Daryl x reader, reader POV, witchy!reader, crystals
Summery: reader has a crystal necklace and a belief in the power of the shiny rocks. Daryl has an interest in reader and a mouth that sometimes gets him in trouble.
Atlanta quarry era
“Any rocks can protect if ya throw ‘em hard enough.”
“Whatcha always do that for?”
I blinked, coming back to earth abruptly to find myself twisting the chain of my necklace between my fingers. I stopped, heat flooding up my cheeks, and shrugged. “Habit, I guess. Didn’t realize I was.”
Daryl’s brow was furrowed, a small wrinkle as he stared down at me. I shifted under the intensity of his eyes, like I always did, and hoped he’d stop staring soon. I reached back up, fiddling again automatically, before shoving it impatiently under my shirt and staring down at my hands.
“What’s it about?”
“Huh?”
Articulate. Great. Fantastic job, I informed myself snidely. Oh well.
“The book. Seemed into it.”
Why was he talking to me? I wondered, a little desperately. He’d ignored everyone since he arrived at the quarry. Everyone except his asshole brother, that was, and spent most of his time in the woods killing things- not that I wasn’t grateful to be eating- and now he was…. Chatting?
“Oh. Um. It’s Dale’s,” I admitted, somewhat lamely. “Some thriller. Already figured out the killer.”
He scoffed, hint of a smile on his lips. “Ain’t a zombie, right?”
That got a laugh from me, and he cracked a bigger smile back. Then he jerked his chin toward the necklace I was somehow spinning again, despite not knowing I’d reached for it. “What’s them stones? Pretty. Just weird shapes.”
I grimaced. This was the part where he, like everyone else, would decide I was crazy. “They’re… crystals?”
“Say that like it’s a question,” he said mildly.
He was right; I had. Damn it. Before the dead started rising- a sure fire indication that magic or some equivalent was real, thank you very much- I’d been vocal about my beliefs. Now… it seemed unimportant in the face of survival. People looked at me more strangely now than they ever had before all this.
But I still believed, now more than ever, and I hated the hesitation in my voice.
“They’re crystals,” I repeated, firmly and confidently. “I believe certain stones have innate abilities to protect, to heal, to boost energy, etc, and- what?”
I broke off at his mutter, eyebrows raising when color flooded his cheeks this time.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I said, ‘any rocks can protect if ya throw ‘em hard enough’.”
I burst into laughter, harder and more genuine than any I’d done since the world ended. When I got myself under control, he was studying me again, those eyes more fierce a blue than the sapphire in the evil eye bracelet that had broken when I’d fought my way out of Atlanta.
“Like that. Ya laugh. Should do it more.” He gestured at my neck again when I blinked, shocked silent. “Them crystals. What’r they for?”
“Protection,” I managed, holding up the black obsidian before switching to the rose quartz, “and attracting love.”
I wasn’t thinking about my words, too focused on his casual assertion that I should laugh more. When they’d left my lips, I wished for a minute the ground would swallow me whole. Why hadn’t I just said “self-confidence”? It was equally valid, and far less embarrassing, and-
“Huh,” Daryl grunted. “They work?”
I shrugged. “Ain’t dead yet.”
“Fair enough. How ‘bout the love one?”
I looked away, rather deliberately opening the book in my lap so my cheeks wouldn’t flame again. “Don’t know. I’ll let you know someday, I guess.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Someday.”
(masterlist here; part 2 here; part 3 here; part 4 here; part 5)
(part 1 here; part 2 here; part 4 here; part 5 here; masterlist of works here)
Daryl x pagan!reader
Terminus, after the fall of the prison
CW: none, slight angst but with a nice fluffy ending for you all... for now
Summary: In a train car in Terminus, I wondered if someday, I'd ever get a chance to tell Daryl Dixon that the magic rocks he loved to tease me about really did work, after all.
I woke from the nightmare with Daryl's name on my lips and the rawness in my throat that told me I'd been screaming. The others were gathered at the end of the dark train car, politely ignoring me and my sleep issues.
Except for Maggie. Her sympathy would have been painful if we hadn't been in the same position days before, both of us searching for someone we cared about. Both of us fighting back hopelessness that they were lost forever.
I turned away from her all the same, shoving a shaking hand through my hair and focusing on my breathing. My hand came up automatically to my neck, reaching for the necklace that wasn't there. It dropped away again, and I closed my eyes against the tidal wave of pain.
We'd been happy. We'd been safe and settled and in a place protected and defensible. And then the sickness had hit, and it'd been terrifying. That had been bad enough, especially sending Daryl, Michonne, Tyreese, and Bob off for medicines at a place that hadn't been worth the risk. Especially when I'd gotten sick, too, sometime after Glenn and Sasha but before they'd gotten back.
Then everything had seemed like it would be ok; Daryl riding in at the rescue at the last minute, when everything went to shit and we were all about dead from the disease and our friends turning. He'd come up the stairs at a dead run, and the last thing I remembered before passing out was my necklace sliding from under his shirt to swing free as he bent over me, my name sounding distorted and far away.
I'd come to in C block, hooked to an IV and significantly better, and then-
Then the Governor had attacked. The prison had fallen.
And the last I'd seen of Daryl was a walker at his neck, while the rubble from the bridge collapsed around him. Then Maggie had drug me screaming away, to help her try to find Glenn.
It seemed like life had turned into a nightmare I couldn't wake up from, ever since the moment I'd handed Daryl my necklace wordlessly and kissed his cheek. He'd promised, I thought as I stared at the wall of the train car, waiting for my hands to stop shaking and my heart to settle down again. He'd promised he'd be back, and everything would be fine.
He had something to tell me when he got back, he said.
We never got around to whatever it was he wanted to say. I wondered- I hoped- it broke my heart to think that it might have been what I'd say to him now, if only. If only.
If only he'd come in, crossbow tanging, to save the day again. To get us out of here. Just one more miracle, I pleaded to the universe. Just one more. Just give me him back, one more time, and it didn't matter if I died here in Terminus and got eaten for lunch.
If I could just say what I needed to say first, today could be the day I died.
I woke up more gently this time, Glenn touching my shoulder. Light filtered in from the cracks and holes in the wood, and outside, something was happening. Gunfire filled the air, sounding like it came from all around us at once. I got to my feet, joining the others in a huddle at the far end of the car.
"What do we think?" Maggie whispered.
Abraham looked serious, concentration all over his face in the dim light. I closed my eyes, drawing in a long slow breath and trying to block out the echoes, to pick one sound and concentrate on it to figure out the direction it came from, the way Daryl had taught me.
I was shit in the woods and always would be, I knew, but this- I could isolate my senses. It was similar to what I did when meditating anyway, but trying to orient a sound in all the chaos outside was hard.
Abraham started to speak, but Sasha shushed him. "She's the best at this. She can figure out where a pin dropped in field of snow, I swear."
"I'm not that good," I muttered, but I'd already figured it out. "Heading toward us. Getting closer every time… they're herding people." Disgust curled my lip. "Someone figured it out and is fighting back. I hope they win."
"They win, we starve in here. Unless your magic ears or magic birds can figure out a way to peck that lock open," Abraham informed me.
"Skeptic," I muttered. He was right, though. We were locked in. I didn't much care. "No magic nothing. The birds are just omens; I'm not the Raven Whisperer. And they were right, weren't they? 'Thirteen beware, it's the devil himself'. Fucking Gareth qualifies, don't you think?"
"Maybe. But my hairy red ass doesn't have faith in any of your nonsense."
I flashed him a small smile, not in the least offended. "Don't worry. I don't have much faith in your hairy red ass, either."
That had the lot of us laughing, a surprising skill we'd almost forgotten in recent days. Then the gunfire ceased, and Gareth's voice sounded outside the train car. It was too muffled to make out words, even with my eyes closed and concentrating hard.
I reached out a hand blindly as another voice answered his, a voice that felt familiar. The words were barely understandable, but it couldn't be who I thought it was. There was no way.
"My son!"
In the pause, Maggie's hand gripped mine back tightly. My knees went weak, the world swimming through my closed eyes, and I forced myself to breathe.
"I'll go in with him!"
More muted, muffled words from Gareth, and then-
The door cracked open, a groaning noise that had me wincing, opening my eyes automatically like it could make the sound lessen. It did, in a way, but now half-blind, I watched as a figure walked in, slowly, reluctantly.
An impossible figure, one that had me drawing in a gasp even as my eyes watered against the light. I'd know that walk anywhere, and so would the others shifting and stirring around me.
Before I could recover from the shock of seeing Rick come in, he turned and another form appeared in the blinding light of the open car door, even as Gareth's voice called more clearly, words understandable this time.
"Now the archer!"
My legs went out from under me, and it was only Glenn catching my elbow that kept me on my feet.
The archer. The words rang in my ears, time slowing to a crawl, and there he was. Impossibly, unfathomably, miraculously, there he was. Not just the archer, I thought in a dizzying haze. My archer. The only archer who mattered.
Daryl was alive. Daryl was alive, and he was here, coming through those doors like I'd begged the universe the night before.
Michonne was next, more miracles, and Carl followed, and darkness slammed over us all again as the door was shut. The locked clicked into the sudden silence, and I fought to breathe. I wanted to run over; to fling myself into his arms and see if I was hallucinating.
I waited for the nightmare to send me screaming back into reality.
Rick stared into the corner where we stood, and he started to smile. "They're going to be mad when they find out," he said softly.
And then Daryl's eyes met mine.
He crossed the car in three strides, between one blink and the next, and his hands were on my cheeks as he stared into my eyes, searching my face while I searched his right back.
"Hey," I managed. "What'd you want to tell me?"
He blinked once, wordless, and I felt my courage starting to wane. All those promises to the universe, to myself, that I'd say what had been on the tip of my tongue for so long but I'd bitten back, not wanting to lose the friendship with my crystal-finding, snarky friend- they fell away into the voice that said not to rock the boat; that this was enough, just having him alive.
To risk it now, and be wrong, would be worse than these days had been. Today wouldn't be the day I got him back just to ruin a perfectly good friendship with my unrequited feelings.
His lips crashed into mine, his hands locking at the back of my shirt as he hauled me up to my toes and crushed me against him. I heard the sound I made dimly, from far away, too caught up in the warmth of his body, in the brush of ragged stubble against my skin, in the taste of cigarettes on his lips as they devoured mine hungrily, desperately, wildly.
He kissed like he fought; like it was the difference between life and death.
"Leave them alone," Maggie chided. "It's been a long damn time coming."
After that, I tuned them out. Daryl's mouth left mine; he released me just enough to stare into my eyes again, his purer and deeper than any crystal I'd stared into. More beautiful, too. More haunting and haunted.
"Daryl," I whispered. "I-"
"Hang on," he interrupted me. "I- hang on."
Stunned, baffled, I waited as he released his grip on me, taking a step away and turning, hands scrubbing over his face. He let out a jagged huff of air as cold hit in the absence of his arms around me. Instantly, I felt bereft. Tears threatened, tears of relief, tears of grief; I didn't fucking know.
Then he turned back, grabbing my hand and pooling something into it, spilling from his hand to mine like liquid. But it wasn't.
It was my necklace, the crystals clattering faintly, the chain flowing over my hand and slipping between my fingers. I shook my head. "No. You- you need-"
"Baby," he whispered, voice cracking. "Put the damn thing on. I- I found- I added somethin'. Hope ya don't mind."
I frowned, lifting it to catch the faint light. There was my obsidian, my rose quartz, the bloodstone he'd brought me, and- I squinted. "What is that?"
"It's a- a ring. On the chain, so's ya don't foul it up on nothin' wearin' it on ya finger."
"I- what?"
"Shit," he muttered. "I'm fuckin' it up. I don't- I thought ya were dead."
"I thought you were dead, too," I said softly, the fear rushing in again. I could see him being bitten, clear as the moment it happened, and only the soft touch of his hand on my cheek brought me back. "I was- Daryl, I-"
"Shhh," he urged, stopping me with a finger against my lips. "I gotta- lemme just- shit. Ain't good with words. Or feelings. Just- remember ya tellin' me about rubies, and I found that awhile ago, out on a run, and I been trynna work up the courage to ask- to tell ya-"
I blinked when he went silent, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders. Rubies. I'd told him how much I liked rubies, but I wouldn't wear one unless I was in a relationship, because to me it was the stone most representative of romantic love. It was associated with heart and root, with passion and vitality and love for life, but sometimes personal meanings shape more of a stone's properties than widely accepted ones.
To me, rubies were love. They were intense emotions, deep connections, fiery passion.
He'd gotten me a ruby. He-
"Daryl, are you trying to tell me you love me?" I finally managed, the words somehow finding their way past the dam in my throat that tried to hold them back.
I met his eyes in the still silence, frowning as I noticed the bruising around his eye for the first time. "Oh my god, what-"
He grabbed my hand as I raised it to his eye to sweep his hair away and figure out how bad the damage was. "Shit. Stop that. Eye's fuckin' fine. Baby. Yeah. That's what I's trynna say, and- well. I- I love ya."
My heart stopped and started again. I disengaged my hand from his, gently, and pulled my necklace into place over my head, so the stones settled against my heart. Then I looked into his anxious eyes, moving closer as I fiddled with the rose quartz I'd worn for so long. "Remember back in the quarry, when you asked me if these really worked? And I said I'd let you know someday?"
His lips turned up in the faintest of smiles. "Yeah."
"I just found out today that they do. Daryl, I-"
I didn't manage to get the words out all the way because he was kissing me again, soft and sweet this time. Like we had all the time in the world, he pulled me gently to him, fingers threading through my hair.
I kissed him back, content. Even if we never had another, I had what I'd needed. I had this. I had him. I had today.
read someday (in a day part 1) here; part 3 here; part 4 here; part 5 here
masterlist of works here
Daryl Dixon x pagan!reader, witchy reader, crystals, herb lore
CW: none
Setting: the prison
Summary: Someday, I'd told Daryl, the rose quartz on my necklace might attract love. The obsidian had certainly provided protection, through the CDC, Hershel's farm, the long winter moving from place to place, and the war with the Governor. Now, I hoped it would protect Daryl on his overnight run while I stayed behind. One of these days, though, I'd probably end up throwing something at the infuriating man.
Note: I made it a miniseries. Just scenes between Daryl and our witchy reader, showing how in a day- even in a moment- things can shift and change.
Early morning sunlight sparkled in the air, reflecting off the misty haze of fog laying over the prison field. Autumn was rolling back in, slowly but surely, and we'd have winter to contend with sooner than I wanted. A single crow flew over the yard, alighting on the fence to ruffle its feathers and caw once, then took to the air again. I shivered.
I hated being cold. It was what had almost taken me down last winter, before we'd found this place. Not the starving, not the running from the dead, not the constant movement and lack of safety- the cold.
Even now, Daryl's poncho was lying beside me. I'd stolen it before heading out for my shift in the tower, in case I got cold up here. I hadn't been cold enough to put it on during the night, but I would be in another week or two, no doubt.
Besides, it had become a running joke at this point, me constantly slipping into Daryl's cell and stealing something of his, just to see if I could or he'd even notice. Sometimes it was obvious- like the poncho. Sometimes he caught me. Other times, I wore or used something of his right in front of him and he never noticed. Those were the best, because when he finally did- or someone pointed it out to him- he'd scowl and sulk until he got me back somehow.
The man himself whistled from the ground, the curious hunting trill he'd taught me to imitate on the road. I glanced down to see him looking up at me from the foot of the tower. Shift change was coming, then, and it was time for me to walk the fences quickly and make sure everything was set. I waved down, collected my rifle and his poncho, and lifted the trapdoor to head down.
He glanced at the poncho in my hand and sighed heavily, but didn't say anything about it. We wandered the fence, both of us stopping at the north corner to grimace at the sheer number of dead piling up.
"Gonna need to do something about that," I said mildly. "You here for a while now?"
He'd been on and off, sometimes here and sometimes out with Michonne or on his own, searching for the Governor. He'd stopped his long runs recently, so recently I still wasn't sure if he was seriously done or not.
He grunted. "Goin' out for supplies, but I'll mention it to the Council. Should be on it, you know."
"No thanks," I said with a grimace. "I don't want that responsibility. Where are you going?"
"Check the Big Spot, see if the the radio's still workin'. Hit a couple other places on the map. Be back tomorrow. Just goin' for the night."
I nodded, eyes on one of the dead on the fence. There was a ring on her finger, a dark colored stone I could tell from here was a garnet. Confidence, success, focus. He'd need all of those, going out on his own. I thought about taking the ring from her finger, giving it to him. But it didn't feel right.
"Be careful?" I said instead, a casual question asked often between us.
"Course," he muttered. "Could come with me, if ya wanted."
I thought about it, but- "I can't. I'm on the fence crew today and tomorrow, and with how these things look… Don't think I can justify not working them."
He nodded, and we kept going on my rounds. One of the fences shifted under the weight of the grabbing hands, and I scribbled a note on my arm of it to have the crew reinforce the post with some of the instant concrete Glenn had found at the hardware store a month ago.
"I'll bring ya a book back, if ya want. Or some more magic rocks."
I laughed. He'd been adding to both my library and my crystal collection whenever he could, including bringing me some rocks that weren't crystals by any stretch. 'For protection,' he'd always mutter, light in his eyes. 'Throw 'em real hard.'
I'd even done so on one memorable occasion, while we'd been out on a run together, and I'd been surprised shortly after he'd presented me with a palm-sized chunk of gravel. I'd launched it straight at the walker's head, where it had sunk between the eyes deep enough to drop the damn thing dead.
We'd both stared and burst into laughter, knowing I'd never be able to copy that moment if I tried every day for the next hundred years.
We'd almost made it back, and people were stirring now. Carol was in the cookhouse, Rick in the field. The next guard was up in the tower already. It looked like David, from the Decatur group Daryl had brought in a couple months ago. David tipped his rifle my way, and I raised mine back in salute.
I stopped walking, not ready to break the stillness and silence of the morning with a return to C block. I loved our little family, but between Judith being a literal baby and the sheer number of people- housing was becoming an issue, especially in D and B blocks- I got overwhelmed easily. Daryl was the same way, I knew, which was part of why he'd spend so many nights out there, away from home.
"Daryl," I said, breaking the easy silence that had descended between us.
He glanced at me, eyebrow quirking in question, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, really. I wanted- I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted him to be careful. I wanted him to come back fine. I wanted him to-
I slipped the chain over my head and handed it to him. He took it automatically, surprise on his face. "What's this fer?"
I fidgeted, scuffing the toe of my sneaker into the ground at my feet, eyes anywhere but his. "Protection. I don't know; I've just got a feeling. I saw a single crow this morning, right before you came out."
"Assume that means somethin'," he said dryly.
A glance from the corner of my eye saw him fiddling, not with the obsidian spar for protection, but with the rose quartz oval that dangled beside it. I'd added a stone he'd brought me back to the chain as well, so the three of them clattered softly when it moved around my neck. Not loud enough to attract the dead; just enough to remind me it was there.
He'd brought me a bloodstone pendant, scoffing when he'd heard its name. Strength, resilience, courage, and vitality, it promoted. He'd said it was appropriate, considering he'd fought his way out of a subdivision for it and the massive selenite spar he'd brought me that day as well. I'd begged to go back and see what else the rather surprising owners of the cookie-cutter house had hidden as well, but he'd refused. It'd been overrun, he said, and he'd barely made it out alive. No way he'd take me there, magic rocks for protection or not.
"It means-" I hesitated, not wanting to give voice to it. Sometimes, that was all it took to cement the future in a path you didn't want. I sighed. "'One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth.' There's more to it, but- well. One for sorrow."
"Really believe all that?" he asked after a beat.
I shrugged. "Sometimes a crow is just a crow. Sometimes it's a warning. Between the stupid bird, the blood on the moon last night, and just- the feeling I've got… I don't know. Just be careful."
Silently, he slipped the chain around his neck, tucking the stones out of sight under his shirt like I wore them. He made a face. "Shit's cold."
That made me laugh. "Give them a minute; they'll warm up. Thank you."
"For what? Just puttin' on a damn necklace. Ain't no bother, if it makes ya worry less."
"It does," I admitted. He didn't make fun of me for it, which I appreciated. They all teased me gently, about signs and omens and magic rocks and other things, but everyone had been surprisingly accepting of my beliefs. The sole exception had been Hershel, who'd frowned in unhappiness when I'd come running into the room where he'd been treating Carl with my yarrow stash and calendula salve, as well as a clear quartz and a tiger's eye that I tucked under the kid's mattress.
But he'd accepted my beliefs without preaching to me, which I'd appreciated. I'd refrained from any 'witchcraft' inside his home- accept for the crystals I'd left under the kids' bed- and medicinal properties of herbs were commonly known.
Daryl's hand brushed down my cheek, then his thumb smoothed my forehead between my eyes. I glared at him and he smiled faintly. "Stopped ya frownin', didn't i?"
"One of these days, I'm going to get very annoyed with you," I informed him.
His smile grew. "One a these days, ya gonna be somethin' with me, sure."
"The fuck does that mean?" I demanded.
"Hey, Daryl!"
The voice calling Daryl's name had him looking beyond me to wave in answer. "Comin'! Just a sec!"
He glanced back at me, eyes dancing. "Gotta get on with it, I guess. Bring ya back another magic rock, Witchy Woman. Maybe another one of them love potion ones."
I rolled my eyes at the other everlasting inside joke. "Fight me. The rose quartz also promotes loving oneself, idiot."
"Sure, sure," he agreed. "Not what ya said first."
"Fuck off now," I said pleasantly.
He leaned over, kissed my cheek in a shockingly unexpected brush of warm lips, and tapped the stones under his shirt. "Maybe I will. Got the love magic an' all the protection I need, right?"
I glared after him, ignoring the simultaneous churning and fluttering in my stomach as he headed up toward where Glenn, Hershel, Sasha, and Carol had gathered, waiting for him. "Idiot," I muttered to myself. "He's an idiot. One of these days, I'll probably throw a rock at him."
And you have your mothers eyes
And your fathers mistakes
The weight pressing on your ribcage
Makes your lungs ache and I see it
Written in the smooth blankness of your face-
All the pain,
All the lies,
All the regrets
And the endless tick tick tick passage of time
You’re waiting for the sunrise
Waiting for the day you’re finally allowed to die
But when I stare at the spiderweb trace of blue-purple veins
Along your arms, I can’t help but think
You were born for something greater than wasting away
Under a burden of disgrace
God, I love the shape of your lips and the way they taste
Would you live if I asked you?
Would you put down the burden, Atlas unbound,
Clean air a gift I would breathe in your lungs
Sunlight on your face to grow a garden
Where your blood pumps endless decay
(I beg you to stay)
(I beg you to stay)
(I beg you to stay)
from upcoming 2025 release poets, lovers, & lunatics by Meg James
Comcast announced last week that it would acquire Dreamworks Animation for $3.8 billion, taking another step toward transforming themselves from a cable giant into a full fledged media conglomerate. Meg James, a corporate media reporter for the Los Angeles Times, join us to discuss how, though the deal may not have been anticipated, it makes a lot of sense for both companies.
The purchase is the most recent in a string of acquisitions that have closely mirrored the strategy Disney has executed over the past decade as they gobbled up companies such as Pixar, Marvel and Lucasfilm. Comcast has proven quite adept at turning undervalued assets such as NBCUniversal and Universal Studios theme parks into profitable entities.
