a/n 2.0 | still working on part 3 (the finale) but I wrote a drabble from Daryl's POV in the meantime! no beta bc I'm sick and cannot reread to save my life <3
[ part one ] - [ part three ]
Daryl Dixon knew he fucked up the moment he opened his mouth. It was automatic the way each sentence spewed out, leaving him little time to process the garbage he was saying.
Get it through your head, girl. You ain’t mine.
He sat up night after night hoping you’d come back and scream at him for what he said. He wanted you to get mad, make him admit he fucked up. But the more the days passed, the more he knew that would never happen.
You’re just some bitch I screwed.
He winced.
He’s thought about how mean he was to you every single day. That ghastly look across your face burned into his memories, scarring the perfect image he had of you. And it was all because of him. That expression was caused by his vile words and he couldn’t live with that. Even after all the shit he said to you, the thought of you heartbroken made him sick.
This ain’t real.
You’re better off without me anyway.
But... he meant every word he said. You are better off without him. People who tend to love him either get hurt or die – and for your safety, you’d be better off never knowing him.
So as time went on he kept his distance from you.
The next few weeks turned to months and years quickly. There was a pain in your eyes that Daryl couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he’d try. If you’d glance at him for a moment, all those memories—good and bad—come flooding back.
So he ignored you. Long car rides? If he could, he’d be on his bike riding far away from you. Dinner time? Daryl was eating in his quarters alone. Need another person for a run? Anybody but you was an option. Hell he’d take Eugene first before even thinking to ask you to tag along.
It was clear to everyone including Daryl that he had a hard time admitting when he was wrong. He could say that had to do with growing up with abusive parents and a neglectful brother, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he hurt you deeply.
And there was no going back.
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taglist [this is anyone who asked to be tagged from pt 1 - if you'd like to be removed just message me!! ] @arubymachado @brokenrecorddd @love-zami @nixmhxx @just-always-tired @akasiamd @officiallyvioletz @leuriss
When - chronologically after souls stripped bare, which means the Chupacabra episode of Season 2.
What - Daryl is hurt and hallucinating at the bottom of the ridge, while you are at the farm, wondering why you are overcome with really insistent dread that he’s hurt.
Relationships - why do the two of you feel like there’s a string tugging at your chests? (slow burn Daryl x Reader)
Perspective - Him 3rd, You 2nd
Pronouns - they/them neutral
TWs - language, description of pain and injury, and those signature crappy screenshots from the episodes the Slowpoke Series tends to have, and one poor pic from the internet of Patricia
What stories should I read first? - souls stripped bare! A measure of reverence Parts 1 and 2 came before it, but definitely souls stripped bare so you get what went on
Will reading this one take me all day? - no, slowpoke, about 15 minutes :)
Can I check out the Masterlist? - please do! There’s the official one here in purposeful nonlinear publishing, and the purely chronological one here. They both have the same Slowpoke stories, just in a somewhat different order. (Reader Requests are in the official one)
There’d been that damned snake, so the horse reared, and down Daryl went.
His neck should’ve gotten snapped, tell you what. For real, he should’ve broke a few fingers or something on his way slip-sliding down the world’s most painful fucking waterslide that was the rock ridge he’d tumbled down before finally crashing into the water below. Maybe he did break some shit on the way down but just doesn’t notice yet?
Whatever, he’s just grateful Y/N ain’t here with him. Because if they’d fallen too, with the injuries they already got going? The two of them would be in this shit instead of just him, and he has no idea how he’d be able to get Y/N out of it. He can’t even get his own damn self out of it.
All his lazy-ass has gotta do is just—fucking—ow! He can’t seem to get any higher, come on! He’s halfway!
It’s because the bolt notched in the top of his crossbow decided to move out and notch its damn self in his left side while he was busy careening his way down the goddamned ridge. Least he was able to fish out his crossbow from the pool at the bottom. And most importantly, he has the doll.
He found her doll! Yeah, that’s right, the one that little Hispanic girl—sorry, ‘Lila’ or ‘Liza’—the doll she gave to Sophia.
He’s seen it from the top of the ridge and was trying to figure out a way down, was walking the horse along the top to find the best spot to climb, when bam. There was a rattler, it scared the poor nag, she fucked off to who-knows all while Daryl crash-banged his way down the slope in record time.
And now, he can’t get any higher. ’Cause he’s a damned pussy.
Son of a bitch, and even now, he’s glad Y/N isn’t here to hear him call himself a ‘pussy’ because they wouldn’t like that shit. At least that invisible string that felt like it was tied to Y/N, whatever the hell that was, either snapped on his way down or he can’t feel it as much right now because everything else hurts so damned much.
Okay, Darylina, all you need to do is buck up and prove your balls dropped and get your ass up the rest of the way and get back to the farm.
He groans in pain and wills his nausea to go down.
“Oh, come on. You’ve done half. Stop bein’ such a pussy,” is his version of a pep talk, and with one final “Come on,” he uses all his strength to lunge himself up closer!
Yes!
Only — it’s the dizzy part he isn’t expecting, along with the way everything in his stomach lurches up, and the way the soil is far too loose and he can’t find a decent grip. Panting to help curb him from upchucking right then and there, he feels himself fail to find a root or branch to grasp.
Next thing he knows, his world is spinning again.
There’s a snapping sound, a searing pain in his side that spreads everywhere, and before he can think, his breath is gone an—
................................................
You
Daryl is hurt just jumped into your mind again and you have no idea why.
He’s gone out on his own before, why are you filled with dread all the sudden? Whatever happened late this morning to you two is really throwing you for a loop.
This morning, you don’t know, but after all happened with him, you feel like you’re welded together. You know it sounds weird.
Still, you do not like that he’s not here, that he’s alone. You know the feeling will ease, but it really sucks right now and you’re really not liking how that sudden dread just appeared in your brain, and loudly, way more loudly than when it happened the first time, like 30ish minutes ago? And the invisible string is still tugging away.
Maybe it’s just the caffeine crash after the espresso incident early this morning. That, combined with latent worries about the blood transfusion and how thoroughly exhausting today was. How the past few days have been…
“Carl, baby, how do you feel?” you ask to distract yourself.
“Creeped out that blood is going into my arm.”
Lori kisses her boy’s hand and shares a quiet laugh with Patricia. Rick cracks up, Hershel smiles politely from his chair.
“Does your back hurt or do you feel itchy? Cold?” Those are the things Patricia said to be on-alert for.
“Nope.”
“Are you out of breath?” Heck, you’re out a breath…
“Y/N, you’re making me nervous.”
Okay, fair, you need to get out of this room, you feel like you can’t breathe enough.
You stick your tongue out just in case Carl notices there’s something off with you (that punk notices almost everything). “Doct—Mr. Greene, would you like me to get more sweet tea?” you check, hoping you seem normal.
Genuine concern for him aside, it can’t hurt to be extra polite after Jimmy went on the search with Glenn today without consulting Hershel or being clear with his mother about it, turns out. And how Daryl…stole a horse.
Mr. Greene nods from the chair he hasn’t left since donating a pint of blood about 40 minutes ago. “I wouldn’t mind, in fact. Thank you.”
Slightly unbalanced from having your injured arm slung and tied to your side, you take his glass from the crocheted coaster with your free hand. Once in the hallway, you close the door behind you and start to hyperventilate. You aren’t really aware of walking there, but you end up at the kitchen counter pouring tea into the glass while tears pour from your eyes and you gulp down air.
Your hair’s still wet from the shower, so riddle you why it feel like it’s 105º in this place? What the hell is going on, dude? Why are you panicking over Daryl, he’s fine, he’s always fine! Just say a prayer and get on with it, you got shit to do.
Wipe, sniff, swallow. Okay.
With a final wipe for good measure, all you need to do is poke your head back in and put the filled glass on the counter. You’ll be nearby to help if anything happens to Carl or Hershel. Nothing should, but you never know.
After delivering the iced tea, you begin to make your way to the porch—but then pause, because don’t want Shane seeing you right now. Every heaving inhale makes your sore stitches burn and your shoulder/chest injury pinch, but you can’t seem to stop! This isn’t cool, this really isn’t cool.
There’s a side-door in the kitchen, you’ll use that. You need air.
two hours ago
“Sweetie, what happened to you two?”
“I don’t know.”
You couldn’t and still can’t shake off the feeling you’d gotten a glimpse into Daryl’s very soul. You didn’t want to take your eyes off him as he ran to—you weren’t sure, but probably to the stables.
There was a tugging in your chest as you watched him hurry away. You didn’t want him to go far.
You didn’t want him to go, period. It felt wrong that he was alone, that you weren’t going with him.
Carol asking you “What do you mean?” got interrupted when Maggie called from inside the house, “Y/N?” and ran out to the porch where Carol was escorting you in.
“Hey,” you panted, finally dragging your eyes from Daryl and looking at her frown. Her coloring matched her last name as she stared at the bloodstained part of your shirt.
“Did one of the infected people do that, Y/N?”
“No, it’s the stitches. Don’t tell your daddy? He already thinks I’m an idiot,” you asked, nervous.
Letting out an exhale and nodding, she said, “I’ll get Patricia,” before jogging back inside.
“This is why I changed my shirt before comin’ back, didn’t want no fuss,” you muttered to Carol.
She was crying softly as she continued to guide you inside. “Well, it looks like you bled through it.”
“Shane and Rick ain’t come back yet, right?”
“Not yet.”
“Good,” was all you could respond to that. You were in too much pain to be in any patient mood.
One, Shane not being back meant he and Rick might have come back with Sophia in tow, and two, it meant that you could get cleaned up before your brother saw what a mess you’d made of yourself.
If he saw you like this, he’d get angry, use it as proof about how you all shouldn’t be out there, then would go off about how there’s no point in searching anymore because statistics say that the little girl’s dead.
And you didn’t like how you were tiptoeing around him. That in itself was a red flag, he’s better than that, and yet…
A final, exhausted glance to see if you could still see Daryl, and Patricia was there as you and Carol entered the farmhouse. “Come into this room to your left, let see what the damage is,” she directed, kit in hand.
“I’m sorry, Miss Patricia,” you whispered.
Carol took your backpack off carefully and murmured that she’d wash your bloodied shirt(s) and grab you fresh clothes from the line. Patricia has her take off your soiled top right then and there, Carol also takes Dale’s watch off you to return.
It was only Patricia in there, so it was okay, you didn’t feel too exposed without a shirt.
She sanitized the area and snipped the sutures. You did need new ones. They hadn’t popped, but the skin around them tore and pulled and bruised.
That her now-dead husband was the one to so expertly do the original ones hurt more than the actual physical pain, believe it or not. Maybe you were feeling too much elsewhere or simply felt too drained and numb from earlier to have that strong a reaction to more?
“Sweet pea, you didn’t do anythin’ wrong. Ain’t no need to apologize,” you heard her tell you. “Otis wouldn’t want you to be.”
There was a brief pause in the suturing process because you broke into a cold sweat and she worried you were about to get sick. “Once we’re finished, I’m going have you head upstairs to take a nice, warm shower again. There’s plenty of fuel left in the generator. Don’t worry, we won’t be shy about sending y’all out for more when the time comes.” She handed you the small emesis basin for you to hold with your good side, and continued.
Halfway into resuming the stitches you ended up needing to use it. As you did, Patricia made motherly shushing noises and cooed how it was okay, then took away the container and put it on the tiny shelf near the door.
You like how she talks, she’s twangy like you are.
“Alright, what happened to you out there, Y/N? Didn’t you go searchin’ with the, uh, Dixon—Merle Dixon from the prescription bottle—his younger brother? I heard the bike drive back.”
“We had a rough morning.” You stifle a sigh in relief and pain in as you felt her make the final suture. The snip of the scissors cutting the excess surgical thread was music to your ears. “Daryl d-drove me back ’cause I hurt too much.”
Daryl. Just the thought of him out there, alone, made your chest tug again and a lump grow in your throat. And you really hoped nobody noticed that he most likely stole a horse 10 minutes before.
“How’d it happen?” she pressed. Finished cleaning up what she used for the stitches, she stood to check your shoulder. “You weren’t like this this morning, Y/N, this mornin’ you were the energizer bunny.”
The front door opened, and a knock came on the door of the room you were in. “It’s me,” Carol spoke from outside.
“Come on in.”
She opened the door and slipped inside, carrying a complete change of clothes for you, and promptly moved to take away the container you’d just vomited in.
“No, Carol, leave that, I can do it. I just need my shirt on.” Having so much skin exposed isn’t your usual.
Granted, that’s when Patricia requested, “Let me get a look at your range of motion and all that first before puttin’ a shirt back on, it’s easier when I can press against the skin directly.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t taken care of before, Y/N,” Carol softly reminded you, and took the container away.
To be polite, you asked Patricia to grab the hand sanitizer from your backpack before she did her thing. Smelly underarms are caused by bacteria and sweat; you knew you’d gotten sweaty. You already felt so humiliated and raw, you didn’t have a damn shirt on, you just threw up in front of her, you were crying; smelling less offensive was something over which you still had some control.
Patricia then started to do similar movements to what Mr. Greene did last night. Everything ached worse than yesterday, so much worse.
“Now, how’d this happen? It weren’t this bad before, certainly not this morning.”
“I overdid it,” you mumbled.
“I’ll say.”
The pictures of the family you’d just buried started to pop up in your mind. The image of them in their grave, that big blanket over them, popped up, too, as did the sensation of carrying them in your arms to get them there. The tears fell harder. “I-I had to.”
“Sweet pea, I’m sure you had a very good reason,” the woman soothed.
Really, if you had a dollar for every time you’ve cried in the past four days (not that you could do much with it, but), you’d probably have a $50 bill.
The door opened a second time.
You were grateful it was just Carol again, not Hershel or Shane. She brought you a small glass of sweet tea, which you held in your free hand but didn’t drink.
“Y/N, I wanna make sure that Daryl didn’t hurt you or try to.” Patricia was blunt.
You weren’t offended on his behalf; that she asked meant she was concerned and wanted you safe. “The opposite, ma’am,” you responded softly.
“Hm?”
“He picked me up and carried me when I couldn’t get myself up.” You tried a sip of tea to help swallow back more tears. It was very sweet tea, you gagged at first. “He dug when I couldn’t no more.” A sob worked its way up as you coughed out “God, I r-really wish he weren’t all alone out there right now.”
Carol took the mostly full cup from you and placed it on the dresser, while Patricia’s hands slowed where she was examining you. “Why’d y’all dig?” she asked.
You slumped where you sat. “The family who’d boarded up their house, the ones from Mexico?”
“The Bardales?”
Your lips wobbled and you could only nod to tell her yes, that was them, then shake your head back and forth to try and relay what happened to them.
She understood. “All of them?” she whispered.
“Th-there’d been a break in, and they’d,” you had to wait until your voice stopped shaking, “they all caught the fever, besides.”
That’s when her hands stopped and you could feel her go rigid. “Was they dead or infected?”
You had no idea what she meant and were too tired to get clarification. “Both.”
“Patricia, I’m going to get you a glass, too,” Carol murmured, and stepped out.
You and the woman sat in silence. When you tried to put your shirt back on, she put a hand on your arm to stop you.
Carol came back and handed Patricia the glass filled with iced tea.
“How did you know they was infected if they was dead?” she finally voiced.
You looked to Carol because you didn’t know what to say or what Patricia meant. She returned your concerned expression and spoke up. “I think she’s asking, um…in what way you found the family.”
Patricia nodded.
“Turned.”
And the words “Infected doesn’t mean they were dead,” cursed from Patricia’s mouth in a tone of voice you’d never heard her use before.
Talk about feeling humiliated and naked and having your soul bared, you literally did not have a shirt on.
“That is what infected means,” Carol disagreed out loud, to your surprise.
Patricia countered, angry and quiet. “Infected means sick.”
But Carol remained gentle and even. “I know it hurts when you’ve lost a loved one to it, but there’s no cure because the person dies first.” She looks down and shrugged in her shy, unsure way. “That’s the one thing we can’t cure.”
“But they come back, we see it.”
“Not alive,” you were able to verbalize as your stress stutter decided to make an appearance. “Not even the CDC c-could fix it. All they found was that infected people die, and the virus takes over.”
“They ain’t found a cure yet,” the woman spat. “A lot of things can look like dyin’, the heart rate can slow—”
“—They die and you know it. What we see walkin’, it-it-it’s just their bodies, ma’am, just the basest part of the brain. The soul is,” there you went swallowing back another sob and failing, “gone because they died and are still dead.”
“We were there, Patricia,” Carol spoke up again. “At the CDC, we talked to the only man still there, we saw proof. There’s nothing left.”
“Don’t lie to me in my own home,” she warned her.
“Don’t insult guests in your own home,” you hissed back, furious that she’d accuse Carol of lying. You clenched your teeth, held back your groan as you stood, wiped the hot tears from your cheeks with your good arm, and tried to put on your shirt so you could walk out with Carol—who stopped you.
She hadn’t lost an ounce of her gentleness yet. “Y/N, don’t get angry. This family hasn’t seen what we have.”
“Well, w-we seen one who’s head got sliced off and it still tried bitin’, but they still think we’re stupid, heartless murderers for laying their bodies to rest!”
“Look what they’ve done for us.” Carol gestured to your stitches. “Look at what they’re doing to help us, what they’ve already done.” She then gestured outside to your group’s campsite, then toward where Carl’s room is.
You still fully expected to get thrown out, but Patricia sat there, lost in thought. She inclined her head to where you’d been sitting by way of inviting you to stay. You remained by the door anyway, you felt too absolutely-fucking-like-garbage to have sat down then.
“You saw one with their head cut off still tryin’ to attack?” the woman then asked, staring at nothing with her brows drawn close. “Wasn’t no nerve reflex, or, or…” she trailed off.
“They’ll keep attacking unless their brain is damaged,” Carol replied. “That’s where the virus, um—you know.” Her eyes turned wet again and she bowed her head as tears of her own fell on her lap.
After more silence, you whispered to Carol for help getting your shirt on. “I just want to lie down before Mr. Greene expects me.”
“No, sweet pea, come back. I wanna help you get some range of motion back, come on.” Patricia, who apparently could hear your whisper just fine, waved you over and patted the spot on the bed. “I’m sorry. Thank you for sharin’ with me. There’s some…things I’ll need to think more on, discuss.” To herself, she muttered, “I need to, I need to talk to Hersh about this.” She next locked eyes with the two of you. “But until then, any walkers you find on our property, tell us. Don’t do nothing, just tell us first.” Then, she pointed to you and made an apologetic smile. “And here,” she held out the mini tissue box from the far end-table. “You need one awful bad.”
The mood in the room improved. She gave an extremely thorough, long massage to your neck, shoulder, and arm muscle on your bad side. Homegirl must weight lift or something, because she gave you back so much range of motion that you created a false memory of having taken painkillers.
“You didn’t give me anythin’, Miss Patricia?”
“No, but I will before you head upstairs to shower off, maybe antibiotics, too, but let’s wait and see if you develop an infection first. Oh, and you’ll need a waterproof bandage, let me find one in here.” She rummaged around her kit, found one, and handed it to you. “Take it off the site once you towel dry.”
now
Daryl is hurt. He’s alone and hurt!
Use the walkie, brainless.
Those words snap into your (brain?) where you’re hyperventilating against the brick chimney in the back of the farmhouse. Carol has the pink one, Glenn has the yellow one; all you need to do is find one of them.
It crosses your mind that he might would’ve radioed if he was hurt.
Which in the next moment, flips into the idea that what if he’s too hurt to even use it?
Which then quickly devolves into wondering why you’re being such a dramatic idiot. He probably doesn’t even remember he has it, it’s probably turned off, and he would be too proud to use it, anyway…
…who cares, you still need to try, you need to know if your friend is safe.
You push off the wall you were leaning into and — ohh whoa.
What is — oh no, you remember this feeling.
You waver where you stand, then turn to press your forehead against the cool, rough bricks. Shoot, how are you gonna get out of this, how are you gonna get back inside?
Your body flushes with heat, your stomach turns cold, and a sensation in between pain and panic burns your chest and lungs as you try to catch your breath; you’re about to pass out for the dumb-ass mistake of not drinking enough fluids. Shittttt, why didn’t you drink that glass of tea, in the least?
“Y/N?”
Rick. That’s Rick’s voice.
“Ricky,” you slur, “don’t freak and don’t tell Shane, but I need f-faint for sec…”
................................................
Him
“Daryl, why aren’t you usin’ that walkie? This was the whole point of them, mangy hick!”
Y/N.
Y/N?
He tries to open his eyes. Did they get stitched up and have enough to drink? Is their shoulder okay? They probably have a sling again, he’d bet money on it.
“It’s okay, man, leave your eyes closed. I know you’re exhausted.” A nudge. “M’sorry, I should oughtn’tve chided you about the walkie.”
No, he wants to open his eyes, he wants to see Y/N! Everything hurts so fucking much but their voice makes him feel safer. The tugging in his chest is back full-force — Y/N is here!
“Dude, I ain’t really here, you know that.”
What? He tries to pry his damn eyes open so he can see them, he needs to see their face.
“But you do know that you’re gonna need to get up soon. Find the walkie if you can, call for help, okay? Please.” He feels their hand lightly touch his wrist. “I’m worried about you, so is Carol.” Their voice sounds like they’re smiling now. “And our Carl’s gonna want to see the doll you found. Daryl, you found her doll!” A giggle. “And you know I’m gonna wanna tease you about how you’ve ripped the sleeves off yet another of your poor shirts.”
He finally got his eyes open and saw…a blur. Green. Leaves, branches.
Y/N.
Ugh, fuck, opening his eyes made his head hurt, though. “I can’t believe you were right about the damned walkie talkies,” he grumbles, cracking up as best he could but fuck, it hurt.
A strange static noise comes from his left. Is that the…that’s the walkie, isn’t it?
Y/N makes a face. “At least it’s nearby. I’m glad. It sounds funny, though, might could’ve gotten broken on the fall down. Maybe waterlogged.”
“I wish you were really here.” Hell, if they’re all in his head, he can be as big a pussy as he wants.
Their smile fades. As they trace their fingertips along his hairline, he could swear it felt real. “Daryl, you need to get up. I know how bad it hurts, and I’m so sorry you’re alone right now, but you need to get up. Please.”
He tries to lift his head. Pain and spinning and nausea.
So he tries to twist to his side instead and is met with more pain, that damn bolt is still lodged in there. Shit, he feels like he’s gonna hurl. “Y/N. I don’t think I can,” he admits, unable to hold back a groan.
“Quarter.”
He would have snorted, but it would make the pain worse. “Fuckin’ serious, I d-don’t—I don’t think I can—” Great, he’s starting to cry, which is making everything hurt worse because his breathing gets faster. “I don’t think I can, Y/N.”
“Bullshit. You can and you will. Now, honey — turn your head, you’re gonna get sick.”
Sure enough, he feels his mouth water, his stomach lurch, and there it comes.
Their cooing reaches his ears, just like earlier today when he was bugging out over some dirt.
It was only a second, and he was done. He turned his head back and rested it against the rock or whatever it was he was laying on. Just so damned tired…
“No. Daryl, you can’t do that, not now.” They sounded firm but still so gentle at the same time. “I-I think you need to get that thing out — I get leavin’ it in until you make it to help is the usual way of things, but it’s gonna do worse damage with it in there ’cause of where it is. You’ll be able to stop the bleedin’ better once it’s out.” They look him in the eyes again. “Do what you need to do to get yourself home to us.”
“Back there ain’t ‘home.’”
They huff. “Not with that attitude, it ain’t.”
He can’t help but smile. That’s how Y/N would’ve reacted, no damn doubt.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re not so bad at this imaginary stuff,” they tease him. “Maybe you should imagine yourself a chupacabra, encourage you to move.”
When he wills himself to open his eyes again, hoping to see them smiling, they aren’t. Instead, they look like they got the wind knocked out of them. They’re sweaty, drained, like they’d been when he’d left them back at the farm.
“This is goin’ to be rough as hell and it’s gonna hurt like it, too. But ain’t that just like so much other shit you been through? Now, you listen good,” and their finger pressed against his chest right where the tether between them was. “Don’t die, don’t get bit. I told you that as you left, Daryl. But if you don’t get up and get that thing out of your side so you can wrap it tight and come home, you are gonna die. Even if there weren’t dead people walkin’ and making things ten times more dangerous.”
How was it that he was strong enough to dig and carry and do so much just a few hours ago, and now he can’t manage turning onto his side or lifting his head? Even talking hurts right now.
“Just—Y/N, how do I get up?” he groans and winces, trying and failing again to sit upright even a little. “Why am I bein’ such a pussy that I can’t I get past this part?”
After grimacing, then mumbling for him to not use that word that way, they point behind themselves with their thumb. “I think he’s gonna have to help you with that part. I wish it could be me, but you know. Stitches and shoulder.”
“‘He?’” he repeats.
“As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.
He looks again to try to see who was there. Didn’t see nobody.
Y/N included. They were gone.
Upset to be alone again, and zapped from trying to lift his head and strain to see who was there, he lowers his head back down and rests his eyes.
................................................
You
“He probably doesn’t even have it on. Asshole.”
“You’re like, really upset, Y/N.”
“I guess!”
Glenn rolls his eyes. “What happened to you guys today, why are you like this? And with a sling again? And you literally fainted, Rick said?”
He’d been trying to recover an escaped chicken when he noticed Rick sitting with you on the ground, against the chimney out back while you glugged down a glass of sweet tea and a bottle of water.
“We j-just,” you don’t know how to describe it, “it was heavy, a-and I just want him back safe at home, is all. With Sophia.” You make one last attempt to contact him, lightly blowing into the walkie’s mic… before finally giving in and whispering “Daryl, please answer!” After a few moments in expectant silence that proves fruitless, you slide the walkie back into Glenn’s pocket and reach with your usable arm to pat the successfully-caught chicken he’s got snuggled in his arms like a football.
You lean back against the brick chimney and picture a teapot being taken off the burner. “And I passed out for only a mite, nothin’ exciting. Didn’t hydrate enough.”
Glenn nudges you gently with his tennis shoe. “Day’s not over yet. He’ll be back when the sun goes down.”
You inhale deeply, exhale slowly. “You’re right.”
“Tell me about earlier?”
You shake your head. “Later. Now, um, n-now’s not good.”
“Okay.” Glenn nods and looks down. “Sorry it was a bad day.”
“Maybe Sophia will come home and it’ll be a good one,” you mumble, not really believing it but wishing you did. “But we are pettin’ a chicken, so it can’t be all bad. Tell me about your day before I head back in?”
“I…tried talking to Maggie this morning. I don’t know what I was trying to do.” He rubs his face. “I brought the guitar we found on the highway over to the porch, and, I don’t know, was hoping she knew how to play so she could teach me, or something?”
Oh my. “You walked up to somebody’s front porch with an instrument you can’t play in the hopes she knew how?”
He gets red in his cheeks, forehead, and ears.
Good Moses, your face is warming on his behalf, too. “Glenn, is that where you were while we were goin’ over the day’s plans?”
“It gets better. I tried to act all tough, too.”
“You are tough, though.”
He mutters a quiet “thank you,” then stops stroking the hen in order to scratch his neck. “But, like, I tried to act all confident.”
“Confidence ain’t a bad thing,” you offer, albeit 100% out of your depth. You can offer objective advice only, not really anything from experience.
“Cockiness is, though…”
“Oh no.” Glenn acting cocky? That ain’t kosher. Maybe he’s misreading his own actions? “At least you tried? You weren’t rude or pushy or nothing, right?”
“I don’t think so? I wouldn’t want to be.”
“Did you say anythin’ that if somebody said it to you, you’d feel unsafe?”
“Ew, no.”
“Good.” You have to rub your chest for a moment to get rid of the tugging. Leave it to you to dramatize a caffeine crash and dehydration as a sign from heaven that something bad happened to Daryl. “I’m gonna head back in, Hershel donated a pint to Carl. Best make sure both are doin’ well.”
“He what? Shoot, let me find Jimmy, I’ll do more stuff around here to help out.” He helps you stand. “And hey, if Hershel brings it up—dude, I had no idea that all Jimmy’d told his mom was that he was ‘gonna help’ us, and that he didn’t end up asking Hershel.”
“That was way more on Jimmy than on you and the rest of us. You kept him safe out there, that’s gotta count in our favor.”
“Except Daryl stealing a horse is definitely not in our favor.”
You sigh and feel that strange tugging again. “We’ll make it up to them.”
................................................
Him
It felt so much better to keep his eyes closed, but someone’s standing over him now. Must be whoever Y/N said would help him get up.
What was that they said about ‘missing’ and ‘bully?’
He strains to get his eyes open so he can see whoever is above him.
His eyelids feel so damned heavy, man, he just wants to close them again.
All he can see is the green of the treetops at first.
The outline of a person’s head come into view once his vision stops being blurry.
Then it clears.
A smile finds its way to the corners of his mouth. He’s missed him. Felt so lost and out of place without him. His own blood.
“Why don’t you pull that arrow out, dummy? You could bind your wound better.”
Yeah, that was him alright. He’s missed him so much.
(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know, we’re all friends here!)
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Bonus for those who survived til the end of Part 1:
This is why he doesn’t have any sleeved shirts left.
Summary: Daryl shows his scars to you for the first time in the shower and you make him feel safe. Set Alexandria season 5/6
Warnings: Daryl’s scars and mentions of Daryl’s abuse
Okay this is probably one of my all time favourite fics that I have written. There is something about showing love to Daryl that makes me feel so warm because he deserves so much love. Anyway, enjoy! Also I finally learnt how to use the keep reading button so I’m proud.
Word Count: 1076
You and Daryl had been together since the prison but you were inseparable from when you first met at the quarry. He followed you around from the first moment like a lost puppy. You knew how to keep him calm, even in his most riled up moments, there was something about you. Something about your presence that could calm him in an instant.
After spending so long on the road you were all ready to give up. Losing the prison broke you all, that was your safety, your home. After the prison, there seemed to be nothing, until Aaron found you all, and now here you all were, at Alexandria, building your lives again. You shared a house with half of your group and that was what made this place feel like home.
You stepped out onto the front porch, wrapped in a robe. Socks warmed your feet and a cup of tea warmed your hands. Daryl was sitting on one of the front chairs, a cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he fiddled with his crossbow. You stood and admired him, not daring to speak in case you ruined the moment, he was so beautiful when he concentrated on little things. You were lost in your thought when he finally broke the silence.
“What?”
“Hm?” You muttered, not realising how long you had been staring.
“What are ya lookin’ at?”
“You.”
His head lowered slightly to hide the tinge of red that stained his cheeks, a light shade of pink covering yours too. You had been together for a while but these moments always made your heart flutter like the first time you spoke. His heart rhythm matched yours.
“I’m gonna take a shower, you wanna join me?” Now his heart was beating faster, he could hear it in like a drum in his head, could you hear it too? He bit his lip and swallowed hard.
“Uh, we uh- I-” He stuttered.
“Daryl, you don’t have to, I just thought I’d ask. I don’t think you’ve showered since we got here.” You chuckled and you saw his mouth twitch up at your remark.
“M’kay, let’s go.”
You smiled as he put his crossbow down on the table next to him and followed you back into the house, looking like the same lost puppy of a man that you had fallen in love with so long ago. You led him upstairs and into the bathroom, turning to face him and placing your hands cautiously on his chest. He stiffened slightly at your touch, relaxing soon after. Even after all this time, he wasn’t used to gentle contact. He wasn’t used to being loved no matter how much you loved him, but he tried, and if it was even possible, he loved you more.
You ran your hands up his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt until it slowly slid off his frame. You placed a tender kiss above his collarbone and felt him shiver under your touch. You stepped back and he found himself start to move with you, unintentionally, like a magnet. You slipped your robe off, then pulled your shirt over your head. You both undressed entirely, standing in front of each other like this for the first time. You moved towards him slowly, placing your hands on his cheeks and pulling his lips down to meet yours, carefully. You broke away to turn the water on, both of you stepping in when the water was warm enough. You let the water run over you, your eyes finding the floor that was slowly discolouring with the dirt that ran off his body. Your eyes looked up to meet his but his eyes were closed as he enjoyed the feeling of the water on him. You grabbed a cloth with some soap and began washing his chest. His eyes opened and watched your every move carefully. You moved to his arms, making sure to run the cloth over every bit of dirt.
“Turn so I can clean your back.”
He froze, stiffened. You tried to read the look on his face but you had never seen it. He looked sad, worried, like his mind was racing. “Daryl, are you okay?”
His eyes softened as they met yours. “I never told ya, I should have, its just-it’s just hard.”
“You know you can tell me anything but you also know I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable so you don’t have to.”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He slowly began to turn around. “My dad, he used to, uh-” He turned completely, revealing his back and the scars that covered it. Your eyes wandered from his shoulders down to his lower back, focussing on each individual scar for a few seconds before you walked forwards and wrapped your arms around him. You felt his breath hitch and then release slowly, like he was letting go of something. “He used to get drunk and he would get angry. Sometimes he couldn’t get drunk and that would make him angrier. He would just let it out on Merle and me.” You felt him begin to shake slightly, you couldn’t see the tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’ve never shown ya cause I didn’t know how ya’d react.”
You pulled your head away from his back slightly to talk. “Daryl, these are part of your past, these are part of you. Part of what make you who you are, but they don’t define you so never let them consume you and don’t be ashamed of them.” You reluctantly pulled your arms away from him and he turned to face you, his hair covered his eyes. You reached up and pushed the hair away from his face and he leaned into your touch. “You are you because of your past but that is what it is. The past. You are here now, with me and I will never let anything happen to you. I love you Daryl Dixon and I will protect you the same way that you protect me.”
Now you saw the tears, he didn’t hide them.
“I love ya so much.”
You wiped the tears away and kissed his lips. He didn’t hide anything from you anymore.
You lost your safety when the Prison fell, at least you thought you did but you didn’t, your safety was standing in front of you and his safety was in front of him, his home, his love.
A/N I just loved this fic so much. P.S requests are officially open! feel free to message me and request a Daryl x Reader fic and I will do my best to fulfil it!
Warnings: Language, mentions of blood, SMUT (18+ only), unprotected sex
Word Count: 8.3k
Author’s Note: This is my piece for Jen’s Mystery Box Writing Challenge, go check out her stuff...she’s amazing in every way at @coffee-obsessed-writer! , this was an absolute dream to write; I loved every second of it and I hope you all enjoy it as well! Let me know what you think and if you would like to be added to any of my tag lists! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
my prompt was delivered to me as follows: So, for you, my dear, I have a TWD Daryl x reader request. This person sent in a summary then ask for smut, angst, fluffSummary: Daryl gets hurt u find him and nurse him back to health
“How is my favorite prisoner?” Negan cocked an eyebrow up at the doctor who kneeled beneath him.
“Um, with his injuries that he sustained during his discipline Sir; not good…” the man stood up onto shaky legs and looked the leather clad leader in his eyes.
“Leave him in the dark for a couple of days, maybe he’ll cooperate then.” Negan replied flatly without any trace of human emotion.
“Sir, he is badly injured with multiple lacerations on his face, arms and abdomen; if we don’t treat him in this condition he might die—” the doctor attempted to be firm against Negan it didn’t turn out well.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about what happens to that sack of Redneck shit!” Negan’s voice boomed off of the high ceiling of the large room before his leather gloved hands grabbed the bright white collar of his lab coat and tossing him headfirst into the open side of the furnace.
The mood of the wide-eyed survivors of the Sanctuary shifted of that into fear of their leader’s actions. Negan clicked his tongue and wiped his hand down is scruffy mouth, “Well, we are fresh out of medical personnel, so go to the Hilltop and take theirs…” Negan pointed to his right hand man, Simon.
Simon nodded and walked towards the exit stopping short of the door when Negan’s voice broke through the silence again, “Take some of their shit too while you’re there.”
___
His bare feet slapped against the dirt path in the thick wooded area, his chest heaving large breaths of night air into his burning lungs. The mild sweat that glistened on his dirty skin caused his shaggy brown hair to stick to his forehead. He leaned up against a tree in an attempt to hide from a lone walker that was wandering through the woods; ironic, that’s him except for he’s barely more alive than the walker.
He brought his arm down to his waist to grip his knife, the snap of a twig on the forest floor signified the walker was within range. His beaten body staggered out from the large trunk and swung the knife into the walker’s face, sending it down to the bed of dead leaves. The walker’s dark, thick blood seeped from the large whole that the knife had created, “Shit.” Darryl huffed, leaning his arm against the tree he was once hiding behind.
His bright blue eyes squinted in confusion as he looked at the walker he had just killed, “What the hell?” He tilted his head gazing at the walker’s rather clean look about him, “Where did you come from?” His eyes followed the obvious trail the dead man had left behind. “Reed’s” he grunted.
___
Reed’s General Store, the crooked, dusty sign read on the shoddy roof of a smaller building. Darryl eyes surveyed the surroundings of the perimeter, before he readjusted his grip on the handle of the knife he had and he snuck closer to the door. He cautiously peered inside of the dirty window and saw nothing alarming inside, his bloody hand turned the knob and entered.
His eyes glanced around the looted shelves and racks that littered the shop; his rough hands leafed through the sizes of the left over clothing before going to the next rack. He slid the spray painted sweatshirt off of his body, the small streams of blood glistened in the beams of blue moonlight that trickled in through the broken window, he winced in pain as his skin stretched the bruises that dotted his skin, He dug his fingertips into the lip of the sweatpants that Negan’s men forced him into and stepped out of them as they fell to his ankles.
Just before his hand could make contact with the black shirt that hung on the silver metal prong you swung around the corner with your gun raised, “Don’t try anything or I’ll blow your head clean off!” He raised his hands and stayed silent, “Now turn around nice and slow; don’t forget bullets are faster than your knife on the ground.” He turned around slowly to face you and it was only then when you noticed that he was fully naked. “You hurt?” You refocused yourself in attempt to gawk at his generous member. You eyed him as you notice the bruises and the blood that glistened slightly; he grunted deeply in response to you, “Kick your knife to me.”
“I ain’t gonna hurt you, girl.” Your breath caught in your throat at the sound of his rough, gravel-like voice.
“I said kick me your knife, asshole!” You raised your voice at him. He followed your order and kicked the knife towards you, the tip of the metal blade grinding on the floor of the abandoned store.
You bent down, grabbing the handle of the knife, placing it in your belt and returned the gun to your waistband of your jeans, “Cover yourself up.” You lowered your voice, his bare feet stepped back into the sweatpants and he quickly pulled them back up to his waist. “Did it bite you?” You motioned to the sweatshirt that lay bloodied on the floor.
“It wasn’t the dead.” He corrected you, his eyes looked down at you cautiously as he was becoming weary about the interaction that was happening.
“Let me see.” He stepped away but you quickly grabbed his wrist before he was out of your reach, “I’m not going to hurt you; let me look.” You coaxed him; he submitted, allowing you to guide him over to the check out counter to sit down. “You belong somewhere?” You question him.
His breath hitched in his throat when you brought a wet cloth to a wound on his chest, his eyes connected with yours when you halted your movements, “You’re good…yeah I have a group I just—”
You glanced down at the clothes that he was ridding himself of and finally notice the orange spray paint on the sweats “Negan?”
His body tightened with your inquiry, “How’d you kno—”
“I used to work for him.” He leaned away from you slightly, his eyes filling with anxiety, “I got out too…I was one of his nurses. He said I cared about his prisoners too much.” You chuckled slightly to yourself and resumed cleaning his numerous wounds that scattered about his body.
“So he just let you go?” He said carefully watching how tender you were with bandaging him.
“No,” you paused, looking up to his eyes from the last wound that needed covered up, “He offered me to become a wife—said I couldn’t do my job anymore; so I packed a small pack and left.” You smirked at him.
“There,” you said sitting back up and placed your hands on your knees, “You’ll be a bit weak and pretty sore for a couple of days but you should be okay…” his face relaxed for a moment as he offered you a small smirk of gratitude.
“You didn’t have to do thi—” he broke the tension that was beginning to build.
“Save it…” you voice trailed indicating for him to reveal his name finally.
“Daryl.” He introduced himself.
“Y/N.” You stated back to him.
He nodded, “thanks…You have a group now?” His voice was low and his tone was curiously cautious.
“Not anymore.” You stood, turning your back to him to rummage through your belongings.
“I’m sorry.” He twitted his thumbs and tried to stand up but stumbled.
You turned back around in time and your hands wrapped around his waist and grabbed his arm to steady him, “You’re too beat up to be on your own for a while, at least until you have some antibiotics in your system.” You warned, “You’re going to need antibiotics, Daryl.” You said rolling out a blanket on the floor and laying down on top of it.
You relaxed in your place on the floor, sliding over to make some room for him, “We can go down the street in the morning.” You closed your eyes but you know he’s about to speak again, “You’re not in any shape to be on your own right now; plus it’s dark out there and Negan has people looking for you.”
“You’ve done too much for me, Y/N. Thank you—” he cleared his throat.
“You need those antibiotics so your wounds don’t get infected; if they do, which they will without those antibiotics, the fever will burn you right up and turn your brain into soup before you come back.” He still tried to attest you; you lean up on your elbows, “Didn’t your Momma ever teach you any manners?”
He laughed at you and slid down off of the box he was resting on and onto the floor beside you. He placed his head on the make-shift pillow and folded his hands on his chest, “Alright.” He agreed and settled in beside you.
There were several minutes of silence between the two of you, just the music from the many crickets that sang outside, “I hope you don’t snore.” You rolled over to face him.
“Oh don’t worry, I do.” He laughed with his own words, his eyes hovering on your lips for an extended second. “You should get used to it.”
“Oh really?” You leaned your head on your elbow and cocked an eyebrow up to him.
He grunted and slowly rolled onto his side so his face was close to yours, his eyes gently running along the curves of your smile. “You said I’d be weak for a couple of days and I need the antibiotics and I’m in” he used air quotes with his hands, “no shape to be on my own right now” he mocked your voice as best as he could. “I figured that could take a couple days…” his voice trailed off.
“How do you reckon it’d be a couple of days?” You whispered finding yourself get lost in his blue eyes.
“I do feel like shit now.” He confessed.
“Well, the adrenaline from your grand escape has probably worn completely off by now and you are really roughed up; like bad…” you admitted, rolling onto your back, gazing up at the ceiling.
“I wouldn’t mind staying with you for a couple of days; I could help you find more water and I can even go hunting for something once you make me better.” His voice sent ripples through the tension that built back again between the two of you once more.
“Yeah…I guess that would be okay.” Your voice became thicker as your body relaxed for the first time in a long time; maybe it was because of not being alone; because of him…
“I can take first watch.” He said leaning up on his least injured arm, gritting his teeth slightly.
“No; you need the rest.” You argued back to him.
“From the looks of it, so do you.” He spat at you and smiled playfully, knowing it would get a rise out of you in an instant.
“You look worse than I do, Daryl. Don’t even try me!” You gently nudged an elbow into his side making him grunt slightly, “Shit, sorry!” You shot up, your eyes filled with worry.
“You’re good, Y/N.” He nodded, his hand guarding his side where you had just nudged him.
You lie back down next to him and the two of you listened to the harmony of the crickets play in the forest, the occasional dragging of a nearby walker. Daryl’s ears picked up on the dead giveaway of the dead, your hand cupped his, “They can’t get in…this place is actually pretty secure, not too easy to get inside.” You whispered, careful not to risk being too loud.
“For the dead,” he began but he saw in the moonlight the way your eyebrows furrowed down, “it ain’t easy to get inside…hell I was half dead when I wandered straight through that door.” His low, tired voice sent shockwaves through your body and goosebumps to erupt on your exposed skin.
“Well, you weren’t the quietest so I could hear you coming in.” You bantered back with him. This is nice, you thought; you had forgotten what it was like to be with a live person, a good person. “Okay,” you sighed, “We’ve got a long way for you to go tomorrow so, let’s get some rest…”
___
The warm ray of sunshine burst through the dusty window on the front door onto your face. Your eyes fluttered open, you rubbed your eyes from the sleep that still hung there, “Morning.” Daryl’s voice hummed, “You snore you know that?” Half of his mouth curled up into a playful smile.
“I assume you’re feeling better; still look like hell though.” You teased and twisted around to kneel and begin to roll the blanket up for your journey.
“Still catching up on your beauty sleep too?” He said sarcastically and tossed you a rope to tie up the blanket to your backpack.
“Ready, Daryl?” You said tying the knot in expert time.
___
“It’s just down this road about eight and a half or so miles.” You pointed, his eyes bugged out a little at the normally reasonable number but it seemed impossible in his condition at this time. “Hey, we can stop and take breaks whenever you need to, okay…how about we go halfway and set up a small camp, I can change your bandages and we can do the rest tomorrow?” You suggested, he remained silent but he nodded. You took his hand into yours and began your journey to get the antibiotics that he needed, hand-in-hand.
“Why’d you say no?” Daryl asked you after about twenty minutes of walking slowly together down the long road.
You jumped slightly at the sudden rumble of his deep voice, you looked over to him, “What do you—Oh, Negan.” You nodded. “That man’s a monster…he means well with some things but he just—” you rambled, “He just doesn’t know when it is enough, goes too far.” You looked straight ahead again, gazing down the long road that you still had to walk down. “How are you feeling?” You changed the subject.
He grunted, “I’m good, little unsteady but I can make it. Could use some water though…”
You reached into the mesh side pocket of your pack, “Shit.” You muttered, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You frowned heavily as you turned the water bottle upside down and nothing but a couple drops of water dripped from the lip of the bottle. “Daryl, I’m sorry…I must have not closed it tight enough or something.”
“I’m sure there’s a stream around here or something; we’ll find something.” He swung an arm around your shoulder.
You smiled quaintly to him and reveled in the most physical contact that you’ve had since before you turned Negan down. “You’re group must be worried sick,” he tilted his eyebrow to you in silent confusion, “Nice guy like you…you are most definitely missed.” Your heart fluttered within your glistening chest and you internally rolled your eyes at your comment.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen them for a couple weeks.” He revealed to you, a small drop of sweat hung on his forehead. “shit, it’s getting hot already; how much longer do we have to go yet?” He said scrunching his nose in acute pain that began to sting as the sweat moistened his bandages.
“Uh, maybe about half way there or so…let’s take a break, maybe find some water, set up camp for the night and I can change out your dressings.” You suggested to him.
“Yeah, that sounds good, Y/N.” He nodded.
The two of you walked down the road a couple yards more before veering off of the road down the small hill into the woods that lined both sides of the road. “This should do, you think?” You settled your hands on your hips and blew a hair from your face and pointed, “Should be easy to make a perimeter around here, set up in the middle,” you took a few steps into your venue for your home for the night, “here.”
Daryl’s eyes were bloodshot and his skin was moist and pale, his shaky arm was resting on a slender tree trunk; your voice muffled within his ears but he grunted in agreement to whatever you were going on about.
“Hey,” you clapped your hands, “you going to pass out?” You said wrapping your arms around his body, “you’re going to pass out, okay. Over here.” You said, hoisting his body slightly as you helped him move to rest on a large, fallen, rotten tree. “You’re dehydrated.” You said cupping his scruffy cheeks in attempt to focus his attention onto you.
“I’m fine, just a little tired.” He groaned, nodding his head.
“I know you are, but you need to stay awake for a little for me okay?” You raised your voice and began blocking him in, attempting to hide and barricade him on the tree he was sitting on. “There’s a stream about a mile into the woods, I need you to stay awake until I get back, Daryl.”
“You’re not going alone, it’s too dangerous—what if something happens to you.” His voice croaked in his dry mouth and his eyes fluttered slightly.
“Here.” You said, giving him his knife back, “Use this on whatever that tries to kill you, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He nodded, his eyelids becoming increasingly heavier and heavier.
___
“Wake up!” You shook his shoulder, “I have water, here—” you shot backwards as Daryl’s sweaty hand emerged and swung around wildly in the air. “Daryl! It’s me, Y/N!” You said calmly in attempt to get him to realize it was you instead of a walker.
“Y/N?” His deep voice sounded thick with hesitation, his voice was followed by his body that rounded the edge of the trees. You nodded and held up the full bottle of water to him, “shit—I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking—”
“It’s okay, you were probably just having a mild hallucination from the dehydration,” you elaborated and sat on the dead tree, “Come on.” You patted the spot next to him, “Let me take another look at you.”
“Thanks.” He grunted deeply and took a long gulp of the water, sitting next to you. “You know,” he said as you helped him peel off his shirt to expose his numerous bandages, “After we ran into Negan, I didn’t think there was anyone else like us left alive.” His chest tightened with your fingertips picking the edges of his largest bandage.
You chuckled slightly to yourself, “Yeah, I guess there isn’t that many of us anymore.” You agreed, “Sorry.” You smiled up to him, “This is going to hurt a bit more, take a deep breath.” Your hand peeled off the last bandage, you leaned down so you had a better look at him to assess the wounds healing.
“How does it look?” He asked you with a hint of nervousness inside its density.
“Um, good…” you bugged your eyes out slightly, “You’re definitely going to need those antibiotics though…” you laughed and grabbed your backpack, rummaging into to it, retrieving your supplies.
Daryl’s pure blue eyes admired you silently when you were organizing your things before you dressed him again. His heart skipped in his chest and a cheeky smile crept onto his unshaven face. “What?” Your voice and sudden eye contact with him snapped him from the warm thoughts in his mind and made his eyes bug out slightly.
“Nothing.” He said shifting his gaze from your eyes.
You rolled your eyes at him and gently pushed his knee, “Daryl, what is it?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, kneeling down by the tree he was perched on.
He hesitated and it was like you could tell he was trying to think of how to form his thoughts into a sentence, “No one’s ever cared about me. Especially like this. I ain’t used to it.” He confessed.
Your eyes lingered in his for a moment, “I’m sorry.” You whispered and stood up to your feet, sighing, “good news,” you faked a smile, “you’ll be good to go on your own in a couple of days, you’ll be all healed up then you can find your way back to your group.” Your smile faded a little at the thought.
“And what's gonna to happen to you? You said you don’t have anyone…” he grunted deeply in his throat.
You avoided his eyes, zipping the backpack closed, "I guess I'll just go back to moving around… and”
"Stay with us.” He interrupted.
“What?!” You said immediately in response to his outlandish proposal.
“You can stay with us, they’ll love you like I do—” his own voice stunning him. Your head snapped around to him quickly, “I mean—how much you take care of me.” He nodded in attempt to convince himself along with you.
“Oh,” you furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head from the timid thoughts you were having about what he actually meant. “I don’t know, I mean, I haven’t been in a group for a while and you guys seem to be close; I don’t think that’s for me anymore—” you finished.
“Think about it…okay?” He grunted and stood to his feet, you nodded in response.
The two of you worked on setting up a quaint camp for the night, Daryl doing the lighter contributions due to his injuries in the beginning stages of healing. You blocked off a perimeter and built a small circle of rocks to make a pit for a fire to cook and boil water. The tranquil sound of the woods slowly drowned out by your overwhelming thoughts of being with a group again and actually belonging somewhere.
The sun began to lower from its highest point in the sky, the rays of light shimmering down onto the forest floor where you were attempting to form a trap.
“Here.” Daryl said sitting beside you.
You smiled slightly back to him and then turned back to your hands fiddling with the sticks and twine, “I got it, Daryl. You should be resting for the rest of the trip tomorrow.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that you can do it, I’m just trying to return the favor; let me help you like you’ve helped me.” He held out his hand, gently brushing onto yours, “Please.” He smiled at you, making butterflies swirl around in your empty stomach.
You giggled, “Okay,” you said handing it to him, “I guess your Momma did teach you manners after all.” You joked.
A chuckle rumbled in his scruffy throat and his hands began to tie the twine tightly, your eyes watched his hands working but it wasn’t long before your mind began to think about what else that man’s hands could do…
His muffled voice started to become more clear and you blinked away your thoughts, “Y/N…are you okay?” His eyes wandered into yours.
“Yeah, I’m good.” You said lacing your fingers together and bringing your knees up towards your chest.
“Here, put this about a hundred yards down there,” his finger pointed to a thin trail that was etched into the woods, “Now, don’t walk straight down there, just keep your eyes on it and walk beside it then set the trap up. Like this.” He told you and showed you how to set the trap to hopefully capture some food for the both of you.
___
Night time fell over your camp quickly, the small flames of the fire cast a light hue of orange on your faces. The musical sounds of the crickets filled the night air, breaking any silence. “I can take the first watch, you need sleep.”
Your heavy eyes blinked slowly, “Okay, but only for a couple hours.” You adjusted, making yourself comfortable on the dirt ground of the forest.
___
Your eyes fluttered open, the harmony of crickets was replaced by the sweet sounds of birds chirping, you shot up in realization, “Daryl!” You shouted, your heart jumping into your throat.
He stepped out from behind a tree, zipping his pants back up, “There she is.” he smiled and hobbled over to you.
You were quick to your feet, “What the hell were you thinking?!” You shouted at him, making his smile fade instantly.
“You needed to sleep, so I let you!” He defended.
“What if something happened, Daryl?” You shouted, tossing your arms up in the air instead of shoving him. “Or what if you fell asleep too and walkers came to camp or Negan found us—”
“Yeah, well he didn’t!” He raised his deep voice at you, “And nothing happened so I don’t know why you’re all upset at me lettin’ you sleep!”
“Unbelievable.” You scoffed, packing everything up again, “and to think I thought you were different…” you muttered under your breath, latching the buckle shut.
“What did you say?” He tipped his head down.
“Did you check the trap; you’ll need something to eat…” you changed the subject. He hesitated for a brief moment, “I’ll check it.” You said storming past him.
You returned shortly with a small rabbit in your hand, “Here.” You dropped it in his lap before walking past him where he sat by the small fire that he tended to.
“Aren’t you havin’ any.”
“Nope. Not hungry.” You said shortly.
He expertly skinned the rabbit and slowly turned it over the fire cooking it, “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, you looked at him with his hand extended out to you. You stood up and grabbed the meat from him and took a large bite making him chuckle slightly. The two of you ate in silence for a little while, it wasn’t long before the two of you ate it all because the rabbit was fairly small.
“Do you need me to change your bandage before we leave?” You inquired, swallowing the last bit of rabbit with a gulp of water.
“Nah, I can wait until we get there; you said it’s not long until we get there anyway, right?” He said picking at his fingernails.
“Yeah, about an hours walk from here if we take the road; ready?” You asked.
___
“How are you doing?” You asked him as he slowed his pace down, “Do you need some water? We can stop if you need to.”
“No, I’m okay; just a little sore, that’s all.”
You walked beside him and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers in with his, “It’s just up here, then you can go back to your group.” You cleared your throat, “Without me.” He didn’t say anything but you noticed his grip on your hand got tighter.
The two of you walked a half a mile hand in hand in complete silence, the road veered off to the left and the trees cleared for a long building that used to be a strip of stores and businesses. “Here we are.”
“A veterinarian’s office?”
“Yeah, most medications are the pretty much the same; most people don’t know that so it should have what you need.” You said looking over your shoulder, walking towards the door retrieving your weapon and tapping on the glass section on the door.
After waiting a couple minutes for any walkers inside to come to the door where you just tapped, “Look’s like no one’s home.” You turned the knob to the door but it was locked; you took the end of your blade and smashed it through the glass, reached in and unlocked the door.
“Sit here, I’ll be right back.” You said, smiling to him before you wandered the isles and trailed your hand along the shelves, grabbing the supplies and medicine that you needed and put it in the red plastic shopping basket.
___
It wasn’t long before you returned to the front counter with the basket full of medical supplies for Daryl. “Take one of these, three times a day,” you said placing a white medication bottle on the counter, the contents rattling inside, “And take one of these in the morning for two weeks.” You looked up and he was staring intently at your face, memorizing it.
“You got it, Doc.” He grunted and tugged his shirt over his head, “thanks.” His tone tinged with pain.
You furrowed your eyebrows in response to his voice, but your brushed it off and peeled away his bandages and began to clean them. You could feel butterflies doing their dance inside of your stomach again, “What is it Daryl?” You asked not looking away from the task at hand.
“I think you should stay.” He responded.
“Daryl,” you sighed and sat back, making eye contact with him, “We already talked about it—”
“There’s an empty house you can stay in,” he continued, you leaned forward and resumed your work again, “if you don’t like it you are free to leave whenever…just stay, please.” His voice pleaded for your agreement, “They would be so grateful to meet the woman who saved my life, when I get back.” He paused, “We could need you there too, we don’t have anyone who knows half as much as you do anymore.”
You finished taping the last bandage secure to his abdomen, “There.” You said.
His heart dropped inside his chest, he looked down to the three large gauze patched on his bruised belly and nodded softly.
“I’m sorry, Daryl.” You whispered rubbing his knee gently.
“Yeah,” he paused looking at your hand on his knee then up to your face. The heartbreak in his eyes ate away at yours own, tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
You sprung up and cleared your throat, “Well, I guess this is it then.” You said turning away to wipe the small accumulation of tears that threatened to expose your true feelings about that man. You turned around to him to help him up but you were stunned when he wrapped his arms around your waist and presses his lips onto yours.
Your heart leaped within your chest, your hands easily found their way to the back of his neck, like they were going to where they were always meant to be. You kissed him back deeply, full of passion, his tongue teased your bottom lip gently asking for acceptance; you submitted and the kiss deepened, his hands wandered your body from your waist and settled on your ass.
You broke the kiss and he pressed his head on your forehead, “I—I can’t Daryl, I’m sorry.” You whispered, slipping away from his grip and grabbing your bag. “Here is where you need to go…” you pointed on a map that you sprawled out on the surface of the desk.
“Come with me.” He pressed, “you said it yourself, it’s dangerous for me to be out there on my own,” his eyes searched yours making your heart skip a beat. His hand gently made its way on top of yours, “Just a couple of days so you can rest.”
You flipped your hand over so you could intertwine your fingers with his, he smiled as he felt you squeeze his hand slightly, “Okay.” You nodded.
___
The two of you journeyed back to Alexandria over the next three days and two nights, you had stopped and made camp in abandoned buildings and scavenged what you could. The days that you spent together on the road was fun, Daryl taught you some hunting tips and you monitored his wounds.
“How am I looking, Doc?” He asked when you changed his bandages again.
“Really good actually,” you paused and changed the bandages faster because he was healing beautifully, “Those antibiotics are working great!” You paused, “How’s the pain?”
“Not so bad, I can tell I’m getting better but there’s still some pain.” He admitted, sliding on his shirt again.
You leaned down and kissed his mouth sweetly, “Better?” You asked leaving your face inches away from his.
“Much better.” He smiled, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.
You quickly kissed him one more time before standing up straight again, “We’re almost home, right?”
“Yeah, about a half a day’s walk.” He paused, “I think we can make it before nightfall if we leave now.”
___
“Here we are.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand nervously, “You ready, Y/N?” With the gentle squeeze of his hand the two of you walked out of the tree line and towards the gate of Alexandria.
“Holy shit!” Rosita said from the watch post, “Rick!” She shouted over her shoulder when she saw who was approaching the community, “Open the gate!” She ordered Eugene as she descended the ladder.
Rick’s attention was fixed on Rosita and the opening gate, the pistol bouncing in the holster against his leg as he came running; the other survivors emerged towards the growing commotion. “What is it? Negan?” His face hard with concern.
Rosita smiled happily, “Look!” She motioned with her arms out of the gate. Rick walked over towards the entrance and stopped in his tracks.
“Daryl?” He whispered, watching his face become more clear as he walked closer. Rick walked out of the community and closer to Daryl, the gap closing. Daryl let go of your hand and quickened his pace.
Rick’s eyes widened, his arms wrapping around his brother, “I thought you were dead.” He released Daryl, “Negan came here, looking for you; said you escaped, I thought—”
“I did.” Daryl interrupted, “Lucky enough for me, I found her.” He nodded to where you were standing a few yards back from where they reunited. “Her name is, Y/N; she saved my life. I got the shit kicked out of me just before I got out of Negan’s and my dumb ass stumbled into her and she fixed me up, gave me medicine…she’s good Rick.” He finished.
Rick placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, “I trust you, brother; welcome home.” He smiled then walked past Daryl over to you.
“Welcome to Alexandria. I’m Rick Grimes, Daryl tells me you saved his life; I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for him.” He reached out his hand from his hip.
You shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Rick. I’m Y/N, it was great to know that there’s good people still out there…”
“You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want here, Y/N.” He smiled and the two of you walked back over to where Daryl was watching on.
“Thank you.” You smiled, Daryl took your hand in his once more, Rick smiled to himself when he saw this.
___
“This is where you can stay while you’re here.” Rick said, “I’m right over there in that house, the others are in that one there.” He pointed, “If you need anything, Y/N, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He smiled, “I’ll let you get settled in, I’m having dinner at my house; you’re welcome to come.” He patted your shoulder before walking away.
You walked up the stairs and opened the door, your eyes wandered the very clean interior of the model home that was all yours; it was weird, it was like the end of the world didn’t exist in this community; everyone was happy, clean and well fed…something you thought died when the world did.
You made your way into the kitchen and set the box of necessities that were given to you by Rick and the others, You brought your hand up and curiously flicked the handle of the sink faucet. Your eyes widened when the water generously poured from the opening, “Holy shit!” You exclaimed. You turned it off and ran upstairs and opened every door trying to find the master bathroom.
You turned on the water to the hottest setting and viciously ripped off your bloody, dirty clothes and hopped into the shower. You sighed heavily as the hot water washed over your body, the sweat, dirt and blood began to puddle before swirling down the drain.
You leaned your head back and relished in the warm water that rained down over your tired muscles.
“Y/N?” A man’s voice echoed through the minimally furnished home.
You shut off the water of the shower, “Hello?” You shouted once you realized that you were without a towel to cover up with.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Daryl said coming around the corner, “Oh, sorry.” He stood there, his eyes fixed on your wet, clean body. He cleared his throat, “Oh, here. I brought you a towel…” he said averting his eyes and handing you the fresh white towel.
“Thanks.” You said, wrapping it around your body, “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I was just wondering if you were settling in okay or if you needed anything.” He said internally battling himself to not let his eyes roll over every curve of your body.
“Yeah, it’s nice here…it’s perfect, actually.” You said, wringing out your wet hair that was leaving small rivers to run down your shoulders and into the crevasse of your breasts.
“All right, I can get that, I’ll just leave it in the kitchen for you then… I, uh, I’ll see you—”
You pressed up onto your toes and kissed him, “…at Rick’s later for dinner.”
___
You picked out some clothes from the box that Daryl had placed in the kitchen, you settled for some shorts and a black tank top with a grey and white flannel that you tied around your waist. The sun was beginning to set on the first day that you were living in the community of Alexandria, it was just about time for you to meet the rest of Daryl’s group over dinner at Rick’s place.
You walked across the street towards the house with the warm glow of family and fresh smell of spaghetti aroma seeping from the open windows, the muffled chatter mixed with laughter echoed slightly off of the steel walls of Alexandria. You nervously knocked on the door and you heard the inside fall quiet.
The door opened and there you saw Daryl, a smile on his face, “Hey, you look great.” He stepped backwards allowing you to walk into the threshold of the home, “They’re all excited to meet you.” He said placing his palm on your lower back.
“Everyone this is Y/N. Y/N this is everyone.” Daryl motioned to his family who sat around the large table, their faces warm with wide, welcoming smiles.
“Welcome, Y/N.” Carol said, handing her a plate with a pile of food on it, “Have a seat.” She nodded to an empty chair that was next to Daryl’s.
“So, Y/N. What did you do before all of this?” Rick asked as everyone began their meal.
You set down your glass of water and wiped your mouth, “I used to be a nurse, I worked on a medical-surgical unit for a couple of years then I moved to the emergency room a couple of months before the end.” You told them, “When I found him,” you jutted your elbow out to nudge Daryl’s, “He was in pretty rough shape from Negan.”
The mention of his name turned the room on edge, “How do you know Negan?” Rick set his elbows on the table top.
“I used to live there and work for him as a nurse.” You remained completely transparent with them, “He said I got too close to the patients and told me I would have to marry him or leave…so I left.” There was a break in the tension when you finished your story about how you knew Negan. “I’m sorry for whatever he did to anyone else; what he did to Daryl…” your voice trailed, “I’m sorry.”
Daryl grabbed your hand, “It’s not your fault, none of it was.” Everyone smiled and resumed eating.
The rest of the night went on without a problem, the group welcomed you into their family. You learned about everyone and how they all ended up here at Alexandria and why they chose to stay there and put down some roots. Dinner was concluded and you began to gather up the dishes, you brought the large pile of empty plates into the kitchen and set them in the sink.
“It was great meeting you, Y/N. It seems like you fit in well around here; especially with Daryl.” Carol said turning on the faucet and begin washing the dishes, “I haven’t seen him smile like that in years.”
“Thank you, Carol.” You said feeling your cheeks flush a bright pink, “He’s a good guy.”
“I got it from here, Y/N. Thanks for the help.” Carol smiled sweetly to you, “Daryl’s outside waiting to walk you home.”
___
“Hey there.” You said, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your shorts.
“Hey.” He grunted, “C’mere.” He said, grabbing your shoulder and bringing you into his body closely and kissed the top of your head. You wrapped your arms around his body and inhaled deeply. “Want me to walk you home?” You nodded into this chest.
His arm gently perched on top of your shoulders, “Well, this is me.” You laughed and turned towards him. Your eyes sparked when they met his again in the moonlight of Alexandria, his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. You could feel the tension rising between the two of you, it had been growing ever since you met him about a week ago in Reed’s General Store.
You cleared your throat, “You need them changed again or uh, how are you feeling?” You shook your head at how awkward you sounded.
He chuckled and gently caressed your cheek, “I feel a lot better when I’m with you.” He paused, taking your face in his hands; slowly and gently kissing your lips tenderly.
Things picked up when you wrapped your hands around his neck, he allowed his hands to slide down your sides ever so slowly and settle on your hips, gently squeezing them. You took control and turned him so his back was pressing on the door to your new home, your hand left his neck and pushed the handle down and you swung the door open.
Once inside, Daryl broke the kiss so you could close the door behind you. His rough hands pulled the hem of your tank top up, you took the hint and raised your hands allowing him to slide it over your head and down onto the floor. You eagerly tore at each other’s clothes as you kissed passionately while you ascended the staircase, stumbling a couple of times and laughing into each other’s mouths.
Daryl trailed down the sides of your hips and under your ass, lifting slightly. You returned your hands to the back of his neck and hopped up slightly to wrap your legs around his waist. You broke the kiss and looked deeply into his eyes, “Are you okay, Daryl?”
He kissed you again before answering, “Perfect.” He entered the room, carrying you over to the bed, gently laying you down on the fresh linens that were tightly tucked over the mattress. His body pressed over yours in the most heavenly way possible. His hands tangled with yours and brought them over your head, pinning you down underneath him.
His hips ground down onto yours making you moan, you could feel his lips curl up in satisfaction. “You like that?” His lustful voice sounded more rough than it normally was. You bucked your hips up frantically needing more friction and nodded your head rapidly. He let out a deep, throaty chuckle that sent a shockwave through your body and settled in your moistening core.
You could feel his hardening member through the thin fabric of his boxers, his lips became absent of yours and began to pepper sloppy kisses on your jaw and down your neck making you squirm, “Please Daryl, I need you.” You moaned into his ear. His hands roughly squeezed your breast, you arched your back giving him access to your clasp of your bra. His other hand reached underneath and flicked it open easily.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” He said taking in you sip by sip, his eye drowning in your exposed breasts. His mouth skimmed down the center of your chest, veering over to one of your nipples, taking it in his mouth. His tongue flicked over the nub as he sucked; his other hand tweaked your other nipple in his fingers.
“Daryl!” You moaned through your breath that hitched in your throat by his touch, the wetness beginning to seep into your panties. “Please, Daryl.” You begged.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you say my name.” He hovered over you and kissed you sloppily, your hands clawed down his chest, stomach and entering the lip of his boxers. He moaned into your mouth at your gentle touch on his cock as you agonizingly moved your hands up and down his length slowly.
You adjusted your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist and squeezed slightly, pressing himself harder onto you. His hands pulled down your panties and he gripped the base of his dick in his hand and pressed onto your clit, rubbing it roughly making you moan again and involuntarily buck your hips for more, “You want this?” He asked you, his head inches away from yours.
You nodded, looking into his crystal blue eyes, “Yes, Daryl.” Without a second thought he pressed into you, squeezing his eye shut in pleasure at how you felt on him; you squeezed his shoulders as the burning sensation faded as your body got used to his girth. You moaned sweetly when he began to move slowly in and out of you, his mouth pressed to yours, kissing you lovingly.
“You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He mumbled onto your lips, “So wet and tight,” he kissed you between his words, “I’m not going to last long.”
“Then you better fuck me right then or we’ll have to try it again.” You said breathlessly, moving your hips in sync with his. His length rubbed against you in the right spot making you moan loudly as you began to feel the warmth build in your center. “Faster.” You clawed your fingers into his hips.
He leaned on his elbows and moved his hips at a faster pace, he looked down to watch himself disappearing into you, “Fuck!” He exclaimed and tipped his hips hitting into you harder, “You’re pussy feels so good around my cock, Y/N.” He grunted, quickening his pace even faster, his hands balling up in the sheets. You moaned his name loudly and leaned your head back; his lips attacked the exposed flesh on your neck, gently nipping and suckling at the sensitive skin.
“Oh my God, Daryl! I’m going to come, I’m close baby!” You screamed, hooking your arms under his on either side of you and dug your fingernails into his back so hard that there were sure to be marks there the next day.
“Come with me, Y/N.” He kissed you and looked into your eyes, thrusting into your soaking center at a hard, animalistic pace.
You squeezed your eyes shut tightly as the red hot coil snapped inside of you sending you into the euphoric high of your own climax, you walls clenching down on Daryl’s cock that was still thrusting into you. You clawed harshly at his back and he kissed you gently as he rode you through your high to reach his own.
“Shit, Y/N!” He moaned and sank deep into you as he began spilling inside of you, the warmth you felt made you moan along with him as he kissed you sweetly; a contrast to what your first time making love with Daryl was like.
He pulled out of you and rolled over to his back, his arm bringing you closely to his side. “Wow.” He said catching his breath.
You snuggled your head on his chest as he rubbed your arm, “Yeah, wow.” You smiled and caught your breath as well.
There was a silence that grew between the two of you that normally would have been awkward because of the tension between the both of you but that didn’t exist anymore. The silence was sweet, you both marveled in the company of each other, your breaths becoming in sync with each other.
Daryl broke the silence, “What I said in the woods three days after I met you, I meant it…” his tone low and soft.
“What are you talking about?” You moved your head so you were looking at his face, the stream of blue moonlight gently washed over his perfect face.
“I love you, I meant it then and I mean it now.” He cleared his throat and kissed you gingerly.
“As scary and crazy as it seems… I love you too, Daryl. Saving you was what I was supposed to do; falling for you was a choice.” You whispered, “I was alone and not far from being broken when I found you…fixing you, fixed me.”
“And I would do it all over again for you, Y/N. I was close to dying and you you saved me…you make me feel alive in a world full of the dead.” He squeezed you tightly to his body and the two of you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Summary: Story picks up during season three as the group goes into Woodbury to rescue Glenn and Maggie from the Governor. However, they pick up another prisoner of Woodbury, Emma (O/C). She is a thief who fears friendships after her hard losses. She stays on the move, studying communities from afar and then robbing them blind. She has stayed alive this way for a while until the Governor catches her in the act. Now she finds herself with the group from the prison in a mission to kill the Governor for what he has done to her. She plans on stealing supplies from the prison group after the Governor is killed, but she might be growing a little too close to the groups members, especially one man in particular: Daryl Dixon.
Warnings: Slow burn, language, usual twd violence, mentions of abuse/rape
Authors Note: Things are finally getting good in this chapter if I do say so myself. I hope you all like it! I get sick of the female interest always seeming weak and like they need a protector all the time so I am trying to make a badass character here but like not too bitchy and annoying. It’s a fine line and I struggle sometimes but like oh well. Enjoy!
Previously: Ch.1 Ch.2
Merle Dixon was running his mouth like usual. Spit flung from his mouth as he yelled at Maggie about coming back to the prison with us all. Glenn and Maggie obviously did not want him around them or their family after what he did to them. I didn't blame them a bit. He had done some cruel things to me too, but I never held it against him too much, nothing compared to what the Governor did.
"Well I'll be damned," Merle said, ignoring Maggie and letting his sights land on me from over Rick's shoulder. "You're alive."
I clenched my jaw and prepared for the usual taunting that was always present in conversation with Merle. I stumbled forward to get a better look at him, my legs gaining strength with every step. "Don't sound so disappointed," I snarled at him.
I noticed Daryl shift on his feet and groan at Merle in warning. Daryl wanted his brother to be able to come back to the prison with us, but by the looks of it that wasn't going to work out. And Daryl knew that messing with me right now wasn't going to help his case. I was a high strung pissed off motherfucker after getting my ass kicked by the Governor all to save a couple of Dixons. No one should've been messing with me right now.
"You let her in the group and we are still questioning me?" Merle looked at Rick and threw his hands in my direction. "That right there is some fucked up bullshit."
"We were bringing her because she knew Woodbury," Daryl supplied, trying his best to keep Merle at bay, with no luck.
"She got us to you two. She's proving to be helpful," Rick supported, but I noted that he still looked skeptical of me.
Merle whistled and huffed out a strangled laugh that came from deep in his throat. "That's one poisonous snake you let into your nest, Sheriff." Merle smirked as he looked me up and down. I guess it had been a while since he got to do that and he was taking his time with soaking me in.
"You even know her that well, Merle?" Daryl glanced at me a few times, looking somewhat uneasy since he himself didn't really know me.
"Governor made me look after her."
My eyes widened at his words. "Look after me? He made you beat the shit out of me," I said, pushing by Rick so I was face to face with Merle. That was probably a bad move judging by Merle's playful smile. I shook against the urge to slap it right off of his fucking face.
"All that was just business. Trust me, I've done worse, sweetheart." He leaned back against a tree and rolled his eyes at my unhappy demeanor.
"Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you'll find a brain back there."
Merle snickered, pleased with the reactions he was getting from me.
"You're a coward," I breathed out.
"Maybe. But it all worked out in the end. Found my brother."
I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. The blood pounded in my ears. "The Governor found him. You didn't find shit. I knew you would never go look for him on your own. You were too happy with the Governor in his perfect little shit-hole to risk looking for him." I pointed my finger at Daryl and kept my eyes on Merle's snarl. "If you had cared about him you would've gone to look for him long before the Governor tossed you together in an arena. He just turned you into a monster too," I yelled out, my voice raising with every word.
"I did what I had to do!" He pushed away from the tree and shouted in my face. His breath snaked its way into my nostrils, making me grimace.
"This is a bunch of bullshit," Daryl stepped in between us, trying to get us to stand down. "Me and my brother are none of your God damn business."
"Then why did he feel the need to tell me all about you two?" He looked a little startled at that. "Tell me, Daryl, how many times has Merle abandoned you before? Huh?"
Daryl was smoldering down at me. He knew Merle must have told me about all the times he left his brother alone back before the world went to shit. I figured Merle told me just about everything about the two of them. His look was dangerous as he tried to shut me up with his squinted glare. His breath blew back the loose strands of hair that hung in my face. I felt my cheeks flush, but I didn't waver from his look until Merle opened his fucking mouth again.
"And where the hell is your brother?" Merle shouted from behind Daryl. He knew what he was doing by saying this. I told him about my younger sibling back when he was pitying himself over his own. My brother was a touchy subject and Merle knew that.
Everyone around us must've sensed the mistake Merle made and the tension that was being added to the area by the second. Glenn and Maggie had stopped putting in their two cents over top of our yelling and for a brief time everyone was silent.
Daryl noticed my fists clench at my sides and my twitch forward towards Merle to knock his lights out. He was too fast to let me by him, though. He immediately squared his shoulders around to block me from Merle completely. Rick had moved to Merle's side in a second to keep him under control if need be. Everyone else stood at attention, waiting for the calm before the storm to end.
"Take it back," I warned Merle through clenched teeth.
Merle laughed harshly from behind Daryl's shoulder before saying, "Or else what? What are you gonna do to me? Huh? You gonna leave me for dead just like you left your little bro?"
My vision was nothing but a sheet of red. My blood boiled over with the rage I felt, something that I thought the Governor had beat out of me. But my spirit and temper were there still, like they had never left.
I wanted nothing more than to rip Merle apart for using something like this against me. I lunged upward and towards Merle in an attempt to reach him from over Daryl. It was a lame attempt I realized after I was caught around the waist by his muscular arm. It's a shame I didn't even get to put a scratch on Merle before he started hauling me away.
The others exploded into chaos that was set off by my lash out. Maggie had her gun out and was shouting at us to keep it down. Michonne stood by with her sword out, the only silent member of the party, and Rick was yelling as he helped Glenn push back Merle who was shouting at me and taking slow forceful steps in my direction, which only made me go even crazier.
Daryl held me off the ground still as I continued to thrash around in his hold in a hopeless effort to get free. "Calm the fuck down," Daryl growled at me over the other shouts and tossed me roughly on my ass.
I ignored the pain that shot through my already damaged body as I hit the dirt hard. But I shot straight back up on my feet, getting right in his face, even though he looked down at me in an intimidating way. "He doesn't give a fuck about you, you know." I used one hand to shove his chest, which didn't affect him at all, while I was trying to ignore Merle's continuous cursing. "He was comfortable in a position at Woodbury where he was living the fucking life. He knew what kind of man the Governor was and yet he listened to everything he was told to do. Merle killed innocent people for that man instead of going out to be with his sibling. Would you have done that?"
"Why don't you shut the hell up?" His voice roared over me in a raspy yell.
My vision blurred with my anger and the beginning of tears that I prayed wouldn't come. "I would've gone to the ends of the earth to find family. But your shitty brother didn't even care enough to look for you for more than a day when you got separated. He found a better offer at Woodbury and his loyalty to the Governor became more important than you."
"You couldn't save your brother, sweetheart!" Merle called out from where Glenn and Rick still restrained him, but my eyes didn't waver from Daryl's cold blue ones. His eyes bore into mine and I could feel the heat from his body washing over me in a wave of frustration. "I saved my little brother. You can't say the same for yours," Merle continued on like this for a while. His continuing taunts only riled me up more, but still I stayed silent. Only the deep breathing of Daryl echoed in my ears as we both tried not to attack each other, the tension in the small space that was between us was holding still.
Merle ruthlessly yelled about my brother and his death over and over again. My heart sunk with each beat. He was right about me. I was not able to save my brother. I couldn't protect him when he needed me. The Walkers took him right from my hands...
I felt like I was at a breaking point when Daryl finally broke his eyes from mine and spun around on Merle. I was shocked beyond belief when he started to yell at him instead of me. "Merle, shut the fuck up! Stop being an asshole for two seconds. You know you haven't any room to judge someone for failing their sibling."
Something dark passed in Merle's eyes. "You think I've failed you? You defending her now, little brother?"
"I ain't defending nobody. I'm trying to vouch for you to stay with us and you're making it real fucking hard."
"Everyone calm down! Now!" Rick glowered at us all and his simple command put a stop to the upheaval.
"He's not coming with us," Glenn insisted more calmly this time, thankfully bringing the argument back around to Merle's fate and no longer on my brother.
I rocked back on my heels, catching my breath after my screaming match with the eldest Dixon. My heart still hammered in my chest as I looked over at Daryl who was taking small strides back and forth, his accusing stare on Merle.
"You let the samari go but not me?" Merle pointed out, motioning to Michonne, who held herself higher and pointed her sword out at him.
I watched Rick yanked the sword from her hands for the second time as they exchanged vicious looks. "She is not in a state to be on her own. We patch her up then she is gone," Rick finalized. His gaze was cold. "She," he said pointing at me, "will be here until we don't need her to fight the Governor anymore."
Merle rolled his eyes. "I know more than that bitch can tell you. I've got the training to fight too."
"Why don't ya shut up?" Daryl yelled in Merle's face again.
This time Merle squared around towards Daryl, ready to put his younger brother in his place. "Shut up yourself! Bunch of pussies you –"
He was cut off by the crack of Rick's gun against his head, knocking him out cold.
Everyone looked down at Merle's limp body in silence. I wasn't going to be the one to say it, but thank-fucking-God Rick shut him up.
Daryl took a few more dangerous heavy breaths as he looked from Rick to Merle again and again. I could tell he wanted to side with his brother, but he was grateful for Rick's timing too.
After everyone had calmed down the group migrated towards the road. Rick, Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn stood off to the side to discuss what was to be done with Merle. Michonne and I were left to stand by the car while Merle was gaining conscience back in the woods still.
I watched the group as they discussed Merle. I only picked up a few things here and there. "Look, the Governor is probably on the way to the prison right now," Daryl said, holding the strap of his crossbow across his shoulder. "Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle."
Rick must have told him how I knew the Governor well enough too because Daryl glared at me, but I pretended not to notice. I might not have been the Governor's go to guy like Merle, but I saw enough of him. Not to mention everything I had learned about Woodbury prior to my capture. I had the place mentally mapped out with the faces of every resident memorized.
Michonne grunted as she leaned up against the side of the car. The deep gash in her leg was looking worse by the minute, not to mention her other bruises and sores. I knew she went after the Governor back during the rescue mission for Maggie and Glenn. When I first saw her I knew she had a thirst for the Governor's blood, just like me.
"You look like shit," I observed aloud, hoping to stir her up.
She took her time studying me before she answered. "You should see the other guy," she responded with a slight hint of a smile playing at her lips.
I let out a small laugh, something I never thought I would've been able to do again. I sat back on the hood of the car and angled my head towards her. "I think I did see the other guy." I remembered the Governor in the arena waiting for Merle to kill Daryl. The Governor had an eyepatch on that was definitely not there the last time I saw him. "You take his eye out?" I asked for confirmation.
Her face was back to its normal vacant look. "Yeah," she answered, staring at the group still deep in discussion.
I watched them too, infuriatingly unable to make out anything important in their conversation. "Good. That son of a bitch needed a good ass-whooping."
I felt her gaze fall back onto me, but I didn't return it this time. Rick was following Daryl back towards the car.
"We'll fend for ourselves," Daryl yelled back over his shoulder at the others that trailed after him. "It was always Merle and I before this."
Rick put a hand on Daryl's shoulder to stop him momentarily. "You don't have to do this."
Daryl shook his head. "Don't ask me to leave him. I already did that once."
I had heard that story from Merle enough. He always told me how his brother left with the group of people that had abandoned him. Left him chained to the roof in the middle of the city, he always said. Daryl had ditched him.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, watching Daryl pack up a bag to take with him. I felt a twinge of sadness to see him go, even if he did hate my guts. I tried my best to forget the look he gave me when he first found me in Woodbury. There was something about him that intrigued me. When he looked at me I felt like he was reading every thought in my mind. Sure he was a Dixon, but still, my heart sank to see the man who understood me go away. It sank even more when I watched him leave with his snarling asshole of an older brother, arm in arm with each other.
You didn’t quite remember, but what you did know, was that it hurt. It hurt like hell.
It was supposed to be simple. Get food, get medicine, get anything you could find. And go home. Go home to Daryl. But, then again. No simple run ends pretty.
The first thing you remember was gun fire going off, the confusion on your face turning into horror as you watched them, every single one of those damn walkers burst through the door, the rest was more of a blur, but the sudden feeling of warmth over through you as you furrowed your eyebrows and glanced down at the sight of blood. Was it yours? Or someone else’s? But all of a sudden a feeling of pain overwhelmed you along with confusion. Did someone shoot you? You didn’t know. What you did know, was that it was becoming more painful by the minute. Your eyes looked up, meeting with Glenn’s who suddenly panicked and rushed over towards you, your knees giving out as you collapsed onto the solid floor. Thanking the stars that the walkers around you were dead instead of alive and eating at your flesh. “Y/n! Y/n, hold on, it’s gonna be okay. See? It’s gonna be okay just hold on!”
Feeling the pressure on your wound made you groan, glancing as others ran over towards your aid, though, after that everything else was a blur. In and out, you remember small pieces. Like being in the back of the car with your head in Rosita’s lap, telling you everything was gonna be okay.
But after that, it went dark.
The bright light was blinding as your eyes slowly opened. Daryl rushed to your side, squeezing your hand to let you know he was there. Your vision was blurry but soon your eyes adjusted. A small but yet visible smile formed on your lips. Daryl’s eyes were bloodshot and it was clear that he had been crying.
“Baby,” you whispered, it was hard to talk as your throat was dry and scratchy.
Daryl knew immediately, handing you a glass of water that had been sitting on your nightstand.
You sat up, sipping at the water. The cold water soothed your throat and Daryl took it putting it back where it was.
“Imma kill whoever did this to you,” He huffed, Daryl was always protective of you. It took everything he had just to let you go on this run without him and of course something had to happen to you. “Who did it?”
You squeezed his hand, disagreeing, “Daryl, it was an accident, you-“
“It don’t matter!” He walked away, starting to pace the room. “Nah, they’re peachy fine while you lay up in this bed, it ain’t right.”
Your heart warmed because you knew this probably hurt him more than it did you. And it was extremely painful, a burning sensation had taken over your body but that was most of what you could remember.
“Daryl, baby I need you to listen to me.” You called out, hoping he’d come back to your bedside. All you wanted to do was hold him, but he was too pissed off to take into account that maybe that’s what you really needed.
You watched as Daryl mumbled swears under his breath, looking angrier than you’d ever seen. Within a few minutes he was able to calm himself down, rushing back over to your side and sitting down on the bed. His green eyes stared into yours, and you could how much pain he was in.
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” You explained, tearing up. You reached out your hand, touching the side of his face and trailing your thumb back and forth.
“You scared the hell outta me.” You pulled him down, laying his head on your chest as he began to cry. Your fingers combed through his hair, trying to calm him.
“I know, baby, but I promise I’m not ever leaving this Earth without you.” You said, staring up at the ceiling, counting your blessings.
It killed you knowing how much this upset him. You wish you could just get out of your bed and continue your day around Alexandria. And you knew that’s what hurt him the most, seeing you be bed ridden. He continued crying and you started to as well. You rubbed his back, wishing to stay that way forever. Nothing else mattered when he was in your arms.
This is what happens when a simple one and done turns out to be so much more...
Daryl and the Reader have a rough start. Will they tear each other apart or become friends?
Warnings: mentions of dead deer and language
Word count: 1600ish
A/N: takes place between seasons 3 & 4 when everything at the prison was calm. After the initial attack, but before round 2.
Series Master
@charlottecl @dragongirl420 (just for you)
Working hard was nothing new to you. Now that you were at the prison, you wanted to make it work. You wanted to be invaluable to them, to fit in, to have a family again, a place where you belonged. Being alone was the worst thing a person could be in the apocalypse and you were tired of being alone. Even when you were at Woodbury, you kept to yourself, stayed off the radar. With a person like the Governor running the place, you knew better than to draw negative attention, or any attention at all, to yourself.
The prison had a better feel to it, more community, less psychotic. Mostly, the people at the prison were welcoming, there was one that was less so, Daryl. You got nothing but the cold shoulder from him. That was fine with you, you didn’t care if he liked you, but he could, at least, say hello when you said hello.
He’d been gone a few days on a hunting trip with Rick when he came walking up to the food prep area with a deer carcass on his shoulders. He was covered in mud and blood and the sight of him was slightly alarming. Too late, you realized that he was going to drop the carcass near the prep area.
Unceremoniously, he shrugged the deer off his shoulders and it landed with a thud near the baskets of vegetables. He barely lost a step and kept on walking right past you, silent as usual. Carol didn’t even register what had happened.
“Hey!” you called after him but he kept walking.
You dashed after him to get his attention, sick of his bullshit.
“Hey!” you said again, catching him and grabbing his upper arm.
He turned out of your grasp.
“What?!” he was staring you down, pissed off about something.
You didn’t back down. You could be dead tomorrow and life was just too damned short to take shit from assholes like him.
“Are you hurt?!” you asked pointing at the mess down the front of his clothes.
“No, I ain’t hurt, this comes from real work,” he sneered.
It seemed like he was decent to everyone but you.
“Look pal, I work my fingers to the bone. Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I don’t know what you think I do, but I sure as hell don’t sit on my ass all day. Now get that carcass out of my prep area before you give us all food poisoning,” you barely held back from yelling at him.
“That’s food,” he pointed at the deer, “prep it.”
“Did you even field dress it? How long has it been dead? Is that blood from draining it? I could give a shit less if I have a bite of it, but these people need every scrap we can provide. Now I have to clean all of the vegetables to make sure no one gets sick. You,” you jabbed his bloody shoulder, “get that goddamned deer out of my prep area. Drain, skin, and clean the fucking thing and I’ll be happy to fix it up any way you want.”
Before he stalked back to the deer, you thought you heard him say “bossy bitch.”
Carol was watching her friend get his ass handed to him by the new girl. She only barely hid her amusement as he stalked back to the deer.
“She’s not wrong, you know,” Carol pointed out.
“Whose side are you on?” he grunted while picking up the deer again.
“The side that keeps us healthy and fed,” she said as he walked away.
“Thanks a lot,” he grumbled.
“That’s your side, too!” she called after him.
Rick had caught the tail-end of the argument and asked Carol, “What was that all about?”
“The new girl is finally tired of him being an ass,” she explained.
“Huh,” Rick mused. He watched as (Y|N) was cleaning up the tables. He had an idea, but he’d have to wait and see if it happened on its own.
THREE WEEKS LATER
Things weren’t good between you and Daryl, but they weren’t worse either. He even said “hello” a few times. You knew he wasn’t a bad person, that was easy enough to see. For some reason, you brought out the worst in him.
You’d just finished cleaning up from dinner and made yourself a heaping plate of leftovers. They would go bad if they didn’t get eaten.
“(Y|N)?” Hershel asked.
You turned to see your mentor looking at you rather sheepishly.
“Oh god, what?” you answered.
“Daryl didn’t get any of this fine dinner you made tonight. Would you mind taking him some?”
“Hershel, that man hates me and I don’t know why. I don’t make much effort to chat him up.” It hurt your feelings that he was so cold to you and you hated that it bothered you.
“He doesn’t hate you, darlin. He just doesn’t know what to do with you. He’s been through a lot and pushes people away. Just don’t give up on him,” he handed you a bottle of water.
That was bullshit. Everyone you met since the world died had been through a lot, yourself included.
“Fine,” you relented, “where is he?”
A few minutes later, you were trudging through the field to the south west guard tower. The grass was growing like crazy already, thankfully there was a path that was well worn through the field. There was no sneaking up on that tower, there was nothing but open spaces on all sides of the remote tower.
Inside the building, you climbed the stairs and emerged in the lookout. The small space smelled of rotting wood, paper and vinyl that had cooked in the sun for far too long. Daryl and a couple other people were the only ones that took watch in that tower and cleanliness was not a priority.
You made a quick dash out onto the catwalk, “Jesus Christ, there’s a lot of spiders in there.” You couldn’t hold back the whole-body shudder that came over you.
Daryl was sitting on the catwalk; his legs dangling over the edge and was leaning over on the lowest rung of the guardrail. No matter what, Daryl always wore that leather vest with the angel wings on the back. He only half-turned his head to speak to you.
“How’d you live this long makin’ all that noise?”
“I wanted you to hear me, smartass. I didn’t want to get shot dodging all those spiders,” you told him.
You sat down near him with your legs crisscrossed. You put the plate down in the space between you and you noticed Daryl eyeing the over-full plate before he turned back to watch the fields. You nudged him with your hand. He gave you a scathing look in response.
“You don’t scare me with that hateful gaze,” god he’s exhausting. You indicated the plate between you, “It’s not all for me, Oscar.” You waited for him to take the water bottle you were holding out to him. You eventually had to put it down. “Look, man, I can eat this all myself, I’m hungry enough. It’s been a while since I felt like a fat pig, wouldn’t mind remembering what that feels like, but here I am willing to share with a guy that hates me.” You watched him for a few quiet moments.
“I’m not asking to be super best friends, Daryl, just basic courtesy, the stuff I see you do for, literally, everyone but me,” you waited for a reaction but got none. “I don’t know what I did to you, but I don’t think I deserve this level of shit from you. Share with me or not, I don’t care. Take the last of your deer meat. You need it more than me.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward for you. You were happy to look at the grounds from that vantage point. If you could put aside the fact that the world died, it was quite peaceful and the view was spectacular. The grounds gently rolled outside of the prison yard and there were trees everywhere. The sun would start to set soon and the clouds looked promising for a spectacular sunset.
Daryl had been hungrier than he’d let on and ate most of what was on the plate. You’d brought along a large can of pineapple chunks and were quite pleased to be eating them, especially since they hadn’t gone bad. You ate as you waited for the sun to do its light show and looked up at the clouds to see if you could spot any hidden pictures.
“Sea turtle,” you’d randomly spotted the familiar shape.
You’d caught Daryl off guard, “What?”
“That cloud,” you closed an eye and pointed, “right there, looks just like a sea turtle.”
He craned his neck around to look.
“It does look like a turtle,” he admitted.
“Yeah, but it’s a sea turtle,” you clarified. He gave you a look that said “so?” “Dude, they live their whole lives in the water. The females only go on land to lay their eggs. The only thing they have to worry about are natural predators, not dead things trying to eat them……plus, they look cool.”
“Ever see one before?” he asked.
“Only in a zoo,” you answered.
He made a scoffing sound and went back to watching the fields. Daryl was being almost pleasant. What a nice change, you thought. When you were both done eating, the sun was starting to set. The yellows and oranges faded to pinks and reds and that was when you saw them, letting out a little gasp.
“Daryl,” you whispered and touched his arm. He grabbed for the rifle next to him. “No, you assured him, “it’s okay.” You were still whispering, not taking any chances of disrupting them. Seeing them told you what time of year it was and that your birthday was coming soon. “Look…fireflies.”
