You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too close— afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. Certain people is real stubborn.
Both you and Rick walked out of the house, with him holding you upside against him because you had just finished giving Carl your blood.
You feel light headed and nauseous, but you knew it had to be done.
“Carefully.” Rick grunted out, before bringing you over to the porch’s railing and had you lean your weight against it, with his hand staying on your upper back just in case, “Stay seated here. Don't want you running off somewhere, too.”
“It's not like I can walk on my own right now.” You grumbled, leaning your head into the pillar beside you. “I feel like shit. It's not a feeling you want to feel when looking for someone.”
“Fair point.” Rick chuckled dryly, placing his free hand on his hip as he looked out into the distance.
The air between you two grew silent, unspoken words lingering and hanging above your heads like a guillotine, but neither of you wanted to speak, so you let the silence hang comfortably.
Not a minute after the two of you walked out of the house, the front door creaked open.
Rick looked over, eyebrows furrowed, before looking away to admire the entirety of Hershel's farm. “This place is beautiful.”
“Been in my family 160 years.” Hershel huffed out, proud.
“I can't believe how serene it is.” Rick commented, turning to look at the doctor again. “How untouched. You're lucky.”
“We.. We weren't completely unscathed.” Hershel grumbled, keeping his eyes on the field in front of his house, a look of sadness crossing his gaze, “We lost friends, neighbors. The epidemic took my wife, my stepson.”
“I’m sorry.” The cop said, lowering his gaze.
“My daughters were spared.” Hershel added, casting a brief glance towards Rick. “I'm grateful to God for that. These people here, all we have left of each other. Just hoping we can ride it out in peace ‘till there's a cure.”
“Cure.” You echoed, voice low and quiet, as you snorted.
“What's so funny, girl?” The old man asked, his gaze flickering towards the back of your head.
There's no cure, Hershel. Everyone is infected. You thought, leaning all of your weight against the pillar beside you and ignoring him, just letting yourself become invisible as much as you could before Lori arrives.
It's her job to soothe Rick's pain, not yours. When you offered comfort towards the crying cop, Hershel mistook you as his wife. It made you uncomfortable— super uncomfortable. Rick is a married man and Lori is still alive. Being mistaken as someone's wife when that someone is married to a living person makes you feel sick to your stomach.
You have to set a clear boundary. You let out a sigh, and Rick took that as a cue to tell Hershel what happened back at the CDC.
“We were at the CDC.” The former sheriff started, his eyes looking out in the field once more. “It's gone now. Exploded. There is no cure.”
But of course, the old man is stubborn.
“I don't believe it.” Hershel chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “When AIDS came along, everyone panicked. One boy in town came down with it and some parents pulled their children from school, so they didn't have to sit in the same room.”
“This is a whole other thing, doc.” You grumbled, making both men look at you.
“That's what we always say..” Hershel rebutted to your words, causing you to let out a deep breath and shake your head in disappointment. “This one's different.”
“Well, this one is.” Rick insisted.
“Mankind has been fighting plagues from the start.” Hershel huffed, the stubbornness in his voice loud and clear. “We get our behinds kicked for a while, then we bounce back. It's nature correcting herself, restoring some balance.”
“I wish I could believe that.” The cop sighed, looking away from Hershel to glance at the field.
You could see Maggie and Lori from your spot, so you're sure that Rick and Hershel could see them, too. The sheriff deputy didn't waste any time to let go of your back and walked around the doctor to get down the porch steps, meeting his wife halfway.
“That's his wife.” You muttered, causing Herself to look at you. “They've been married since before shit hit the fan.”
Rick and Lori rushed inside the house, not bothering to give the doctor a look. Hershel didn't stop them, just letting them run towards their unconscious little boy. He knows he’s in no place to comment about your relationship with anyone. You’re a stranger.
“Huh.” The veterinarian mumbled, tearing his gaze away from the screen door. “I'm sorry for assuming.”
“No need.” You huffed, weakly waving him off with your left hand, “I suggest walking inside to check up on them. Rick looks like he will collapse any moment now, you know?”
“You look as bad as him.” Maggie commented, her gaze flickering towards you.
“Touche.” You chuckled, but the sound was forced.
The father and daughter could tell that it was a forced one, but they decided to not just comment on it. Maggie sent her father a nod before walking away with the horse she used to pick up Lori from the group.
“Come on.” Hershel spoke up and walked over to the door. “The little boy needs more blood.”
“Can't Rick do it for now?”
“Rick first, then you.” Hershel explained, opening the screen door and waiting for you. “We can't take too much blood from him and risk him collapsing. There's two of you, so we'll make do with you, too.”
You pursed your lips and didn't move for a second. You wanted to see if Herself is testing you,or kidding you. When you were watching the show, Rick did just fine donating blood to his son— albeit he looked like a ghost after every transfusion, but he still managed to do it just fine.
So, what's the difference now?
“(Last name).” Hershel called you once more, his tone sounding a little firm. “Come on.”
“Alright.” You grumbled, swinging your legs and planting your feet down onto the porch. “I was hoping that I'll get to let my heart pump more blood for me before it's my turn to give blood, but I guess not.”
Hershel didn't say anything to that and let you walk inside the house first. He made sure to see you walk inside the room where Carl was before he followed behind you. He walked inside the room, his eyes landing on his stethoscope and the blood pressure monitor on the bedside table.
You walked over to the vacant seat and settled yourself over it, your hand quickly finding purchase on your head.
Half an hour passed and Rick was done donating his blood to his son. Patricia walked over to the chair Rick was sitting on and pulled the needle out before turning to Carl to pull out the needle from his arm.
Rick stood up, legs wobbling.
“Slow, slow, slow.” Lori mumbled, holding out a hand to assist her husband back to his seat. “How many transfusions?”
“Two.” Rick answered, breathing ragged. “Only two.”
Lori paused for a second, then shook her head. “He wanted to do the same for you when you were in the hospital. I had to talk him out of it.”
You and Rick snorted at that, making Lori look at you.
“If you knew how much Carl was devastated when he couldn't do a transfusion for both you and his dad, you would have a hard time making him stop crying, too.” Lori huffed, the tone of her voice light-hearted, but you could tell that she was telling the truth.
You forced a smile on your face and nodded. Honestly, you can't remember much about what happened, about what happened to you for you to be shot, and how bad the wound was for you to be sent to the hospital.
When you woke up, you didn't feel any pain in your body. You haven't checked properly— especially back at the CDC, but you know for sure that you weren't shot. If you were, you would have been as disoriented as Rick when he first came around, but you weren't. You were far from disoriented.
Rick and the others who knew you told you that you're a computer genius, but what really is your work?
You could hunt, you could handle a knife just fine, you could throw the said knife with lethal precision, you could see trails only a seasoned hunter could see, you could differentiate a trail from a human to an animal, and you could climb trees as if you were a monkey.
An office lady who's a computer genius couldn't have known how to do those things, right?
What was the (Full name) of this world doing? What was she doing before she settled in Rick's town? What was her goal approaching the main cast of the show?
You have so many unanswered questions, but all that is left is a deafening silence. You still have a few fragments in your mind, but the memories left on your brain aren't enough to actually give you the full backstory of the body you're inhabiting. You could only trust the snippets Rick, Lori, and Carl are telling you, but you don't know how many more of those snippets will come up in the near future.
Silently, you watched as the married couple walked out of the room, leaving you, Patricia, and Hershel.
You stood up from your chair and walked over to where Rick was previously sitting, then you dropped your whole weight into it, making the chair creak unceremoniously. Patrica didn't seem to mind at all, because she merely grabbed your arm and looked at your skin to see where she could stab the needle.
“Have you and Rick known each other for a long time?” Hershel asked, just in time for Patricia to push the needle into your skin.
You flinched and let out a groan, but you didn't pull away.
“Yeah, it seems so.. What about it?” You answered, your eyes squeezing shut as you bear with the stinging sensation of the needle left behind.
“Seems so?” The doctor prodded, pulling the stethoscope away from his ears.
“Can't remember much.” You grumbled, slowly cracking your eyes open when you felt Patricia pat your shoulder. “They said I was shot, but I really can't remember much. I just woke up in the hospital with Rick. That's it.”
“You were shot, but you can't remember?” Hershel repeated, turning his head to look at you. “Do you have any medical history that you remember about?”
You answered his question with a shake of your head.
You don't even know why you're entertaining the old man's inquiries. You haven't talked this much since you and Rick's group left the Quarry, but with Hershel, he made it feel like everything will be okay— that it's okay to let your guard down and be honest.
It's a weird feeling. It's the same feeling you get whenever you go to visit your grandfather and uncle.
Your grandfather.. He was a stoic, overzealous, pious man, but he's fair, he's just, and he's not always regarding every single thing in life from the Bible. He loves his family, and he's always there whenever his grandchildren need a helping hand about something. He's a man of a few words, but those few words always leave an impact on who it was directed at.
Your grandfather and Hershel, they're somehow the same. Stoic, but kind. Diplomatic, but would keep a job done.
Maybe that's why you feel safe and relaxed around Hershel. He looked kind of similar to your grandfather in a way— with his white hair and beard and all that shit.
You looked over to Hershel, finding him already staring at you, patiently waiting for your answer.
You huffed and shook your head, eyebrows furrowing. “Told you, didn't I? I can't remember much. I couldn't even remember why I was shot, or why I was in the hospital in the first place.”
“Perhaps you hit your head?” Hershel suggested, standing up from his seat. “Maybe you got shot and hit your head in the process. It's not uncommon to happen, but that could also be the case.”
“That's one hell of a hit then.” You muttered, shifting in your chair.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader SMUT
Summary: Spencer came back expecting you to be at home. But, after healing with Daryl's help, you never wanted to go back to the way things were. And Daryl would do anything to prove that you deserve better.
Warning: 18+ Minors DNI ✦ FLUFF ✦ SMUT ✦Swearing ✦ Injury ✦ Violence ✦ VERBAL ABUSE ✦ Evil Spencer ✦ Unprotected p in v Sex (wrap it up folks) ✦ Teasing and more teasing ✦ pet names (sugar, sweetheart, etc.) ✦ oral (both receiving) ✦ kissing (lips and body parts) ✦ Word Count: 8.4k (i'm so sorry but half of it is them fucking so hopefully that makes up for it)
Author's Note: This took fucking forever but it's finally here I'm so excited! Y'all this chapter is NASTY, I also headcanon a Daryl that cums fast sorry!
Like, this is weeks in the making so I wanted to make sure we saw these two absolutely GET DOWN.
Also, if you are not comfortable with reading about domestic abuse PLEASE KEEP YOURSELF SAFE. Please remember that the domestic abuse hotline is 24/7 available for you if you need it. masterlist
part one
part two
part three
After your shared kiss, a silence fell between you and Daryl. Not an unpleasant one, just a moment of awe and shock at what had just occurred.
Daryl had meant to cook you a simple meal, and yet it ended in a mess of orange powder and his lips on yours.
Daryl had been the first to break the comfortable silence. “Been waitin’ to do that for a while now.” He smiled at you, his hand drifting down to your waist to keep you close.
This finally felt right. A man who held you without force.
Without pain.
“Me too.” You swiped off the powder from his chest, your touch making Daryl flush bright red.
“Can’t wait to do it again.” Daryl grinned.
“Oh yeah? Anything else you feel like doing?” You offered him a wink. Daryl’s face went bright red at your comment and he gave you a nervous laugh.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. Because, fuck did he think of you during those late nights sitting on the porch with a cigarette, shifting in his seat after mental images of you in those tight jeans you always wear.
But he was concerned for you. Spencer had such an effect on you, and Daryl would hate to force you into anything just because of his feelings.
“Wouldn’t you like ta’ know.” He patted your hip gently and moved away.
“I would actually-” You started to speak, but then Daryl cut you off by putting a finger up to his lips to signal you to stay silent.
The gates were opening. The shuttering sounds of metal reminded you that your time is up.
Spencer was back. But, so was Rick.
And Daryl had an idea. First, however, he had to make sure you were okay.
“Hey, s’gonna be alright. I’ll be with ya’ the whole time.” Daryl eyed your anxious movement, how your eyes fluttered towards the door like you wanted to go to him. “Just tell me what ya’ wanna do.”
“Wanna show him m’not scared anymore.” You grabbed one of the pistols Daryl had lying around, just in case things got violent.
“Ya’ think he’ll try somethin’?” Daryl furrowed his brow, wondering if he should let you go if Spencer tried to fight.
“Nah, never in front of everyone. Just in case he pulls anything.” You holstered his gun and opened the blinds slightly to get a good look at what was going on outside.
Daryl felt a pang of electricity run through him at the sight of you grabbing his gun, handling it, using it. He felt like a teenager in love.
You headed towards the door, and Daryl stopped you with a hand in front of the door. You felt the briefest amount of joy at his actions. It wasn’t a harsh grab to the wrist or a yank of your arm.
It was gentle.
“I got an idea. Can I tell Rick about what’s been goin’ on? Promise to tell him only what’s important. Maybe we could get this asshole arrested.” Daryl asked your permission to tell Rick, because it was ultimately your choice of whether this news came out or not.
“Yes, you can tell him. But are you sure you can handle him? He’s not exactly going to be cooperative.” Spencer was fucking massive, definitely holding a few inches difference from Daryl and Rick.
“Hell yeah.” Daryl scoffed as if it were a stupid question.
You both took a pause and exited Daryl’s apartment, taking off to the gate where Spencer, Rick, and Abraham had just arrived.
Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of Spencer talking to Abraham about where to put the supplies they had acquired.
Spencer felt a pair of eyes on him, leading him to turn around to glance in your direction. The sight of your cast made him drop what he was doing.
Because he gave you instructions. To stay.
And yet here you are, a cast on your arm and wearing a tank top to show the whole community your bruising.
While Spencer stayed frozen as he looked you over, suddenly aware of the number of people who were observing your new injury with suspicion. Daryl snaked his way to Rick, his fists balled up so tightly he thought he’d break his fingers. Spencer was right there.
Except this was your fight, your chance to finally stand up to him. And he owed you that.
“Rick, we needa’ talk.” Daryl waved him over, glancing at Spencer as he slowly approached you. “See that cast? See the bruises?” Daryl didn’t have to say much; Rick made the connection within seconds.
“Daryl, you gotta be sure. If we accuse him without knowin’ for sure-”
“Found her with a broken arm 2 days ago. He pushed her into a wall, her words.” Daryl wasn’t even looking at Rick, his eyes glued to the man approaching you.
“And I didn’t even realize. Want me to cuff him? We got that cell down there that we could put him in.” Daryl enjoyed the fact that sometimes his mind worked in tandem with Rick’s.
“Ya’ damn right I do. Let’em talk first.” Daryl approached you, finding a spot right next to you, much to Spencer’s dismay.
“Thought I told you to stay home, honey. You need to rest.” Spencer used a soft voice, approaching you with open arms.
You just laughed, watching as his sad smile fell. “Honey? You have no right to call me that anymore.”
Spencer’s eye twitched as he fought to regain his composure. “I’m sorry I left, I promised you that I’d bring you somethin’ back.” He offered you a ring. “A real one, one that you deserve.”
So, instead of giving in to the hope that he might change, you walked up to him. “You can shove your ring where the sun don’t shine!” You snatched the ring from him and chucked it across the road.
You took a breath in what seemed like forever, a weight lifting off your shoulders. Guess the wedding’s off. You thought.
Spencer glanced at his surroundings, eyes falling on people with shocked looks on their faces. Particularly, his eyes fluttered to Carol, who was hiding her own smirk.
That was it.
“You think you can talk to me this way in front of everyone? Why don’t we go back to my place to talk this out?” Spencer held his hands up in a way that spoke, ‘I’m innocent’.
“Why? So you can break my other arm? No, I want you right here.” You pointed to the current cast you had on your left arm.
Spencer growled at your sassy response. “Goddamn it, can you just fucking listen to me?” Spencer began to approach you, fiery anger reflecting in his eyes.
“Take one more damn step.” Daryl aimed his crossbow at Spencer, causing him to back up a few steps.
“Fuck. It’s Daryl, isn’t it? He got into your fucking head. Lied to you.” Spencer’s words hit you hard. Maybe because it was partly true, Daryl was a big reason why you decided to do this.
But it was your choice.
“No. Daryl let me make my decision. You wouldn’t know what that’s like.”
“You fucking bitch-” Spencer pulled something out of his belt. Nobody saw what it was, but Daryl didn’t hesitate to charge at him, punching his arm to get him to drop it.
It was at this moment that Rick decided to run up behind Spencer with the cuffs. The metallic clatter on the pavement told everyone that it was a knife.
Daryl shoved Spencer’s arms backward to allow Rick to cuff him. Spencer fought back, attempting to yank his arms away and snake out of their grasp.
But it was useless; the two men had overpowered him with ease. “Ya’ got him?” Daryl glanced at the direction of the jail cell. Rick nodded. “I’ll have Abraham help me out. You go to her.”
Daryl didn’t need to be told twice. He practically ran over to you, standing in front of you to shield you from Spencer being taken away.
“Deep breaths. I’m here.” Daryl took your shaking hands in his, watching you carefully. Your whole body felt like it was on fire.
Spencer was actually going to attack you in front of everyone.
Your whole body shook in response to the utter adrenaline of the entire ordeal. It was finally over. He was gone.
Daryl watched as your legs began to tremor, and he understood the impending fall if he didn’t interfere now. “Can I carry you?” He was leaning forward to meet your eyes, trying desperately to ensure that you understood how safe you were with him.
“Yes, don’t think I can stand much longer.” Daryl scooped you up without a second thought, his shoulder muscles flexing against your skin as he held you close to his chest.
The couch felt like a saving grace as Daryl set you down. Daryl kneeled in front of you, looking up at you to meet your eyes. “You did so good.” He praised you, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off your forehead.
“Made that motherfucker pay.” Your words slurred as exhaustion hit you suddenly.
Daryl smiled at you and pushed your hair out of your face so you could breathe and collect yourself. “Was badass.”
The couch dipped when he sat next to you. “Ya’ need anything else?” Daryl wanted to hold you so much in this moment, but that was up to what you were comfortable with.
“No, you’ve already done so much for me over these past few days.” A twinge of guilt hit you.
“You deserve it,” Daryl spoke softly, but it was enough to confirm how you felt about him. You moved closer to him, pressing your head against him.
Daryl gently lifted his arm to wrap it around you, the silence between you speaking a thousand words. Leaning into his chest, you breathed in his addictive scent. You felt yourself unravel instantly, and your fear and anxiety about what came next melted away.
“You didn’t have to do that, y’know?” You spoke absentmindedly, not giving Daryl the full context of your thought.
“Do what?” He glanced down at you. Nervously, he ran through everything he did today in case you were mad at him. He’d want to make it right.
But it was the opposite. “Charging Spencer like that. He could have killed you…” You would never forgive yourself if Daryl had died because he was doing what you were too scared to do for months.
“He could’a killed you too. Would rather it be me.” He shrugged, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I was just so scared, Daryl. He wasn’t even hiding his actions anymore.” You felt tears well in your eyes as you stared off into the distance.
Daryl noticed you phasing in and out of focus, giving you time to overthink. He decided to take a risk.
His hands found your waist, gently moving you to sit in his lap. Not with anything else in mind but comforting you. “I know. But you’re here with me, you’re safe here.” He held you close to him, hoping this proximity and touch were enough to bring you back from your thoughts.
Silence settled into the room as Daryl felt your body relax on top of him, the tension beginning to leave you within minutes of sitting in his grasp.
You finally felt yourself come back from the fear, the worry. And instead, you became hyperaware of what was happening right now.
Daryl’s hands on your thighs.
This felt new, a different feeling that made you feel safe and wanted for the first time in months. It felt like you could trust him, and that he wouldn’t abandon you, wouldn’t force you.
Daryl felt this too, a gentle pulse of desire that had only grown in the time you’d been calming down.
You met his gaze and paused to dwell on that feeling, and there was something unspoken. A sense of safety that brought in only one thought: release.
You shuddered as a lustful wave washed over you with sudden onset. You glanced down at his hand.
“This okay?” Daryl checked in with you, unsure of whether you were ready for anything. You gave him a nod.
“Need words.” He pressed his forehead to yours.
“Please, Daryl.” You needed a release. A way to get this adrenaline out and make you forget about everything.
The sound of his name on your lips made him weak. “Wanna make ya’ feel good. Wanna help you relax.” He moved closer to you, pressing his lips onto yours in a soft way, as if you were about to shatter in his hands.
“Fuck, please-” You pulled away from the kiss to whimper a response, rolling your hips against his obvious growing bulge.
Daryl grunted softly in response, his lips moving to your neck to place gentle, loving kisses down your heated skin.
Heat fluttered through your body when Daryl lifted you off his waist and laid you down onto the couch. He placed his large hands on your knees, slowly bringing them apart.
To have you, underneath him, looking up at him like he was worthy. The feeling was heavenly.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” He paused, his face right above yours, ready to stop or continue after hearing you.
“Daryl, just keep going, please.” Shit, there was his name again. He strangled his groan by placing some more sweet kisses along your jawline, his hands hesitantly landing on your waist.
You were special to him; he was just so nervous to accidentally push you too far or do something that you didn’t like.
“Need your hands on me.” You whined pitifully, your fingers moving to run through his hair. That was all the permission that Daryl needed to move. His hands wandered up your shirt, yanking it up to touch your breasts.
Waves of pleasure rushed through you as you tugged at Daryl’s hair, earning a groan from him. Those sounds made your core heat up in arousal. Daryl was being so vocal.
Daryl grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt and gently pulled it over your head, his eyes immediately falling to your bra, which was ill-fitted given the situation the world was in. You didn’t exactly have time to go bra shopping.
But Daryl didn’t notice, his hands inched behind you to unclasp your bra and bring it away from your skin with a long-winded kiss to your neck.
His breath hitched quietly upon seeing your bare chest. It was almost too much for him.
He pushed on, his lips moving down your body, stopping at where your shorts met your waist.
You felt his eyes glancing up at yours through his long brown hair as he fumbled with the button and zipper.
As your shorts were pulled off your legs, Daryl’s lips never left you, placing sloppy kisses over your hips and thighs. The sight of him so attentive made you moan as you helped him pull the shorts off.
Sitting up, your hands fell to his belt, fingers splayed across the belt buckle. Daryl grabbed your hands in his. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good.” Daryl gently pressed his hand onto your shoulder and eased you back down.
“But Daryl…” Your eyes fell onto the hard on that pressed against his black jeans. Judging by the imprint in his pants, he looked fucking massive.
“I’ll handle it later, you need takin’ care of,” Daryl mumbled against your skin, his hands roaming your body, moving down to play with the hem of your panties.
You hummed a quiet moan and gave him a nod. It felt a little strange not to have to do anything in return, but when he was being so gentle, so sweet.
Your mind went blank.
Daryl gripped your panties and began to pull them down. “You still okay with this?”
Daryl knew you were vulnerable, and he wanted nothing more than to taste you, to make you release the months' worth of tension and bullshit that you had endured.
“Yes, fuck just touch me-” Your own voice surprised you, the whiny tone expressing how desperate you were.
It was your whines that made Daryl shudder as he pulled your last garment off, his lips hurriedly making their way to your inner thighs.
Fuck, you were just the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He’d dreamed of this for months in his own jealous rage. Fucked his own fist to the thought of you, groaning your name into a pillow as if you’d hear him from next door.
You swallowed a moan, your hips bucking into him with sheer anticipation. Daryl wasn’t meaning to tease you, but the way his stubble dragged across your sensitive thighs, mere inches away from your pussy.
It was agonizing.
You were about to cry out another plea, begging for his touch in any capacity, but the words died on your tongue when he finally gave you what you needed.
Daryl licked one long strip up your core, his nose pressed against you. He took you in as if you were his last moment on Earth. His tongue flattened to shamelessly lap at your pussy.
Within seconds, your hands flew to his hair, yanking gently as he continued. Your moans got louder, mixed with breathless whimpers as Daryl took his time sucking on your clit.
Your legs trembled next to his head, threatening to close up as your hips bucked desperately into his face. God, he was messy, his beard soaked in your wetness as he ate you out hungrily. “Gotta open those legs f’me, girl,” He mumbled in a low voice, his heated breath hitting your core and making a shiver run through you.
And you really tried to keep them open, but fuck, when he was flicking his tongue over your clit, with his rough fingers teasing your entrance. It was nearly impossible. “Can’t-fuck” you sucked in a sharp breath and threw your head back, a loud whine coaxed from your mouth.
Daryl wrapped his arms around your hips, lifting them to bring them towards his face, the new angle allowing him to get deeper into where you need him the most.
His tongue slipped inside your pussy, his hands pressed firmly into your hips to keep you there.
You could hardly focus on a single thought; your broken sobs matched your desperate, arched back as you begged for more.
More what? You had no idea. His fingers replaced his tongue this time, pressing his middle finger into your core. “Could do this all damn day, makin’ those pretty sounds f’me.” He let out his own sounds this time, deriving pleasure from seeing you squirm and try to escape the immense pleasure he was giving you.
“Daryl, please, I’m so close-” Your pussy clenched around his finger. Daryl felt a tiny bit of pride at how easily you fell apart for him, but he kept going anyway.
Daryl thrusted his finger into you, his tongue teasing your clit and sucking on it, smirking at the moans he pulled out of you.
“Give it to me, that’s it.” He looked up at you from his position, and you looked so fucked out, so messy and flushed for him. All for him.
Your hips bucked relentlessly, locked in by his arms around them as you practically rode his face, a familiar warm feeling in your core starting to turn into a dull need.
And then you let go with a loud cry of his name and a mix of curses. “Fuck oh my god-” Your whole body shook as your orgasm ran through you, the feeling electrifying.
Daryl took what you gave him like a starved man, his tongue circling your clit, humming as you rode out your orgasm. Your hands were firmly gripping his hair now, yanking harshly to hold onto anything that would help you ride through the waves of pleasure swimming through you. Daryl moaned softly into your cunt as you yanked his hair, making your hips jolt in shock and arousal.
Daryl dragged out your orgasm as long as you would let him, lost in the taste of you, the gorgeous sound you made, the way you roughly rode his face as if you couldn’t get enough.
He could have came right there.
Sensitive pleasure made you hiss, the sound earning you one last kiss to your cunt as Daryl pulled away.
God, the way he looked after eating you out. Beard absolutely soaked, his eyes clouded with lust and adoration, and precum creating a wet spot in his jeans.
Daryl moved up your body to place a sweet kiss onto your forehead, smirking at your still-trembling frame. He sat on his heels and brought his fingers up to his mouth, savoring your taste as he stared into your eyes. Your head flew back at the pure, dirty actions of the man in front of you.
After letting out a quiet laugh at your reaction, he grabbed a damp towel and wiped off the mess he had made between your thighs. “Feelin’ better?” Daryl could hardly think straight, his hard-on pressed against his jeans so tight he thought they would bust open.
“How long have you been holding back that talent? Could’a used that the past few weeks.” You grabbed your underwear that Daryl had tossed away to get to taste you.
“Could’a just asked.” Daryl knelt beside you, pressing stray kisses along your forehead and neck.
“You’re sure you don’t want my help with this?” You licked your lips as you ran a hand over his crotch. Daryl’s hips bucked against your hand instinctively. His face flushed a brighter red than yours when he went down on you.
“Nah, tonight was about you.” He moved your hands away, pressing a soft kiss on them.
Over many weeks, you progressively felt stronger, more adapted to life outside of worrying about what Spencer might do next. As you healed physically and emotionally, you began to feel more comfortable with the people in Alexandria.
But especially Daryl
After that night where he ate you out like a man starved, your mind felt clouded and hazy anytime he was near you. Every time his hand brushed against your body, a shudder ran through you.
You felt like a lovesick teenager, the way your body reacted to his moves. And the worst part was,
He didn’t even know.
The more he put his hands on you, the more desperate you became for his attention. And he had no idea the effect he had on you.
“Denise treat ya’ good?” Daryl was sitting on the porch when you got back from visiting Denise to get your cast off.
“Yeah! Feels like I got a new arm or something.” You paused, an idea popping into your head to get under his skin. “What’cha doin’ today?” While asking the question, you plopped down into his lap, where he sat on his chair.
Daryl nearly choked, his hands flying to your waist to stabilize you. “I-uh” He stuttered, “On watch tonight. Got the whole day off.” He swallowed hard when you adjusted your position in his lap to look at him.
“Daryl, can you please teach me how to use your crossbow? It looks so fucking cool, and you have the whole day off.” You had been begging him for a week now to teach you how to use his crossbow.
Rick was walking by, going to his position on watch, when he saw you and Daryl. “Hey, Y/n. How ya’ feeling?” Rick met Daryl’s eyes, a smirk on his face at the situation he had just interrupted.
“Much better, thank you again for your help.” You missed the way Daryl stared daggers into Rick.
“You look comfortable, Daryl.” Rick had a wicked grin, his hands resting on his belt. Daryl pulled you closer instinctively, your ass now firmly pressed against him.
“Shut up, ain’t you got somewhere to be?” Daryl ignored Rick’s laugh as he walked to take his position on watch.
Daryl inhaled a deep breath, the scent of cigarettes and your scent filling his senses. “Let’s uh-Let’s go practice.” His strong arms lifted you off his lap, to your surprise.
You were practically skipping inside to go grab his bow. Not because you were excited for this lesson, but because you had a plan.
A plan to make him break out of his soft, caring shell.
Daryl could hardly contain himself. You are sitting on his lap, your perfect ass lined up with his clothed cock. He could have bent you over right there.
Shaking the feeling of arousal rising in his body, he lit another cigarette to distract him a bit. God, this training session was going to be hell. Daryl knew that once you knew how to get to him, you wouldn’t stop.
With that information, he set his goal. Keep composure.
You walked out to the backyard of Daryl’s apartment, where he had a couple of makeshift dummies set up when he wanted to practice. “This a good spot?” You held the heavy crossbow in your hands, analyzing the many parts.
“Yeah.” He grumbled, approaching you slowly, keeping his distance as if you were dangerous.
Eagerly, you held the bow up to aim at the dummy. Daryl chuckled at your actions, moving closer to you. “Hold up, ya’ gotta pull it back first.” He stood behind you.
Got him.
“Help me?” You asked, keeping a firm grip on the crossbow to get him right where you wanted him. “S’kinda hard to pull it.”
Daryl grumbled something along the lines of “Seriously?” and stood directly behind you, your back against his chest. The heat radiating from him sent your head reeling.
Placing his rough hands over yours, positioning them where they needed to be, he showed you how to cock the weapon.
“You cock the bow, then you aim.” Daryl rolled his eyes when you snickered like a schoolgirl at his words.
“Can ya’ hush? I’m trying to teach you.” Daryl was as focused as he could be, considering how fucking close you were to him. If you were gonna keep teasing him like this, he wasn’t sure he’d last the day without folding under the pressure.
“You’re right, I’m sorry, sir.” You glanced back enough to see Daryl’s bright red face, letting you know that you were succeeding in breaking him.
Daryl grumbled a response and held up the bow, hands still placed over yours. “Look at where the target’ll be. Specially’ if it’s movin’.” Daryl tried explaining how a moving target is a bit harder because you’d have to reload quickly if you miss.
But you hadn’t heard a bit of it. Your breath quivered as Daryl talked in your ear, giving you those instructions, his front pressed right up against you.
“Got it?” Daryl didn’t even have time to react before you aimed at the dummy and let the arrow fly.
Missing it completely.
“Were ya’ even listening?” Daryl jogged to retrieve the arrow, handing it to you. “Need help reloading it?” He stepped behind you again, partially in a self-serving manner.
Because damn did it feel good having you pressed against him, right where he needed you.
“Nah, think I’ve got it this time.” You slowly pulled back the string to load the arrow, pushing your ass into his crotch, feigning a struggle. Daryl groaned lowly, his hands finding your hips to hold you in place.
“What are you playin’ at, girl?” He whispered into your ear before pulling away from you. “Try again.” He sounded more stern this time, more serious. Glancing back at the archer, you glanced down at his jeans and immediately noticed his hard-on that he was sporting.
When your eyes found his again, you couldn’t stop the smirk that grew on your face. “You sure you wanna finish the training? Looks like you’re a little distracted.”
Daryl’s face flushed with your words, but particularly your gaze. How could he teach you if you were looking at him like you’d jump his bones this very second?
“Psh, you’re the one distracted. Let me show you-” He really was trying his hardest to teach you, to win this fight of self-control. Daryl took the crossbow from you, demonstrating how to aim at a target.
Opening his mouth to speak, his words were cut off with an unexpected groan as you ran a hand over his boner. “You’ve got great form, y’know.”
Fuck this was impossible.
Daryl dropped the bow, forgetting the stupid training.
He yanked you close to him, pressing you against his hips. His mouth found yours, kissing you with more passion than you think you’d ever seen from him.
Hungrily, his hands roamed over your curves, grabbing wherever he could. Your mouth moved with him, taking in his scent and the way his tongue moved with yours. “Mmph- ya’ wanna take this inside?” You asked him, a smile coming to your face when he began kissing your neck as soon as you pulled away.
Daryl didn’t even say anything; he tapped your hip and lifted you with ease, adrenaline pumping through his veins and making his boner impossibly harder in this position with your legs wrapped around him.
Heading inside, you gasped as Daryl pressed you against the wall, his large arms still holding onto your legs tightly. His lips were on your neck, pressing searing kisses into your skin that made you moan in response. You grabbed his face gently, pulling him up to look at you.
“Wanna fuck you this time, need you…” You were blunt, straight to the point, eyes staring at him hungrily.
If you couldn’t have him tonight, you thought about shooting somebody with that damn crossbow.
“Fuck, can’t say those things, sugar.” He rasped. His knees nearly buckled at your words, dick throbbing unbearably in his pants. His head was spinning with lust, his heart racing.
Hands finding your ass, he held you up as he moved you to the couch. Your skin felt like it was on fire, desperate for his touch, for anything he’d give you.
“Why, ya’ gonna lose it before we even start?” You couldn’t help it; the man was so ridiculously easy to tease. His face flushed again as he rushed to keep it hidden in your neck, placing kisses and biting at your skin gently.
Daryl grunted against your skin, pressing his erection into you, hips connecting with yours shamelessly. “Nah, s’gonna be you-” His hand cupped your cunt through your jeans, making a light whimper come from your mouth with no hesitation.
“Fuck, Daryl,” You body jolted at his touch as his hands wandered over you, pressing into your hips like you’d disappear if he wasn’t paying attention.
“Matter fact, let’s get these off.” Daryl’s hands hurriedly unbuttoned your jeans, not bothering to unzip them before yanking them off. The desperate action made you smirk up at him.
“Careful, you’re gonna ruin the last good pair of jeans I have-” You whined, heat rising to your cheeks at his roughness.
“Gonna ruin you if you ain’t careful with that mouth.” Daryl pressed kisses to your abdomen, humming as he ran a finger over the wet spot on your panties. “Haven’t even started yet, got you this riled up?”
“Shut up.” You did him a favor by taking off your shirt and unclasping your bra, hearing his breath hitch at the sight of your near-naked body below him.
“Feels kinda unfair right now, take somethin’ off.” You laughed when he grumbled a ‘fine’ and begrudgingly tore his face away from kissing your inner thighs.
Daryl slipped off his vest and unbuttoned his shirt, watching you eye him like you couldn’t wait any longer. And for the first time in a while, you were silent, breathing shaky inhales of air as your eyes traveled to Daryl’s broad shoulders and downward to the muscular arms that were holding you so tightly earlier. And then they traveled lower,
To the small happy trail that poked up above the hem of his black jeans. Daryl offered you a smug smirk when he noticed you staring. “Doin’ an awful lot of starin’.”
Shock ran through him when you placed your hand on his belt and pulled him back into you, and he caught himself, placing his hands on either side of your head.
Message received
Daryl pressed soft kisses along your shoulder, kisses that turned into gentle nips and bites, leaving marks along your skin. You hissed at the feeling, your hands roaming his back, nails lightly dragging along his skin, earning a low groan from him.
Daryl left a mixture of sweet kisses and bites along your body as he moved from your shoulder all the way down to your stomach. He pulled your panties down to your knees, licking his lips in anticipation as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
You helped him pull them off all the way. Daryl didn’t miss a beat, his tongue immediately lapped at the wetness that he had earned by being so attentive.
Felt like a damn prize.
Your body jerked yet again, his mouth coaxing a loud moan out of you with how fast his mouth moved to suck onto your clit like he knew exactly how to make you cum.
Daryl had tried his best to memorize this moment. You were writhing as he ate you out mercilessly, your eyes squeezed shut. He hummed into your core; the taste of you was fucking hypnotizing. He’d do this every damn day if he could.
“Fuck how are you so good at that-” Your back arched as Daryl pressed a finger into your entrance, tongue still licking your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
Daryl glanced up at you, a smile on his face as his tongue flicked around your clit. The sight was absolute sin. His beard was soaked, his hair spread messily across his face as he shamelessly pulled loud moans and breathless whimpers from your lips.
Daryl used his other hand to caress your smooth skin, giving your breast a light squeeze as his finger fucked you slowly. Daryl watched your reaction when he curled his finger as he fucked you with it.
“Oh my god-” You cried out, your chest rising and falling heavily as your moans fell out of you with little resistance. He was making you feel so fucking good, suppressing anything felt like a crime.
He added another finger this time, fucking you faster, his eyes staring holes into you as he watched your reaction. His hand moved away from you, instead pressing against his erection as he tried to calm down the raging boner that was begging for you.
“Oh f-” The words fell short as you trembled underneath him, your head falling back as your hips bucked into his mouth. You held onto his hair as you felt your orgasm coming on quickly while his two fingers stretched out your cunt.
“Can feel you squeezin’. Give it to me, sugar, that’s it.” Daryl’s tongue flicked over your clit, moaning against your pussy with the pleasure he was deriving from your sweetness and sounds.
“God, don’t stop please- so close.” Your brain could barely form words; the ones that did come out were mumbled and mixed with lewd whines as he curled his fingers. His motions urged you to let go, your body shaking with pleasure.
“Ain’t gonna. I gotcha.” He kept the pace, thoroughly enjoying the pleasure he was giving you. “Wanna see you fall apart on my face, sugar.” His words were the last thing you heard before your orgasm hit you, your vision darkening as your whole body tensed in immense pleasure.
Daryl rode out your orgasm, moans sending vibrations through you as you screamed his name. When your vision finally cleared, and the waves of pleasure finally washed over you, Daryl moved to sit up. “So beautiful every damn time.”
You let out a breathless laugh. “Where’d you learn to do that? You’re so good with your mouth.” You spoke, half-shocked at the man in front of you.
That earned you a shrug. “Dunno, s’my talent I guess.” Daryl tried to hide his smug smile as he leaned in to press a kiss on your lips.
“Smug asshole.” You ruffled his hair, your body jolting ever so slightly when his jeans ran against your heat. “Fuck, Daryl. You’re so hard.” You bit your lip at the thought of him being so turned on, driven crazy by you.
“Let me take care of you.” Your hands reached for his belt, and this time…
He let you.
“I-uh might not be able to last.” He cleared his throat, a low whine interrupting as you licked a line up his clothed dick. “Been teasing me this whole time.” The way you fucking looked at him made his cock twitch and drove his head in circles.
“I know, baby. We’ll do it your way.” It felt good to finally be able to give Daryl something in return. After everything he’d done for you, there was something that Daryl wanted from you.
And you weren’t gonna let him down.
You moved off the couch and got on your knees. At that same time, Daryl slipped out of his jeans and boxers, revealing how well-endowed he was. Now it was your turn to lick your lips as Daryl stood in front of you, now fully on display for your taking.
It was not Daryl’s first blowjob, or his first time going down on a girl. But it felt different when it was you looking up at him with those eyes that he trusted and cared about. It felt like every moment was a first time, a new experience where he got to explore what made you gasp, what made your body shake in pleasure.
Daryl gave you a nod to keep going, and you took his shaft into your hand, hiding your smile at the soft gasp that left his mouth. Meanwhile, he could hardly breathe. He’d imagined you here, jerking him off and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
This was so much better.
You spit into your hand and gave Daryl’s dick a few pumps, watching his stomach tighten at your actions. Never having to look up, you knew he was watching you like a hawk. Before he could say anything, you opened your mouth for him to see and placed his tip onto your tongue, glancing up at Daryl through your eyelashes.
The scene was damn near pornographic. Daryl’s hand came down to hold the side of your face. “How’d I get so lucky?” He managed to rasp out, a soft whine escaping his tough resolve.
A giggle rushed through you as you finally took him into your mouth, your lips wet with saliva and salty precum that spilled from his needy tip.
Eyes rolled back, Daryl kept a gentle hand placed on the side of your face. He stayed away from pulling your hair, a mutual understanding based on late-night conversations about boundaries after the night he ate you out.
Daryl grunted as you swirled your tongue around his length, humming to send vibrations down his cock. “So pretty like this-” Daryl couldn’t help the high-pitched whine when your hand jerked off the base of his cock as you sucked on his tip and ran your tongue over his slit.
His sounds only motivated you further, hollow cheeks taking him further down your throat. Eyes flickering up to him in a teasing manner, you moaned on his dick to coax more sounds out of the man. His hips bucked into your mouth, followed by a stuttered “sorry” mixed with an array of groans.
Your hands found themselves stroking his thighs, yet another action that made Daryl almost lose it.
Daryl’s head fell back, mumbling curse words as a familiar heat started to grow. Your hands jerked him faster as you swallowed around his length. His eyes shot open.
“Wait-need you-” He tapped your cheek to let you know he needed to pause. A wave of insecurity washed over you.
“Are you okay? Did I do too much?” You stood up quickly to assess what was going on.
Daryl took long inhales to calm his breathing. He was so goddamn close, but he didn’t want to cum now. Not when he really wanted to be inside you, watching you take him inch by inch.
“Nah, jus’ wanna be inside you, can’t wait any longer.” Daryl pressed a long kiss to your forehead. “Felt like heaven, sugar. Almost made me come right then and there.” He comforted you, his hands traveling down to your hips.
“Good, for a second there I thought you hated it.” You breathed out a sigh, your arms wrapping around his neck. The two of you swayed gently, as if you were dancing in a crowded room. But, it was just him.
“You serious? The neighbors probably heard me.” He huffs, an embarrassed blush crossing his cheeks. Daryl thought about Spencer for a flash of a second, whether he was back in his apartment or still in that cell.
Either way, he wished Spencer could hear it. Hear the way Daryl claimed you and made you feel real pleasure again. He wished Spencer could have seen how eager you were to go down on him.
How he wished to make him pay.
But that was for another day.
“Sweetheart?” Daryl cleared his throat, his cock throbbing as his eyes wandered over your body needily. You were caught up in the softness of the moment, the way he held you like he’d never let you go. Daryl loved seeing you so smitten, but god he needed to fuck you.
Absent-mindedly, you looked up at him. “Yes-oh!” You were quickly placed back into reality. “Almost forgot you were so desperate to fuck me.” You smirked up at him.
“I’ll show you who's desperate.” He lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he placed you on the kitchen table. You hissed at the feeling.
“That’s so cold, what the hell, Daryl?!” You whined, pressing yourself against him. The table was freezing.
“Then we’ll just have to warm it up, next time I’ll pick a better place.” He smirked at your reaction, his hands lifting your hips to meet the edge of the table.
“Next time?” You paused, suddenly forgetting about the temperature of the stupid table.
Daryl scoffed at you, “Ya’ thought this’ll be a one-time thing? I don’t do that, sugar.” Your heart soared at his words, and you yanked him into a passionate kiss, your lips brushing against his as you pulled away.
“Ya’ want that?” Daryl had a feeling that you felt the same, but he had to ask. You nodded quickly.
“Are you kidding? Of course! You’d better eat me out every day, though, Dixon.” The thought of being with you every day, waking up in the morning with you by his side. He’d have no issue spending hours each day between your legs.
It made him feel warm.
“Promise.” He kissed your neck, earning a soft moan from you. His touch brought you back to the current position you were in. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” He fawned over you, his rough hands spreading your legs wide so that he could fit in between them.
The sound of his shaky breathing told you what you needed to know. He was nervous.
You ran a hand through his hair as Daryl kissed your breasts. He was stalling.
“Just fuck me already, Dixon!” You could hardly take the heat anymore, your cunt throbbing with anticipation. You could only imagine the pent-up lust flowing through Daryl’s body.
Daryl wasted no time in lining himself up with your pussy, ragged breaths filling your ears as he glanced down at where he was starting to push into you.
You hissed softly as he inserted himself into you, inch by inch. Daryl was trying his absolute best to keep control of his orgasm and keep it at bay. He pressed his forehead against yours, low whimpers filling the otherwise empty room as he watched your cunt take him as far as you could.
Squeezing around him, you adjusted to his length, shuddering at his touch and the ample size of him as he finally was all the way in your warmth.
Daryl had a tight grip on your waist, unmoving from the moment he pressed all the way into you. It was all just too much.
The way your perfect cunt squeezed around him as you adjusted to him. The smell of your perfume fills his senses. The small whimpers and moans you were making as he tried not to move.
“Gotta move, sugar. Can’t-” He let out a depraved moan when you wrapped your legs around his hips, pushing him impossibly further. “Fuck woman, you’re gonna kill me.” Your laughter at his words made his dick throb.
Daryl moved in slow thrusts, agonizingly slow movements that had you whining and writhing underneath him. You could tell he was holding back, and that made it all the more arousing when you moved your hips to match his speed.
Your gasps filled the space between your faces, eyes scanning his face as he closed his eyes tightly to focus on giving you everything. Daryl let out a shaky whine at your actions, his hands quickly moving to your hips to feel their movements.
Muscles tightening, Daryl looked like a fucking dream. He sped up his thrusts, pounding into you harder. The table scraped against the floor, the sound quickly losing the battle against your loud moans.
“Oh god- fuck!” You cried out, hips moving in tandem with his, shamelessly chasing your orgasm.
Daryl felt the low pulse of his orgasm forming, and he growled against your skin. His hips began to stutter as he lost focus on keeping pace.
“Fuck, not gonna last much longer.” He mumbled, picking up speed as he began to lift your hips off the table to get a better angle.
That new angle was heaven. “Don’t stop, right there, baby!” You screamed, your body trembling as he pounded into you desperately. His muscular arms held you up to him as he fucked you with no abandon. It was rushed, mindless lust. But fuck did it feel amazing.
“Ya’ gonna cum, sugar? Gonna soak the table? Wanna hear you.” He mumbled into your ear, the sound mixed with broken groans. His face was buried in your neck as he fucked you roughly. He was so drunk on you, his inhibitions leaving him with every thrust he pounded into you.
“Wanna hear you say my name, let that motherfucker know who’s treatin’ you like you deserve.” Daryl wasn’t in control of the words that left his mouth, whines accompanying his tone. “Bet he couldn’t fuck you like this.” He moved a hand under your back to push you against him, your fucked-out body shaking in pleasure, loud moans erupting without hesitation.
“Go on, pretty girl, say my fuckin’ name.” He could tell you were close by the way your cunt fluttered around his cock, and how your moans got higher and higher with each slap of your skin together.
With his words, you fell apart immediately. Your orgasm had your eyes rolling back in immense, white-hot pleasure. Daryl wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering and struggling to keep the pace as he let go.
You cried out his name along with several curse words, whimpering at the feeling of Daryl spilling his own release inside of you, ceasing his thrusts to slowly push in and out of you as his orgasm rushed through him.
And for that moment, while you rode out your orgasms together, there was absolutely nothing on either of your minds.
Not the apocalypse, not Spencer
Just this moment. This pleasure.
When you both finally came back to reality from a mind-blowing orgasm, Daryl pulled out slowly. Both of you hissed at the sensitivity. Daryl went to grab a towel. “Stay here, gonna clean you up.”
Daryl could hardly believe what had just happened. He brushed his hair out of his face and pulled his boxers up onto his hips before moving back to wipe you off with a damp towel. “You did so good. So damn beautiful.” He pressed soft kisses onto your shoulder.
You traced the muscles of his back as he cleaned you up. “That was probably the best sex I’ve ever had. Been a while, y’know?”
Daryl smiled at you, a boy-ish, fucked-out smile that made your heart leap out of your chest in adoration. “Hell, s’been years for me. Guess you could tell.” He lifted you off the table and back onto the couch, knowing your legs were probably jelly by now.
“Doesn’t matter now. I’m staying.” You wrapped your arms around him so he couldn’t pull away from you.
Then, a realization popped into your head that made you whine. “You’re on watch duty tonight. You’re gonna leave me all alone tonight?” You rested a hand on his thigh, making him jolt.
Damn, he was in for a wild night.
“I’ll ask Rick to take my shift.” Daryl knew Rick wasn’t a pushover when it came to watch shifts, but he was hoping luck was on his side.
“Alright, but don’t be too long.” You watched Daryl quickly throw some clothes on, rushing to get out the door before his shift started. You smacked his ass as he walked by, earning a teasing glare from Daryl.
“Oh, you’ll pay for that later, don’t ya’ worry.” With that, he walked out to grab Rick.
Daryl approached Rick as he was walking away from the watch tower. “Hey, brother, got a small favor.” Rick smiled knowingly at Daryl, throwing him off a bit.
“Your window was open.” Rick snickered, making Daryl stop in his tracks.
“What?” Daryl cleared his throat.
“Look, we’re all happy for you, man. But next time ya’ might wanna close your window so we don’t hear it.” Rick laughed at Daryl’s bright red face.
“And let me guess, you want me to take your shift?” Rick crossed his arm, raising an eyebrow at Daryl.
“S’just for tonight,” Daryl mumbled. Rick saw the desperation in Daryl’s expression, and it made him crack up.
“Go, enjoy your second round,” Rick smirked when Daryl flipped him off.
“Shut up.”
With that, Daryl took off towards your shared apartment.
Taglist:
@brideofvecna
@thelady-of-dragonfire
@chuuyas-world
@magz3strikes
@coal-bee
@calicoevey
THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTED ME DURING THIS SERIES! I will also be putting it on AO3 in a short while to see if anybody on there wants to read it, so I will be posting my username soon!
CW: prison era, jealous daryl, seamstress reader, before and after the outbreak.
Word count: 1568 (my first long-ish fic :) )
AN: Thank you for the request♡ hope you enjoy it♡ please keep sending me ideas!
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗
You had worked as a seamstress in your grandmother’s little shop for as long as you could remember. She’d built a loyal circle of customers, older ladies, and some not so old, who came by every week to have their clothes adjusted and gossip over tea. Your grandmother, Gladis, could barely keep up with the constant demand, so she asked you to lend a hand. You had just graduated from fashion school with no job offers in sight, so instead of sitting around waiting for something to happen, you said, “Why not?” It would be good practice, at least.
You ended up staying for the next ten years. The quiet rhythm of the place grew on you, the soft voices, the gossip, the familiar faces, the gentle routines. The job wasn’t difficult, and it paid decently. You had time to breathe, to live.
When your grandmother passed away the following year, you inherited the shop. She had been your only family, your only real support. Working there kept her close; every stitch, every customer, every creak of the old floor reminded you of her.
A year later, the world ended.
You were about to close for the day, it was around 3 p.m., your last customer already gone, when the screams started outside. Sharp, panicked shouts echoing down the street, followed by gunshots. Thinking there was an active shooter, you locked yourself in the bathroom. The lights went out. The screams faded, one by one, until there was only silence.
When you finally stepped out, your shop window was smeared with blood. Outside, figures moved, people-looking figures, or something that had once been people. Dead eyes, dragging feet. You hid again, trembling.
Hours passed. Maybe days, maybe weeks, you weren’t sure, you were in a trance. Then a group of survivors stumbled into the shop, thinking it empty. They found you dehydrated, starving, and far too scared to speak at first. They gave you water, food, their names: Tyreese, Sasha, Ben, Allen, Donna and something you hadn’t felt in a long time: safety.
You left with them, escaping the ruined town and disappearing into the forest. Eventually, you came across a prison, its fences still standing. Inside was another group, wary but alive. And just like that, you found yourself part of something larger, a new community.
Almost everyone in the group was kind to you, except for two. They seemed to be the leaders: Rick and Daryl. Both were distant, barely speaking to you. They watched you from a quiet, guarded place, unsure if you could be trusted yet. They looked like men who had experienced betrayal before, who had learned not to let new people in so easily. You didn’t take it personally. They had every right to keep their distance in a world like this.
Little by little, though, Rick and Daryl grew more accustomed to having your group around. They put you all to work, which you didn’t mind. After being alone and locked up in your shop, you wanted to be useful, to give something back to the people who had given you safety and hope. They found out you could sew, so they put you in charge of making new bedsheets and patching up torn clothes. Doing it all by hand, without a machine, wasn’t easy, but it kept you busy, and that was enough.
Daryl started coming by a few times a day to check on you, asking if you needed anything. You never really did, but it was nice being cared for.
After a while, you and Daryl were spending time together beyond his check-ins. You sat with him at the lookout post, walked across the prison yard, stayed up late smoking and staring at the night sky. He was easy to be around. At first he mostly listened while you talked, and it felt good being someone who could give him a break from all his responsibilities. You told him about the shop, your grandmother, the gossip of your old customers, wondering what had happened to them.
“I love hearing stories about your grandma,” he said once. “She seemed like a lovely person.”
“She was. She would’ve loved you, and also had a crush on you,” you giggled. “She always checked out her customers’ husbands.”
He liked that. He liked spending time with you more than he’d admit.
Two months passed, and you and Daryl were together constantly. You considered him your best friend, though both of you felt something deeper growing in your chests, something that wasn’t friendship.
Then a new group arrived at the prison: Josh, Ellie, Mark, and Johanna. Josh was Mark and Johanna’s eldest son, with Ellie being his younger sister. Exhausted from three weeks on the road, they begged Rick to let them stay. After some thought, he agreed.
Josh soon learned that you were the seamstress, and he started asking you to repair his clothes. Then his mother’s. Then his father’s. He always stood a little too close, talking a little too much. You found yourself chatting with him. He was a few years younger than you, funny, always ready with a joke.
Of course Daryl noticed. It was impossible not to. This new guy, who had only been here for a week, was already trying to get into your pants. It wasn’t surprising. You were gorgeous, kind and caring. Anyone would fall for you.
He had.
And he hated that Josh was bold enough to show it.
Daryl started visiting your workshop less and less, always mumbling excuses about helping Rick with something or going on a run with Glenn. But of course you noticed. You noticed every small change, the way he avoided you whenever you were near Josh, the way he walked past your workstation without a word or even a glance. It hurt. It stung deep.
Everyone else noticed too. Daryl had become snappy with anyone who talked to him.
“Hey, Dar, can you help me with something in the yard?” Carol asked.
Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t got nothin’ better to do, apparently.” His eyes flicked toward Josh and then away, jaw clenched.
Day after day, Josh became more and more touchy with you. You didn’t feel comfortable at all. You tried to tell him, but he never listened, just laughed, brushing off your discomfort like it was nothing.
And one day, Daryl had enough.
Josh leaned over you while you were working, placing both hands on the table behind you, trapping you between him and the wood.
“Mm, Josh, can you please step back a little? I’ve got a needle in my hand, I don’t want to poke you with it,” you said. You tried to keep your voice calm, but being caged in like that made you uneasy. But he didn’t move. He only leaned closer.
“Hey. Didn’t you hear her? Back up.” The voice behind him was low, dangerous. Daryl.
Josh snorted. “And what? What’re you or she gonna do if I don’t?”
That was it. Daryl snapped. He grabbed Josh by the collar and threw him to the ground with one brutal motion.
“You’ll find out what I’ll do to protect her,” Daryl growled, pinning him down.
Josh laughed weakly, blood on his teeth. “Ha… that your bitch? She’s not that fun, is she?”
Daryl punched him square in the face, the crack of Josh’s nose echoing through the room.
“Daryl! Stop it, please!” you cried. You pulled Daryl back with all your strength and dragged him out of the room. You led him to your cell, shutting the door behind you.
“What happened to you out there?” you whispered, taking his hands. His knuckles were torn and bleeding. “Sit down. I’ll disinfect them.”
Daryl didn’t sit. He looked at you, eyes burning with something raw.
“Don’t you see it?” he said. “He can’t treat you right. What do you even see in a guy like him? He’ll never treat you like I do, like I want to. I know I ain’t the most… expressive person, but I want you. I want you to be mine, and I swear I’ll treat you with respect. With care. I couldn’t stand him not listening to you. I just…” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw Daryl’s eyes water.
“Baby…” you murmured, cupping his face gently. “I don’t even have words. I do like you. I have feelings for you too. I just thought maybe he could be my friend… I didn’t know you felt this way.” You brushed a tear from his cheek and leaned in, kissing him softly. “I want you, Daryl. You treat me better than anyone ever has.”
Kiss him slowly, your fingers slide through his gorgeous long hair. His strong hands settle on your lower back, pulling you closer. When you finally break the kiss, you look up at him, breathe unsteady.
“Daryl… I like you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before. But now I want to be with you. Would you… would you be my boyfriend, please?” you ask, looking straight into his eyes.
“‘Course I would, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I promise you I’ll always protect you. No matter what happens.” He kisses you again, soft, certain, full of promise.
After the incident, Rick made it clear that Josh was not allowed anywhere near you. And if he tried, he would be thrown out, by Daryl himself.
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ᯓ★ˎˊ˗
AN: let me know if you’d like to read more longer format fics or shorter ones🫶🏻
You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too close— afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. Certain people is real stubborn.
“He's alive?” Otis asked as he walked inside the house, his breath ragged and loud. “He's still alive?”
Rick hasn't let go of you. He has his arms tightly around you as he rocked the two of you back and forth. You don't know what to feel at the moment, just numb and hollow, but you didn't let go of the guy.
When Otis walked inside the house, with Shane trailing behind him, Rick pulled away and turned to Shane.
You looked at them. You watched as Rick wiped his sweat from his forehead, only to stain his skin with Carl's blood. You felt your shoulders sag at the sight, and before you knew it, you were already moving towards the couch.
You could hear Rick crying again and Shane rushed to comfort his best friend.
*Okay. I'll take it from you. Where.. Where is he?” Shane mumbled, keeping his voice low and slow, as he reached for the rag that he used to wipe the blood off from Rick's face. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
You could hear the two of them talking, then the shuffling of feet reached your ears.
You turned your head to look at them and saw them walking over to the room where Hershel told Rick to lay Carl. You immediately stalk towards them, your hands wiping the blood off on your pants subconsciously— like they have a mind of their own.
“You know his blood type?” The doctor asked as soon as you walked through the door.
“A positive.” Rick answered, shaking. “Same as mine.”
“That's fortunate.” Hershel commented solemnly, looking back over his shoulder to glance at Rick. “Don't wander far. I'm gonna need you.”
Then, he turned to Otis. “What happened?”
Otis stammered, his finger pointing nothing in the air as he relived what happened back here, trying his best to say what went down. “I.. I was tracking a buck. Bullet went through it. Went clean through..”
Hershel nodded, looking back down to the wound he's pressing down on. “The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life, but it did not go through clean. It broke down to pieces, Otis. If I can get the bullet fragments out.. And I'm counting six, it might take a while.”
While Hershel was talking, Otis slowly made his way over to Patricia, his legs wobbling from what happened.
You watched as everyone did their roles, each one of them having a spot inside the room. You knew that this was just a show back then, but now that you're here— standing, breathing, watching as everything follows through the plot.. You couldn't stop yourself from feeling bitter.
“My wife doesn't know.” Rick spoke up, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes became glossed with tears once more. “My wife doesn't know.”
You turned away from them, your feet carrying you over to the living room. You plop yourself into the single couch and lean forward, your hands raising to carve your bloodstained fingers through your hair and massaging the spot where you can feel a headache is coming.
You messed up again. You knew what was going to happen, but you still couldn't stop it.
You placed your elbows in your knees and buried your face in your hands, not caring if it smelled metallic. Your breathing comes out in short, shaky bursts as you try not to think and blame yourself for what's happening. You could still vividly remember how Carl fell down, his blood pouring out of the bullet wound like waterworks.
Tap, tap, tap.
You could hear footsteps coming from Hershel's room, and you didn't have to look up to see who it was.
Rick and Shane dropped themselves into the couch next to yours, both of them silent for a moment, before Rick spoke up, his voice trembling with regret.
“Why'd I let him come with us?” He asked, not asking anyone in particular. “I should have sent him with Lori.”
Grieving people often blame themselves for something they don't have control over. You know this, but hearing it from Rick's mouth— his self deprecating comments.. It left you feeling bad. Just like Rick, you could have told Carl to stay with Lori and convinced the woman that this was a bad idea, but no, you chose to follow through the plot.
It's a little ironic that you're feeling the same as Rick, as if you were the child's parent.
Thankfully, Shane knocked him off his horse.
“You know, you start that, you'll never get that monkey off your back.” The cop stated, spitting nothing, but facts.
“Li.. Little girl goes missing, you look for her.” Rick mumbled, his voice cracking and ignoring Shane's words, “Simple. You said call it, head back. I was stubborn. And now, Carl got shot because I wouldn't cut bait. It should be me in there.”
The last statement made Shane chuckle. “You've been there, partner. Right? And you pulled through, so will he.”
It was silent for a moment, Rick letting what Shane said sink into his brain, but regret is a funny thing. It won't just go away when you know that the reason why it happened in the first place was because someone was stubborn with their decisions.
Rick is blaming himself hard, because he was stubborn, and you can understand that.
“Is that why I got out of that hospital— is that why me and (last name) got out of that hospital?” Rick asked, unable to keep a lid on his emotions anymore. “Found my family for it to just end here like this? Is this some kind of sick joke?”
You pulled your hands down, but kept it on your lower face, just enough to look at Rick.
Why must he bring you up in this conversation? This isn't about him and you. It's about him, his wife, and his freshly shot son— with you being brought up isn't fair. You never wanted for it to end like this. You never wanted to be included with what's happening.
You stood up, catching Rick's and Shane's attention. You turned in your heels to walk towards the front door, but Maggie rushed out of the room and caused you to halt in your tracks.
“Rick!” She called for the sheriff, making you pivot on your foot and walk inside Carl's room instead.
Maggie made space so you can get inside and you sent her a thankful glance for that. The moment you walked inside, your eyes landed on the little boy who was crying in pain, your heart clenching at the sight.
“He needs blood!”
You turned to Patricia, holding out your arm as you tried your best to ignore Carl's agonizing cry.
“I'm a u-universal donor.” You stuttered out, hand shaking as you offered your arm towards the older woman. “I can help and give him blood, too. Get some from Rick, then get some from me—”
Carl screamed and you couldn't get yourself to continue talking.
“Stop! You're killing him!” Rick yelled, lunging forward to get close to Hershel, unable to bear to hear his son's cries, but Patricia had a tight grip on his arm.
“Do you want him to live or not?!” You hissed, stepping in front of him to block his view of Hershel and Carl, pushing him away softly from the doctor, “If you want him to live, then let Hershel do his job! You screaming here isn't helping anyone!”
“He needs blood!” Patrica repeated, urgency dripping from her voice.
“Do it now, Rick!” You screamed, forcing him to face Patricia so she can stab the needle through his skin to get the blood she needs to make Carl stay afloat.
The room grew quiet, because Carl passed out, but Hershel was quick to assure everyone.
“He just passed out. Anyway, one down..” The doctor stated bluntly, lifting his shrapnel to look at the broken piece of the bullet, then slowly placed it on the metal basin by the bed. “.. Five to go.”
You let out a sigh at that, but jumped when Patricia patted you in the arm.
“I’ll get you strapped up.” The woman said, nodding her head to the chair beside where Rick was already sitting down. “Take a seat, okay? Hold on. Let me fetch the needle for you.”
You nodded and wordlessly settled yourself beside Rick.
The sheriff stared on the floor for a second, silence stretching between you two, before he turned his head slightly to look at you.
“You.. You don't have to do this.” Rick muttered, his face pale. “I know you don't like needles.”
Your eyebrows shot up. You haven't told anyone that you don't like needles. How did he know? Is the (full name) in this world afraid of needles, too? Did she tell Rick about her fear? Pursing your lips, you decided to shake it off and focus on the task at hand.
“Doesn't matter.” You grunted, holding your arm out when you spotted Patricia walking over to you with the said needle in her hands. “Just need to get this over with. We need Carl to be stable before anything else.”
You quickly shut your eyes and braced yourself. You don't like the stinging sensation of the needle, nor the sight of it, but you know you have to do this. If you can't change the plot, then you will settle on trying to help fix the damage.
After taking Rick's blood, you were the next one to settle beside Carl. Patricia had you by the edge of the bed because you're smaller than Rick, so the length of your arm isn't enough to keep you in place.
“Lori needs to be here.” Rick mumbled, looking at his unconscious son. “She doesn't even know what's going on. I got.. I've to go find her. Bring her back.”
“You can't do that.” Hershel said, shaking his head.
“She's his mother.” Rick shot back, flickering his gaze to the old man. “She needs to know what happened. Her son is lying here shot—”
“And he's going to need more blood.” Hershel interjected, his voice firm and leaving no room for rebuttal. “Both of you can't go no more than 50 feet from this bed. They need to be near just in case the boy wakes up and needs more blood.”
Your vision swam as your blood flowed from the needle wound in your arm to the blood tank on the floor. You haven't donated much blood before, so this was still a new sensation to you. You wouldn't change your mind and back out though. Carl needs blood, so you'll give him as much blood as you can.
You watched as Rick and Shane exited the room, closing the door behind them.
“You're not Rick's wife?” Hershel asked the moment the door closed, making you turn your head to look at him. “You two seem awfully close for you to not be his wife.”
“I'm his friend.” You answered, thumb pressing on your temple as you leaned forward. “Don't need to be anybody's wife to comfort someone, or anyone. All I have to do is be there for them when they need someone to lean on, make sure they get their shit together.”
“I could tell.” Hershel mumbled, placing his stethoscope down on the bedside table. “With how you yelled at Rick earlier, I just knew that he's not the only one you're keeping an eye on.”
“Of course not.” You huffed, a breathy snort escaping your lips. “We got a group up on the highway. Everybody's gotta keep an eye on everybody.”
Hershel and Patricia slowly shared a look, but both didn't say a word.
“Got no time to be dilly dallying here.” You uttered, throwing your head back to the backrest of the couch as you let your frustration boil over. “We lost a little girl back there.. We needed to look for her, and we were, then your man shot the boy. I want to look for her still, but how can I do that when Carl's right here, in need of blood?”
You scoffed, your arm flexing as you closed your hand into a fist. “If I could, I'll split my body into two just so I can look for Sophia right now. I feel like shit for sitting here while she's out there, all alone, with no one by her side to shush her and comfort her.”
You let out a dry chuckle, heart squeezing painfully. “It fucking sucks that I had to witness everything like how it was on the show. I tried to change it, you know? Tried to chase her down, to get them biters away, but this world is a bitch.”
You're babbling. You know that it's not good. You're revealing information that should be kept inside you no matter what. You knew deep down that you shouldn't, but to hell with it all.
You have been keeping things to yourself since you first woke up in that hospital. You have been keeping thoughts to yourself, and not speaking up when it's not necessary to avoid changing the things you know. You have bottled up so many things that it's starting to be difficult to keep things nice and easy for you.
“I need to slip away from the group at some point.” You mumbled, eyes blinking drowsily as you stared at the ceiling. “But it's hard..”
Previous chapter, next chapter.
NOTE: Do leave a comment or two to keep motivated. I could feel my motivations slipping day by day, haha.
bf!daryl x reader where reader is out for a few days in a supply run and daryl couldnt go with her bc the group needed him for something else, and when she get back everyone thanks her for finally getting back because daryl was in a bad mood and snapping at everyone the whole time she was away bc he couldnt go with her plsss🙏🏼
Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) x fem!reader
You're out on a run for a few days, without your boyfriend Daryl, and when you come back everyone thanks you for finally coming back cause he's been in a bad mood and snippy thr whole time shes been away.
By day two of you being gone, the entire camp was ready to mutiny against Daryl Dixon.
Not because he’d done anything particularly terrible.
Just because Daryl in a bad mood was somehow worse than most people actively yelling.
He got quieter.
Meaner around the edges.
Every answer turned into a grunt sharp enough to cut skin.
Nobody could ask him a question without feeling like they were personally inconveniencing him.
Unfortunately, you’d been gone for three days now on a supply run with Glenn and Maggie.
And Daryl Dixon, emotionally constipated apocalypse boyfriend extraordinaire, was handling it terribly.
Not that he’d admit that.
God, no.
“You wanna skin that thing or glare at it till it dies twice?” Carol asked dryly.
Daryl looked up from the squirrel carcass in his hands with visible annoyance.
“It already dead.”
Carol stared at him.
“That wasn’t the point.”
He grunted.
Which, in Daryl Language, translated roughly to:
I heard you but refuse to emotionally engage with this conversation.
Carol sighed heavily and returned to hanging laundry.
Across camp, Rick was attempting to fix one of the fences while Carl wisely avoided speaking to Daryl entirely.
Even Glenn being gone wasn’t enough to explain this level of moodiness.
Everybody knew what the real issue was.
You.
Or rather, the lack of you.
Because Daryl had become visibly twitchier with every passing day you stayed gone.
He barely slept.
Kept volunteering for perimeter watch.
Hovered near the gates constantly.
And every single time somebody approached from the tree line, his head snapped up so fast it was almost painful to watch.
Then he’d realize it wasn’t you.
And somehow get even grumpier afterward.
It would’ve been sad if it wasn’t so annoying.
“You know,” Carol called casually, “she’s probably fine.”
Daryl immediately scowled.
“Didn’t say she wasn’t.”
“You’ve checked the road twelve times today.”
“Was nearby.”
“You walked a mile outside the fences.”
“Needed tracks checked.”
“Mhm.”
Daryl narrowed his eyes suspiciously before muttering something deeply impolite under his breath.
Carol smiled to herself.
Because the thing about Daryl loving you was that everybody else noticed long before he did.
Even now, months into your relationship, Daryl still acted vaguely startled every time someone referred to you as his girlfriend.
Like he couldn’t quite believe someone as good as you chose him on purpose.
So instead of talking about missing you like a normal person, he became progressively more feral every hour you were gone.
Case in point:
Poor Eugene accidentally asked where the rope was earlier.
Daryl stared at him for five full seconds before replying:
“Why the hell would I know?”
Then stormed off carrying the rope.
By day three, even Rick was getting tired.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
Because Daryl had nearly tackled him that morning over a routine supply discussion.
“She said three days,” Rick reminded him patiently.
“Been three days.”
“It’s barely noon.”
Daryl crossed his arms.
Rick looked exhausted already.
“She’s with Glenn and Maggie. They can handle themselves.”
“Ain’t sayin’ they can’t.”
“But?”
Daryl’s jaw tightened.
“But nothin’.”
Rick stared at him knowingly.
Daryl looked away immediately.
There was a long silence before Rick finally sighed.
“You know you can just say you miss her.”
Daryl looked personally offended.
“Don’t start.”
“You’ve been glaring at trees for seventy-two hours.”
“Trees got problems.”
Rick actually laughed.
That only irritated Daryl further.
“You smilin’ for?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
Rick shook his head, still grinning faintly. “You’ve got it bad.”
Daryl muttered another curse and stalked away before the conversation could continue.
But later, while cleaning his crossbow alone, the words kept replaying in his head.
You miss her.
Simple.
True.
Horribly annoying.
Because yeah.
He missed you.
Missed your voice around camp.
Missed your hands touching his shoulders absentmindedly while passing by.
Missed sleeping with your legs tangled together.
Missed the way you laughed at him when he got grumpy.
Missed your warmth.
Christ.
No wonder he was miserable.
The truck rolled through the gates just before sunset.
And suddenly the entire damn camp relaxed.
Not because of supplies.
Not because Glenn and Sasha returned safely.
Because Daryl stopped acting like somebody kicked him in the ribs.
You barely got both feet on the ground before Carol hugged Maggie tightly.
Rick moved toward Glenn asking about the run.
And then Carol appeared in front of you looking deeply relieved.
“Oh thank God,” she said immediately.
You blinked. “Uh… hi?”
“Please tell me you’re staying awhile.”
“…I live here?”
Carol grabbed your shoulders dramatically. “He’s been awful.”
Your brows furrowed. “Who?”
Every single person nearby looked toward Daryl simultaneously.
Daryl, currently hauling supplies from the truck, froze mid-step.
“…Traitors,” he muttered.
Carl looked delighted.
“SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW,” Carl shouted.
You blinked again, confused.
Then Daryl finally looked at you properly for the first time since you arrived.
And every thought vanished from your head immediately.
God.
You forgot sometimes how openly he looked at you after time apart.
Like relief physically softened him.
Like his whole body loosened just seeing you standing there alive.
He dropped the supply bag immediately.
Didn’t even pretend otherwise.
Then crossed the yard toward you with long purposeful strides.
You smiled instinctively.
Daryl reached you and stopped close enough you could feel warmth radiating from him.
For one second he just stared.
Checking.
Eyes scanning your face, arms, posture.
Making sure you were really okay.
You touched his wrist gently. “Hey.”
His hand came up immediately, fingers curling around your hip like reflex.
“You alright?”
You smiled softly. “I’m okay.”
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“You eat enough?”
“Yes, dad.”
Daryl grunted.
But his thumb rubbed absent circles against your side now that he had hold of you again.
Around you, the camp exchanged deeply entertained looks.
“You know,” Carl called helpfully, “he almost bit Eugene yesterday.”
“I did not.”
“You growled at him.”
“He was bein’ stupid.”
“You threw a wrench at a fence because it squeaked wrong,” Carol added.
Daryl looked horrified by this betrayal.
“You too?”
“You were impossible,” Carol informed him.
Rick folded his arms. “He checked the road every hour.”
“I was patrollin’.”
“You stood on the same hill staring into the woods.”
Daryl looked at you like this was somehow your fault now.
You were trying very hard not to laugh.
Mostly because he looked genuinely embarrassed.
A faint flush crept across his cheeks beneath the dirt.
“You missed me that much?” you asked softly.
Daryl scoffed immediately.
But his hand tightened on your hip.
“…Maybe.”
The camp went silent.
Because Daryl admitting feelings voluntarily was approximately as rare as indoor plumbing these days.
His eyes widened slightly like he realized what he said too late.
Then he doubled down immediately.
“Y’were gone too long.”
Your chest melted.
“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmured.
Daryl’s ears turned violently red.
“Don’t.”
“You were sulking?”
“Wasn’t sulkin’.”
“You emotionally terrorized the camp because you missed me?”
“Shut up.”
You laughed softly and stepped closer until your arms wrapped around his waist.
Instantly, automatically, Daryl folded around you.
One hand sliding protectively to the back of your neck while the other locked around your waist.
The relief in his body was impossible to miss now that you were touching him.
Like he’d been holding tension in his spine for days and only just let it go.
You felt his face briefly press into your hair.
Tiny movement.
Almost subconscious.
But intimate enough your heart squeezed painfully.
Behind you, Glenn muttered, “Oh my God, he’s domesticated.”
Daryl flipped him off immediately without letting go of you.
Which only made everybody laugh harder.
You leaned back enough to look up at him.
“Missed you too.”
Something soft cracked open in his expression.
Gone instantly was the embarrassment.
Gone was the irritation.
Now he just looked tired and relieved and hopelessly in love with you in that quiet Daryl Dixon way.
He brushed his thumb lightly beneath your jaw before muttering, “Don’t like when yer gone.”
The honesty in his voice stole your breath.
Because Daryl didn’t say things unless he meant them completely.
You smiled gently. “I’m back now.”
His eyes searched yours for another second before he nodded once.
Then, quieter:
“Yeah.”
Like that alone made the whole world settle back into place.
It wasn’t a good book. Hell, you’d go so far as to say that it was pretty damn bad, but that didn’t matter. This shitty novel had given you a break. It was a way to escape this fucked up place that the world had become, and everyone was glad that Dale shared it.
Glenn had already read it. It had surprised you initially, since you hadn’t taken him for a reader. He seemed more like an action movie kind of guy, obsessed with fast cars as he was. Then again, the apocalypse left little options.
As he gave it to you, Dale insisted that he’d have packed better books if he had known the world was going to end. It made you laugh, and sparked a conversation between you and the elderly man. Sitting on top of the RV, keeping watch wasn’t your favorite task, no. You’d constantly worry about missing a walker approaching the farm, or worse, a horde. On top of that, you weren’t a great shot. The isolation of the whole thing left you wondering why Andrea liked it so much, but you guessed not everyone enjoyed doing laundry and cooking all day.
Now, you could understand it a little bit better. The sun was beating down on the RV, heat making it almost unbearable to stay out in the open. Luckily, it would get colder soon.
It wasn’t too bad sitting here in company. From what you could gather, Dale had an amazing taste in books. Came with 65 years of reading, probably. He seemed happy that you could match his impressive literary knowledge, allowing for a nice talk.
It really wasn’t so bad up here if you had company.
It made you think about what it would be like to keep watch with Daryl.
The redneck had occupied your thoughts for a while. Since his dedication in the hunt for Sophia, to be exact. He was incredible at tracking, and still, it didn’t amount to the end everyone had wished for Carol.
Of course, Carol was devastated. Pretty much everyone was. The search had been a reason to keep going, even though deep down, it was clear to you all that you had been chasing a shadow. Now that it was over, morale was at an all time low. Some doubted Rick’s leading abilities, and tension arose within the group.
It made sense that everone was affected. However, no one seemed to see the effect that this failure had on Daryl. Either that, or they simply didn’t want to. He made it easy for them to ignore him, avoiding the group in general. Kept himself holed up in his one man tent further away from the rest of the group. And that after he took a bullet, too.
You’d think he’d admit his vulnerability and accept help, but since the second he was allowed to get up after the wound was tended too, he hadn’t been back. Andrea had come to apologize, Lori had brought him food, even Carol had come by, but none of them had managed to get more than a few words out of the man.
While you understood that he was frustrated and angry at himself, you were determined to coax him out of his hardened shell.
How? Well, you had a reason now.
That was at least what you told yourself as you made your way to his tent.
Your dedication diminished with every step you took. Standing directly in front of it, you weren’t even sure if you should go inside anymore. Maybe you were overstepping. Maybe he would throw you out and feel even worse after you had talked to him.
About to turn around and forget about the whole thing, you flinched when you heard rustling inside of the tent and finally, its zipper being pulled down.
You were met with the sight of Daryl, resting on his cot inside the tent. He lowered his arm and raised a brow, seemingly surprised at the sight of you.
“What d’ya want? I can hear ya shufflin’ 'round, y’know. Didn’t shoot me, ain’t got nothin’ ta apologize for.”
You straightened, looking a little sheepish as you shook your head.
“I know. Look, I was gonna leave, but— I thought you could use a distraction. Must be boring being stuck here all day.”
He hummed. “S’pose.”
That wasn’t a direct rejection, so you pulled yourself together and kneeled down at the tent’s entrance. Threw him an experimental smile, not hesistant, but not confident either.
“Right. That’s why I wanted to give you this. There isn’t exactly much else to do in here.”
You held out your hand, offering him the book.
He eyed it, then glanced up at you. Seemed wary, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture. “A book?”
You nodded. “What, never seen one before?”
It was supposed to sound light-hearted, ease the tension between the two of you, but with your intimidated, wavering voice, it probably did a poor job. You cringed internally, cursing yourself for even trying to start a conversation with him. He probably felt bothered by you, peace disturbed and wished you would just leave already so he could—
Oh. Your thoughts went quiet when he reached out and took it, sitting up a little straighter on his dirty blanket. The surpressed wince didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you were about to ask him if he was okay, but he was faster.
“That Dale’s?”
A meek nod. “Yeah.” Unsure of what to add to this, you stayed quiet, eyes flickering up to his face.
Daryl huffed, flipping through the pages. Then looked at you. You were ready to be told off for intruding at last, but it was his turn to surprise you.
“What, no pictures?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d thought you had made out the hint of a smirk around his lips, but it was gone too quickly for you to be sure.
Your face fell, caught off guard. “You— you can’t read?” Shock must have been written all over your face judging by the roll of his eyes.
“Nah”, he scoffed, “I can read alrigh', girl. Just ain’t a fan.” He scratched his neck, eyes falling down to the book in his hands.
A faint blush spread on your cheeks. Of course he could, what were you thinking. This didn’t have to be so awkward but of course you’d go and call him an analphabet, for god’s sake…
You cleared your throat, “Oh. Sorry. I mean, I have only read half of it so far, but Glenn said it wasn’t half bad. Maybe better than being all alone with your thoughts? I’ll take it back to Dale, if you want to, I mean—"
He shook his head, interrupting your nervous babbling.
“Don’t gotta take it back”, he huffed. Curt and to the point, as always. His rough voice didn’t fail to make you feel a little silly, intimidated by the one man that had protected you for months now. And the others, of course. Not you especially.
“Sure. Okay, I’ll leave you to it.” Embarrassed, you began getting up when his head snapped up, following your movement.
Daryl frowned, brows pulled together tightly. “Wha', ya ain’t gonna read it to me?” He seemed a little offended if anything, making you stop in your tracks and falter.
“Huh? You want me to stay?” Now it was your turn to be confused. However, he ended that by patting down a spot in the tent next to him.
A shrug, “Ya said ya were only halfway through. Course I ain’t gonna take it from ya now. Ya could be dead tomorrow, fer all I know. Might as well finish that damn story.” His voice didn’t leave much space for discussion.
You were strangely touched. He payed attention to every word you were saying, apparently. Not only did he refrain from throwing you out, he wanted you further inside the tent.
Your braced yourself, smiling at him. “Oh, uh, sure. I’ll read to you.”
As you crawled inside the tent, he reached for the zipper to close the opening. You made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the small room, leaving space between you and him. Didn’t want to overstay your welcome or make him feel uncomfortable. After all, it was rare for Daryl to allow others near him at all, always the closed off hunter. Actually, you hadn't heard him talk this much in weeks.
You counted yourself lucky. Must have caught him at a good time, then.
“Okay, I’ll start with chapter one.”
“Nah, just go on from where ya left off.”
“Are you sure? You won’t understand the story if—"
“Don’t care.”
“Well, if you insist.”
And so you began reading, stealing the occasional glance at him, spread out on his blanket, arms under his head. He was staring at the tents ceiling, blue eyes trained on the worn fabric. His focus however was on you and you only. He listened to your gentle voice, losing himelf solely in the sound instead of the story. Fuck, he could care less for the story.
No, he only cared about the way the words formed in your throat, flowing out of your lips. The soft breathing, how it hitched when you reached an exciting passage. The small noise of frustration when you stumbled over a sentence and had to begin anew…
If only you knew how much he liked your presence.
Honestly, if someone had asked him anything about the content of the novel by the point you said goodnight and left his tent to return to yours, he would have been at a loss. Didn’t remember a thing about the characters, but all about the way you had invented distinctly unique voices for each of them.
That book may have not been the best, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t grateful for every single chapter.
You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too close— afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. Certain people is real stubborn.
You sat down on the church stairs, waiting for Carol to finish saying her prayers.
You kept your eyes locked onto Shane and Andrea as they marched across the cemetery, obviously arguing about Shane leaving the group the first chance he gets.
You didn't hear the argument between Shane and Lori earlier. It was the argument that let Andrea know that something was going on between Shane and his best friend's wife. You didn't hear them, but you didn't have to. You already know.
You brought a hand up to your face and sighed heavily, your shoulders tense and feet burning from running a little too much today, and to be honest, you don't really care. You cared more about the fact that you're feeling like shit about Sophia being missing when you already know what's going to happen.
You pressed both of your palms onto your face, massaging your temples in hopes of pushing those unwanted thoughts away.
“Can you stop running off all by yourself?”
You froze. Slowly, you pulled your hands away from your face and looked over your shoulders, your eyes squinting to look at the person who had the nerve to say those words to you.
“Depends on who's asking.” You mumbled, making Glenn scoff and plop himself beside you.
“You keep running off.” The Asian man grumbled, his hold on his tomahawk loosening as he placed it on his lap. “I know you'll only listen to Rick, but you have him stressing out, too. I could tell that Sophia being missing is messing with your head, but you need to take it easy.”
“Yeah?” You muttered, your fingers fiddling with the sleeve of Rick's jacket that you tied around your waist. “Don't have the time to rest and take it easy.”
“You have!” Glenn hissed, but he quickly stopped himself from being harsh and cleared his throat, trying to stay calm and composed, “Sorry. I didn't mean to.. What I mean is, you have time. You just refuse to let yourself rest. Everyone needs rest. We're all worried about her, but rest is important, too.”
You scoffed, eyes narrowing as you look away and grumble, “Ain't nobody has time for rest.”
Glenn groaned loudly, rubbing his hands on his face to emphasize how frustrated he is at the moment for feeling like he was talking to goddamn wall.
“You're real stubborn, (last name).” He mumbled, sighing heavily into his hands.
“Heard that a few times now.” You retorted, pushing yourself off the church stairs and turned away from him. “You have to come up with something new.”
“It's not an insult.” Glenn uttered, standing up from the steps as well. “It's an observation.”
“Guess you're not cut out for one.” You snorted quietly, pivoting in your heels and started walking over to the large tree on the cemetery, which was a few feet near from where Andrea and Shane were talking.
“Hey!” The man exclaimed, picking up his tomahawk and running after you. “I wasn't done talking!”
You ignored Glenn and kept walking, only did you stop when you got under the shade of the tree and plopped yourself down onto the elevated tombstone near it.
Glenn followed suit and dropped himself beside you.
You glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing. You're trying real hard to detach yourself from everyone else in the group, especially Rick, but some people just love to be stubborn.
Thankfully, Glenn didn't bother nagging you again.
The two of you watched as the rest of the group came over to your spot, but Rick and Shane separated themselves to talk about something— that something being Rick wanting to cover more ground to ensure that Sophia is somewhere nearby.
You let out a sigh, your eyes trained on Rick.
After a couple of minutes of whispering to each other, Shane finally stepped back from his best friend and walked over to the group.
“Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back.” Shane announced, making others perk up and straighten up in their spots. “Daryl, you're in charge. (Last name), you come with us. Me, (last name), and Rick are just going to hang back to search this area another hour or so just to be thorough.”
“You're splitting us up.” Daryl commented, eyes squinted towards Rick. “You sure?”
“Yeah, we'll catch up to you.” Shane responded.
“I want to stay, too.” Carl chided, stepping forward and looking directly at Shane. “I'm her friend.”
You watched as Rick and Shane shared a glance, the two of them looking reluctant to let the little boy come along, but Lori stepped forward and cleared her throat to catch her son's attention.
“Just be careful, okay?” She told Carl, making the boy nod.
“I will.” He mumbled, lips curling into a smile.
“When did you start growing up?” Lori mumbled to herself, leaning down to hug her son and planting a kiss on the top of his head.
Rick watched his wife and son for a moment before he started walking over to them. You took that as your cue to stand up from your spot and trudged your way past the married couple to stand a couple of feet away from Shane.
You tuned out the rest of their conversation by looking over to the treeline.
You didn't have to distract yourself for long though. Rick walked over to you and patted your upper back, causing you to glance at his way as he walked past and went to the church.
“He told us to give him a minute.” Shane stated, walking past you as well.
“Come on.” Carl spoke up this time, grabbing your wrist and tugging you towards him as the two of you jogged after the two former sheriffs.
You let the little boy lead you to the church, but the two of you didn't have enough time to sit down, because Rick was already walking out of the establishment, his face twisted into a deep, displeased frown.
“Got what you needed?” Shane asked when Rick walked past him.
“Guess we'll find out.” Rick answered vaguely.
“Come on.” You mumbled, tugging Carl to follow after his stomping dad who was clearly in not a good mood.
The four of you walked through the trees once more, with you and Rick leading the small group, but with you walking a foot ahead to ensure that you're following a path.
You don't know how to track a trail if you're going to be honest, but the you in this world have a little knowledge. You could tell by how the leaves on the ground looked a little different from the rest, you could tell by how the soil looked darker compared to others.
You can't track a human trail properly, but you could tell if it was an animal trail or not.
“We got ourselves a deer.” You announced softly, eyes locked onto the small trail on the ground left by the said animal, “We have to be real careful though.. This one seems like it's jittery based on the prints.”
Rick and the other two shared glances. They knew that you could hunt, but they didn't know that you're this good.
As if to prove you right, a sound of a branch breaking echoed in the air. However, to make sure, you snatched your machete from your belt and raised it in the air, getting ready to slash through whatever kind of threat is up ahead.
You and Rick walked farther, both of your footsteps quiet and careful, but the sight before the two of you caught your breath.
It's a deer, and it looked lost.
It shook its body and started sniffing the ground, its mouth parting to chew on some leaves.
Rick stepped forward, but when he spotted Carl walking past him as carefully as he could, he decided to just let his son steal the show for a short moment. When Shane raised his gun to shoot the deer, Rick tapped him on the arm to stop him, then he gestured towards the little boy who's slowly walking up to the deer.
You held your breath, but you watched Carl get closer to the animal. You know what's going to happen next. You know that he will be laying on the ground in a matter of seconds—
Bang!
The sound of gunshot rang through the air, just in time for the deer and Carl to collapse on the ground.
Rick and Shane froze. They stared at the fallen little boy for a moment, unable to process what was happening. You were quick in your toes and you scrambled towards Carl, your knees wobbling once you were close enough and dropped beside him.
“No, no, no! Carl!” Rick cried, his breathing quickening as he rushed over to the two of you.
“Press down on the wound!” You ordered shakily, your hands fumbling as you took off Carl's jacket and pressing it down hard on the gunshot wound.
Rick did as he was told, albeit shakily so.
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You cried deep in your mind, your hands trembling as you helped Rick press the jacket onto the open wound.
There's too much blood. Your skin is covered in red. All you have right now in your mind is how to stop the bleeding, but your process of thoughts is too jumbled for you to actually think of doing anything rational.
“I'm so sorry!” Came an urgent apology. “Let— let's take him back to my house! I know someone who can help—”
You don't remember much after that. You don't remember running across the farm's field. You don't remember screaming or crying for Otis to hurry up. You don't remember what you said to Rick— you remembered nothing. Your mind blanked out.
You just found yourself inside of Hershel's home, with him shouting orders to Patricia and Maggie.
Rick, on the other hand, was carrying Carl's unconscious body into Hershel's room. The doctor quickly pushed the cover aside and stepped away from the bed, allowing Rick to place Carl down onto the mattress.
“Pillowcase.” Hershel ordered Rick, but Rick was in a state of shock to actually do anything.
“Here, here—” You stammered, rushing forward to reach for the pillowcase and take them off from the pillow, handing it to Hershel who was busy placing a belt under Carl's body.
“Take the jacket off.” The doctor ordered, making you snatch it and throw it somewhere in the room. “Fold it. Make a pad.”
You quickly did as you were told and folded the pillowcase, your hand still shaking, your breath still caught in your throat. You pressed it on Carl's wound, not even bothering waiting for Hershel's order to do it. Seeing that you're still functioning unlike Rick, Hershel turned to Patricia to take the stethoscope from her.
He pressed the diaphragm onto Carl's pulse on his neck and waited for a second.
“I've got a heartbeat.” The old man breathed out, making Rick nod shakily. “It's faint, but it's there.”
“I got it.” Patrica spoke up and placed her hand on top of yours, causing your eyes to flicker to look at her. “It's fine. Step back. I got it.”
“Maggie, IV.” Hershel demanded.
“We need some space.” Maggie said, shooting Rick a look as she fetched the IV from the basket they carried inside the room.
“What's both of your names?” The doctor asked, glancing at you briefly.
“I’m.. (Last name).” You answered, voice small and quiet, heart racing as you stared down at Carl's pale face with wide eyes. “He's.. He's Rick.”
“(Last name), Rick.” Hershel called both of you, but it wasn't enough to tear your attention away from the little boy. “We're going to do everything we can, okay? Both of you need to give us some room.”
He turned to look at Rick, who was hovering beside him. “Now.”
You slowly stepped back, your knees wobbling under your weight. You knew this was going to happen. You knew— but you still froze, even just for a moment, when you saw Carl got shot. Like with Sophia, you couldn't do anything to prevent it from happening.
You brought a hand up to your face, intending to wipe the sweat on your forehead, but when you brought it up, you immediately noticed how red your skin was.
Your hands are stained with a child's blood.
Your breath hitched sharply, and you stared at your hands like it had done something so horrible.
If it weren't for Rick wrapping his arms around you to seek comfort, you would have kept staring at your hands and thinking further about what happened, possibly thinking of how useless you are despite being right there— right behind Carl when it happened.
“What.. What am I going to—” Rick sobbed, his arms tightening around you as he buried his face on the crook of your shoulders. “W-What am I going to tell my wife?”
Hi❤️, I have a request, although I know that you've already written something similar in the past. Basically Klaus and the reader are in an arranged marriage, she is a virgin, and he teaches her sex
A Marriage to Remember
(I also combined this request with a couple other requests about Y/N being worried about body hair and similar requests)
Summary: When the war between Vampires, Werewolves and Witches becomes too much, marriages are arranged to align the demographics.
The divide between the Vampires, Witches and Wolves had become too much. Wars had plagued the factions for far too long, killing far too many. To settle the war, Elijah was pressed to marry a werewolf, Hayley, Freya too married a wolf, Keelin and then Kol and Niklaus were pushed to marry witches, Davina and Y/N. Rebekah had managed to marry Marcel before the war had started keeping her out of the negotiations. Such decisions had been made to ensure the Mikaelsons would end up protecting all parties. Despite their violent nature, family did come first and so making them family was the best chance they all had at becoming one.
Witches were the faction Niklaus had liked least. He didn’t like that they could have to upper hand; the power. He’d used and abused them many times through the centuries and now was forced to marry one.
Whilst the other Mikaelsons attempted to get to know their new partners, Klaus refused to meet Y/N before their wedding day.
And so, for one of the few times in his long life, Niklaus felt nervous. Stood at the alter, staring down the pathway, waiting for what felt like an eternity before the witch emerged with no father to walk her down the aisle.
Klaus took the time it took her to approach, to admire her appearance and choice in dress. Though he was mildly disappointed by the modesty, it also intrigued him. He could feel her looking him over too, though he couldn’t quite tell whether she was impressed or not. She merely glanced at the witch who already stood by the alter, the maid of honour presumably, who nodded with encouragement as Y/N finally came to stand beside Niklaus.
When they turned to face one another, he could see the fear inside her eyes, the touch of sadness and defeat. His jaw ticked and he turned to glance at Elijah who only glared back as a reminder of how crucial this marriage was.
And so, with reluctance from both sides, Y/N and Klaus said their “I do”s. He watched as her face flushed pink, and her eyes shifted awkwardly across his face, eventually stilling on his lips. Klaus knew in that instance that she had never been kissed before, that she was scared not only because of who and what he was but because she was young and lacked any life experience let alone relationship experience. So he responded as gently as he could, kissing her softly, almost sweetly before taking her hand and leading her back down the aisle whilst everyone else began to shift into the next room for the dinner, drinks and dances.
Klaus took her into a smaller room, away from the bright lights and the cameras, the music and the people. There he sighed quietly to himself when her eyes grew red and wet, her bottom lip wobbled and her hands shook.
“It’s alright.” He murmured, cupping her face and stroking her cheek with his thumb in an attempt to comfort Y/N.
“I’m sorry.” She whimpered, rubbing her nose with the back of his hand, causing him to grimace slightly before pulling the handkerchief from his inside pocket.
“Come now love,” he wiped her nose gently, “I’m not so bad.” The words were lightly teasing, an attempt at some humour but Y/N wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for any of it.
Still, eventually he coaxed her to go with him to the main hall and pulled the chair out for her. He attempted ignore the faint whispers of “she’ll be fine” amongst the witches, the glances his siblings made and the mutterings of the vampires who were still against the alliance.
Klaus felt his gaze soften upon their dance, when he heard her uttering the steps under her breath, it was clear she had rehearsed. She watched her feet and his, her breathing picking up when she made a slight misstep. Klaus wondered silently why the witches would have chosen her to marry him.
Hayley had been a strong female alpha wolf, matching Elijah’s morality and pushing back with force. Keelin, similarly had as much bite and say as Freya and even Davina, although sweet had her defiance and fire. But Y/N seemed only afraid, not a force to be reckoned with at all.
But the witches knew what they were doing. As much as Niklaus enjoyed a challenge, he enjoyed feeling needed and wanted more. Having someone to protect, to look after would likely be longer lasting than someone pushing back against his buttons. Y/N was a deliberate choice, a gamble on what they knew and believed of Niklaus Mikaelson.
They just so happened to be right.
Klaus spent the majority of the first few weeks of their marriage attempting to bring her out of her shell, telling her stories and offering her different things. He took her shopping, waiting patiently as she came out in different outfits. At night he would press his mouth to hers, encouraging her to part her lips and let her tongue dance with his. He’d chuckle softly when his eyes would open to see all the items in his room floating. Y/N would flush, thinking Klaus was laughing at her before realising that her magic had once again slipped from her control.
Klaus soon enjoyed sitting and reading through grimoires with her, watching as she perfected spell after spell.
Klaus found himself enjoying her presence very much, there was just one thing their relationship lacked: sex. Although it had only been a couple months, Klaus hadn’t had to go without sex for longer than a few days in centuries.
So, he began to hint. Hand on her thigh, encouraging her hands on his thighs, brushing her breast whilst kissing her deeply, hiking her leg over his hip in bed, but she just didn’t get it.
Klaus could smell her arousal, practically taste it, but she made no move to reciprocate or any indication that she even understood what he wanted.
It was only upon her accidentally walking in on him with his hand around his cock that she realised his needs. She’d been looking for him for a while, began wondering the other rooms. When opening the spare bedroom door, she expected to find only a clean empty bed. Instead, her husband lay a sweaty mess with his hips bucking up and head back. The gasp that left her made him spring up, the sheets pulled over his lap as his wide eyes locked on hers. Minutes later he was sat in his, now their room, gently explaining that he was simply fulfilling one of his needs and he was sorry for not locking the door.
“It’s okay” she whispered, “s’my fault for ignoring you when you tried to show me”
Klaus only blinked at her. “You knew?”
“I won’t be any good, I’ve never done it.” The way she said it, was as though it would be a surprise. Klaus only smiled.
“I know, love. I knew the moment I saw you at the end of the aisle, when you weren’t sure how to kiss me back. But you’re an excellent kisser now” he reminded, “because you’ve had plenty of practice.” The words were teasing and she smiled shyly back. His hand gently caressed her knee as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I can teach you to be good at anything.”
Y/N leaned to him, resting her head against his shoulder whilst he danced his fingertips along the soft skin of her thigh, up under the little dress he’d bought for her.
“Come here.” He whispered, kissing the side of her head gently and pressing down into her flesh, grabbing both her thighs and urging her forward. Slowly, Y/N shifted onto his lap. “Like that” he murmured as he set her legs open around his waist, straddling him effectively. He lifted the skirt of her dress, staring down at her panties on the verge of drooling. “Just…just gonna rub okay?” He held his hand out and caressed her gently through the soft cotton, admiring how the fabric dampened and clung to her pussy. Klaus listened to her breathing, enjoying the uneven pattern when he teased her entrance through her underwear.
Y/N swallowed thickly as she felt her whole body became hot. She wasn’t quite sure what to do when her hips bucked without her meaning to. Klaus only continued to praise her. “See? Your body is already learning, see that?” He brushed her the same way, causing her hips to flex again. “Good girl, right there” he rubbed her clit quickly, grinning to himself when she humped against his fingers.
The soft little sounds she let out only grew louder before her panties were soaked through, her pussy so wet he could hear her little hole clench. “Fuck, come here” he mumbled but Y/N wasn’t sure how to get any closer.
“Where?” She whispered and he groaned, tugging her panties until the elastic inside snapped and he could tear the fabric off her skin. At the exposure, Y/N instinctively tried to get off and close her legs. Klaus let out a small yelp when her knee knocked between his own legs.
“Love-“ he tried to get a hold of her but she was pulling her dress back down with trembling hands. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, wrapping his arm over her waist to pull her back beside him. “Shh, I’m sorry.” He kissed her temple and cupped her cheek, feeling how hot her skin was. He could feel her embarrassment, and he resented himself for it. “I shouldn’t have done that” he mumbled, kissing her face in small but repetitive gestures.
“I’m not…I haven’t had time.” She whimpered and he rubbed her side comfortingly.
“Time for what, love?” He murmured, his forehead against her cheek, a position that appeared almost submissive.
“To look ready.” He watched her swallow the little lump down her throat. His brows pinched for a second before he nudged her gently with his nose.
“Love?” He whispered and she remained quiet but he knew he had her attention. “I don’t care about some hair.”
The words lingered and she felt her face get even hotter. Her friends had made it clear that Klaus, being as old and as experienced as he was, would expect nothing less than perfection. Y/N had taken it too seriously. She was too fearful something wouldn’t look right or feel right.
“I’ve not…I don’t know how to shave it off.” She whispered and Klaus nodded, stroking her arm slowly.
“That doesn’t matter. I just want to feel you, love.” He nuzzled her cheek and brushed her thighs again. “You’re beautiful, I know you’ll be gorgeous there too.”
After another minute or too, he had her legs back open, caressing her directly this time rather than through her panties. She watched him watch her, seeing the love and affection in his eyes led her to comfort. Slowly, her body relaxed and moved with his hand toward her pleasure once again. Her fingers curled into the material of his henley when his head settled between her thighs.
“There, like that” he had her tap him twice quickly. “You tap like that if you want it to stop.” Klaus nodded up at her reassuringly before letting his tongue stroke along her lips. He pulled her legs up over his shoulder and dug in. Y/N arched naturally, her body pushing against the heat of his mouth as he sucked her clit between his lips. Klaus worked with only his tongue and teeth to push her to the edge, his eyes occasionally glancing out to watch how her face contorted with pleasure.
He didn’t push for anything more, didn’t try guide her hands to his crotch. Just led back beside her and held her close to his chest. When she fell to sleep, he slipped back away to finish himself off.
It wasn’t long before he had her down on the floor, her face in his hands whilst he gently guided her head back and forth, watching her struggle to slide his cock down her throat. Her eyes would glaze over and he’d catch the little dribble of saliva from the corner of her mouth.
Y/N had attempted to seduce him, positioned herself across their bed in a brand new set of underwear, waiting nervously as the door handle twisted. Klaus was of course entranced, but he also couldn’t help but find her adorable rather than a sex symbol. He could see how much she was trying, how uncomfortable she felt in the clothes. So of course, he helped take them off. He caressed the little bumps on her skin from where she’s shaved her hair down.
“Told you I didn’t mind.” He mumbled but kissed her mound in appreciation anyway. As much as Y/N enjoyed his mouth, she moved away and nudged him down onto his back. klaus smiled to himself when she settled on top of him, grinding clumsily on his clothed cock. His eyes narrowed slightly at the little show she put on, the sway of her hips and her mouth suckling along his skin as she pulled his pants open and down. She held him in her shaky hand and without any consideration for herself, took him inside her in one swift motion.
Klaus’s eyes widened when she suppressed a cry, and the way her tight hole attempted to push against him. His hands flew to her hips, holding her tight so she didn’t move too much.
“Christ,” he breathed, trying to keep her still as she whimpered. “Shh, it’s alright” he carefully arched himself to try check she was alright; no tearing or blood. “Can’t do that yet, love. You’re too tight for that.” He whispered, kissing her cheek gently and caressing her hips. “What made you do that, hm?”
“I’m sorry.” She sniffed, nuzzling into his neck. “Saw it and thought you’d like it.”
“Saw it?” He questioned, his brows knotting together.
“I was just trying to learn how to do it.” She whispered and Klaus bit back a groan.
“I said I’d teach you.” He murmured, kissing the side of her neck now. “God knows what you ended up watching.” Y/N only held onto him tighter.
Slowly, Klaus began to shift his hips against hers. He held the back of her head and rolled her onto her back as he began to take her. He shushed her went she let out a moan that was a little too loud to be real.
“Don’t copy any stupid video.” He mumbled, thrusting a little deeper to pull a genuine gasp from her lips. Klaus took his time exploring her body, trying different angles to see which ones would make her arch more, whine higher and beg better.
When she collapsed into a heap and whispered that she couldn’t take anymore, Klaus admired her quietly, watching as each blink became longer until her eyes stayed shut. He thought back to their wedding day, to how he questioned why the witches would have given him someone so quiet and afraid. He understood now.
can i request for daryl dixon finding out his ex gf is alive living in alexandria with their teenage son (they got pregnant in early 20s and have been coparenting since until before the apocalypse)? i've seen so many daryl fics with kids but i wanna see him with a teenage son. and everyone in the group was just so surprised daryl has a whole teenager because he's so private with his life.
Back to you - Daryl Dixon
gifs made by @caraleedixon and @taiturner | dividers by @chrisssiren
pairing: ex-bf!Daryl × uptown girl!reader
warnings: mentions of pregnancy
word count: 2.1k
a/n: thank you for requesting, I really enjoyed writing thiss🫶🏼. to anyone who's a Daryl simp ou there, would you guys maybe be interested if I formed a taglist? please lmk bc I think I really need to make one.
📍Georgia • 15 years back
You sat on the cold bathroom floor of your childhood home, blankly staring at the two pink lines very clearly displayed in front of you, thinking it had to be a mistake, even if it was the third test that had shown you the same result. Denial. First stage of grief.
You were grieving the rest of your youth, your freedom, college, so many things all at once. Grieving a future you hadn't even lost yet, but one that suddenly felt doomed by those two bright lines. You felt stupid. Reckless. You fucked up.
The test trembled between your white-knuckled fingers as you stared so hard as if you looked long enough, the lines would disappear. The house around you had gone silent in that eerie upper-class way expensive homes often did, where every room was too large and too polished to feel lived in.
Daryl stood awkwardly in the doorway, dirt on his boots and oil beneath his fingernails from the garage he'd spent the afternoon working in, looking painfully out of place beneath the warm yellow chandelier light spilling down the hallway. He had been twenty-one years old and already carried himself like someone much older, shoulders permanently braced for impact, hands roughened by work, eyes too guarded for a man that young, but the second you looked up at him with tears threatening to spill over, he hovered over you protectively.
"S’okay,” he murmured, pulling your head gently against his chest, unsure of what else he could possibly say. “We’ll figure it out.”
Despite everything people assumed about Daryl Dixon, despite the cigarettes and the silence and the rough edges that made strangers dismiss him before he even spoke, his first instinct had always been loyalty. “Ain’t runnin’ from it.” And you knew him well enough to know he meant it.
The months that followed were ugly in ways neither of you had expected. Not because of the baby, but because the world around you made it painfully clear how little faith it had in the possibility of people like you surviving together.
Your parents looked at Daryl the way people looked at storms rolling over the horizon when they'd just planned to go out: dangerous, inconvenient. Your mother cried quietly over dinner while your father spoke in measured, humiliating sentences about ruined opportunities and "so much wasted potential", about all the money spent on private schools, ballet classes, and piano lessons just to watch you throw your future away for some mechanic from the “wrong side” of town who barely spoke in complete sentences.
Daryl sat through every word with his jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth might crack from the pressure. He never defended himself, raised his voice or begged. He simply endured it because you were pregnant, exhausted, and scared, and somewhere in that silence he had decided your comfort mattered more than his pride.
Your son was born during a thunderstorm after nine painful hours of labor. It felt like the weather itself mimicked your screams with thunder shaking the hospital windows. And against your parents’ wishes, Daryl stayed beside you the entire time.
The gentle nurse who spoke to you afterward admitted she had never seen a man more terrified in her life than when he heard you screaming in pain.
Once the baby was finally placed against your chest, Daryl felt his entire world change. He muttered something under his breath while staring down at the tiny screaming infant wrapped in blue blankets, looking stunned in the purest sense of the word. The baby had his eyes.
For a while, the two of you tried. God, you tried harder than most people ever knew. Daryl picked up extra work wherever he could find it, often coming home with grease on his hands and exhaustion dragging beneath his eyes so heavily it aged him years overnight, while you balanced college classes with motherhood and constant battles against your parents’ disappointment.
You were exhausted all the time, surviving on burnt coffee, interrupted sleep, and a stubborn love that refused to die even when life gave it every reason to.
But eventually the pressure became unbearable.
Your parents escalated from disapproval to ultimatums, threatening to cut you off completely — tuition, housing, every safety net you and your son had left.
You and Daryl had your final fight the night your son turned three, screaming at each other in the apartment kitchen while the little boy slept in the next room. You knew in that moment that you would remember the look in his eyes for the rest of your life, the exact moment Daryl realized you were drowning beneath expectations you could no longer carry.
“Ya think I wanna be the reason your whole damn life falls apart?” he snapped, voice raw with frustration and heartbreak tangled together. “Think I don’t see what this is doin’ to you?”
“It’s not you." you cried back immediately.
“But I’m in your way.”
“Daryl—”
“Yer family’ll never see me as one of ‘em, and they already said they’ll cut you out if ya stay with me.” He cupped your cheeks, taking a deep breath before continuing, calmer now. “I don’t want our son havin’ a life like mine.” a tiny pause. “He has opportunities here.” the last sentence was barely above a whisper.
You let out the most heartbreaking sob he had ever heard, simply because loving someone wasn’t always enough to survive the machinery of the world crushing down around you.
You separated six months later. There were nonstop tears, shaking hands, and promises to stay kind to each other for your son’s sake, and somehow, against all odds, you managed it. You became good coparents. Great ones, even. Better friends than lovers by the end of it, as you liked to lie to yourself.
Daryl stayed involved no matter how far life dragged him, showing up for birthdays with awkwardly wrapped gifts and scraped knuckles, teaching your son how to fish before he learned long division, how to track deer prints through mud, how to throw a punch without breaking his wrist, how to survive disappointment quietly.
Your son adored his dad with that fierce, uncomplicated love children reserved for fathers who made them feel safe, and Daryl loved the boy with a devotion so profound it terrified him.
You kept your relationship heartfelt, every time you asked him how he was doing it was genuine, and vice versa. Every year since your son turned four, you sat on the corners of his birthdays enjoying to catch up with eachother, slipping curious questions like "Are you seeing anyone?" after some alcohol kicked in and the answer was always no, of course it was no.
Truth be told, you kept expecting something change and finally get over eachother, but you weren't really willing to let go, some time after his 13th birthday party ended, you caved in, had a relapse, snuck out with Daryl like a teenager and had sex on his trailer. The next morning you came back home with the bitter taste you weren't allowing yourself to have more of him purely out of cowardice, that you should face it like an adult and allow yourself to be fully happy for once.
Then the world ended.
You had taken a trip with your son to visit your aunt Deanna miles away from where Daryl lived, the true love of your life, if you were honest enough to admit it. You were ready to be back and tell him how sorry you were that you didn't try harder, you didn't push more and you didn't face your folks for him. And then you grieved him again. So much harder this time. You spent two years believing Daryl Dixon was dead.
Alexandria smelled like fresh bread and woodsmoke the afternoon everything changed. The gates opened to receive Aaron back with another group of survivors. You'd grown fond of him in these years and he treated you and your son like his own family.
Aaron walks in first, dirt-streaked clothes and a tired look on his face. You were halfway through unloading crates with your son, he was talking about his last hunting trip when he suddenly froze mid-sentence beside you. Almost sixteen now, he towered over you already — all broad shoulders and long limbs, his sharp blue-gray eyes mirroring his father’s so painfully that sometimes you had to look away not to cry.
The abrupt tension that overtook him made you glance to where his eyes layed immediately. Then you understood why. It felt like a mirage. You had dreamed of this moment so many times before that your first instinct was to believe this was just another cruel fantasy made up by your brain, that it would disappear the second you blinked.
But it didn't. He didn't.
A group of strangers entered through the gates alongside him, people you had never seen before. They looked exhausted, starved, worn down by the world. And right in front on them, Daryl.
He stood only a few feet away near the gate. A crossbow hung oven one shoulder and he looked older now, older than you'd expect someone to age in two years. His hair was long, streaked faintly near the temples, his gaze was harsher and his face was scarred in ways visible even from a distance. Grief had settled like concrete into the lines of his face the way exhaustion settles into old soldiers.
But his eyes were exactly the same. And they locked onto you so intensely you felt it burn.
A woman with snow-white hair stood beside him saying something he clearly wasn’t listening to, because he had gone completely still. Completely, horrifyingly still.
For one suspended second, neither of you moved. The noise around you faded strangely, like the entire world had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale again.
The crate slipped from your hands and hit the pavement hard enough to crack open one corner, canned food spilling across the ground, but neither of you cared because Daryl’s expression had already begun collapsing into something raw and disbelieving and dangerously emotional. You watched his gaze move frantically over your face like he was trying to confirm you were real before running to your encounter, he hugged you tighter than he ever did "You're alive." he kept repeating hoarsely, over and over like he genuinely could not process it. “Jesus Christ, you’re alive."
When he finally opened his eyes to look behind you, he shifted his gaze to your son. The boy stared back at him in stunned silence, every feature unmistakably Dixon beneath the years neither of them had shared together, and Daryl looked like someone had physically struck him across the chest.
The woman beside him glanced between all three of you once before realization visibly dawned across her face, then spread silently through the rest of the group nearby.
Daryl Dixon had a son, a nearly grown son. And somehow none of them had ever known. He'd mentioned having lost people, they all did, but nothing ever specific.
“Holy shit,” a tall, muscular redhead muttered somewhere behind them, not even trying to lower his voice, and nobody corrected him.
Daryl broke from your hug, finally took one shaky step forward, then another.
His breathing looked uneven now, chest rising too sharply beneath the worn fabric of his vest, and you realized with sudden overwhelming clarity that this man had mourned you. Deeply mourned you. Somewhere out there in the brutality of the apocalypse, Daryl had believed you were dead all these years, and whatever walls he had built around himself afterward were cracking apart in real time right in front of everyone.
His voice broke the second he spoke your son’s name.
He blinked rapidly, clearly trying not to look emotional in front of an entire audience, but his composure failed almost instantly. “Dad?”
The sound that escaped Daryl after that barely qualified as human. He crossed the distance in seconds.
And when he wrapped his arms around his son for the first time in two years, holding him so tightly it looked almost desperate, the entire courtyard fell silent around them because nobody there had ever seen Daryl Dixon unravel before. Not with tears visibly gathering in his eyes while his son clung back just as fiercely, laughing shakily despite himself because he could barely breathe beneath the force of the embrace.
When they parted he held you again, afraid that if he let go maybe you'd vanish on thin air. And just like that, the pain of the years apart disappeared between you. There was no more space for it. You had spent years regretting letting him go after believing the two of you had been permanently separated forever.
Now, standing in his arms again, you could physically feel the love that had lingered there all this time. Quieter now. Older now. Reshaped by time and grief and survival. But still there.
Still stubborn as ever, and stronger than ever too.
You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too close— afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. Certain people is real stubborn.
“Fuck.” You gasped out, eyes closing tightly as you hunched over to catch your breath. “Why must things go this way?”
You couldn't stop yourself from wondering why you're still looking for Sophia even though you already know that she's gone. You can't stop yourself from walking through the trees even when the sun is already coming down.
It's weird. You can't stop yourself from hoping.
No time to kick myself over this. You thought and straightened yourself, lifting a hand to wipe the sweat that dripped down to your chin from your forehead.
You tried to convince yourself that Sophia is dead— that she won't make it out alive, that she's probably inside the farm by now, that she's already caught by Otis and Hershel. You tried so hard to convince yourself to let go of the search, but for some reason, a part of you, a huge one, just can't accept the fact that she's gone.
This is why I don't want to get attached. You grumbled in your mind, your feet carrying you back to the highway.
By the time you got back to the highway, you found everyone scattering away from Carol, Andrea, and Lori, and you could more or less guess that Rick and Daryl had told her that Sophia's trail went cold a couple of hours ago.
The sound of your footsteps drew the attention of others, and it was Glenn who looked relieved when he spotted you.
“What's the news on your end?” Glenn asked out loud, making everyone, including those who were walking away, turn their heads to look at who he was talking to.
Rick and Daryl paused in their tracks, their faces slightly hopeful.
“Got two walkers.” You informed them, throwing your leg over the fence and plopping your weight down onto it, huffing. “I was gonna slice them open, check if they swallowed something, but remembered I have no gloves. From the looks of it though, they haven't eaten anything for breakfast or lunch.”
“So, still nothing?” Andrea asked, more like towards herself than you.
“Nothing.” You stated bluntly, pushing yourself off from your sitting position to walk over to the supplies the others have gathered. “I'll try again first thing in the morning. Pretty sure she knows a thing or two on how to survive the night in the woods—”
“She's just a little girl!” Carol cried out, sobbing into her hands.
You paused, your hand falling onto the holster of your knife. “I taught her back at the quarry— taught her a thing or two on how to survive if she were to get lost one day.”
Everyone grew silent. Not that they were talking in the first place, but still, they were silent.
You inhaled sharply, your eyes becoming glossy. You could feel yourself becoming tilted by exhaustion and the frustration of not being able to do anything for the little girl, but you simply tipped your head up to look at the sky to stop your tears from spilling over.
“I told her to be quiet, to eat berries she can find if she gets hungry.” You told the crying mother behind you as you let out a deep breath. “Did the best I could, so all we can do right now is hope.”
Carol sniffled, her tears falling. Your words eased the pain and suffering she's feeling, but it wasn't enough. She knew that she shouldn't lash out at you, or Rick, or anyone for that matter— she really did, but it was hard.
“We’ll try again tomorrow.” You repeated, turning your head slightly to the right to glance at her over your shoulder.
With your speech done, you focused your attention back onto the highway and walked, rushing forward towards the cars that were already pushed back to the side. You could see Rick walking as well, but you couldn't find it in yourself to follow after him and comfort him.
You veered away from the direction Rick was walking to and decided to settle on one of the cars, jumping over on its hood and sitting on top of it.
You looked up at the clouds, the sight of the bright orange sky hurting your eyes a little, but you couldn't find it in yourself to look away. The sky is beautiful, hauntingly so. It was as if the world hasn't gone to shit yet.
You watched as the sky slowly became dark, the orange hue that once covered the skyline transitioning to a fine midnight brew.
Yeah, tomorrow.. You're going to look for Sophia.
You spent the night out of the RV and settled yourself on the same car you jumped into. You made yourself comfortable in it and when you got cold, you just opted on wearing Rick's jacket to keep yourself warm for the rest of the night.
You found yourself drifting in and out of sleep, unable to actually fall asleep, but when morning came, it was T-Dog who came to fetch you from the car.
“You slept out here?” The man asked, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you get off the hood and tie the jacket back around your waist once again, “Did you even get any sleep? Weren't you cold? You could have asked for a blanket. There's an extra in the RV—”
“It wasn't that cold.” You grunted out, stomping your feet on the pavement a couple of times to wake up your sleeping limbs. “Besides, I have Rick's jacket with me, and I couldn't just squeeze in the RV to sleep. It's cramped enough as is.”
“Still, man..” T-Dog grumbled, frown deepening.
“Seriously. I'm alright.” You assured him, patting him on the arm as you walked past him.
You could hear the man muttering more words under his breath, complaining about something, but you ignored him and continued your way over to Rick and others— spotting the sheriff deputy spreading out the small arsenal of blades that Carl found yesterday.
“Everyone takes a weapon.” Rick ordered, taking a step back to give everyone space to take whatever they want.
“These aren't the weapons we need.” Andrea complained the moment Rick said those words, shooting a glare his way, “What about the guns?”
“We’ve been over that.” Shane scoffed, pushing himself off the RV as he lifted the bag of guns off the ground. “Daryl, Rick, and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles.”
“It's not the trees I'm worried about.” Andre retorted.
“Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by.” Shane shot back, pushing his hands halfway to his pockets. “See, then it's game over for all of us.”
You walked over to the hood of the car and stopped beside Carl. Your eyes sweep over the available blades before you settle for the machete that was on the farthest left of the bunch. You pull it out of the pack and walk over to the fence to get yourself ready for the search.
You could hear Daryl giving out instructions on what to do, then Rick gave them out the next.
Everyone said their temporary farewell to each other, more like to Dale and T-Dog because the two of them will be the only ones left alone in the highway, before they scatter around to get whatever else they will need.
You could hear someone walk behind you, but you didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
“Ya could track now?” Daryl asked, jumping over the fence and stopping a couple feet in front of you, keeping his back turned on you, “Thought ya ain't good with tracking? Where’d ya learn it?”
“I'm not.” You answered, pushing your weight off the highway fence and leaving your response vague.
The archer scoffed. “So much for an answer.”
You didn't pay attention to him after that, simply letting him lead the group as all of you tread off to look for the missing little girl.
You only have a machete and a knife with you, but it will make do. If the group will split, then you will have to go to Rick, Shane, and Carl. You refuse to leave the father-son duo’s side starting now— especially now, of all times, because you know Carl will need blood.
Changing the plot is crossed off the list, so all you can do now is try to lessen as much damage as possible.
With you deep in your thought, you didn't notice how softly Daryl, Rick, and Carol are calling out for Sophia from outside the tent that they have found. The tent is only a few feet up ahead from your spot, so you can't really hear what they were saying.
You were right behind Shane, refusing to let him trail behind you. You don't trust the guy, not even with a single drop of your blood. You hated his guts— more than you hated the walkers’ rotting guts.
You know that Shane is essential to the group right now, but goodness, just thinking about the things he will be doing in the future is already pushing you to point your knife at him and kill him right there. You know better though. You're better than that.
When they were done with the tent, everyone veered off to another path.
Once again, you're following behind the group as they move forward, your eyes sweeping across your surroundings to make sure that nothing will slip past your radar.
Then, there it was.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The rhythmic sound of church bells clanging echoed loudly from the distance, alarming everyone in the group and making them look around in panic.
Not you, of course not, but by the time you heard the church bells ring for the fourth time, you were already up and about on your feet, sprinting past Rick, Shane, and Daryl, making the three of them snap their heads to look at your running form.
“(Last name)!” Rick hissed, already hot on your trail.
“Shit, why does that woman keep runnin’?!” Daryl growled, but he was also hot on your trail, swinging his crossbow over his shoulder to run easier after you.
You know it was dumb. You know that, but you can't stop your heart from racing as you sprint past through the trees.
You hoped deep in your heart that something had changed, that the story got twisted, that the little girl was hiding somewhere near the church, that she was the one ringing those damn bells.
It was hopeful thinking, but you can't stop yourself from thinking about it.
You forced yourself to run faster. You pushed your legs to carry your weight across the woods harder, more swift, more quietly— quicker. You pushed yourself to the limit until you were out of the treeline, and are panting hard, your throat burning from running a little too hard.
You gasped for air, slightly hunched over with your hands on your knees, but when you heard Rick and Shane talking behind you, you started running again.
You raced across the cemetery to get to the church, one of your hands clutching the holster of your knife to ground yourself in reality. Once you reached the church, you didn't waste any time pushing the red doors open, slamming it hard against the wall and capturing the attention of the walkers sitting inside.
You panted heavily, your eyes sweeping across the room to check how many walkers are there
Three. You counted, already snatching the machete from your belt and stalking forward to get close to the nearest walker to you.
You reeled your arm back and slashed forward, the blade of your machete catching the female walker's head and sending it tumbling onto the floor. You didn't allow yourself to breathe and quickly turned to the male walker on the left row of chairs.
You raised your arm and brought it down onto the walker's head with enough force, making the blade sink down onto its skull.
Looking past your arm to look at the third walker, you checked if it was close.
When you spotted it having trouble getting off the chairs, your free hand quickly snatched your knife off the makeshift holster and approached it, letting go of the machete that was still embedded into the walker's head to take care of the other gnarling monster.
You stalked towards it, arm raised to stab it in the head. Your knife sunk down onto its rotting eyesocket, the blade sharp enough with the force of your stab strong enough to kill it.
You inhaled sharply, your chest heaving up and down as you stared at the walker as it toppled down onto the floor.
Just then, you heard others run up the stairs.
“Well, shit.” Shane huffed, eyeing the walkers that you had killed alone and are now laying on the church floor, motionless.
You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too close— afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. Certain people is real stubborn.
Just as planned, both you and Rick lead the walkers away from where Sophia is.
Unexpectedly, or expectedly— you don't know at this point— the two walkers multiplied and became four, which took Rick by surprise. He was appalled at how two walkers could multiply into four without him noticing, but you knew deep down that this is the consequence of you trying to change the show’s plot.
You didn't care though.
Please let her be safe. You prayed, panting heavily and sweating profusely, as you pulled your knife out of the walker's head, the squelching sound reaching your ears while you did so.
God. You hate these fuckers.
You hated them so much in the show, but you hate them more now that you're actually living in this world.
You hate how they are attracted to sound. You hate how one noise is all it would take to make one manage to find a survivor to feast upon. You hate how much you and others get winded for running away, but they don't.
You hate the fact that you tried to help Carol with saving her little girl— only to be let down when another two walkers appeared behind the first two.
And by the time you make your way back to where the creek is, you passed by the walkers that Rick killed. Upon seeing them, you stopped on your tracks and stared.
You don't know what to feel anymore, but there's one thing that you know. By seeing those dead walkers, you couldn't stop yourself from lashing out and stomping the bottom of your boot on their already crushed skulls.
You propelled your foot down, the sole of your boot crushing the dead walker's head into pulp. The thick, sticky blood spluttered across the ground, the leaves, and even stained your boots, but you didn't stop. You didn't scream. You didn't cry. Heck— you didn't even glare nor frown.
You couldn't find it in you to show a reaction and could just keep on kicking the walker until you were panting again.
Your chest heaved up and down as you doubled over, placing both of your palms over your knees while you greedily sucked in oxygen. Your eyes stayed glued to the pulped walkers before you, and still, the heavy feeling that settled on your chest didn't go away.
You don't feel good, but you can't do shit. The god of this goddamn show already let you know about it. There were only two walkers shown in the episode. There were only two. Only two walkers, alright, but since you tried to change the plot by saving Sophia, that two walkers became four.
That little change in the number of walkers is enough to prove to you that you can't do shit.
Just how unfair is that?
With your right eyebrow twitching, you shot one last glance at the walker you stomped to pulp before walking back to the creek, leaves and twigs crunching under the sole of your boots.
You grabbed the rag you shoved in the back pocket of your cargo pants and started wiping the blood off your knife.
You focused your attention on cleaning the blade, so by the time you reached the water, it was already clean, but one glance at the water left you feeling hollow at the sight of the empty hiding spot.
You crouched down, your heart dropping to your stomach, as you jumped down to the water. The chill that settled over your head crashed down to your spine, and all you could do was stare blankly at the dirty water, with your grip on your knife tightening.
Yeah, you failed to change the plot.
The thought of Sophia being bitten by now left a bitter taste in your mouth, causing your eyebrows to crease deeply and inhale sharply.
You failed Sophia. You failed Carol. You failed Rick. You failed Carl—
“Just down here.”
A familiar voice echoed up ahead, snapping you out of your thoughts and making you whisk your head up to look at where it came from.
“(Last name)!”
You heard Rick gasping your name out once you looked over, dropping himself into the water and lunging forward to wrap his arms around you, his embrace quick and tight. He didn’t give you a chance to see who were the men he brought back with him at how fast he moved to pull you in his arms. You’re not going to complain though. You needed a semblance of comfort from someone.
After a second, Rick pulled back from you and started checking your body for wounds, turning you left and right, his eyes scanning you up and down to ensure no bite would be found.
“Are you okay? Are you alright? Were you hurt when we got separated?” He asked, his voice slightly shaking with relief.
You were quiet for a second, because of how heartbroken you are feeling at our own failure. You couldn't bring yourself to answer aloud anyway, so you just shook your head, your eyes flickering to where Rick left Sophia.
“I thought I lost you back there.” Rick mumbled, wrapping his arms around you once more and squeezing you tight, keeping you tucked under his chin for another second before he added just as quietly. “I didn't know that there were four of them. I'm so glad you managed on your own.”
You kept your mouth shut, simply letting the man hug you like you would vanish if you were to leave his sight even for a moment. At this point, Rick didn't care if you're not in the mood to talk or not. He's just glad that you're fine and that nothing bad happened to you.
He can't have two losses in just a span of an hour.
“Hey, sure this is the spot?” Daryl asked all of a sudden, his voice reaching both of your ears, causing Rick to pull away from you.
Rick pursed his lips and turned to the archer, his hand pointing to the spot under the roots where he left the little girl. “I left her right here. Me and (last name) drew the walkers way off in that direction up the creek.”
Rick turned to you, but he didn't look at you and pointed to where the two of you had run off.
“Without a paddle, it seems that's where we've landed.” Daryl mumbled, slinging his crossbow up to his shoulder to walk a couple of steps away from Rick to see the direction he was pointing.
“She was gone by the time I got back here.” The sheriff breathed out, following right behind Daryl. “I figured she just took off and ran back to the group.”
Then, he proceeded to tell the others the instructions he told Sophia, all the while pointing in directions where she should have gone, to get back to the others that were waiting for her on the highway.
While doing so, Daryl looked over and glared at Glenn.
Daryl walked over and scoffed. “Hey, short round, why don't you step off to one side? You're mucking up the trail.”
You forced out a breath through your nose and walked over to where Daryl was, your eyes locking on the said trail with furrowed eyebrows. You tried to discern what he was pointing at, but that attempt was stomped on when the other cop started talking.
“Assuming she knows her left and right.” Shane stated, voice mocking.
“Shane.” Rick warned his dearest best friend, his voice strained with exhaustion and frustration, “She understood me fine.”
“Kid’s tired and scared, man.” Shane rebutted. “She had her a close call with two walkers—”
“Four.” Rick corrected him.
“Okay, she had her close call with four walkers.” Shane stopped and corrected himself, but a scowl emerged in his face. “As if that's any better. Got to wonder how much of what you said stuck when there were four walkers hot on both of your trails.”
“Got clear prints right here.” Daryl spoke up, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, which cut through the rising argument between the former cops.
“She did like you said, headed back to the highway.” The archer announced, all of them looking over to where the archer was pointing.
You proceeded to shift your weight on another foot, keeping your mouth shut.
“Alright, let's spread out.” Daryl announced, making Shane hold out a hand to assist him to get off the water with Rick following right behind him.
You were next to Rick, but instead of Shane who assisted you, it was Rick who held a helping hand towards you and pulled you off the water. Once you were out, he placed a hand on your upper back and patted you, as if he was silently comforting you.
You didn't comment on it and just kept walking, your eyes trained on the ground while the four of you followed Daryl.
“She was doing just fine ‘till right here.” Daryl grumbled as he kneeled down, pressing the head of his crossbow on the ground to balance himself. “All she had to do was keep going.”
He touched the ground, his fingers flicking a leaf out of the way while keeping his eyes on Sophia's trail, then he pointed in the opposite direction of where the highway is, making everyone look over to where he was pointing.
“She veered off that way.” The archer said, placing his arm back to his knee.
“Why would she do that?” Glenn asked.
“Maybe she saw something that spooked her, made her run off.” Shane answered the asian man's question, turning his head to look back at him. “A walker?”
Daryl quickly shook his head, catching the attention of others. “I don't see any other footprints. Just hers.”
“So what do we do?” Shane inquired, veering the direction of the conversation away from the little girl's trails as he flickered his eyes to his best friend. “All of us press on?”
Rick licked his lips, shaking his head. “No, better if you and Glenn get back up to the highway. People are gonna start panicking, so let them know we're on her trail and are doing everything we can, but most of all, keep everybody calm.”
Shane nodded. “I'll keep ‘em busy scavenging cars and think up a few other chores. I'll keep ‘em occupied.”
Rick and Shane exchanged one knowing glance before both of them nodded, coming into an agreement on what to do while separated. The two had been together before the apocalypse started, so they know what the other is thinking without having to voice it out.
“Alright, let's go.” Shane called out, turning his back on Glenn.
“No, wait—” Glenn uttered, holding out a hand and stopping Shane from walking further. “What.. What about (last name)? Is she not going back with us to the highway?”
At his question, everyone's eyes turned to you.
When their eyes landed on you, you turned to stare at Rick, not looking at anyone else. You already told everyone in the group whatever Rick's decision is, you'll always be on his side— no questions asked, and you had proven this several times for the past few weeks. Rick knew of this, so he knew that you wouldn't utter a word of protest if he were to send you back to the highway to join the others, or grumble if he were to ask you to come with him and Daryl.
The sheriff swallowed thickly and raised a hand to wipe a sweat off his forehead.
“Okay.. Okay, okay.” Rick mumbled and shifted his weight on his other leg, his hand tightening on his gun. “She will come with me and Daryl. It's better to keep another person who knows how to look at trails with us. It will make the search easier that way.”
Glenn glanced at Rick, his face twisted into a frown. Rick has a point. It's better to have two trackers than one. They'll be able to cover more ground. However, it doesn't sit right with him to let you come with them just because you know how to look at trails.
Glenn kept his mouth shut though.
“Take care of her.” He muttered, his gaze flickering towards you, finding you already turned away from them with your hand playing mindlessly with your knife.
“I will.” Rick assured him, making Glenn nod, before finally signaling to Shane to move along.
The two of them moved fast, their footsteps urgent, but quiet, as they ventured towards the highway. You barely shot them a glance over your shoulder before walking ahead of Rick and Daryl, being extra careful to not step on a possible trail.
The three of you walked and walked, slow and deliberate, just following the trail left by the little girl.
You know that following Daryl and Rick is in vain, but your conscience is telling you to cooperate— to lift people's mood by helping, by showing that you care, by showing that you have it in you to look for the little girl.
But damn, it is hard.
You pursed your lips, teeth catching your bottom lip. Your eyes trained on the ground, keeping Daryl and Rick on your peripheral vision, but making sure that you're far enough to look for a trail.
“Tracks are gone.” Daryl announced, his eyes focused on the ground. “No.. They're faint, but they ain't gone.”
You glanced at their direction, just in time to see the archer pointing a finger in a certain direction, his back hunched over to get a closer look on the said trails.
“She came through here.” He mumbled.
“How can you tell?” Rick asked, unable to stop himself from wondering about the archer's tracking skills. “I don't see anything. Just dirt.. Grass.”
“You want a lesson in tracking or you want to find that girl and get our ass off that interstate?” Daryl shot back, making Rick screw his mouth shut and let the archer do his thing.
“I'm going to check somewhere else.” You called over to the sheriff and the archer, making the two of them stop in their tracks and turn their heads to look at you, but they caught sight of you already walking away, not even bothering to look back.
“No!” Rick whispered-yell, his feet dragging himself towards you, but Daryl stopped him from doing so by holding out his crossbow in front of him.
Rick didn't cast him a glance and continued to call for you, voice hushed, “Come back here— (last name)! Hey!”
“Let her be.” Daryl chided, crouching down to shake off a couple of leaves before him. “We'll cover more grounds this way. ‘Sides, it ain't like she can't carry her weight around here. She's way more capable than that.”
Rick's jaw tensed, but he knew that Daryl had a point.
Hii!! I absolutely adore your writing for TWD and wanted to ask if this request is possible/something you’d like to write about ? 🥹 i was thinking maybe reader (F) and Daryl have a thing going on but aren’t officially tgt yet. during s7e1, reader was part of the lineup and after Daryl lashed out and Negan hurt Glenn, Negan picks up on the fact that reader and Daryl are sort of together (maybe through worried glances and eye contact) and he decides to take the reader - instead of Daryl - to the sanctuary, where reader goes through what Daryl did. And then during a rescue operation the group and Daryl get the reader out, so they reunite with lots of fluff and a little bit of angst? protective, “don’t touch her.”/“I’m never letting you out of my sight again” vibes <3
Not for a second - Daryl Dixon
pairing: Daryl Dixon × Fem!reader
tropes: unspoken feelings; "I'm not letting you out of my sight again."
word count: 2.8k
a/n: thank youu for this request, my darling, I love how detailed you were about everything, it makes it a lot easier to write! I really hope you enjoy (the middle photo on the moodboard is how I pictured the last scene heheh).
also! I want to warn to anyone else who has requested, I'm writing them all! I plan on posting every 3/4 days to keep a nice flow on this blog, so if you requested something, it's on the making!
used the dividers made by @chrisssiren 🫶🏼
Daryl saw red. Literally and figuratively. Abraham's blood splattered all over the floor, he could hear the crack of his skull and the weird squishy wet sound his brains made being crashed against the floors repeatedly.
His body moved by itself, lifting up from his knees and smacking the Savior's boss right on the face, clueless that what came next would make the nightmare worse thanks to his impulsiveness. Daryl saw in your face a mix of shock and disappointment as soon as he acted and Negan made his way back on the line, victimizing Glenn next.
Screams echoed. Blood, bone and brains scattered more all over the gravel, and then, Negan layed his eyes on you, fluctuating between you and Daryl, his evil grin widening when he picked up on the unspoken feelings that hung heavy on the air between you. "She's your girl, huh?" he glanced at Daryl, who only grunted back "You leave 'er out of this."
“And why should I? You see, I was planing on taking you with me to teach you a lesson but I'm guessing I found myself a gold mine here."
Negan's grin only stretched wider at the way Daryl immediately reacted, grunting like an animal, his entire body going rigid against the men holding him down while his eyes snapped toward you so quickly it almost hurt to witness, every bit of panic and anger he tried so hard to bury surfacing all at once now that the threat had shifted onto you instead of him.
"So what is it, he your husband?" Negan continued, pacing lazily in front of the lineup while his bat rested over his shoulder, your gaze kept pierced on Daryl, both with teary eyes and expecting the worst, you barely registered the words coming out of Negan's mouth. "Nah," he answers to himself "let me guess," he pushes your chin up with his finger to make you stare at him "is more complicated than that, am I right?". Again, no answer. However, the way you gulped gave him all he needed to know.
He turns back at Daryl, boots crunching on gravel as he walked. "You see, problem with takin' you is that you'd expect me to beat your ass around a little but you keep your posture, men like you always do. You keep silent, you don't collaborate, you don't care what happens to you, but to her?" he glanced back at you briefly, amused by the fear you were trying so hard not to show. "That changes things, that's leverage, that's motivation!" He draws out every word, like he was giving you a personal show.
And it definitely felt like it, every pair of eyes seemed to land on you at once, both Saviors and your family. Still, the only thing you could focus on was Daryl. He was quiet, but you saw his brain work a million strategies at once, he considered taking those men down and running back to you in many different ways, but he knew he couldn't do it.
"She ain't got nothin' to do with this," he said through gritted teeth.
Negan chuckled softly. "Buddy, the second you looked at her like that, she had everything to do with this."
One of the Saviors stepped forward then, grabbing your arm harshly enough to pull you out of the line before you could brace yourself, and immediately Daryl lurched again despite the men forcing him down onto his knees.
"Hey!" Rosita shouted somewhere beside you while Maggie cried openly, but the noise around you blurred together beneath the pounding in your ears.
"Easy there," Negan laughed, pointing his bat vaguely toward Daryl. "You keep movin' like that and I'm gonna start thinkin' you care 'bout her more than your own damn life, pal."
Daryl's stare never left you, it was almost unbearable, the guilt sitting so plainly across his face that you wanted to tell him to stop looking at you like that, because none of this was his fault, because Glenn was dead and Abraham was dead and everyone was already breaking apart right in front of each other.
The Savior yanked you forward again, you stumbled this time. Daryl cursed violently under his breath at the sight of you nearly hitting the ground, and Negan noticed that too.
"Oh, wow," he laughed, genuinely entertained now. "You are gone gone."
"Fuck you!" Daryl spat.
"No, seriously, this is adorable." Negan crouched slightly in front of him again. "You got it bad, huh?"
If looks alone could kill, Negan would've dropped right there in the dirt. You swallowed hard when another Savior shoved you toward the RV parked nearby, your hands trembling despite every effort to stay calm, and only then did Daryl finally tear his eyes away from you long enough to glare at the men dragging you off.
"Don't touch 'er! You motherfuckers!" the men behind him held even harder, Daryl fought back but was unable to move. Negan tilted his head slowly before smiling again, smaller this time, almost satisfied. "There he is."
Your chest ached painfully at the sound of Daryl's voice. No one had ever acknowledged your tension before. Not openly at least. Whatever existed between you made home in the quiet spaces between conversations, in lingering looks when you found yourselves alone, on the way he always gravitated toward you without realizing it, but now, kneeling in the dirt, surrounded by death and blood and people pointing guns at him, Daryl wondered if he'd get the chance to express his feelings or even ever see you again. Now, after what felt like a farewell, he felt like a coward for not doing it sooner.
You were thrown like a bag in a cold room, left to sleep on the hard floor and stripped out of your weapons. The first nights were sleepless, the scenes if horror from the night you last seen your friends played repeatedly on your head. Eventually, you caved in to exhaustion, only to be woken up by the loud clasp on the heavy door being opened, revealing Negan holding a platter of food. It was the first time you seen him since that day, the sight sent shivers down your spine.
"Wakey, wakey!" his stupid smug grin rested on his face as he spoke. "How's my favorite prisoner doing today?"
"Fuck off." you spit out
"Is that the way you speak to who brings you food? I came in personally today to see how you're doing!" he squats to your level, pushing your chin up just like he did that night, forcing your eyes to level with his. "Eat." he said plainly. At this point, you didn't have it in you to argue, you were starved, thirsty and weak. You knew you had to be strong to make it out of there.
"You know," he starts as he waits for you to finish your sandwich “I really thought your boyfriend would come charging in guns blazing by now. Guy surprised me.”
You kept your eyes forward. “He's not my boyfriend."
Negan laughed immediately. “Jesus, you guys are like sixth graders."
You hated that he brought Daryl up because every mention of him made the ache in your chest sharper. You had no idea how he was doing back at Alexandria, whether he was sleeping, eating, even speaking to anyone at all after what happened in that clearing, and the worst part was knowing exactly how his mind worked. Daryl blamed himself for things even when they weren’t his fault. He carried guilt like it was stitched into his skin, and you knew without needing confirmation that he had turned your capture into another thing to punish himself over. And worst than you knowing it, was that Negan knew it too.
You became leverage the second Daryl begged Negan not to touch you. He had chosen you because Daryl cared.
The realization he read though you so easily made you feel humiliated, small. Negan was able to expose something so private in the ugliest way possible before either of you had even spoken about it yourselves. Before you even understood it.
The room they kept you in was small enough to make the walls feel more suffocating every day that passed, and on the worst nights you found yourself replaying every moment between you and Daryl before the lineup, every unfinished conversation and lingering glance and almost-confessions, wondering if he knew how obvious he had been sometimes.
The way his hand always settled briefly against your back guiding you through doorways. The way he looked for you first after every run, or when his entire body relaxed whenever you sat beside him at dinner, even if neither of you spoke much.
Eventually, after what seemed like and eternity on that cage, you were given a funcion, able to walk he halls only escorted, you still slept on that "room", now on a small, beated mattress, but it was already somewhat better than before.
Sherry started talking to you gradually.
At first it was small things, barely conversations at all, just quick comments exchanged while sorting laundry downstairs or standing beside each other in the kitchen area while other people moved around the Sanctuary pretending this place resembled a normal community. She seemed cautious around everyone, always watching doors before speaking too honestly, but there was something deeply exhausted about her that made you trust her eventually.
You understood each other in a way nobody else there really could. Neither of you belonged in the Sanctuary, neither of you had chosen this life. And after enough time passed, the silence between conversations became familiarity instead of suspicion.
“You should eat more,” Sherry muttered one evening while sliding half her portion onto your tray when nobody was looking.
You frowned at her. “You need it too.”
“Yeah, well,” she shrugged lightly, “you look worse.” It was probably true.
The Sanctuary wore people down slowly, and even though Negan never laid a hand on you, existing there felt like surviving with your lungs half full all the time, every day blending together beneath fluorescent lights and endless tension until sometimes you woke up disoriented, forgetting for one blissful second where you were before reality settled back over you again.
Sherry understood that feeling without you needing to explain it.
Sometimes she sat with you during the quieter nights when Negan was occupied elsewhere, speaking softly about places she missed before the world ended, about Tina, about how Dwight used to smile more before they ended up trapped there, and eventually, inevitably, conversations circled back toward Daryl. One night, you spoke about your first encounter with him, it was the first time she's seen your eyes sparkle.
“You love him" the words caught you off guard mostly because she said them so casually.
You stared down at your hands for a long moment before answering. “I don’t know if we ever got enough time for that.”
Sherry studied you carefully. "Don't bullshit me."
Your throat tightened. Truth was, somewhere between the prison and Alexandria and shared cigarettes outside the walls late at night, his hand brushing yours during runs and the way his eyes always found you first in crowded rooms, your feelings for Daryl had become so deeply rooted inside that being separated from him physically hurt.
And maybe you had both been too afraid to say it aloud before everything went wrong. Sherry seemed to understand your silence perfectly.
"You'll get to say it to him." she speaks like she read your thoughts. "I'll make sure of it." and it sounds like a promise.
A few nights later, Sherry found you sitting awake again and closed the door quietly behind her before speaking.
“You can’t stay here forever.”
You looked at her immediately, the expression on her face was serious enough to make your pulse spike.
“What are you talking about?"
Sherry lowered her voice further. “Dwight’s been helping me plan a way out.”
You stared at her. “Nobody makes it out of here, Sherry."
“Some people do." she replied. “They just need a little push.”. And for the first time in weeks, something dangerously close to hope flickered inside your chest.
The escape happened three nights later.
Loud music echoed down the hallways, loud enough to cover any noise. You sat in the old mattress reading a book she managed to slip in to you under a low lamp light you also earned.
Sherry showed suddenly, carrying you a backpack and a knife “You ready?” she whispered.
Your heart hammered violently, realizing she carried enough just for you. “What about you?”
“They'd put it on Dwight, it's too risky.” before you could say anything else, Sherry grabbed your wrist briefly.
“You get out and keep going, okay? Don’t. Stop."
The two of you moved through the Sanctuary carefully, sticking to pitch black hallways while most people were distracted downstairs. Every second felt stretched painfully with adrenaline. Your heart pounded in your ears, your breathing sounded too loud, your footsteps sounded too loud. Every shadow made your stomach twist expecting someone to grab you from behind and shove you back to that hole.
Then shouting erupted somewhere upstairs.
Sherry cursed softly beneath her breath.
“Go.”
“What?”
“Go now.”
You hesitated only long enough to see panic flash across her face before footsteps thundered nearby and suddenly she was shoving the backpack into your chest.
“Run.” You frowned, not accepting that you'd have to leave a friend behind. But you did it, you ran.
You finally manage to get to a door, the outside air hit your lungs so sharply it almost hurt, cold and overwhelming after months trapped inside concrete walls, and your legs barely felt steady beneath you as you sprinted through the dark toward the treeline exactly the way Sherry instructed.
For one terrifying moment you genuinely thought you’d make it. Then someone shouted behind you, gunfire cracked through the night. And you ran harder, legs numb.
Branches tore against your arms while your heartbeat thundered so violently it drowned out almost everything else, and suddenly all you could think about was Daryl. What his face would look like when you actually made it back. Whether he’d believe you were real standing in front of him after all this time.
Your legs felt like jelly, you lean into a tree to take a few breaths but hear the Savior step closer to you. Before you could swing your knife to put him down, a sharp sound came from deeper into the woods, something cut to the air directly into your stalker's forehead, dropping him down in a loud thud. An arrow.
Silence crashed down around you for half a second before movement exploded through the trees ahead, a familiar shadow approached, and behing him there were others, but your eyes focused exclusively in the first one. Daryl.
He looked thinner, hair all over the place, a black eye took your attention first. But he was there. Right in front of you. The second he layed eyes on you, his legs seemed to move on their own, he stomped quickly and the shock of his torso to yours would've sent you to the ground if he wasn't quick to wrap his arms around you, mentally realizing you thinner you were too. For a moment neither of you said a word.
You had imagined this reunion so many times during those months trapped inside the Sanctuary, imagined what you would say first, whether you’d cry or laugh, but now that he was actually standing there, all the words disappeared from your head completely.
“You okay?” he asked roughly, breaking the silence.
You almost laughed because his voice sounded wrecked. “I’m fine.”
“You hurt? Did he touch you?"
“No.”
His grip tightened slightly anyway, like he still didn’t fully believe it. Terrified you’d disappear again the second he let go.
Without thinking, you lifted your hand to his face. Daryl shut his eyes immediately at the contact, leaning to the touch.
“I'm okay." You whispered. "We're okay."
His hand covered yours instantly, holding it against his cheek for a brief second before he finally opened his eyes again.
“Ain’t lettin’ you outta my sight again,” he said quietly, voice rough with emotion. "Not for a second."
"You're stuck with me, Dixon." you play.
"I sure as hell hope I am." with that, Daryl pulled you back closer, taking your lips on his hungrily, but fast, before he broke it again to speak. "We gotta move. We'll have all the time in the world when we get back home."
You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too close— afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. Certain people is real stubborn.
All of you have been on the road for who knows how long, and the feeling of dread settled over your head like a guillotine waiting to fall down.
You know that the highway is up ahead. You know that once all of you stopped by the highway, the horde of zombies will pass through. Once the horde passes through, Sophia will most likely move according to the plot and run off to meet her demise.
You swallow thickly, your arms around Daryl's middle tightening subconsciously as you seek comfort by burying your face in his back.
Daryl tensed, but he didn't comment.
He let you do whatever you wanted and let you bury your face into his back, even letting you wrap your arms tighter around him and pushing yourself closer to his body. For what reason? He doesn't know, but he doesn't dislike the feeling of your arms around him either.
You've been extra tense ever since all of you have moved down the road, and you got noticeably more tense the longer the ride went on.
You're dreading something. Probably because you've been thinking a lot. He can't blame you. He has been thinking a lot as well. The only difference is, he has been thinking about Merle and his whereabouts.
He let his mind wander, and just like that, another hour of silence passed by.
The dread that settled in your head finally crashed down when you spotted the highway ahead. Your heart hammered against your ribcage and your eyes widened in horror when you saw it— the cars that blocked that road, abandoned when the world went to shit.
Daryl was clueless as to what you were feeling, so he kept driving towards them.
Once the two of you reached the highway, Daryl immediately did a u-turn and met Dale's gaze through the RV’s driver seat window.
“See a way through?” Dale asked, his old eyes taking in the way your eyebrows pulled taut to the middle, your gaze glued to the abandoned cars behind you with a look of horror planted on your face.
He couldn't help himself and wondered what could be running through your head for you to look that terrified, but that curiosity of his was thrown out of the window when he spotted Daryl simply shrugging his shoulders to answer his question prior to the possible way out of the abandoned cars.
The archer nudged his head towards the direction of the cars, silently telling Dale to follow.
Daryl did a quick u-turn behind the RV, with Rick immediately seeing him and letting him pass, then went back to lead the RV through the crowd of dead cars.
While Daryl was driving in front, your heart just continued to hammer inside your chest.
You know that the moment Dale's RV crashes, it would be over. The fate of the little girl will be sealed. The fate of Carl will be tied. The fate of everyone in the group will follow through the plot. However, you know deep down that this must happen, because if it didn't happen, then the group wouldn't be able to meet the Greenes.
“Daryl.” You croaked out, making the redneck tense up and strain his neck to glance at you over his shoulder.
“What?” He huffed out, eyebrows furrowed.
“Stop.” You mumbled, shifting in your seat and tugging your arms back to yourself, causing Daryl to kick off his leg and plant them on the pavement to stop his bike.
“What's yer problem?” Daryl grumbled, but you didn't answer and just got off the bike.
“What's up with ya?!” He hissed.
Again, you didn't pay him any mind and turned in your heels. As soon as you did, the RV crashed, with smoke fussing out of the front of the vehicle.
Dale kicked the door open and stepped out, a distressed shake clear on his voice, “I said it! Didn't I say it? A thousand times before it led to this. Dead in the water.”
The old man walked over to the front of the RV, displeasure and discomfort evident on his face as he looked at his beloved vehicle. Shane didn't help either, he even tried to push the old man's button by walking up behind him.
“Problem, Dale?” The cop asked, swinging his gun unabashedly.
“Just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of..” Dale answered, the frustration in his voice clear as day as he slowly turned around, only to see you walking past him to go to the kids.
Daryl huffed behind you, already trailing, but when he saw you ran up to the kids, he decided to just go for the car right in front of the RV to distract himself.
“Okay, that was dumb.” Dale mumbled to himself, his old eyes landing on Daryl as he rummaged through the back of an abandoned car. “If you can't find a radiator hose here..”
“Then, there's a whole bunch of stuff we can find.” Daryl grunted, throwing away pieces of trash.
“I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start.” T-Dog commented, walking past Dale and Glenn to start looking around the cars.
“Maybe some water?” Andrea suggested.
“Or food.” Glenn uttered, turning around to glance at Andrea for suggesting something good, but his eyes went past her and landed on your form who was hugging Sophia tightly.
His eyebrows furrowed in worry. What's wrong with you?
“This is a graveyard.” Lori voiced out her concern, placing her hands on her hips, catching the attention of others and making them turn to look at her. “I don't know how I feel about this.”
You pulled away from Sophia, heart still racing, and forced your gaze to land on Lori. “You can just think that it's for Carl's sake.”
“Or Sophia's.” Carl chided in, making the little girl let out a joyful giggle.
“Right.” You breathed out and stood back up, patting your knees to get rid of the dust that your pants gathered while you were kneeling down. “Just think about the kids and do it for their sake. You've got nothing to lose anyway.”
Silence filled the area for a second, everyone letting your words sink into their brains. They knew that you're right, causing their eyes to land on the little boy and little girl.
“Come on, y'all.” Theodore called, huffing out a strained chuckle. “Just look around.”
Just like that, everyone scattered.
Unfortunately, you found yourself subconsciously following Sophia and Carol as they walked away, and as if Carol had a second pair of eyes behind her head, the sweet woman suddenly turned and smiled at you, waving you over.
You were shocked, but you didn't hesitate to jog over to their direction, lips pursed in worry.
“What got you fretting, sweetheart?” Carol asked, her lips curled into a small smile as you fell into steps beside them. “Also, I believe I haven't thanked you yet. For, you know? Keeping an eye on my little girl and Lori's little boy.”
You glanced at Carol, eyes softening at her words of gratitude, but you didn't offer anything else.
“Not much of a talker, I see.” The woman mumbled, her heart warming a little at how you show you care by helping around as much as you can, especially with keeping an eye on the kids. “It's fine. Still, thank you for being such a sweetheart.”
You nodded your head to acknowledge her words of gratitude, making her giggle quietly at how adorable you are despite being stoic. The five of you continued to walk through the rows of cars, but while you were at it, Daryl came up to you and nodded his head towards the crossbow behind you.
The two of you didn't exchange words and went your separate ways after you handed him his weapon.
Carol and Lori watched the interaction between you and the archer, the two of them exchanging a knowing glance before focusing back onto the task at hand when they saw you approaching them.
Carol turned back into the small bag she was rummaging through, picking up a red shirt that is a good fit around her body. You watched the woman as she placed it in front of her to see if it suits her and smiled, but then, she placed it back down onto the bag and shook her head.
“Ed never let me wear nice things like this.” Carol uttered, her voice shaking slightly.
“Then wear it now.” You exhorted, eyes flickering to glare at the small bag she has in her hands. “That son of a bitch isn't here anymore. You deserve nice things, too. So wear it, it’s just a shirt anyway, and while you're at it, look for things that will make you happy.”
“Even if it's a necklace?” Carol asked, her gaze meeting yours.
“Even if it's a damn necklace.” You grumbled, assuring and pushing away her worries, which made the woman let out a quiet chuckle, then you quickly added, even if it was just an afterthought, “If you want, you can look for a necklace I can wear, too. Just so, you know? We can pair.”
Carol's smile broadened. “Okay.”
You flashed her a small smile of your own before walking past her and Lori to get to the children who are a couple of feet away from the three of you.
“Hey, Carl?” Lori called her son over once you got close enough to the kids, making the little boy turn back to look at his mother. “Don't get out of her, or my sight, okay?”
“You, too, Sophia.” Carol called her daughter as well, causing the little girl to nod.
You and the kids walked down the high way, slowly and carefully, ensuring that Carol and Lori are still in your sight. Your heart is hammering— something that didn't change since you left CDC, because you knew that any moment now, the horde will make its presence known.
And what you're fearing came true.
“(Last name), Carl, Sophia, get down now!” Rick whispered yell, making you gasp and rush the kids to the cars a couple of feet ahead.
You forced Carl down and had him ushered under a car, with you doing the same to Sophia.
Then, you slipped under the car right behind Sophia's car. You don't care if you have to deal with the consequences of your decision, but you have made up your mind. You're going to try your hardest to save the little girl and help Rick with killing the walkers that will chase her.
Because Rick is right— humans get winded and walkers don't.
If the two of you could kill those two walkers just before Sophia could run off on her own, then you will have more chances to save her.
So, you stayed still, eyes locked onto the little girl.
You waited for the horde to pass, their limping bodies walking so slowly as they marched forward. Sophia and Carl stayed hidden, their little bodies shaking in fear as they looked around to see if the coast was clear, but to hell with that.
The coast is never clear.
Just as you have anticipated, when the horde seemingly passed through the cars, Sophia started crawling to her left.
Your breath hitched at the sight and you quickly rolled to your right to get out under the car, just in time to hear Sophia cry quietly and crawl out from under the car. You moved swiftly, heart racing and hoping against all odds to save the little girl, as you jumped over the highway fence.
“Sophia!” You called, your hand slipping to your makeshift knife holder to get your knife and run after the little girl.
“Sophia!” You screamed once more, but the little girl is faster.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You repeatedly cursed under your breath, panting heavily as you chased her through the trees, your eyes keeping her in sight and trying to lock onto the path ahead to see where you could cut her through.
The little girl is fast, and you're thankful for that, but you could feel your breath ragging, your oxygen quickly getting cut off.
You might know how to hunt, but unfortunately, you're not built for running after fast runners like this, because before you could even have the chance to catch your breath, you're already in shortage.
Still, you pushed through.
You could hear Sophia crying and panicking, but you could also hear the walkers moaning and growling right behind her.
You huffed, feeling sweat beads forming in your forehead. Then, your eyes caught sight of the little girl tripping over a root. You skidded into a stop and rushed over to her, just in time for her to stand back up and start running again.
“Sophia!” You whispered yell, arms reaching out to grab onto her, causing her to let out a startled scream and started thrashing under your firm grip. The kid is scared. You know this, but you can't have her running off.
“Shh, shh!” You hushed her, pressing your hand over her mouth. “It's me. It's just me, okay?”
She was panting, tears streaming down her cheeks, but her eyes locked onto your face to see if it was actually you. She relaxed a little, making you pull your hand away from her mouth. Then, her gaze flickered down to the knife you're holding and she lunged for it, sobbing fearfully.
“Stab them! Stab them— stab them, please!” She begged, but you held the knife out of her reach.
“No!” You hissed, your hand dropping the knife on the ground for a moment in fear of accidentally hurting her from how much she's reaching for it. “No, Sophia! I can't do that without Rick coming here to get you!”
“B-But—” The little girl stammered, only for her head to snap up and look past you.
“Sophia! (Last name)!” Rick called, a look of relief washing over his sweating face for a quick moment. “Oh, thank god you're both fine—”
The relief was short-lived, because Sophia lunged forward for the gun, begging once more.
“Shoot them!”
You quickly reach for your knife and tuck it in your holster before turning to Rick, grabbing Sophia off him to let him explain why he can't shoot the walkers with his gun.
“Those walkers on the road would hear it.” Rick explained in urgency, his breath short and quick as his hands slipped under Sophia's legs to carry her. “Then, it wouldn't be just two of them, it would be hundreds.”
“Come on, come on.” You mumbled under your breath, running after Rick and the little girl.
You and Rick found the creek that was shown in the show, but instead of jumping down, you stayed rooted in your spot on the higher ground. Rick jumped down on the water and gestured for Sophia to jump into his arms, the little girl was obviously reluctant, but she still managed to do as she was told and jumped.
You panted heavily, your eyes glued to the path the two of you came from and you could see the walkers stumbling to your view.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Summary: Daryl gets injured during a supply run with the reader. But he snaps when the reader tries to help. After a heated argument, the group tries to get you both to fix it and get to the cause.
Why was he avoiding you?
Warnings: Angsty Daryl ✦ Swearing ✦ Mentions of cuts and bleeding ✦ Injury ✦ Fluff Ending
Word Count: 2.2k
Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Daryl, and I'm so freaking excited I tried really hard to give him and the reader southern accents because they're still in Georgia at this point! I would love feedback, so feel free!
masterlist
The prison was within eyesight as you and Daryl approached the forest. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow along the tree line. In the immediate distance, a tent sat far into the forest. The faded colors of the tent let you know that nobody had been there for a decent amount of time before you stumbled upon it.
“Should go check it out-” A gruff voice next to you stated. Daryl came along with you, much to your dismay.
You let out a brief exhale. “You think we've got time? S’getting late.”
“Fine, I’ll do it.” Daryl pushed past you, his shoulder grazing your arm as his footsteps made prints into the untouched moss and plant life.
There. The root of your frustration. “Daryl, wait!” You reached out to grab him. “Could be a trap-”
“The hell we sitting here talkin’ about it for? You waitin’ for an invitation?” Daryl’s arms flew up in frustration, his crossbow coming with them. He pushed on, nearing the tent with each stomp of his steel-toe boots.
Whip!
Before your brain ever recognized what was happening, Daryl was already dropping his crossbow and holding his arm. As you suspected, a trap was laid out for nearby walkers. Daryl had walked right into it.
You ran up to him, caution still lurking in the back of your mind. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?!” Daryl grunted as he glanced toward the wound. “I’m good, must’ve set off somethin’. Knife came right at me-”
“Jesus-” You sigh to yourself.
Looking around, you confirmed Daryl’s response. There was a tripwire stretched between two trees, with a contraption that would launch the knife straight at the person caught in the trap.
“Did it stab you? Should we go back and get help?” Daryl waved you away before you could get a good look at it.
“S’fine, let’s keep going.” He grunted, ripping a strip from the end of his shirt and wrapping it firmly around his forearm. “Oh- are you sure? We could get you some bandages back home, we’re not too far aw-”
“Said m’fine! Should keep going without you so you can keep acting like a baby about it!” Daryl cringed at the volume of his own voice.
Shit
A pang of anger hit your chest like a truck. “Y’know what? Fuck you. Was just tryin’ to help.” Your voice trailed off into a soft whisper as you stepped over the tripwire, completely ignoring Daryl’s blank look.
His stomach churned at your remark, because he knew it truly wasn’t your fault. Sure, you two had been through a mountain of crap since you met on Hershel’s farm. But through all that, he still felt like there was still a wall between him and anyone who ever gave a damn about him.
He followed behind you, eyeing your movements and walking around the perimeter. He watched as you slashed through the tent to grab whatever was inside.
Daryl’s mind raced at the sight of you. His heart nearly beat out of his chest at the thought of you fawning over him when that knife slashed him.
Because his anger was never at you. Not intentionally.
He brushed the sweat off his forehead, his long hair starting to stick to his face in the hot summer sun. He glanced around you and the tent to scout for possible threats, but he still couldn’t take his mind off the obvious.
His weakness.
God, when you were fawning over him, he felt so unfathomably weak.
Not because of you, but because of everything he’s done. Why should he be allowed to show weakness after all the group has lost? Why does he deserve to be looked after when he couldn’t look after everybody that was lost along the way?
Daryl walked over to you with anxiety bubbling through him. “Need help?” His eyes softened at your struggle to fit everything in the duffel bag you brought along with you. He bit the inside of his cheek at the sound of you scoffing.
“So now you want my help.” You grabbed the last couple of cans that sat in the corner of the tent and held them up wordlessly. The loot you both had found was decent, but with a growing number of mouths to feed, it felt inconsequential.
Daryl said nothing as he moved your hand to the side and instead slung the duffel bag around his shoulder, relieving you of the weight.
His touch sent waves of excitement through you and threatened to burst out and confess your feelings for him. Daryl found you wandering the woods outside of Hershel’s farm, covered in walker guts and absolutely destroyed by whatever dark occurrences you had experienced prior. You were quickly welcomed as family and even joined Daryl in his search for Sophia.
Yet, even after all those hours alone with him, it felt like you could never get close enough.
Daryl was never an outgoing man, but it seemed as though he would never approve of you. Hell, even those search missions for Sophia always ended up in some kind of argument because he was stubborn, and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.
Or at least you thought.
Daryl pushed forward back to the prison, hauling the duffel bag while you carried the odds and ends that did not fit in the bag. He winced silently at the pain shooting through his arm, his muscles stretched as he continued the hike.
You hadn’t yet caught on to the man’s troubles. “That thing is awfully heavy; we can share some of the load, you know. I can carry it since we’re halfway now.” Your offer fell on deaf ears, as he just grunted a small “No” in response.
After a huff and an eyeroll, you pushed again. “Stop tryin’ to be macho, I know your arm hurts! Let me take it!” Daryl felt that anger and vulnerability rearing their ugly heads again, and his chest grew tight from frustration.
It reached a peak when you tried to take the bag, and it ran right over the gash in his arm. A pained groan settled deep within him, and he threw the bag down onto the dirt road.
“Y’can’t just leave me alone, can ya?” Daryl watched you freeze and look at the ground, as if you had suddenly found something interesting.
And yet he wasn’t done.
“Gotta always be near me, helpin’ me when I don’t need it! Why can’t ya just go away?!” He snatched the duffel bag from where it landed and continued walking, regret settling deep inside of him and making his stomach churn.
Never. Never had he been so vocal and so outright with his remarks. Tears welled up in your eyes, making his fading figure blurry as you watched him leave.
Later that night, the group had all returned from their supply runs. Maggie and Glen were patching each other up and mixing in little kisses here and there. The sight made a smile come to your face.
Despite all of the horrific things outside, love still had a chance inside the walls.
Daryl was in his cell, examining the wound on his arm. The knife had slashed his arm pretty badly, with the need for stitches becoming evident. He lay back, his head gently banging against the cell wall.
“Daryl, we need you for the-” Rick swung by his cell to ask him to help close up the gates for the day. “Did that happen on your run today?” The question brought back a flood of guilt. Daryl only nodded, unable to even speak about the horrible things he said.
“Y/n didn’t patch you up?” Rick frowned at the thought of you not pulling your weight, because that was not typically like you. You have always been a highly valuable and helpful member of the family.
After Daryl’s long pause, Rick chuckled to himself softly. “Lemme guess, you didn’t tell her?” Rick’s suspicions were confirmed when Daryl shrugged and turned over to face the wall.
After a beat of silence from the other man in the room, Daryl turned back around to see that Rick was gone.
Fuck
Daryl knew where he was going. To tell you. In an attempt to make himself scarce, he left his cell and tried to go outside to close up.
“You asshole!” You yelled from across the room, ignoring the numerous heads that whipped around to watch the drama unfold. You had a pack of bandages in your hand as you approached him.
His eyes darted over your appearance. How effortlessly beautiful you were, and how he adored the clear anger across your face.
Even if it was directed at him.
“Back to your cell, let’s go. Now.” You stated firmly, watching him walk back to his cell like a puppy with its tail between its legs.
Rick and the others snickered at how easily you broke through his stubbornness.
“If she yelled at me like that, I think I would die of fear.” Glenn teased Daryl behind his back, earning a laugh from Rick and Maggie.
Daryl finally made it up the stairs and back to his cell, with your footsteps reminding him of his impending ass-kicking.
“I asked if you were okay an’ you told me you were! Lemme see it.” You sat down on the bed next to him, already sending chills of excitement down his skin.
And you hadn’t even touched him yet.
Daryl reluctantly took off the makeshift bandage, revealing what he had been hiding all day. You winced in pain just from looking at it.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Daryl?” His heart fluttered at the mention of his name from your lips.
He took a pause, almost as if he could find solace in the silence before finally opening his mouth for the first time since he got back to the prison.
“Didn’t want ya’ to think I was weak. Ain’t never had somebody care about me like that, s’all.” Daryl felt as if he would scare you away. As if his weakness would prove that he didn’t deserve you.
If he couldn’t take care of himself, how could he take care of you?
“You’re not weak.” A pout settled on your mouth. Not kissing you in that moment was nearly impossible.
“You’re the strongest man in this damn place. But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help.” Even though the words came from you, he couldn’t believe them with his full being.
After being alone and relying on himself for so long, it feels so hard to rely on everyone else. Especially the woman he admires.
“Jus’ wanna be strong for you. Wanna be there for you instead.” You smiled at him as you cleaned him up.
“Honey, you don’t have to be strong for me.” His ears turned red at the pet name. Hearing it from you made all the difference.
“And hell, you’re there for me more than anybody else is. Remember when you first found me? How weak I was?” Daryl remembered it like it was yesterday.
A thunderstorm had just passed by, and Daryl was out looking for Sophia. He called her name several times and heard rustling from deeper in the woods. He pushed forward and was met with a woman who looked like she’d been through hell and back.
As he approached, you could barely move, your eyes begging for help without ever actually saying it.
He carried you back to Hershel’s place that day, where he nursed you back to health with his presence.
“You think I felt proud of having you carry me all the way to Hershel’s? I felt like a damn fool. But it didn’t matter because you were there for me.”
Daryl's guilt hit him hard, and he turned his body toward you. He disregarded your work on his arm. “M’so sorry bout what I said earlier. Didn’t mean none of it.” He couldn’t even look in your eyes, but he was praying his apologies worked.
“I know.” You kept working on his arm anyway, finishing up the stitching and wrapping it in clean gauze. His heart sank at your silence, wondering if you really could forgive him for all that he said.
“I ain’t worth your help’, and-” he paused.
“I do want ya near me. Want you all the damn time. Just hurts to feel weak when I’m supposed to be there for you.” He realized how stupid he sounded as the words left his mouth.
“Could you forgive me?” His silent prayers were answered when you looked up at him with that gorgeous smile.
“Yes, Daryl. I forgive you for being an asshole back there.” You took his cheek in your hand. “But you pull that shit again and I’m leavin’ your ass!” You laugh, earning a quiet chuckle from him.
You expected a response along the lines of “shut up”, but you found him staring at your lips. Wanting, waiting, yearning for something to happen.
You filled in the gap between the two of you. The kiss wasn’t urgent or rushed at all.
It was soft. Forgiving. And understanding
Daryl’s hand caressed your waist and hips as you gripped the sides of his face. Your lips moved with his in sync
You eventually pulled away, hearing a quiet, disappointed sigh from him. “Ya gonna be nicer to me now? Or am I gonna have to keep teachin’ you lessons?”
Daryl laughed this time, a full-body laugh that made your cheeks heat up. “I don’t know, might have to teach me a few more lessons.” His grip tightened, pulling you closer to his chest.
Daryl felt his face contort into a grimace as he noticed the words that had slipped from his own mouth.
"I love you."
He had said it. He, who never believed that love existed and that he could feel it for someone. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, clueless as to what you were thinking. Daryl felt sweat trickle down his neck and his heart pounding in his chest. Why the hell ain't she sayin' nothin', just lookin' at me with an idiotic expression? He thought to himself.
That old, blind frustration began to take hold of him. Daryl turned his back to you, his heavy steps crushing the dry leaves as he began to pace back and forth, both hands pulling at his own hair, elbows raised. He looked exactly like the Daryl of years ago, in those first weeks on the road: a cornered animal, huffing, mentally cursing himself for being so stupid as to let his guard down. He was already ready to march into the woods and disappear among the trees.
"Daryl," you call out, your soft voice cutting through his turmoil.
The sound of his name on your lips makes his gears lock. Daryl turns abruptly toward you, his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling forcefully. Before you can formulate the sentence that would make sense of that silence, he simply gives in to the impulse.
He closes the space between you and unleashes all that anxiety on you. Daryl cups your face with his rough hands and crashes his lips against yours in a desperate, almost brutal clash. It was a hungry, clumsy kiss, tasting of tobacco mixed with the urgency of a man trying to silence the world —and his own mind by force. He presses you against his body as if he were holding onto a rope in the middle of a storm, using the heat of your mouth to erase the words he should never have said.
When he finally pulls away, his lips separate from yours with a wet smack, both of you gasping for air. Daryl takes a shaky step back, unable to hold your gaze, his cheeks flushed as he quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to regain his tough-guy pose.
"Forget it. Forget I said that shit," he spits the words, his voice hoarse and hurried, turning his back again to try and escape. "I shouldn't've..."
"Daryl, stop!" you step forward, grabbing his arm before he disappears. Letting out a soft, emotional laugh, you say what the silence had been holding back: "I love you too, you idiot."
The words hang in the air, and their effect is instantaneous. The tension that stiffened Daryl's shoulders vanishes all at once. He freezes in place, looking at your hand that still holds his arm, then slowly raises his eyes to your face, blinking as if trying to process if he heard correctly. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. For the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon didn't seem to want to run away; he seemed to have finally found his way home.
This time, when his lips touch yours again, the urgency is still there, but now there's a touch of certainty.
"Better not change your mind, woman," his voice comes out hoarse, panting, trying to fight the smile forming on his face.
"Where ya think yer goin'?" Daryl asked, looking at you pulling your boots on.
"To check in on Maggie," you explained.
"Mmm," he hummed nodding. He nestled the edge of his thumbnail between his teeth and bit at it aimlessly. "So, ya enjoy playin' with a man's heart?"
You looked up at him and let out a confused laugh. "What?"
He paced over to you and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as his eyes flickered over your face. There was a slight crinkle at the corner of his blue eyes, just enough for you to know that he was teasing you. He said in a low voice, "Ya dun started somethin' this mornin' ya still ain't finished..." He reached out and ran his rough fingers down the bare skin of your upper arm and goosebumps rose on your skin.
You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him and then they curved into a smile. "You poor man," you said with a light laugh. "Will you perish if you have to wait a few more hours?"
"I might," he drawled. "This is some cruel and unusual treatment..."
You finished lacing your boots and stood up, moving in close to him, smiling up at his bright eyes. You reached up and straightened his shirt collar. "You'll survive. You're tough," you said, your eyes sparkling.
"I dunno. Ya might need to make it up to me."
"Oh, is that so?" You grinned, smoothing your hand briefly down his chest. "Well, I'm sure you'll show me how. I'll be in your very capable hands." You gave him one more wide smile that sent an electric chill up his back and then headed off.
Both of you were left in strenuous anticipation of the day being done...
Prompt: "Ya enjoy playin' with a man's heart?"
A/N: *melts into a puddle*
character A's face blushing as B smothers them in compliments even years into their relationship with character B.
By year three of your relationship with Murphy MacManus, there were certain things everybody in your lives understood as undeniable facts.
One: Connor would eat food directly off Murphy’s plate and risk death every single time.
Two: Doc complained constantly but secretly adored both MacManus brothers.
Three: Murphy looked at you like a man had personally reached into his chest and hung the moon there just to make him unbearable about it.
And no matter how many years passed, no matter how many times he praised you, flirted with you, worshipped you with every ounce of sincerity in his body—
You still blushed like it was the first time.
It drove him fucking insane.
Not in a bad way.
In a Christ, I’m going to die because you’re too cute kind of way.
Because Murphy had discovered something very early in your relationship:
You could handle violence.
You could handle sarcasm.
You could handle Connor and Murphy arguing at full volume in a moving car without even flinching anymore.
But genuine affection?
Direct eye contact while being complimented?
That absolutely destroyed you.
And Murphy loved it more than oxygen.
It started small.
Six months into dating, you were standing in Murphy’s apartment brushing your teeth while he shaved beside you in the mirror.
You were wearing one of his shirts and sleep shorts, hair still messy from bed.
Murphy looked over mid-shave.
Stopped.
Actually stopped moving entirely.
You caught him staring in the mirror.
“What?”
Murphy looked faintly offended.
“Ye can’t just stand there lookin’ like that.”
You blinked. “Like what?”
“Like…” He gestured vaguely with the razor. “That.”
“That clears everything up, thank you.”
Murphy stared at you another second.
Then shook his head slowly like he couldn’t believe his own life.
“Sweetheart, ye are so fuckin’ beautiful in the mornin’.”
Your toothbrush paused.
Murphy immediately noticed your ears turning pink.
There it is.
There’s my girl.
You tried recovering quickly.
“I literally look like roadkill.”
“Aye, adorable roadkill.”
You groaned loudly. “Murphy.”
“What?”
“You cannot say things like that before coffee.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s embarrassing.”
Murphy grinned immediately.
“Embarrassin’ for who?”
You pointed your toothbrush threateningly at him in the mirror. “Don’t start.”
Too late.
Murphy leaned one shoulder against the sink, eyes warm with amusement.
“Look at ye blushin’.”
“I am not blushing.”
“Yer ears are red.”
“They are NOT.”
Murphy laughed softly under his breath.
Then stepped behind you.
Big body warm against your back.
One arm wrapping around your waist.
He pressed a kiss against your temple.
“Pretty girl,” he murmured.
Your entire face flamed instantly.
Murphy nearly passed away on the spot.
Connor realized the extent of the problem during a grocery run.
Which was unfortunate for you.
Because once Connor realized something embarrassed you, it became community entertainment.
You were comparing pasta sauces while Murphy pushed the cart beside you.
Connor had wandered off twenty minutes earlier and returned carrying beer and absolutely no groceries anybody needed.
Murphy glanced at you while you frowned at labels.
Then casually said, “Ye know, every old lady in this store’s been starin’ at ye.”
You barely looked up. “Probably because I’m blocking the aisle.”
“No,” Murphy said simply. “Because you’re gorgeous.”
Your shoulders instantly jumped upward.
Connor froze mid-step.
Slowly, his eyes widened.
“Oh my God,” Connor whispered.
Murphy looked confused. “What?”
Connor pointed dramatically at your face.
“She’s blushin’.”
“I am not,” you muttered.
“You ARE.”
Murphy looked delighted.
Connor looked even more delighted.
“Oh, this is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Connor—”
Murphy leaned against the cart smugly. “Aye, she does this every time.”
“Every time?”
“Every single time.”
Connor stared at you in genuine amazement. “You two have been together THREE YEARS.”
“I know that!”
“And ye still blush when he calls ye pretty?”
“Can we move on?”
Murphy absolutely could not move on.
Not when your cheeks were pink and you refused to look directly at him.
Christ.
He loved you so much it made him feel unwell.
Murphy leaned closer.
“Sweetheart.”
“No.”
“You have very nice eyes.”
Connor burst out laughing as your face got even redder.
“MURPHY.”
“Oh, there she goes again.”
“You are both terrible.”
Connor wiped tears from his eyes. “Murph, do it again.”
“I hate both of you.”
Murphy wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the side of your head while you hid your face in his shoulder.
Connor looked emotional.
“That’s disgustingly cute.”
The thing was, Murphy never complimented you just to get a reaction.
That reaction was a bonus.
He complimented you because he genuinely thought about you constantly.
You’d be sitting on the couch reading and he’d suddenly blurt:
“Yer lips are distractin’.”
Or:
“How d’ye somehow look good in literally every color?”
Or:
“That waitress was flirtin’ with me until ye smiled at her and she forgot what she was sayin’.”
Every thought in Murphy’s head seemed to eventually circle back to:
pretty pretty pretty.
It was relentless.
And sincere.
That sincerity was what killed you.
If Murphy had been smooth about it, maybe you could’ve handled it.
But Murphy never sounded rehearsed.
He sounded awestruck.
Like every compliment surprised him too.
Like he physically couldn’t believe he got to love you.
One winter night proved that more than anything else.
The apartment windows were fogged from the cold outside and the soup simmering on the stove.
You sat cross-legged on the counter in fuzzy socks while Murphy cooked.
Or attempted to.
Mostly he kept getting distracted by you.
“You keep starin’ at me like I’ve committed a crime,” you informed him.
Murphy pointed the wooden spoon at you.
“It’s because ye look cozy.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“Should be.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately.
Murphy watched you smile.
And just like always, something in his expression softened immediately.
“You have the nicest smile I’ve ever seen.”
There it was.
The heat exploded across your cheeks instantly.
Murphy broke into a grin so pleased it was almost smug.
“Oh, I got her.”
“You are so annoying,” you mumbled.
“And yet ye love me deeply.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Liar.”
You hopped off the counter to grab bowls before he could tease you more.
Murphy watched you move around his kitchen like you belonged there.
Like you belonged with him.
And after all these years, the sight still hit him hard enough to steal breath from his lungs.
You caught him staring again.
“What now?”
Murphy answered honestly.
“I was just thinkin’ how lucky I am.”
Your expression softened immediately.
That look on your face—
gentle and vulnerable and full of love—
Murphy nearly lost his damn mind.
He crossed the kitchen before you could react.
Hands sliding around your waist.
Pulling you flush against him.
“Murph—”
“D’ye know,” he murmured, “that sometimes I still wake up and think I dreamed ye up?”
Your cheeks turned pink again.
Every fucking time.
Murphy laughed softly in disbelief.
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“How are ye still blushin’ at me?”
You avoided eye contact immediately.
Murphy tilted your chin upward gently.
“No, tell me.”
You squirmed. “It’s different.”
“How?”
“Because it’s you.”
That hit Murphy directly in the heart.
Clean shot.
He stared at you for a long moment.
Then kissed you hard enough to make you gasp.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“You know what my favorite thing is?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“That after all this time, ye still look at me like ye’re surprised I love ye.”
Your expression flickered slightly.
Murphy noticed instantly.
Always instantly.
He softened.
“Hey.”
“I know, I know,” you said quietly. “I’m working on it.”
Murphy’s thumb brushed your cheek.
“Aye. But for the record?”
“What?”
“I’m still surprised too.”
You blinked.
Murphy smiled crookedly.
“Pretty girl like you? Choosin’ me every day?”
Your face immediately heated again.
Murphy barked out a laugh.
“There she is.”
You shoved his shoulder weakly while laughing.
“Oh my God.”
“No, c’mon, don’t hide now.” He kissed your forehead repeatedly between words. “Yer cute when yer embarrassed.”
“This is emotional warfare.”
“It’s honesty.”
“You’re insane.”
Murphy grinned against your skin.
“Aye. About you.”
Years later, it still hadn’t changed.
Not really.
The apartment changed.
The city changed.
The shape of your lives changed.
But Murphy still looked at you like that.
Like you were the best thing he’d ever found.
One night, nearly seven years into your relationship, all three of you were at Doc’s after closing.
Connor was half-drunk.
Doc was yelling at the television.
You were exhausted after a long shift and leaning sleepily against Murphy’s side in the booth.
Murphy looked down at you.
Your eyes were drooping.
Hair messy.
One of his jackets swallowing your frame.
Beautiful.
Hopelessly beautiful.
Murphy brushed hair back from your face.
“You’re so pretty,” he said absentmindedly.
Like breathing.
Like fact.
Your cheeks immediately pinked.
Connor saw it happen and screamed.
“NO FUCKIN’ WAY.”
The entire bar startled.
You covered your face instantly while Connor nearly fell out of the booth laughing.
“SEVEN YEARS,” Connor yelled. “SEVEN YEARS AND YE STILL TURN RED?”
Doc looked over, deeply unimpressed. “Will ye shut the fuck up?”
Murphy looked delighted beyond words.
“You’re blushin’ right now?”
“I hate all of you.”
Connor was crying laughing now. “Murph, say another one.”
Murphy turned toward you obediently.
“The freckles on yer shoulders drive me insane.”
Your face turned fully scarlet.
Connor slammed both hands on the table screaming while Doc muttered something about wanting new customers.
Murphy, meanwhile, looked at you with so much love it almost hurt.
You buried your face in his neck, mortified.
Murphy wrapped both arms around you immediately.
Mine.
Always mine.
He kissed the top of your head softly while Connor continued losing his mind in the background.
Then Murphy murmured quietly into your hair so only you could hear:
“Hope ye know I’m gonna spend the rest of my life makin’ ye blush like this.”
You smiled against his throat.
And Murphy—
Murphy thought he’d gladly spend forever doing exactly that.
