The Walking Dead || Daryl Dixon
────୨ৎ Pairing; Daryl Dixon x reader | no mention of reader name.
Setting; Season two, farm era.
Warnings; None really. Bad language (swearing), mentions of blood and hits of Shane’s affair. Zombie killing.
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────୨ৎ Author’s note; i love Shane hate..as always, this was what popped into my head when I first read the request! I hope it’s what you’re going for! It does need proofreading, apologies for any mistakes, it’s late at night for me.
────୨ৎ Requested by; @benevolent-bonk
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THINGS HAD SETTLED DOWN SINCE WE ARRIVED AT THE GREENE FARM.- Deadheads were few and far between, and the fields offered a rhythm we hadn't felt in weeks. Meals on the table or by the campfire every night, water flowing straight from the well. It felt like a sanctuary, a fragile slice of normalcy.
Still, perimeters needed constant attention, the stragglers that came from the woods, the occasional lone walker, or even the unlucky ones who wandered in from the highway, reminding us that safety was always temporary.
Tension had been simmering within the group lately, some were shrugging it off as nothing, but I wasn't. I watched, every glance, every half hidden gesture, the way Shane lingered too long over a conversation, how Lori's smile didn't reach her eyes or how Carl had started watching us all like we were the deadheads. And I listened, sometimes more than I should, every whispered word, every grunt..I heard it.
I was stuck on perimeter duty this morning, and it was just my luck that Shane was too. I didn't like him much, all fire and teeth, too brash, too eager to call the shots and always letting his temper and impulses get the best of him.
A few more deadheads stumbled through the clearing today, more than usual. Hunched and ragged, moving like shadows hungrily chasing whatever scraps the world had to offer. Dale perched on the roof of his winnebago, rifle resting against his knee, binoculars in hand. Always scanning, every movement, every shuffle in the brush caught his attention. Ready to strike from a distance if trouble found us before we found it.
The weeds cracked beneath my footing, each step a muted announcement that seemed to echo only in my own head. We followed the narrow ribbon of dirt that wound through the untamed fields. Then they appeared, four of them shuffling from the haze of the fields edge, stumbling towards us. Two on the left, two of the right, their movements slow but deliberate. The group had split, but the gap between them didn't matter, they were connected by the unmistakable stench of rot and the hollow hunger in their vacant eyes.
I froze for a moment, listening to the soft crunch of weeds as they drew nearer. The wind shifted, carrying with it the faint sound of guttural moans and the wet slap of decaying feet on earth. I moved slowly, every step, every snap of a twig, could be a last warning or last mistake. They weren't running, never running but the patience in their shuffle was worse than speed.
I veered to the left, no choice in which deadheads I'd face, Shane had already cut towards the right. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he picked the weakest ones, the slow nearly collapsing ones on purpose. I wasn't tall, five foot three in fact and the walkers to my left, hunched over or not, towered me. Every step they took felt heavier than it should.
"That bastard." I muttered under my breath, eyes darting over the walkers. My hand dropped to the knife strapped against my thigh, and i yanked it free, silently thanking myself for choosing the longer blade from my stash this morning.
Their groans got louder the closer I crept. Since I was left handed, the knife sat firm in my left grip, arm stretched slightly outwards, ready to dive forward the second they got too close.
My arm lashed out towards the first deadhead, my knife sinking into its skull with a wet, shuddering crack. It pitched into me like a sack of rotting potatoes. My legs spread wide, stopping myself from collapsing under its unnatural weight. I rammed my shoulder into its brittle collarbone, grinding it backwards, feeling its bones splinter as it scrapped along the dirt.
The hot, acidic stench filled my lungs and every nerve in my body screamed as I braced for the next walker. As the second got closer, my arm shot up to strike and then I realised my knife was still buried in the first walker at my feet.
"Shit." I hissed, the words barely leaving my lips. My eyes darting between the walker sprawled at my feet and the one staggering towards me. Panic clawed at me as I shoved the second one back, buying myself a sliver of time. My fingers closed around the cold slick handle of the knife and I slammed my boot into the walkers chest, levering the blade free.
My knuckles turned white as I tugged, the knife refusing to budge, the walker pressed harder with every inch I tried to pull. I swallowed hard, heart hammering in my chest.
I felt the weight on me first, a sickening inevitability. Then I heard it, the snapping of its jaw, inching towards my forearm, teeth grinding together like a creature starved for years. But the dried blood on its clothes told a different story.
The knife finally came free, and I yanked my arm back, ready to strike. Then, the weight lifted off me. Shane's hands wrapped around the walkers shoulders, lifting and twisting it like a ragdoll. He spun it violently. Slamming it chest first into the dirt. The ground shook under its weight. He didn't pause, fists and then blade, a savage rhythm until the thing went still, twitching in the dust, finally silent.
"Don't need your help," I snapped, shoving Shane's hand away before he could grab my arm. "Had it handled." Shane let out a dry laugh, rubbing the stubble along his jaw like he always did when he thought someone was being stupid. "Sure didn't look that way."
I wiped the walker blood from my knife onto my jeans, glaring at the dirt instead of him. "Was your damn fault anyways," I muttered. Shane stopped walking away. Slowly, he turned back around, eyes narrowing beneath the Georgia sun. "What'd you say?"
I lifted my chin. "You heard me." He stepped closer, boots crunching against the weeds, shoulders tense like he was itching for a fight. "Nah," he said lowly. "Maybe I didn't, say it again."
"You knew those walkers were too much for me," I shot back. "You picked the weak ones on purpose." A humourless grin tugged at Shane's mouth. "You still breathing, ain't you?" He snapped. "World ain't built for weak people anymore. Either you learn fast, or you die faster."
"That what you're tryna do?" I stepped towards Shane, closing the distance between us. "Pick off the weak ones one at a time? That your big plan?" I shoved him hard enough to send him stumbling back. "Huh? That your plan?"
The yelling carried across the yard. Dale had already heard it. I caught sight of him coming around the side of the RV, Rick close behind. Daryl wasn't far off either, crossbow hanging ready on his hands. Carol trailed after them nervously, looking like she already knew this was about to turn ugly.
"Keep your mouth shut," Shane spat, his jaw clenching tight.
"Or what?" I shot back. "You gone try kill me again?"
Shane stepped right up into my space, finger pointed dead at my face like he was daring my to swing first. "You keep making noise, you're gonna draw more walkers."
"Good," I laughed under my breath, mean and bitter. "Maybe this time I'll get to choose which ones I put down first. Save a few to bite your ass, real slow."
His back stiffened as he pressed his forehead against mine, trying to intimidate me through sheer force alone. Close enough to feel the heat coming off him. Close enough to know he wanted a reason. And maybe I did too.
But, before either of us could move, Rick shoved himself between us, forcing us apart with both hands. "Enough!" He snapped, pushing Shane back another step while holding me away with his other arm.
"What's going on?" Rick asked, voice calm but firm as he looked between the two of us. "Your fucking best friend here, tryin' to get me killed."
"What?" Daryl grunted, letting his crossbow fall against the dirt before stalking closer, eyes fixed hard on Shane. "Hey," Carol said carefully, slipping a hand around my arm. "Why don't you come back up to the house with me for a minute?"
I jerked my arm free, keeping my eyes glued on Shane. "Naw, I wanna hear what he's gotta say." Shane let out a bitter laugh, wiping the sweat and dirt off his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ain't nothing to say."
"The hell there ain't," I snapped, kicking up dust with my boot. "You been on edge since Rick came back to Lori and Carl." Shane's eyes flickered like a storm about to break. "Don't you dare,"
"why don’t you just tell him? Put us all out of our misery." I shouted.
A heavy huff escaped him. "I swear, if you don't..I'll-" his words cut off, jagged and dangerous, like a blade suspended in the air.
I leaned in, egging him on. "What? Come on..you gone hit me? That it?" The smell of rot hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, even the crickets went silent.
Shane hesitated, ready to walk away and be the bigger person, but the thought didn’t last. He stepped closer, chest forward yet his eyes flickered to Daryl. “Control your fucking woman,” he spat, venom in every word.
It all happened in a blur. Daryl barrels towards Shane, fist raised and eyes wild. Rick was caught between us, shouting, trying to shove us out the path of the coming clash. Daryl's fist smashed into Shane's nose just as Rick swung his elbow up to block. But, instead of connecting with Daryl, Rick's elbow smacked me square in the face. Pain exploded behind my eyes and I stumbled back, tasting blood and dust.
Shane's snarl tore through the air as he recovered, eyes locked on Daryl with pure fury. Daryl's breathing was ragged, his fist trembling. A low groan drifted from the edge of the fields, deadheads were coming in close, drawn by the chaos. Their moans underscored every punch, every curse and every grunt of pain. "Enough!" Rick shouted. "You two," he pointed towards me and Daryl "back to camp." He turned towards Shane "you and me, walkers now."
“OW”. I HISSED AS CAROL DABBED THE STUBBORN STREAK OF BLOOD FROM MY NOSE, USING A RAG THAT LOOKED LIKE IT HAD SEEN BETTER DAYS.- "Behave yourself," she said with a teasing smirk, tossing the rag into the sink. "You're lucky. Ricks elbow? That thing split like butter." I let out a small laugh, winching slightly. Carol's eyes softened as she made sure I was cleaned up, her fingers brushing a bit more lingering blood away than necessary. "I'm sorry, by the way. You had to see me like that and this," I murmured. "Patching me up and all."
Carol waved a hand dismissively, her grin widening. "Oh don't apologise. I've seen worse. Someone had to put Shane in his place, consider it part of the fun." She leaned closer, voice dropping just a hair. "But. There is something I've been dying to ask you."
I tilted my head, wary "yeah?" She let out a little hum, mischievous as ever. "You and Daryl.." I blinked, caught off guard. "What about me and Daryl?" Carol leaned on the counter, arms crossed, smirk growing sharper. "Come on now. I saw the way he practically threw himself in front of you back there. And the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's noticing. Don't think I don't see it."
I felt my cheeks heat up and looked down at my lap, a shy smile tugging at my lips. "I don't know what you're talking about. There's nothing going on between us." Her chuckle was soft, teasing but loaded with knowing amusement. "Nothing, huh? Well, I'll just keep watching then. Someone's got to make sure he doesn’t mess it up before you realise what's staring you right in the face."
I looked up at her and she just winked, that sly little grin making it clear she wasn’t going to let me off the hook anytime soon. "You really think he does?" I asked, caught between embarrassment and amusement. "I know he does."
I groan softly, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. Just as I was about to speak, the door swung open and Rick stepped in. "Sorry, I'm interrupting," he said, raising both hands in surrender." I straightened up and said quickly "no, you're fine." Carol shot me a wicked wink as she stepped closer towards the door "I was just finishing up. I'll leave you both to it." Leaving us in the quiet aftermath of teasing.
Silence lingered, not the uncomfortable kind, but that pause when neither want to be the first to speak. "I-" we both started at the same time. "You first," Rick said, nodding towards me. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for what happened out there," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "The things I said, I don't even know what I was thinking. I'm pretty sleep deprived and everything's just.." I gestured vaguely, as if that explained it all.
"Listen," Rick started, his voice soft, certain. "I don't know exactly what's been said, or what things meant. But you, you shouldn't be the one apologising. Shane, he's..I don't know what's going on with him at the moment. But I'll sort it."
I nodded slowly, grateful, unsure how to respond, the words felt stuck in my throat. Rick rubbed his beard, letting out a short, amused chuckle. "You and Daryl, huh?"
I groaned again, rolling my eyes. "You too?" He grinned sheepishly. "What? I notice things." The air hung heavy, a mixture of tension and humour. Carols earlier wink echoing in my mind and I couldn’t help but smirk, knowing she'd be absolutely thrilled watched this exchange.
"We're friends," I said, trying to make it plain. "Nothin' else, I think." I whispered the last part, though not quite soft enough for Rick not to catch. He like out a short laugh just as Daryl stepped through the creaky door. "I'll leave yall be," Rick said, brushing my arm in that steady reassuring way.
Daryl gave a small nod, closing the door behind him. "Figured I'd check up on ya," he said lowly. "I'm fine, thanks to my knight in shinin' armour." Daryl's cheeks warmed at the words. "S'nothin'. He had it comin'. Better me than you." Daryl lifted a calloused hand to my face, his thumb tracing from my neck to my nose. "Carol patch ya up right?"
I nodded, leaning into his touch, before we both realised what we were doing, pulling back like startled calves. But maybe it was time to test the water. Maybe Carol was right, I might just be blind to what he feels. "So..has Carol been givin' you a hard time too?" I asked. He paused, thinking over it. "Yeh, Rick too," he finally admitted.
"So it ain't just me getting wound up by 'em," I said. "Naw," he shook his head. "What should we do?" I asked carefully.
"Nothin'. Let 'em," he said, eyes studying mine, like he hoped he wasn't misreading the signs. "Yeah?" I pressed, and he gave a simple nod. I lifted a hand to cup the curve of his cheek. He just stood there, taking it in, staring at a touch he'd been wanting without admitting. "Alright," I said, a small smile on my lips.
Daryl's hand threaded into my hair, pulling me a little closer, he pressed his lips to the top of my head. No words were needed. Just that quiet, honest acknowledgment of what we both felt, stronger than any talk could ever be.
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