why he was so protective of you, now. He’d found something he couldn’t live without. He wasn’t going to lose that. He couldn’t.
Nevertheless, these moments were pretty scarce. When he was around you, at least. But looking at him now, making a show of cracking his knuckles and playfully grinning at you, that warm look in his eyes, you found it extremely hard to think of them ever existing at all.
“You can have it back!” you decided, throwing the jacket straight at him. Unfortunately for you, it managed to land right on his head, completely covering his – probably fuming – face. You really tried, but you could not help it as a cackle escaped your throat. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, but it didn’t aid at all in keeping your giggles locked away. In a second, you were doubled over, hands crossed over your chest as you laughed. Daryl wasn’t amused. He reached up and pulled the jacket off his face, throwing it to the floor before looking at you with raised eyebrows.
“You think that’s funny?” he asked, and you straightened up immediately at the tone of voice you recognised all too well. You bit your lip and stared straight back at him.
“No,” you said, “nope. Definitely- definitely not.”
“What’ve I taught you ‘bout lyin’?”
“That it’s the best thing to do when I know I’m about to be attacked by some crazy dude with a cross-”
“That’s it!” You didn’t even attempt to run when you saw the man move to grab you, instead choosing to quickly brace yourself. In no time at all, you’d been tackled to the floor by one Daryl Dixon, his hands quickly grappling for your flailing ones.
“Stop it!” you said, trying to push him off you. Despite your pleading tone, that smile was still there, betraying any sign that said you actually wanted Daryl to stop. You put your focus entirely on trying to get out from under him, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Hey,” you protested, “you’re hurting me!” The giggles pouring from your mouth did not help in moving your lie along the right path.
Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sucks to be you, don’t it?”
“It’s actually pretty awesome being me,” you shot back.
Now, living during the apocalypse, in a prison just about able to keep walkers out, with people stationed at all the watch towers every moment of every day, meant that everyone was on guard and alert at all times. There was never a moment when all group members were asleep in the building – somebody was always watching out. This also meant, however, that if ever there was a sign somebody had been hurt, or bit, or walkers had somehow managed to get through the barriers, everyone would move to that place. It was to protect the group. Protect the family. And so, you really should have expected about ten or more people running straight into Hershel’s cell when a positively deafening scream left your mouth. All Daryl had done was dig his fingers into your stomach… “It’s not like you’re ticklish, or somethin’,” he said.
“What happened?” Rick asked, face an anxious mess as he practically dove through the curtain, wielding a blade in one hand and holding his gun in the other so tight his knuckles had gone white. He looked to Daryl for an answer, but the man was one hundred percent fixated on tickling the crap out of you. If he was bothered at all by the fact that he had quite an audience – which, really, he was – he didn’t show it. “It’s nothin’, Rick,” he said above the sound of your laughs, turning his head slightly, “just chillin’.”
“Some chillin’ you’re doin’ there.”
Rick shook his head at the scene playing in front of him, finally coming to a realisation. If anyone was going to kill him in this damn world, it would be Daryl Dixon and his ability to scare the living hell out of him without even meaning to. He stuck his knife back in its sheaf at his waist and turned to assure everyone else at the entrance to the cell that it was okay.
“Y/N’s alright? That was a big scream.” Maggie asked once everyone besides her, Glenn, Carol and Carl had disappeared.
Rick smiled and drew back the curtain, revealing a sight which needed to be seen more around the prison. You were on the ground, slapping and kicking at Daryl as he tickled you to tears. “D’ya mind?” the man asked, turning his head to look pointedly at the five people stood smiling stupidly.
“Oh, you want privacy?” Glenn teased.
“It ain’t the circus!” Daryl shot back, and Glenn rolled his eyes with a grin, taking Maggie’s hand and walking away. If there was one thing you had to understand about Daryl, it was that he didn’t like being the center of attention. Okay, sure, someone give you a sassy attitude and a leather jacket to throw at him and he’d go after you and exact revenge, but nobody was allowed to stand there and watch it. As said, he was not the affectionate type. There were still things he needed to get used to when it concerned raising you.
Carol also seemed pretty happy with what was going on. Daryl deserved this. She gave him a teasing look before turning to walk away. “Don’t kill her,” she called out, making the man scoff.
“R-RICK! HEHELP! PLEASE!” you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut as Daryl wiggled his fingers along your ribs, playing them like a piano.
The officer rose an eyebrow. “What’re you expectin’ me to do?”
“I DOHOHOHON’T KNOW! ANYTHIHIHIHING!”
“Sorry, dove. You’re on your own, this time.”
A laugh that sounded almost malicious left Daryl’s throat at that, and he leaned a little closer to you. “Just you ‘n me, peaches,” he said.
“CAHARL! CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARL!”
Carl smiled at the sound of his best friend’s voice, peering around slightly to see if he could find your flustered face under your attacker. “Yeah?” he asked, knowing what was coming.
He would have rushed over immediately if it weren’t for the way Daryl’s head suddenly snapped around to give him a look. “Don’ even try,” he said. The teen grimaced and stepped back.
“Sorry! No can do, Y/N,” he called out, “I really don’t feel like being in your position today.” His grin widened at the groan which left your lips, quickly changing to a squeal as Daryl apparently hit a sensitive spot. That grin was wiped off pretty soon, however, when he felt hands on his shoulders, and someone leaning down to speak into his ear.
“What makes you think you won’t be?” Carl’s eyes widened.
“Dad! What are you… no. Don’t. Please!” The giggles which perfectly matched your own that came after that last word told you Rick had attacked, and you knew then and there that there was no helping either of you now. Both men would stop when they wanted to.
“YOU- YOHOHOU- YOU’RE AHAHA- AHHH!”
Daryl chuckled at your attempt to get words out. He stopped for a moment and rested his hands on your stomach, tapping his fingers every so often. “What am I?” he asked.
You narrowed your eyes and stared up at him, trying to regain your breath. You thrust your hands out to place on his shoulders, hoping it would keep him away. “You- you crappy bag of- of crap bag!”
Rick laughed from where he was still attacking his son, suddenly stopping, leaning forward and resting his head on Carl’s heaving chest. Daryl wasn’t faring much better, shaking his head fondly with a smile. “Nice insult,” he said. He turned to look at the sheriff behind him, seeing Carl had now gotten free and was running off out the cell block. Rick looked too tired to go after him, and that was clearly proven when he groaned and waved a hand at his son’s back, crawling the short distance into Hershel’s cell instead to sit by you and Daryl.
“Sorry ‘bout stealin’ your room,” he said to Hershel with a half-apologetic smile.
The older man smiled, holding up his book. “I’m fine out here,” he assured him, “you keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Let’s not,” you said. Daryl rose an eyebrow at the sudden pleading look he was faced with and glanced at Rick.
“Whatchu think?” he asked.
Rick shrugged. “Your call.”
You mustered up your best ‘I’m so sorry, please forgive me’ look. The man rolled his eyes and gave your stomach one last poke before he rolled off you. He half-expected you to run after Carl and start up some conversation regarding adults and their tickling capabilities, but wasn’t entirely surprised when the first thing you did once you sat up was launch yourself straight into his arms. Nobody said anything for a little while, the three of you simply smiling faintly and marvelling on the small delights that came with this kind of life. Sure, there were walkers currently roaming the outskirts of the prison, and there were friends buried under the ground, and everyone was worrying about something or other… but that didn’t mean they weren’t allowed to have a little fun now and again. Any day, anything could go wrong. That wasn’t saying something would, but it was always a possibility. The people at the prison made the most of every second, because they had learned to. They didn’t want to live an unhappy life. There was no need to.
Your smile quickly changed into an almost sassy one, and you looked up at Daryl from where he’d rested his chin on the top of your head. “Good morning, by the way,” you said, and Daryl rolled his eyes at the answer to one of the comments he’d said earlier that had practically started all this. He gently shoved you off his lap.
“Get outta here,” he said, though the spark in his eyes and the look on his face betrayed the intimidating tone he’d been trying to use.
You stood to your feet and moved to jog out of the cell, calling out a “love you!” as you went.
“Love you too, freak,” Daryl called back, albeit a little quieter. He glared at Rick, the man staring at him with such a soppy grin on his face it almost made him look like a child. “What?”
Rick shrugged. He was getting awfully repetitive at that lately. “Nothin’. Just nice to hear Mister Unaffectionate say that.”
Daryl made a face. “Not like I ain’t said it before.”
“Yeah, I know. Still nice.”
The man scoffed and stood up, grabbing his jacket from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder once again. “Whaddya want me to say? Got me wrapped around her little finger, that girl.”
“I told ya. She’s special.”
Daryl smiled. You sure were something. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah. She is.”
blakekathryn
romaincrisis
