so i’ve been thinking about my protect series and im not too happy with it tbh… i was thinking of reworking and capping it off at 5 parts to make it a mini series?? i have a running storyline that i’ve brainstormed and i think i like it better… im just not too sure if i should delete the chapters i have posted because it’s completely different.
what are everyone’s thoughts on this? i’m going to paste the tag list people here to get more input 🫶🏼✨
T A G L I S T: @whore4fictionalmen19 @zamadness @clussysposts @magz3strikes @holdmytesseract @leslierabbit @bunbunbl0gs @bcatwinchest
Summary: You and Daryl get closer - which is a thorn in Shane's side. So he decides to put a foot in the door...
Warnings: Trigger warning! Shane is again a huge warning, Shane's a pervert and threatens Reader, Shane gets physical - again, swear words, harassment, stalking - kind of, angst and drama, mention of Daryl's abusive past, protective!Daryl, a fight, Daryl is a cutie, fluff
Set in Season 2!
Word Count: 3,8k
a/n: A lot of you guys wished for a second part - and here it is! I hope it can live up to the expectations of part one. ☺️
Huge shout-out to @chuuyas-world and @firefirefeline for giving me the ideas and inspiration!
Quiet Love (part 1)
°☆• discover more... •☆°
You wouldn't say life was perfect on the Greene farm, but it was... good. Well, as good as it could be within the middle of a freaking apocalypse - and Shane. Personally, you honestly preferred the geeks over Shane. At this rate, you probably preferred almost anyone and anything over Shane.
Yes, it got better since the 'incident', where Daryl was luckily in the right place at the right time, but... There was something in the wind. You didn't trust Shane an inch and kept your distance.
Whereas the distance between you and the former cop grew, did you and Daryl on the other hand get closer. Slowly, though. Step after step.
First, it was just his arm around your shoulder. Occasionally, he let you hold his hand; feeling his workworn but warm and comforting skin against yours.
Neither you nor Daryl could deny that there was something between you two. Something good. Something blooming. Something romantic - and something entirely yours.
Then there was the cuddling. Whenever you'd choose to spent the night in his tent, Daryl silently offered you to sleep close to him. Bedroll against bedroll, with you inching closer and closer every night. It properly started when you decided to use his arm as your pillow. His thick bicep was perfect for that. Then a hand on his chest. Then a shy hand on your waist. Just timid, sweet and innocent touches.
Until one night after a thunderstorm where it had noticeably cooled down - a break, or probably the first sign of the end from/of the Georgia summer heat. You laid beside the archer; the coolness sending chills up and down your spine. A tent wasn't a house, after all... Daryl noticed. Of course, he did. The man was more than attentive. Always. There wasn't many words. There never was. Just a warm hand on yours; gently tugging - beckoning you to come closer and the tiny sentence: "C'mere."
That was how the cuddling began.
Your first kiss, though, that was something yet to happen. You had given him small pecks on the cheeks before - a gesture that never failed to make him flustered. Blushing and averting his gaze; chewing nervously on the inside of his bottom lip. It was cute. So Daryl-like, and always caused your heart to skip a beat. You wouldn't force him into a kiss, of course. You never would. It happened when it happened. You wanted to give Daryl the time he needed - and that was more than okay. If you had something to give, it was time. Nowhere you had to be but in the here and now. No job. No obligations. No appointments. Unfortunately no friends or family. Just this. Just here with this group of survivors - and Daryl Dixon.
And you would not lie. The archer slowly but surely became the reason why you wanted to survive and beat this world.
He already couldn't have Lori - and now another man tried to take away another woman he wanted. His eyes were on you as he watched you and Daryl crossing a field - returning from a hunt. A string of squirrels was thrown over the archer's shoulder. He held onto the rope with his one hand. The other however brushed against yours as you walked side by side. Repeatedly.
The fact that you and the closed-off 'redneck' got closer by each passing day didn't stay unnoticed. Not by everyone. A blessing and a curse simultaneously. Carol, for example, was a blessing. It made her happy to see her - yeah, probably closest friend by now, allow himself to feel proper love. Most likely for the first time in his life.
Shane, however, was a curse. He had the eyes and mind of a police man. Of course, he noticed small things. Tiny gestures. Like the small smiles you sent Daryl's way whenever he was at the group's camp as well. Or the seemingly innocent brush of your hands. The way he was looking at you. To Shane, it was obvious - and he hated it.
Shane's eyes darkened. He put the axe away, took off his cap and ran a hand over his sweaty face and bald head; feeling those feelings bubble up within him again... The same ones he felt when looking at Lori's and Rick's picture-perfect relationship. The man narrowed his eyes. He couldn't lose. Not again. He wouldn't let that happen. Daryl was not going to take you out of reach for him.
One evening, he watched you enter the farmhouse; towel, fresh clothes and a small bottle in your hands. You were obviously going to take a shower. The moment Shane had been waiting for. You were alone, inside the house and far away from the redneck. Time for a little chat.
He was watching. Constantly. Something you didn't notice; too engrossed in your blooming relationship with the archer.
He was watching. Analysing. Trying to find the perfect moment - and it came...
Shane didn't even attempt to sneak inside the house. Heavy boots stomped up the stairs to the Greene bathroom - a route his feet knew well. It was quiet, except for the running water of the shower. Maggie was out with Glenn. Hershel was working in the garden with Patricia and Beth. Jimmy was at the stables. The other's were outside at the camp.
Yes, Shane came prepared. It was just you and him - as it should be in his eyes.
His dark brown eyes were on you - and it was enough to make you feel uncomfortable.
When he reached the bathroom; hand on the doorknob, he stopped. Listening. The water had stopped running inside the shower. A dark smile darted over his lips. Taking a step back, Shane bent forward with his hands on either side of the door frame, squeezed one eye shut - and peeped through the keyhole; watching you step out of the shower and dry your naked body off.
The former cop was still smiling darkly and licked his lips; feeling his beige cargo pants already getting tighter. Only a door separating him from what he wanted so badly...
But when you covered your body in the big, fluffy towel you brought along, Shane's mind snapped back to reality. Talking first.
Without turning a hair, Shane opened the door and marched inside; slamming it shut again behind him. You flinched, of course; almost jumping out of your skin. "Shane! Fucking hell! You scared me to death!" You exclaimed; instinctively clutching the towel covering your body closer and taking a respectable step back. "What are you even doing here? I-I'm taking a shower."
Then, a smile darted across his face. "Talk. I'm here to talk." You frowned; not trusting him at all. Something fishy was going on. Your gut feeling told you.
"Talk? And you couldn't have waited until I'm finished and outside the house again?" "Nah. 'Cause in here, we're alone."
His words sent a shiver down your spine - not one of the good kind. Oh no. This was bad. Alone with Shane was bad. You were in this situation before - barely a few weeks ago. Without Daryl stepping in and saving you, you didn't know what would've happened. What you knew was, that Shane was capable of anything - and this time, Daryl wasn't at the right place in the right time. Far from it - and it scared you.
Nevertheless, you at least tried to keep your cool. "O-kay, and, uh, what do you want to talk about?" "Us." You sighed in frustration. Not again... "Shane... I told you a trillion times before. There is no us." "There should be." You shook your head. "No. I'm not interested. This isn't a mutual thing. Please, just... understand it already."
Shane held your gaze and took a step closer. "No, Y/N. You jus' don't see it yet - or you don't want to see it, I don't know." He took another step closer - while you backed up; shaking your head. "No, Shane, no," you more or less whispered.
Within two big strides, the former police man stood directly in front of you. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your skin - and you didn't like it at all; heart pumping fear and adrenaline through your veins.
Then Shane lifted a hand to run it over your cheek. You grimaced; not wanting his touch. It felt wrong. Cold.
"You could do so much better, girl," he started in a hushed voice. "But you rather choose a reckless, aggressive redneck."
You flinched at his words; eyes going wide. "W-What?" The man's eyes darkened. "You heard me." You swallowed hard - and Shane's lips twisted again into a dark smile. Got you. He backed up to walk up and down the room - like a predator watching its prey, and ran a hand over his bald shaven head. A habit of his you knew too well.
"You think I'm really that stupid, huh? You thought I wouldn't notice, huh? You and Dixon getting closer?"
You swallowed again - but instead of defending yourself, you decided to stand up for Daryl and the blooming relationship between you two.
"So? This is none of your business, Walsh," you spat back at him - a mistake. You just realised it too late. You poked the sleeping bear. And that bear had a very short fuse.
Fuck.
Shane took a deep breath; feeling the anger raise within him again. This was not going like he wanted. This was not going his way. Time to bring his point across a little more clearer.
Before you could even say something or react, Shane was on you. Back hitting the wall behind you with a thud, 'causing a painful little groan to leave your lips. He took your wrists and pinned them to the wall as well - leaving you no chance or room to escape.
"You stay away from that asshole - or..." He let one of your wrists go to tuck almost playfully at the towel where it was snugly wrapped across your chest. "...I'm gonna take what is mine. What is supposed to be mine. One way or another."
You were at his mercy. Again.
"It damn well is my business," he growled; grip around your wrists so tight it made you whimper slightly in pain. "Rick already took Lori and Carl away from me again. I'm not lettin' Daryl take you away from me as well." You turned your head away from him in fear; breathing hard and laboured. You had nothing to say anymore. You just listened and hoped that he wasn't going to take this any further.
Shane's whispered threat hung in the air. Even after he had already disappeared from the bathroom to leave you in shambles.
The encounter with Shane left its mark on you. Everything seemed to be even more complicated now. You didn't know how to cope. All you knew was you had to bent after Shane's will - or there would be consequences. Consequences you weren't ready to face and deal with. Therefore, you avoided Daryl. Avoided his gaze. His small, kind gestures - like the food he often placed in front of your tent. Avoided his touch. No matter how much it actually hurt. Your fear for Shane was stronger.
But you didn't get quite far with that strategy. Two days, to be precise. Did you really think Daryl wouldn't notice? He did - and the archer didn't waste any time in confronting you about it. He didn't understand, but he wanted to. Was it his fault? Did he do anything to fuck things up? The archer's thoughts were racing - and they got him angry. Angry at himself mostly.
"Yer finally havin' enough 'a me or wha'?"
His words cut through the pleasantly warm and quiet Georgia air like a knife - and they hurt. Stung like a rose thorn. You swiftly turned to face him; abandoning your task at hand - namely feeding the horses.
There he stood, blue eyes troubled and gaze as sharp as a blade.
You swallowed hard; knowing of course instantly what he was referring to. Guilt struck your heart.
You swallowed hard.
"D-Daryl, I... No, no, I'm not. It's not like that, I swear." "It ain't?" You shook your head. "No." "How's it then, huh?" He spat; hurt, confused, not knowing how to handle such a situation. "Sometimes, I... I just need time to myself."
Daryl blinked. "'N tha' ain't something ya jus' can tell me? Ya think I wouldn't understand?" "N-No, I-" You sighed; nervously fumbling with your hands - trying to hide the still dark bruise on your wrist. Kudos to Shane. It was something that didn't escape the archer's eyes as well.
"Wha's with the hand?"
He saw the bruise. Where it darkened your skin - and he knew. He wasn't stupid. With an abusive dad at home, he knew exactly how such bruises came to be. His gaze shifted to your face - and you could see the pure anger in his eyes. No words left his lips. He just eyed you for a moment; saw the tears gathering in your eyes - and then stalked away, direction camp. Determined.
"N-Nothing." Poor attempt at lying.
Within three big steps, Daryl stood in front of you with his hand reaching for yours. You tried to pull away and hide it - somehow saving the situation, but in vain. Daryl captured your hand gently in his and inspected the limb.
You watched him walk on; exhaling shakily. "Fuck," you cursed and quickly followed him again; bracing yourself for the inevitable collision.
You weren't stupid either. You knew what he was about to do. So, you quickly set your feet into motion as well. "Daryl, stop! Wait!" You called after him and tried to keep up. "This is going to make things worse!" You spoke in a shaky voice; stepping in front of him and trying to hold him back - you felt like taming a wild mustang.
"Nah, it ain't. Not gonna let this pass, Y/N. He touched ya! That asshole dared 't lay a fuckin' hand on ya - again!" Daryl almost shouted and brushed past you. Unstoppable. "You don't even know what happened!" "Ain't gotta know. Saw 'nough."
Shane didn't see it coming. How could he? Daryl was like a hurricane; sweeping through the camp - and attacking the former police man without batting an eyelash. Big, strong hands reached for Shane's shoulders; dragging him to the ground beside the campfire he stood in front of. The momentum was clearly on the archer's side; Shane too surprised to react.
Only when the man was suddenly on top of him did the realisation set in. Shane instantly fought back of course; fists flying.
"Oh my god," you breathed; standing rather shocked at the sidelines and watched them bandied blows.
It didn't take the other group members to intervene, though. Barely a few seconds. Nevertheless did it feel like an eternity. Rick, Dale and T-Dog instantly dragged Daryl away from Shane - much to the archer's dismay. "Let go 'a me! He ain't get ta touch 'er 'n not facing the consequences!" Daryl trashed and kicked, but it was no use. Three against one.
"You entirely lost your mind, Dixon?!" Shane spat; heaving his now aching body off the grassy ground again and rubbing his knuckles. Daryl scoffed; still holden back by the other three man. "Ya know exactly wha' this is about, ya sonofa-" "Enough!" Rick's voice cut through the air. Again. It felt like a déjà-vu.
Rick eyed the both men again. "Enough..." He repeated - nonetheless firm. "Can someone finally tell me what's really goin' on here? No more lies. I want the truth." "Ya want the truth? Fine," Daryl instantly replied; causing Rick to give Dale and T-Dog a nod - silently telling them to let the archer go. They did, but Rick stood between him and Shane with both arms and hands reached out - just in case...
"Tha' asshole's been harassin' Y/N fer weeks now! He ain't understanding wha' the word 'No' means. Told 'im 't stay away from my girl but now it got even worse! He truly got physical this time!" Daryl figuratively exploded - understandably. The archer was so in rage that he didn't notice his own slip up. My girl... In case the others did, they just kept their mouths shut and pretended they didn't hear it. This wasn't the time or place.
However, there was one person who heard it loud and clear... You. And it caused your heart to skip a beat; the butterflies in your stomach going crazy.
Shane scoffed; a sarcastic smile on his lips. "I have no idea what that is, man. Not my business what kinky shit Y/N and that stray dog get into when they're up there in his tent."
"Y/N, show 'em," Daryl's words ripped you out of that little daydream you had walked into. Blinking, you looked over at the man. "Yer wrist. Show 'em." You swallowed hard but nodded and rather shyly showed the group - or well, especially your leader the bruised limb.
Rick inspected it thoroughly for a moment; eyes narrowing and darkening. Shane saw it as well, of course; now cursing himself internally for letting this happen. Not that he let it show. He should've been more careful.
One sentence... That one sentence was already enough again to get Daryl to lose his composure. He growled under his breath and wanted to lunge again - but Rick's firm hand on his chest held him back. "Daryl, stop! Back up!" Rick shoved the archer backwards - who tried it again. Same result. "I said back up!" The second time, he listened with an angry huff; pacing up and down like a caged animal.
You wanted to reach for him; calming him - but you were unsure if he'd want that. Showing affection when the whole group was watching... You doubted it.
"We're gonna handle this like civilised people," your leader said; once again eyeing both men. "We're gonna talk and then decide what to do," he 'explained' further and shifted his attention to you. "Y/N. You wanna say something? This is about you, after all."
Once again, you swallowed hard. Of course you were still afraid that if you were going to say something now that it'd make things even worse - but you had to. You couldn't keep your mouth shut. Not now. Not again. Not after all that happened.
"H-He... He hit on me. Repeatedly. I-I never wanted it but Shane didn't listen, so I told Daryl about it. He talked to him - at least three times, but... Shane never stopped. Then the barn happened. A-And a few days ago, this." You gestured to your wrist again.
"How?"
"I was inside the house; taking a s-shower. He just... barged in, cornered me again a-and pinned my wrists against the wall. He said I s-should keep my distance from Daryl o-or he was going to take what he wanted. O-One way or another," you answered Rick's question in a slightly shaky voice; still getting goosebumps at the memory of it.
All eyes were suddenly on Shane - including Lori, who gave him a look close to a death glare. You didn't know what it was, but you could tell there hung some unspoken words in the air. Something was on Lori's mind.
Rick's gaze however, was filled with nothing but disappointment and accusation. Something Shane felt and noticed.
He scoffed; shaking his head and ran a hand over his face. "C'mon, man. You don't really believe that I'd do somethin' like that, do ya? She's exaggeratin'. I-" "You should stop right there, Shane. Save your breath," Rick cut him off and took a kind of threatening step closer to his best friend. "Stay away from Y/N. Keep your distance - or there will have to be consequences."
"Consequences, huh?" Shane repeatedly sarcastically; laughing. "You think that's funny?" "Honestly? Yeah. Weren't you the one who told me there ain't no rules anymore? Telling me we're lost?"
Back at Daryl's little camp, you watched him work quietly. He made a fire to keep you warm and for cooking. The silence wasn't unpleasant, no. Quite the opposite. It was a pleasant silence, but some unsaid words hung nevertheless in the air. At least for you. So gathering all your courage to speak your thoughts out loud, you subtly slid closer to him as you both waited for the possum stew to be done.
Rick inhaled deeply. "Yes, but not when it comes to livin' with each other. We're civilised people - or so, I thought."
It was the last thing Rick said to his best friend, before he turned away to face you and Daryl - who had been silently watching the scenes play out in front of him like a hawk. "You should go. Give everyone time to cool off." You nodded at Rick - grateful for what he did, while the archer already turned to walk away. Ignoring the others, and especially Shane, you followed the archer.
"Daryl?" You whispered his name - as if it was a forbidden thing to do. In return, you received nothing more than a grunt - nothing unusual. Swallowing, you looked at his face. "You... said 'my girl'. E-Earlier, I mean. Back at the camp. When you were arguing with Rick."
You could practically see the realisation dawn on the archer's face. He quickly looked down to the grassy ground to avert any possible kind of eye contact. His cheeks went beet red - even the tips of his ears; blushing hard. You had never seen him so flustered before. It was actually kind of cute...
For a moment you expected him to deny it and say it was just the heat of the moment, but then...
You felt the archer freeze; body going rigid beside you. His body and brain were clearly overwhelmed with what was going on. He definitely needed a moment to catch up; rebooting. But to your admittedly slight surprise didn't he pull away, no. He rather melted against the soft touch; letting it happen. You couldn't help but smile.
"Yah, I mean...," he started; shrugging a bit awkwardly his shoulders. "Yer 'm girl, aint'cha?"
The wave of pure, unbridled love and happiness hormones these words caused to crash over you was indescribably. A bright smile stretched over your face as you nodded. Yes. This... exhilaration you felt fogged up your brain a little - and suddenly, without thinking properly, you leaned in carefully and cautiously to kiss Daryl softly; lips barely touching but touching. A feather light kiss - but none less meaningful.
This was the beginning of something beautiful. You could feel it. Shane be damned. You couldn't care about him less. Not with that sweet, shy man beside you reciprocating your 'stormy' kiss so tenderly.
okok, could you do something .. rick/daryl/fem reader. (computa..)
basically poly relationship, but when they’re in bed rick’s always the sweet one, praising her, being gentle, etc+
meanwhile daryl’s the complete opposite, if u pick up what im putting down 😉, also your work is absolutely amazing!
ouuhhhhhh thanks anon!!! i have never done anything like this before but i could cook now that i have some days off of work 🤗🤗 we will see what i can do!!
notes: this is my first time even attempting to write anything to do with a throuple so bare with me.
divider credit: @solitary-serendipity
ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ
rick.
he was the type of lover who was gentle, kind, considerate. he treated you like you were gold, as if you held the world. it was true in the way he looked at you— pure lust and adoration evident behind his baby blues. true in the way he would protect you with his body in an instant, or on the contrary: use it to make you feel good anytime you'd ask.
he would never lay hands on you, not roughly anyways. he would always caress your face, or run his rough and worked in hands along your hips in the best way possible— even snaking them around your hips to hold you impossibly close as he slowly fucks you as if he would never have you again. he even walked you through it from time to time and made sure to praise you over everything. it made you swoon so good, made your knees buckle as your legs grew weak just thinking of it.
daryl.
on the contrary to rick, daryl was the type of lover who loved hard and rough. he was kind and considerate— to a certain extent. he would bring you food, bring you new clothes and trinkets every time he went out on a trip. he would brush your hair and make sure you had the best smelling shampoo and conditioner he could find. he knew that you liked that type of stuff.
but he also knew that you liked it when he pinned you down in a harsh mating press, your body nearly folded in half as he fucks you hard and rough. he would call you names and dirty talk you to the point that you would nearly pass out with how many times you had orgasmed. he's choke you with his bicep, with his hands too. he'd spank you hard enough to leave a hand print on your ass. but he always made sure you were okay after.
together they made the perfect team.
especially in bed once all three of you had the time.
like now.
“y’know she likes it rough.” daryl’s southern drawl is like music to your ears— arguing with rick as his fingers move gracefully in and out of your soaking cunt. the speed combined with how deep his digits were reaching damn near sent you over the edge within a matter of minutes.
“no, she likes it softer. your gonna wear her out before we even get to feel her.” the latter quips back, rubbing soft circles along your sensitive bud as he holds you from behind. his free hand patted your head as he whispered praises into your ear, placing soft kisses along your neck to pair. you couldn’t help but moan and whine, wiggling and writhing as you felt closer and closer to your impending orgasm.
the contrast between the two men was so stark that you couldn’t even begin to describe the emotions coursing through you. you felt like a toy to one, but like a princess to the other. it was perfect, both things making your cunt clench around daryl’s fingers as he works you through.
“please. i had her squirtin’ all over my cock just last night that’s how much she loves it, right dirty girl? ya like to be treated like a dirty little thing.” your head lolled back onto ricks shoulder as the hunter spoke, his words so filthy that it awoken a part of you like enjoyed it. you found yourself wanting what he gave you last night, wanting to be pounded into oblivion.
“answer me.” he demanded, his ministrations on your cunt pausing briefly.
“yes— fuck yes. i’m your dirty girl, promise.” your words came out in a high pitched moan, arching your back as his movements picked back up again. this time it was harder and even faster than before, the sound of your pussy squelching proving your point further.
“mmmm, don’t think so. she loves when i go nice’n’slow. that’s more like it. she loves when i fuck her long and deep, take care of her like the goddamn princess she is.” rick says on the contrary, his fingers still moving slow around your clit. his hot breath fanned over your ear as he spoke and it made your eyes close gently, a slight flutter to it.
“guys please, m’so close. i love the way you both use me, can’t get enough.” you pipe up, tears forming as you felt like the coil in your stomach was gonna snap any second. your hips moved up and down as you ground on both men’s hands. your moans became louder and more lewd, sounding like a porn star more than anything.
“that right sweet thing?” daryl questions as his grinds his own hips down on the mattress to relieve the pressure of his painful erection, his steel blue eyes boring right into yours with a slight squint. his face was flushed and his lips were so wet that they glistened in the pale light of your room. the sight alone was enough to nearly get you there.
“that’s right. you both treat me so well— god i feel like im gonna cum.” you whined out in confirmation, hips moving more aggressive as you felt like you were going to tip over the edge.
“come on princess, be a good girl and cum for us yeah?” rick whispers right into your ear as he himself grinds his hips into your lower back to relieve the same pressure that daryl had. he couldn’t wait to get inside of you, anticipating it was enough to make his body spark with excitement.
with one final moan you arch your back as far as it can go, legs tensing and clamping around both men’s hands— locking them in place as your orgasm ripped through your body was such force that you soak everything beneath you. your face was flushed, bright red in the cheeks and eyes wild as you grip onto daryl’s hair and rick’s bicep.
summary: usually the dead don’t protect humans, or so we thought.
warnings: zombie!reader, angst, established relationship, intentional age!gap though not mentioned, no use of y/n, unedited., mentions of physical violence, desperate!reader, yearning!reader, innocent kissing, eventual smut as the fic goes on.
setting: alexandria (post-whisperers)
word count: 2.6k+
notes: i am so so so sorry for the delay in posting this. i’ve been working 14 hour shifts for 3 weeks 4 days at a time and i am wiped. updates are going to be very slow and i do apologize from the bottom of my heart to all of the protect fans out there.
credits: @tophollands inspired me to do this as they have a zombie!leon fic and we’ve established this theme would work well in twd. they were inspired by @quackysprouts zombie!leon art as well.
divider credit: @solitary-serendipity
ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ
the ride back to alexandria was silent— painfully so. the tension was able to be sliced in two with a knife as the only sound was the steady breathing of everyone within the vehicle, and the occasional grunt from you as you grew weary of everyone except daryl.
aaron sat diagonally across from you in the passenger seat with dried blood beneath his nose and a strip of cloth pressed against his face, looking like he was in pain and pissed off. you really did feel bad, but what were you meant to do? allow them to harm you and prevent you from seeing daryl again?
all the while carol sat beside him with her arms outstretched towards the steering wheel as her knuckles turned white with the force or her grip. you could tell by the look on her face that she was still thinking about how you looked or how you acted towards her. but despite everything, what did she expect too? she held the gun to you, making you sad and angry all at once.
and worst of all— neither of them dared to look at you for long. it was as though you were a complete stranger, something gross or something so disturbing that it made them sick to their stomachs. at this point you would rather them look at you with fear or uncertainty because what you believed they thought was something unknown to you, making you feel even more uneasy.
you lowered your head at the thoughts that were going through your mind and rested your hands limply in your lap. daryl sat beside you despite the protests he'd received from both carol and aaron in their moments of uncertainty, but he thought it was best that he be the one to be beside you. through your haze you couldn't help but be thankful for the hunter, without him here you didn't know what you'd do.
maybe you were hoping that he'd at least hold your cold hand for a small while or pull you close for a reassuring hug. anything in an attempt to soothe you— but even though he was beside you now you could tell he carried a tension on his shoulders. you knew that something had changed in him as tears began forming in your milky eyes.
the possibility of him being angry with you made you feel like you messed up.
the moment alexandria's gates opened, you could hear him sigh loudly, people already gathering to see who was entering. when they seen the state of carol and aaron the whispers started, people tried figuring out what happened. but everything got worse the minute you and daryl were seen. word spread quickly, more people gathered around the vehicle and stared— whispering about you and how you looked.
just like that, everyone knew that a walker had entered the community. a walker that apparently knew daryl and everyone else here, a walker that had been hidden beneath their noses for god knows how long in their minds. you couldn't understand, or maybe you didn't want to understand why they wouldn't just accept you how you were. you were still in there, it's not like you were going around killing people.
but the uproar caused a meeting and by the time the group reached the council building, several dozen residents had gathered nearby. you could smell their fear, could hear their hearts racing, and could see the way they backed away whenever your gaze landed on them. it made you whimper and cling to daryl like a lifeline— and he hated every second of it.
"move." his voice came out rough and protective, as if his words could shield you from the wondering eyes of everyone you called family once upon a time— but nonetheless people parted immediately, nobody argued, and nobody challenged him. however, the looks remained.
those damn looks. the same ones he'd seen aimed at prisoners, murderers, outsiders, even monsters. you noticed them too, evident in the way your shoulders curled inward slightly and how your eyes lowered. you were ashamed, embarrassed, and worst of all— emotionally ruined. you knew that people didn't trust you the way daryl so willingly did. the way michonne used to.
daryl's stomach twisted harshly as he watched your face drop even more, cowering back into him as your hands trembled. he wished he could do something, feeling as hopeless as ever and to make matters worse when the doors opened; he finally laid eyes upon michonne— who was already inside the building with her arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her solemn face.
she had sat in the infirmary while you had escaped, after someone random found her while doing their rounds with bruises blooming around her throat. a doctor examined her immediately, lucky that it was nothing life threatening. she guessed that's what she got for cornering someone as wild as you, not putting full blame on you for the situation whatsoever.
but now she was anticipating. waiting for your arrival with a heavy heart and a throb deep within her brain, injuries catching up to her as the adrenaline wore off some time ago. the second daryl walked through the door with you behind him, her eyes locked onto yours and everyone froze.
the memory of what happened between the two of you hung heavily in the room and for several seconds nobody spoke. it was just a stare down as you and michonne locked eyes, neither of you able to move. daryl could feel the tension from within your shoulders and arms, feeling as your finger curled instinctively around his bicep in order to gain stability.
he put two together very quickly and everything slowly made sense. you had been locked away, the chances of you escaping were low unless you schemed your way out. daryl was a smart man, you knew that deep down. even when his eyes drifted to you, in an instant your pale face lit up red as you realized you’d been caught.
then michonne surprised everyone, including you. "she didn't try to kill me if that’s what you all are wondering." her voice was hoarse, rough from being crushed by your own two hands. a pang of guilt rushed over you as an onslaught of fresh tears formed.
her words earned a deep frown from carol as she crossed her arms over her chest in protest, "michonne— she could've."
"if she wanted me dead, i'd be dead." michonne defended with a firm look across her face, displaying the fact that her words were true. her hand drifted unconsciously toward the bruises around her neck as a heavy and uncomfortable silence followed.
because nobody wanted to admit she was right.
you stared at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. the guilt sat heavy in your chest as you remembered it. you remembered hurting her, remembered the fear, remembered the anger, remembered her body going limp beneath your hands.
the memory made something inside you twist painfully— a low whine escaping your throat as the tears spilled. you wanted nothing but to rush to her and somehow make it known that you were sorry, that you had no other choice but to go and make sure that your lover and stability were safe.
everyone heard you, heads snapping in your direction once again. especially daryl, his gaze immediately softened.
"hey." his voice was weary, but nonetheless comforting. your eyes lifted as you cried, pale hands reaching for daryl’s face as your body shook— but you never made eye contact with him. you were too ashamed, too scared. you didn’t want to see the disappointment in his face at what you had done.
"look at me." he raised his hand to push your chin up and slowly, you listened to his command. you couldn’t help but listen like a trained puppy. he then moved his hands up to press yours gently to his cheeks, as if reassuring you that it was okay for you to touch him. even if your hands caused damage that you didn’t think you’d work your way out of.
"it's alright." it wasn't, you both knew it wasn't but he said it anyway.
"i say we have a meeting to discuss this all now, guess we couldn't hide her forever." michonne said sadly, offering you a smile despite what you did to her. she couldn't possibly hold it against you forever, though it's only been a few short hours since.
daryl's stomach twisted as nausea rose to the surface, worried of what everyone would think of you. he didn't want them to jump to killing you or expecting the worst out of you. you hadn't killed any human and he was certain that you wouldn't— that you couldn’t even bring yourself to try unless they were harming him. if only they could see through his eyes, see that you had somehow came back by whatever miracle to protect.
but nonetheless the council meeting lasted almost three hours and you weren't allowed to partake. instead, you sat in your cell while the people deciding your future argued on the other side of alexandria— causing you to go stir crazy as you pace quickly back and forth like you had officially gone mad.
every passing minute felt like torture and the old cell felt different now— smaller, colder, and lonelier. you craved daryl’s presence, craved for him to come and soothe you as you paced and paced and paced until your legs began to hurt.
the tears never stopped either, never once slowed down. even as he reassured you that he’d be back, that he’d spend the night here with you if it made you feel better. he couldn’t deny you that, couldn’t stand seeing you like this when he knew deep down that it was his fault. little did you know that he felt just as guilty as you did and he’d be damned if he ever left you alone again after this.
but somehow in the midst of your thoughts and pacing you didn’t notice that the door to the make-shift jail had opened until you could smell daryl back at your door— keys jingling as he unlocked your cell and entered. your head snapped up immediately and in an instant you were rushing as fast as you could to him.
however, when you took in his somber expression you paused cautiously. you were smart enough to know that it didn’t mean anything good. he looked exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. for a moment neither of you moved until suddenly he closed the cell door behind him, causing you to rush forward again.
you immediately reached for him, hands cupping his face, moving down to grip his jacket, then his shirt and arms, as if checking —searching— making sure he was okay and safe, and making sure that he was really with you now because you could’ve sworn you were going crazy for a moment.
daryl let you continue your ministrations over him. he let you fuss over him until you crouched down in front of him and your hands finally found his injured leg. your expression immediately darkened, and there it was. the source of your panic. the reason you'd escaped and the reason everything had gone wrong.
you dropped to your knees from your crouched position and gently touched the bandaged injury— a soft distressed sound escaped your throat as daryl sighed.
"yeah." his fingers slid through your hair, petting your head gently. "i know."
you looked up at him wide-eyed and guilty, miserable even and suddenly he understood what the look was for. you weren't upset because you'd been caught, you weren't upset because people were angry. you were upset because you thought you'd failed to protect him, failed to stop him from getting hurt.
failed to do the one thing your broken mind had convinced itself was most important.
"this wasn't your fault." it was the truth, he had done this to himself but nonetheless his chest tightened with so much emotion that he didn’t know if he could contain himself. he had you kneeling before him with that kicked puppy expression and tears falling from your begging eyes.
"got that?" his hand moved from your hair until it settled against the side of your face. you didn't seem convinced causing the hunter to sigh once again and then his expression became serious.
"but what happened with michonne?"
your eyes dropped immediately and as if on queue there it was. the consequence to your actions and the thing that couldn’t simply be ignored.
"can't do that again." though his voice wasn't angry, but that fact didn’t soothe the way your felt.
somehow it made it worse.
"i know ya didn't mean it."
a pause.
"but ya scared her."
another pause.
"ya hurt her."
your shoulders slumped as the guilt became almost unbearable because he was right. and deep down— you knew it. he knew that you knew it, that you were aware. it was evident in the way that the tears began falling harder as sobs broke the silence on your end, followed by soft groans and the shake of your body. he watched you struggle with emotions you could no longer explain.
then he crouched down despite the pain in his leg and rested his forehead against yours.
"they ain't executin' ya." his words brought out a shaky breath from you, one of slight relief, "they ain't puttin' ya down."
nother breath.
"but things are changin'." that made you freeze almost instantly as daryl’s eyes closed instantly. you couldn’t tell what he was feeling or what he was going to say. his expression for once was so unreadable that it made you more anxious than anything.
"the council voted," your stomach dropped at all of the possibilities that could happen, "the cell stays, but they're givin' ya a chance."
just like that, hope flickered. it flickered ever so small and fragile as daryl managed a tired smile.
"this means supervised visits and they wanna see if ya can be around people." his thumb brushed your cheek.
"if ya prove 'em right, prove to them that ya aren’t a threat then maybe things will get better.”
for the first time all day, some of the fear eased from your chest. not all of it, but enough. enough that you leaned forward and buried your face against him— instinctively he wrapped both arms around you almost immediately, holding you tightly despite the aches in his body because all he wanted was his sweet girl safe and taken care of.
“i know that you can do it my sweet girl, i promise.” he pulled back ever so slightly, resting his forehead against yours as his eyes remained locked into your own. something within him was breaking slowly, something that he didn’t want breaking and that he fought so hard to build back up.
but he couldn’t resist. call it the heat of the moment, but he slowly leaned in— heart racing so fast that he swore you could hear it —and pressed his lips gently to yours. it felt cold and foreign even if he had just been kissing you a couple weeks ago now. however, all of his tension released from his shoulders as you reciprocated.
outside the cell, the future remained uncertain. michonne was injured, aaron didn't trust you, carol probably thought that daryl was blinded by hope. half of Alexandria wanted you gone and the other half didn't know what to think.
but for now, you were still here. still breathing. still fighting. and despite every mistake, every secret, and every disaster— daryl hadn't given up on you.
not yet. not ever.
T A G L I S T: @whore4fictionalmen19 @zamadness @clussysposts @magz3strikes @holdmytesseract @leslierabbit @bunbunbl0gs @bcatwinchest
I fucking hate the feeling of WANTING to write/read fanfiction but not being able to cuz literally EVERYTHING is stopping you from it, and when you finally get the time, you’re too tired to stay awake. >:(
We’re all gonna die one day, at least let me fucking have this. >:(
summary: usually the dead don’t protect humans, or so we thought.
warnings: zombie!reader, kinda angst, mentions of killing, established relationship, intentional age!gap though not mentioned, no use of y/n, unedited., physical violence, arguing, desperate!reader, yearning!reader, eventual smut as the fic goes on.
setting: alexandria (post-whisperers)
word count: 4.4k+
notes: i’m sorry if this actually sucks ass, i really wanted to get a chapter out for you guys and it’s currently 11pm right after my shift at work 😭. please don’t hate me for the scattered updates, striking is not fun.
credits: @tophollands inspired me to do this as they have a zombie!leon fic and we’ve established this theme would work well in twd. they were inspired by @quackysprouts zombie!leon art as well.
divider credit: @solitary-serendipity
ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ
since the incident in the woods and back at home, daryl had kept his distance from you. it had been three days now, and every one of them had felt longer than the last— he didn't know what to do or say, or even how to think around you anymore. every time his mind drifted back to that night, guilt twisted in his stomach.
he felt embarrassed, ashamed even.
he felt as though he had taken advantage of you in your state without ever laying an implied hand upon your body.
how dare he?
how dare he take such care of you and do what was right by you, only to go ahead and jerk off to the picture of your dead naked body that had been engraved into his mind? his brain clearly hadn't been thinking before his dick and the realization ate away at him constantly.
it lingered when he brought you your clothes that night. it lingered when he helped slide his shirt over your head and your little spandex pajama shorts up your plush thighs. hell; it lingered every time he looked at you and remembered exactly what he'd done afterward.
he felt perverted in a way, never thinking this would've been an issue until then. the guilt settled heavily in his chest, making it difficult to separate his feelings for you from the shame he felt toward himself.
no matter how much he tried to justify it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd crossed some invisible line, even if you were his girl.
so he left you alone.
it was the only way he knew how to handle the situation right now, or at least until his emotions were back in check.
he had even gone as far as telling michonne to keep more of an eye on you in his absence, convincing himself that it was what was best for both of you. but something deep inside him twisted like a serrated knife every hour that passed without seeing you.
every update he didn't receive left him restless.
every moment away from you felt wrong. but nonetheless, he powered through and got ready to leave with aaron to recruit new members for the community. it was his quote-unquote job, after all.
he tried to treat it like any other run, tried to act like nothing had happened— like you didn't exist, like you hadn't survived the whisperers, like he wasn't hiding one of the biggest secrets alexandria had ever seen.
all in the name of keeping you safe.
he had vowed to himself—and to you—that he would do anything in his power to keep you alive. but unfortunately, while daryl threw himself into work and distractions, you were left behind with nothing but your thoughts.
and without him, it felt like you were dying.
your emotions were out of sorts as you paced the small floor space of your cell, michonne staring at you the way a stressed mother looked at a child acting out.
you couldn't take it anymore.
cold hands reached up into your hair, tugging lightly at the roots as you groaned out in annoyance.
"you know, maybe it's good that you have a break. it's healthy." she tried to sound optimistic— you gave her credit for that, but it just wasn't helping. it felt as though a part of you was missing and your brain couldn't stop cycling through the same possibilities.
daryl: unsafe, hurt, alone.
you swore your heart was breaking. in response, you deadpanned at her and dropped your arms back to your sides.
"i know it's not what you want to hear, but it's what you'll have to learn to understand. he's safe. he's with aaron. you know aaron." she chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.
michonne didn't know how to handle you the way daryl did. she wasn't used to navigating the complicated mess of emotions and instincts that made up your current state.
so all she could do was rely on her better judgment, even if it was failing her miserably right now. you ignored her and resumed pacing as the thoughts only grew louder.
daryl. unsafe. need to protect.
protect.
protect.
and there was one glaring issue, aaron wasn't you. you couldn't watch daryl's back from inside this cell, you couldn't be his hero, you couldn't keep him safe. the frustration climbed steadily until it felt unbearable.
"i can see the gears moving in your head through your eyes. relax. he'll be fine." she wasn't entirely wrong because the gears were moving, just not in the way she thought.
while she believed you were worrying yourself sick, you were actually trying to form a plan.
getting out of here was considerably harder in your walker-fied state, but eventually an idea began to take shape. to any normal person, it would've seemed full of holes.
but desperation rarely cared about logic.
and you were so, so desperate for daryl's attention that you would've gone to any lengths to get to him. the thought rooted itself deep in your mind until it became the only thing you could focus on— daryl wouldn't be fine unless you were out of your cage and by his side.
and that realization pissed you off the most. the thought rooted itself deep in your mind until it became the only thing you could focus on.
michonne could see it happening in real time.
she watched your hands begin to shake. watched your pacing come to an abrupt halt. watched the way your expression seemed to tighten as your thoughts spiraled further and further away from reason.
she didn't know what to do, she didn't know what to say. every attempt she'd made to calm you had only seemed to make things worse. before she could think of another approach, you started moving.
slowly at first, but then with purpose as you crossed the small distance toward the cell door and wrapped pale fingers around the metal bars. the moment your grip tightened, michonne's stomach sank.
you pulled, hard.
the entire door rattled beneath the force.
you wanted so badly to scream, to tell her exactly what was wrong, to explain that daryl was out there and vulnerable and needed you. but the words simply wouldn't come— they never did anymore.
all that escaped your throat were frustrated groans and distressed moans as you yanked harder on the bars, metal clanging loudly through the room. again and again and again.
your distress was obvious, your pain was obvious, and worst of all, your panic was turning into anger. yet even through the haze clouding your mind, one thing remained crystal clear. this was the only way. unfortunately, michonne seemed to realize exactly where your head was at.
"you're not coming out. daryl and i made that very clear." her voice lost some of its earlier sympathy as she pushed herself off the stool— the stool daryl practically lived on these days.
she approached the cell with long, determined strides. "it's not safe for you right now. people will find out." she stopped in front of the bars.
"and trust me, you don't want that." you shot her a glare, eyes narrowing as your jaw clenched tightly. the warning only made your frustration worse, face growing hot as your vision began to tunnel.
you were losing yourself— slipping further into that familiar haze where instinct became louder than thought. and there was nothing anyone besides daryl had ever been able to do about it.
your hands tightened around the bars, pulling again but this time harder— the hinges squealing and the metal rattling violently. the noise echoed through the room loudly enough that michonne glanced nervously toward the door. if anyone outside heard this...
everything would fall apart.
"stop that." she hissed the words and almost immediately her hand settled on the handle of her katana. the movement aggravated you even more as your eyes flicked down to the weapon.
how dare she? how dare she look at you like some threat when all you wanted was to protect daryl? how was that so difficult for everyone to understand? you shook your head.
no.
your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate, more frantic. the ache in your chest had become unbearable and your stomach twisted painfully as you continued pulling against the bars— every word michonne spoke seemed to slide right past you. for every passing minute, daryl could be getting hurt. for every passing minute, he could be alone. for every passing minute, he could need you.
and apparently michonne's emotions were beginning to get the better of her too, watching as her hand moved away from her sword and toward the ring of keys hanging from her belt loop. immediately, you stepped back and your muscles tensed; your hands flexing the same way you did while attacking the walker yesterday, the feeling itself all too familiar.
your body preparing itself before your brain could catch up, eyes remaining narrowed as you watched her approach and she slid a key into the lock, the click echoed loudly between you.
"now listen here." her voice rose as frustration finally broke through.
"i need to do what's right for my people. i cannot have you throwing a tantrum because daryl isn't here." the door swung open and you instinctively retreated another step, and then another as michonne stepped inside.
and this time she wasn't carrying a katana, she was drawing the knife from her leg holster. your eyes immediately locked onto it, every instinct inside you screamed danger.
"now since you won't listen to me, i'm going to have to take matters into my own hands." she exhaled sharply and her hands were shaking. whether from fear or guilt, you couldn't tell.
"daryl will forgive me later." she advanced slowly and carefully trying not to provoke you. unfortunately, it was already too late.
"we don't need an uproar in alexandria because a dead girl can't stay away from her boyfriend."
the words hurt. they hurt more than they should have, but the sting barely had time to settle before instinct took over. despite the haze clouding your mind, you immediately understood the danger. you saw the way she raised the knife, saw the blunt end aimed toward your skull.
and you knew exactly what was coming; she was trying to knock you out but you reacted before she could and the second she swung, you moved. the weapon missed and suddenly everything happened at once.
if you'd been in your right mind, maybe you'd have been shocked, maybe you'd have questioned how things had escalated this far, maybe you'd have stopped to wonder how your friend had become an opponent. but none of that mattered now. all you knew was that something stood between you and daryl and it needed to move.
you lunged forward, your hands grabbing her by waist and using your momentum, you dragged her down with you. the impact knocked the air from her lungs. before she could recover, you were already straddling her torso.
too fast, far too fast for michonne's liking.
one hand immediately locked around her wrist— the wrist holding the knife. you slammed it against the floor.
once, twice, three times.
again, again, and again until the blade finally slipped free— metal clattering across the concrete. your other hand found her throat and squeezed, hard.
michonne's eyes widened as she grabbed at your arm and fought against your grasp, struggling and thrashing in the process. but it wasn't enough, she hadn't seen what you were capable of yet, she hadn't watched you tear through walkers— hadn't seen what happened when your instincts took over.
and right now, your instincts were entirely focused on reaching daryl, finding daryl, protecting daryl. everything else came second.
despite the position she was in, michonne still fought hard beneath you. she was lucky, lucky that you weren't in the mindset to kill her.
"s-stop!" the word barely escaped her as your grip tightened harder.
"you d-don't know w-what you're doing!" her voice grew weaker, more strained, and her vision began to blur. little did she know that you believed the exact opposite. you knew exactly what you were doing, you were finding your way back to the person holding you together— the person keeping you anchored, keeping the haze at bay.
you could feel her pulse weakening beneath your palm, feel her movements slowing, feel the fight leaving her body. and eventually, her struggles stopped altogether as her body went limp.
the room fell silent for several seconds as you simply stared, waiting and watching to make sure she wasn’t going to get back up and stop you. but when she didn’t move, you finally released her and stood slowly to your wobbly feet— your chest still heaving and your hands still shaking while your thoughts were still consumed by a single objective.
daryl.
you stepped over michonne's unconscious body and moved toward the open door. somewhere deep in your memory, you recalled the hidden route daryl used when he got you beyond the walls not so long ago. it kept you unseen and the route kept you safe.
without another glance behind you, you shuffled into the hallway carefully and quietly with a newfound determination; because no one could have the chance to stop you now, and no one was going to keep you from getting to him.
that gut feeling you had turned out to be justified.
while you were sneaking your way out of alexandria, daryl was having a hard time convincing himself everything was fine.
he wished he had you with him, wished he hadn't spent the last day avoiding you, wished he could stop thinking about you long enough to focus on the task at hand. but unfortunately, the world rarely cared about what people wished for.
while him and aaron were searching a small two-level strip mall a few miles out, a horde had eventually passed through. a big one. far too big for two men to comfortably handle.
what started as a simple supply run quickly became a fight to stay alive and somewhere during the scramble for safety, daryl had fucked up his foot. he still wasn't entirely sure how it happened, one second he had been running and the next he had caught his boot on a piece of loose wiring hanging from the collapsed ceiling.
pain exploded through his leg as he stumbled and nearly went down— only barely managing to catch himself before the walkers behind him closed the distance.
now, limping through the abandoned building, he cursed himself for the mistake— but a part of him blamed the distraction on you. not because you had done anything wrong (because you hadn't, you weren't even there) but somehow you occupied every corner of his mind even when the task at hand was risky.
the further he got from alexandria, the worse it became, his thoughts constantly circled back to you. were you okay? were you improving? were you upset with him? did his absence hurt you as much as it hurt him?
the questions never stopped and the worst part was that he couldn't talk about any of it. not with aaron. not with anyone. nobody besides himself and michonne knew the truth, nobody knew you were still alive or at least as alive as someone in your condition could be. and daryl intended to keep it that way.
"how long d'ya think it'll be before they clear out?" aaron's voice finally broke through his thoughts, causing daryl to blink in realization— forcing himself back into the present.
his gaze shifted toward the other man standing by the door. "dunno." his answer was short and simple.
"could be hours. could be days."
"very reassuring, dixon." aaron chuckled nervously, his good hand rubbing the back of his neck before peeking outside once more.
daryl simply shrugged. "could be worse." with that, he lowered himself onto the dirty vinyl floor— before sitting though, he'd checked the door himself. the walkers had spread out some, not enough, but more than before. it should've been comforting: instead, the silence only made his thoughts louder.
a minute passed, then another. nothing but distant groans and the ringing in his ears. daryl huffed in annoyance. he felt like he needed something to focus on, anything besides you. but that was proving harder than expected because despite everything, all he wanted was to have you beside him. hell- being trapped in this shitty store wouldn't seem so bad if you were here too.
"daryl?" aaron's voice pulled him back again. "how're you holding up? after... y'know. everything." the question immediately put him on edge, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"m'fine." it came out quicker than intended, more defensive than he would've liked.
aaron visibly hesitated, carefully choosing his next words. "you know it's okay if you're not." he looked down briefly, “after losing eric, i still don't know what to do with myself sometimes."
guilt twisted sharply in daryl's chest, because aaron wasn't wrong. he was trying to help, trying to connect. trying to relate to the grief daryl was supposed to be feeling, but daryl wasn't grieving a death. he was hiding a miracle and somehow that felt even harder.
"yeah." he looked away and his voice lowered, "i get it."
"it is what it is. m'surviving." the lie tasted bitter, but thankfully aaron didn't push.
"well, if you ever need somebody to talk to, i'm your guy."
"yeah, okay—” a sudden snarl cut him off. both men's heads snapped toward the door. immediately, daryl was on his feet— his stomach dropping with an intense force. they'd found them again.
he grabbed his gear, his crossbow, and anything he could carry. "we need t'move.”, his voice hardened.
"they're headin' straight for us."
aaron didn't argue, but panic was already written across his face.
"we got enough space right now." daryl moved toward the door with a sense of precision, "we run for it."
the moment they stepped outside, everything went wrong though. another cluster of walkers had appeared directly in the path they needed to take.
"daryl!" aaron froze.
"what do we do?"
"fuck." for once, daryl genuinely didn't know. his eyes darted around, calculating, searching, thinking. then he spotted it, a staircase leading to the roof and on a dime an idea immediately formed. it was dangerous, and it was stupid, but possible and right now possible was all they had.
"you hide there." he pointed toward a kiosk.
"i'll lead 'em upstairs." aaron's eyes widened.
"daryl—"
"then you make a run for it." he continued, already planning three steps ahead.
"i'll use the rope in my bag."
"if you don't see me in twenty minutes, go home."
"i'm not leaving you."
"wasn't askin'." their eyes locked, the tension between them stretched for a moment before reality forced the decision. the walkers were getting closer and they didn't have time to argue anymore.
finally, aaron nodded. "fine."
the second he disappeared toward the kiosk, daryl moved— he yelled and clapped and drew every pair of dead eyes toward himself. dozens of walkers turned in his direction as one thought surfaced above all the others.
you.
if he died today what would happen to you? who would protect you? who would make sure nobody hurt you? who would understand you?
the thought nearly stopped him in his tracks, but there wasn't time, so he ran straight toward the roof access and straight toward the next disaster waiting for him.
by the time daryl finally limped around the building minutes later, his leg was screaming. the jump had been worse than expected. without the rope he'd thought he packed, he'd been forced to take the risk and now every step felt like fire shooting through his bones.
still he kept moving because aaron should've been waiting, because they needed to get home, because he needed to get back to you.
the moment he rounded the corner, relief was the first thing he expected to feel. instead, dread hit him like a freight train as he stopped dead in his tracks. his heart dropped and his entire body went cold.
carol stood several yards away, gun raised and aimed directly at—
you.
for a moment, daryl genuinely couldn't process what he was seeing. aaron had you restrained tightly in his arms as you were struggling and thrashing and growling, desperation evident in your sounds.
and carol was aiming a gun at your head.
everything seemed to tilt sideways, first the run, then his foot, then the jump, and now this. how had you even gotten here? how had you escaped?how had you found him?
questions flooded his brain faster than he could process them, but none of them mattered the second he saw carol cock the gun. panic slammed into him, pure, raw, absolute panic.
"no, don’t!" the scream ripped from his throat, every head turned toward him— yours included. and the second your eyes found him, some of the panic left your body— not all of it, but enough.
daryl was alive, he'd made it, and you found him. for a brief moment, everything else faded into the background. the gun, aaron's hold, carol's shouting. all of it. your entire focus narrowed to daryl— he was hurt, even from this distance you could see it. the way he favored one leg, the way his shoulders were tense, the way pain was etched across every line of his face.
your chest tightened painfully and somehow, that frightened you more than the gun pointed at your head.
"why not, daryl?" carol shouted, her voice snapped everyone's attention back to the situation at hand.
"she's a walker!" the gun trembled slightly in her grip. whether from anger, fear, or uncertainty, nobody could tell. but nonetheless daryl's heart hammered against his ribs. he knew carol, knew exactly how she thought. to her, this wasn't personal. this was survival, this was mercy.
this was putting down something she believed was already gone, but she was wrong. god, she was so fucking wrong.
"because she's still there!" daryl yelled back, his voice cracking with desperation. "she's in there!"
every word felt like a plea, not just for you, but for himself. for the secret he'd spent weeks protecting, for the impossible hope he'd refused to let die. "please." his breathing hitched.
"i'm beggin' ya, don't kill her." the words stunned everyone into silence, even carol because in all the years she'd known daryl she'd rarely ever heard him beg. and certainly not like this.
your eyes immediately locked onto him, his voice, his fear, his pain. it all crashed into you at once. you didn't fully understand the words, didn't fully understand the conversation happening around you, but you understood one thing.
daryl was scared and that alone made your own panic rise.
"how?" carol demanded, her eyes never leavinf you. "look at her, daryl." she gestured toward you with the gun as sadness crept into her voice.
"i'm sorry, but this is the right thing." she took a cautious step forward, "she's suffering."
"no she ain't!" daryl immediately fired back. his leg nearly gave out as he pushed himself forward. "she ain't like them!"
his hand reached for the crossbow strapped across his back, but pain shot through his injured leg. he hissed through clenched teeth but still, he kept moving. "she protected me!"
the confession slipped out before he could stop it and everyone froze. aaron, carol, even you.
"what?" aaron breathed but daryl ignored him as his eyes never left yours.
"she kills walkers." his voice shook, "she protects people." he swallowed hard.
"just let her go." for the first time, uncertainty flashed across carol's face because daryl believed what he was saying, he truly believed it. and that made the situation far more complicated than she'd first thought.
but before anyone could respond, another sound reached your ears. a sharp grunt, your head snapped toward daryl. he'd put weight on his injured leg. too much. pain flashed across his features and his balance faltered. the sight hit you like a punch to the chest.
everything else disappeared. the gun disappeared, the people disappeared, the arguments disappeared. all you could see was daryl hurting and it caused your breathing to became uneven, heavy, and erratic. the same feeling that had consumed you back in the cell began rising again.
your hands trembled, your vision narrowed, your chest felt impossibly tight, and then daryl cried out again. the sound tore through you and something snapped in complete.
your body reacted before your mind could. with a violent jerk, you threw your head backward, the back of your skull connected with aaron's face. hard enough that a sickening crack echoed through the air as aaron immediately released you with a yell— both hands flying to his nose.
you didn't hesitate; the second his grip loosened, you were moving. carol barely even had time to react because one moment the gun was aimed at your forehead and the next, your hand wrapped around the weapon as you ripped it free— using her own momentum against her, you yanked her downward.
carol stumbled and her eyes widened as you snarled; a deep, guttural sound that made everyone freeze. for one terrifying second, nobody knew what you were going to do.
not even daryl, but then— instead of turning the gun on anyone— you threw it, the weapon skidded across the pavement straight toward daryl.
everyone stared in confusion, as if they were stunned too. because that wasn't what a walker would do— you weren't trying to attack, weren't trying to kill, you were in fact protecting.
your eyes immediately returned to daryl, making sure he was okay, making sure he could defend himself, making sure nobody could hurt him.
the realization settled heavily over the group.
especially carol.
especially aaron.
slowly, painfully, daryl pushed himself upright, using his crossbow as a makeshift crutch. his chest rose and fell rapidly as the adrenaline still coursed through him.
but despite everything— the chaos and the danger, despite the fact that his entire secret had just exploded in front of two people he trusted—
relief washed through him.
because you were alive, you weren't hurt, and carol hadn't pulled the trigger. but then reality came crashing back as his eyes shifted between carol and aaron.
both of them staring at you, both of them staring at him as if waiting and as if they were silently demanding answers.
and daryl immediately knew one thing.
now that the cat was out of the bag, they had a whole new problem on their hands.
T A G L I S T: @whore4fictionalmen19 @zamadness @clussysposts @magz3strikes @holdmytesseract @leslierabbit
Summary: You get way too much unwanted attention from Shane. He takes it too far - but the man you harbour feelings for is here to put the former police man in his place.
Warnings: Trigger warning! Shane – he's a huge warning here, lots of swear words and cussing, angst? Shane trying to get in Reader's pants without her wanting it, harassment, Shane getting kinda physical, PROTECTIVE!DARYL, fluff, idiots in love, mentions of Daryl's abusive past, a fight, blood, mentions of walkers
Set in Season 2!
Word Count: 3,7k
a/n: Woke up one morning a few days - weeks? ago, had this idea and brain was like: Write that down. So, I did. Turns out that this is probably one of my favourite stories I ever wrote.
°☆• discover more... •☆°
"Ya been sittin' here 'n just starin' at me fer fuckin' forever. Wha' is it? Know there's sum'thin' ya wanna talk about." You blinked; eyes lifting to look at Daryl sitting across from you. Only the small campfire between the both of you. He was occupied with carving some kind of spear or more likely a spit out of a thicker branch to grill the fish he had angled in the river earlier.
Ever since the archer had shut himself off quite a little from the group - from the farm, and camped outside of the Greene property, you found yourself way more often out here than close to the others as well.
Logically.
Yes, you missed Daryl and his presence.
Yes, you enjoyed his company more than probably everyone else.
Yes, you felt safer with him than with the group.
And yes, you might've caught feelings for the 'rough and tough' redneck.
However, the main reason you spent most of the time up here was another. The one that got you staring rather absentmindedly at the man sitting across from you...
You swallowed at Daryl's words; taking a deep breath and just watched him work the branch with his knife for another moment before you finally spoke up - for the first time since you came here. "It's just... Shane..." As the name of the former cop left your lips, Daryl froze in his movements - knife stopping mid slice. His blue eyes snapped up to meet yours; darkened, dangerous and almost angry - not at you, though. "Tha' asshole say sum'thin' to ya again?" Daryl asked with a deep growl.
It was no secret that the archer didn't really like Shane. He honestly never did. The little respect he had for him flew right out of the window after his first proper search for Sophia. Shane was aggressive, acted rash and the only ones he really cared about were Carl and Lori. The others? He didn't give a shit. Just like about Otis. Daryl was almost sure he sacrificed him at that school. He would sacrifice everyone for 'his family' - even his best friend. Daryl wasn't stupid. He was good at reading people. Dale knew it as well.
"Did he touch ya?" He questioned further; voice dropping another octave. You shook your head. "N-No, no... Not... yet. He just..." "Those stupid comments 'n all tha' shit?" You nodded.
Daryl knew. You had often told him about this. Silent complaints. Seeking help. Despite Shane's quite 'obvious' undying love for Lori, he liked to hit on other women. Especially you - as it seemed. He had often attempted to try and get inside your pants. It had started 'harmless'. Little comments here and there. Flirtations. Talks. His intentions had been clear right away - and you had told him 'No' from the very start. Shane wasn't the man you craved or wanted physical touch with.
Things escalated more and more - and now that Daryl wasn't around the farm anymore to send Shane a threatening glare from time to time, it seemed like the former police man used this current situation to his 'advantage'.
"Not just comments anymore, though... He... He often tries to... corner me. Like... against a wall, o-or tree, o-or even the henhouse yesterday as I got eggs for Patricia to cook. I feel like it gets w-worse and..." You paused for a heartbeat to swallow hard; fingers fumbling nervously. "...I don't know how, uh, long I'll be able to... escape this."
Daryl got what you meant. Of course, he did. His jaw ticked; muscles tightening. "Tha' son of a bitch," he literally growled; one hand squeezing the branch tighter - before he threw the piece of wood and his knife to the grassy ground beside him. Within the blink of an eye he was on his feet. "Gonna tell tha' piece 'a shit a few words. Ask 'im if he's deaf or jus' stupid 'cause he ain't understanding what 'No' means," he grumbles; already starting to march away before you could even react or speak up. "Yer gonna stay here. Keep an eye on tha' fire."
All you could do was watch him stomp away and mumble a quiet "'Kay."; eyes following him. You didn't intend to stop him. Daryl was your safe space. The only one - besides probably Dale who had the balls to confront him. And you wanted this shit to end. Therefore, you let Daryl do his thing. You just hoped it wasn't going to escalate. Both men with a temper and not the longest fuse. Both men hot-headed.
So, you sat there - at Daryl's little campfire. A little shaken up and nervous, but kept an eye on the fire like he told you. Watching the flames dance in the warm late summer air with the slowly darkening sky above you had something utterly calming. Almost hypnotic. Yet, your mind stayed sharp. You weren't behind safe walls or fences... A geek could stumble across here anytime.
You didn't know exactly how much time passed before you saw Daryl approaching the little camp again, but it certainly wasn't that much. Your eyes scanned him from tip to toe as soon as you recognised his frame in the distance; checking if he was okay. It seemed like it.
Wordlessly, but with a signature grunt, the archer sat across from you again and picked up his task where he left off.
You blinked; eyes still on him for another quiet moment. That was is? No words, just a grunt?
"What, uh, did he say?" You asked after another beat of silence; carefully and in a quieter voice than usual. Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Ain't much. Told him 't keep his wandering hands off 'a ya. Gave 'im a last warning 'n left."
You knew exactly that Daryl was most likely describing this confrontation more friendly than it actually played out; not wanting to put you through this shit.
"Okay," you mumbled and offered him a soft smile. "Thank you."
Daryl being Daryl, said nothing in return and just gave you a nod and another grunt.
Silence spread between you two then. It wasn't uncomfortable or unpleasant, just thoughtful but actually nice. Most of the times, you didn't need words to communicate with Daryl anyway. You got his body language; could read him most of the times - even if you didn't know why. The chemistry between the both of you just seemed to click.
He handed you the spear he just carved, broke another branch over his knee and carved another spear. You watched him work; his survival skills remarkable. You didn't know him long but you did know that he was made for this world. Probably one of the few people for whom the apocalypse was a blessing.
Once he was done, he handed you one of the gutted fishes he had caught.
Dinner.
He always looked out for you. Silently. Made sure you ate enough, got weapons on you and so on. It never was a huge gesture or words. Small things. Quiet things. That's how he showed you he cared. His love language.
Together, you cooked the fishes over the fire and ate together; with the sun sinking deeper and deeper beyond the horizon.
"Daryl?" You spoke his name quietly; still watching the dying flames dance and flicker - casting shadows on his handsome features. The archer's eyes snapped up to focus on you again - a silent answer.
"Can I... sleep with you tonight?"
His blue orbs widened to the size of plates - and you realized how easy it was to misunderstand the sentence you just dropped.
"I-I mean in your tent! Here! Not alone at the camp w-with the others!" You instantly corrected; kinda backtracking.
Nevertheless, the damage was done - at least for Daryl. He stood up quickly and turned his back to you; occupying himself with anything - just so that his flustered self didn't have to look into your eyes at the moment. He was blushing. Hard.
You silently watched him move across his camp; 'cleaning' up and avoiding eye contact. Shit, you thought. I screwed it up. Your brain already came up with a trillion different apologies; wanting to repair what you had destroyed - but then...
"Ya comin' or wha'?"
You blinked and looked up at Daryl again; seeing how he held back the flap of his tent for you to crawl in. A smile crossed your face and you stood up; stepping past the dying campfire and inside the tent. "Thought I crossed a border. Thought I was making you uncomfortable. Don't want that. Ever." You received a low grunt in return, followed by the sound of the zipper being shut before he turned on his knees to face you again - head ducked, chewing nervously on the pad of his thumb and shrugged his shoulder. "Didn't say tha'...," the archer retorted in a low, quiet voice.
You just gave him another soft smile; deciding to drop this 'topic' before you'd really make him feel uncomfortable. "'Kay. Thanks for letting me sleep here. I just... I don't wanna see Shane again today or cross his path." The man across you gave you an understanding nod. He got it. Of course, he did.
You slept way better that night than any night before; knowing that no geek and no Shane could harm you here. You were at the safest place on this world - with Daryl. Not yet in his arms, but that would hopefully change someday...
Barely a few days later - on another quite hot evening in late summer, Daryl made his way through the high grass of the meadow to reach the Greene farm. He wanted to check in on Carol - subtly, of course. He cared about her a lot as well - but he'd never admit that out loud.
His senses were sharpened, of course. They always were nowadays; blue eyes scanning is surroundings, one hand resting on the knife attached to his belt. No crossbow, but never unarmed.
Daryl was still a few yards from campsite when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He shifted his gaze. Two frames behind - or well, for him in front of the barn. He stopped; alerted and narrowed his eyes a bit with his hand on his forehead to shield his blues from the sinking sun. No walkers, that was certain.
But who then?
His feet picked up their task again and brought him forward. The closer he got, the clearer the shapes became - and once he recognised the people, his attention got drawn even more... He could clearly make out your frame - and a bigger one. Shaved head, no beard, tall and broad. Shane - and the archer's temper kicked in. Steps quickening.
He analyzed the scene playing out in front of his eyes and quickly realised what was happening; connecting the dots. You and Shane were clearly arguing - and he had gotten physical; hands on your wrists. He had cornered you again; shoven back against the wooden wall of the barn.
A huge wave of anger rolled over the archer. He had told Shane - warned him, and now he had enough.
His pace quickened again. By now he was running the last few yards separating him from you and the former policeman; hopping over the fences and any other obstacle in his way. Daryl was determined - and before Shane could even turn around to see what was awaiting him, he got roughly pulled back from the archer - away from you.
Your fearful eyes met Daryl's - and he could visibly see how you instantly relaxed at least a little; pure thankfulness and relief mirrored in your Y/E/C orbs.
The moment you and the archer shared, gave Shane just enough time to recover... "What the hell, man?!" He barked at Daryl - who instantly instinctively changed his position to stand in front of you like a human protective shield. "What do ya think you're doing, huh?" Shane continued; glaring. "Could ask ya the same," Daryl growled back. You stayed silent; too shaken up to speak. This time was very close... "Told ya to leave 'er alone." Shane huffed out a laugh. "You ain't her boyfriend, man."
Daryl scoffed. What a ridiculous thing to say... As if this would have to do anything at all with that. Bad attempt at talking his pathetic ass outta this, the archer thought.
"Ain't hafta be her boyfriend 't know how 't treat 'n respect a woman right and know wha' a fuckin' 'no' means."
Shane scoffed as well and ran a hand over his bald shaved head.
"No, huh? You don't see how she's lookin' at me. Playin' all coy and shy every time I make a move but I know she wants me."
Daryl shook his head; knowing exactly that this was nothing but delusion and wishful thinking. You wouldn't have come to him so many times - desperate and afraid; literally fleeing from campsite if you would really want this, too.
"She dun wanna have yer dick. She ain't Lori, asshole - or are ya delusional? Can't tell the difference anymore 'cause yer obsessed."
That was it. The moment things were going to escalate between those two hot-heads. Daryl knew it. Shane knew it. And you knew it as well.
The former police man huffed out another laugh; ran his hand over his head again - before he lunged at Daryl. The archer - a 'professional' when it came to brawls - ducked Shane's attempt and started an attack himself. His fist connected with his jaw; sending him tumbling back a few steps.
Daryl did that a lot in his past. Brawling. Fighting. Especially with a brother like Merle and an abusive father. He knew how to fight.
Shane needed a short moment to recover; blood dripping from his lip where it split due to the impact. A look that could kill darted across his face, before he lunged at Daryl again.
And you? You just watched; still frozen in place like a frightened bunny. You didn't know what to do. Intervening could end painful - and words wouldn't stop them.
The noise of the fight, though, attracted the attention of the other group members. It didn't take long for most of them to come running over to the barn as well; the men instantly working to separate Shane and Daryl.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Yelled Rick; pulling his 'best friend' together away together with T-Dog. Glenn and Dale working on Daryl. "What is going on here, huh?!" Rick asked - eyeing his friend and the archer, as they were finally apart; everyone panting hard.
Daryl ripped himself free from Glenn's and Dale's grasp to wipe his bloody hand on his shirt with the torn off sleeves; spitting out a little blood. "Warned ya. Told ya I was gonna beat yer ass into the ground if ya touchin' 'er again!" He growled at Shane; pointing at him. Rick instantly connected the dots; realising that this must be about you. His eyes found you - still a little shaken up. "Y/N?" Rick's voice grabbed your attention. "Can you tell me what's been goin' on here?"
You swallowed hard and opened your mouth to voice what - or well, who, has been bothering you since weeks - but then you felt it... The gazes of the others. All group members had their eyes on you - except Daryl, who kept on glaring at Shane. Sure, most of these gazes were sympathetic and concerned, but for you highly discomforting. You felt cornered again - in a different way.
"I-I-I..." You started; stammering and overwhelmed. Your body told you to run. To escape this situation. So, you did. "S-Sorry," was all you said before you turned your back and fled.
Daryl fought the urge to follow you - although that he knew you probably needed a moment alone. First, he had to step up for you, though. And he did - without hesitation. "Been hittin' on Y/N. Constantly cornerin' her 'n tryin' to get inside 'er pants," Daryl growled; explaining what he had been trying to protect you from. Rick turned to his best friend. "Shane? That the truth?" The accused man huffed out another laugh and shook his head. "C'mon, man. You know that I'd never do that." "Bullshit!" Daryl cut in immediately. "Ya'd take advantage 'a 'er without even thinkin' twice. Prolly already would've if it wasn't fer me!" The archer wanted to take a step closer, but got instantly held back by Glenn and Dale.
Rick's eyes wandered again from Daryl to Shane, while the others just held their breaths; shocked and probably too afraid to just cut into this conflict without having witnessed anything.
At the look the police officer threw his former colleague, he once again ran a head over his shaved head. "Really, Rick? You're gonna believe this obscure redneck more than me?" Rick clenched his jaw. "No, I didn't say that, Shane. I'm just tryin' to understand both sides and-"
Daryl had already heard enough again. This was pointless. Like he said before... This group was broken. Another reason why he had closed himself off.
"This shit's pointless," the archer cut the leader off mid-sentence and just started to stomp away; exiting the scene as well - but not without having a last few words for Shane. "Next time ya try anythin', it ain't gonna stay with jus' a fat lip." He threw another warning/threat Shane's way - hoping that he finally learned his lesson now. Especially now that the others caught wind of this as well.
The archer made his way back to his little camp; holding out for you, though. He didn't see you somewhere outside the farm - what calmed him; knowing that you were most likely out of danger and somewhere safe. The bright and shiny moon had replaced the sun by now almost entirely as Daryl zipped open the flap of his tent. With a grunt he crawled inside - only to find nobody else than you sitting on his bedroll; hugging your knees to your chest and with dried tears on your cheeks.
"Y/N." His name rolled so effortlessly over his lips; making you shiver - in a good way. "S-Sorry... I didn't know where to go, s-so I just came here..." You said; sniveling. Daryl shrugged his shoulders and turned again to zip the tent shut. "'S a'right. I dun mind." You gave him a soft smile and a thankful look. He nodded in return and just... looked at you for another moment, before he shuffled awkwardly and started to 'clean up' a little. A.k.a making space for you so you could stay the night. Daryl wasn't sure what to do. If he should ask how you were or not. If you needed something or not. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. He was very uncertain, so he rather occupied himself with something else than letting you know.
You watched the archer 'work' for a few moments in silence, until your gaze landed coincidentally on his hands. With shock you realised that he was hurt. His knuckles were stained with blood. Some dried, but still seeping a little. "Daryl..." You spoke his name, catching instantly his attention. His head snapped up to face you.
"Yah?"
You moved, inched slowly closer to him. "Y-You're bleeding..." You whispered and cautiously reached for his hurt hand to inspect the damage - but giving him enough time to pull his hand away in case he didn't want the touch. He didn't. The archer was like rooted to the ground; holding his breath as your gentle fingers brushed his skin.
Physical touch wasn't easy for him - after all the bullshit he had been through in his childhood and youth. He had learned the physical contact mostly caused pain. But this... This was different. So fucking different from what he knew.
"Y-You split your knuckles... Do you have a first aid kit or something? Anything to treat the wounds?" Daryl blinked; ripped out of his thoughts. His blues met your Y/E/C. "Yeah, over-" His voice cracked. He tried again. "Over there." You followed the jut of his hand, gently let go of his hand to gather the first aid kit, only to return a few moments later to hold his hand again. "Sit. L-Let me help you."
Wordlessy, the man sat down on the bedroll beside you and letting you treat his split knuckles. And admittedly, Daryl had a hard time coping with this situation. Coping with so much... tenderness and gentleness. It was unknown territory - but it felt... right.
"There we go..." You said; tying the bandage around his hand, then shook your head. "Didn't want you to get hurt because of me..." You added in a quiet voice; blaming Shane but also yourself.
Daryl instantly shook his head; getting his shit together again. "Ain't yer fault. Asshole had it comin'. Deserved it. This ain't nothing," he gestured at his knuckles. "Gonna heal quickly. Had worse."
You sighed, "Yes, but... I don't know. Feeling guilty anyways." and without thinking leaned your head against his shoulder; arms and thighs brushing. You and Daryl had been close - but never this close before.
The archer froze once again; brain going blank for at least a solid minute as he tried to comprehend what was going on.
His skin was warm; biceps slightly sweaty but radiating nothing but warmth and comfort. Your eyes slipped shut. This felt so right. You never wanted to leave Daryl's side. Since he didn't shove you away, you thought he felt the same - or at least similar. Nevertheless remained a quiet voice of doubt.
But then something you couldn't quite foresee happened... Slowly, quietly, the archer wrapped his arm around your shoulders; big, work worn hand resting gently on your upper arm. The 'sudden' touch sent another shiver down your spine.
"Ya okay?" His voice deep and concerned, yet soft and caring. You started to smile and nodded, before you shyly reached for his free hand to loosely intertwine your fingers. "Now I am."
okok, could you do something .. rick/daryl/fem reader. (computa..)
basically poly relationship, but when they’re in bed rick’s always the sweet one, praising her, being gentle, etc+
meanwhile daryl’s the complete opposite, if u pick up what im putting down 😉, also your work is absolutely amazing!
ouuhhhhhh thanks anon!!! i have never done anything like this before but i could cook now that i have some days off of work 🤗🤗 we will see what i can do!!
The Protect series is like The zombie song by Stephanie Mabey because of how the Reader is acting a bit protective of Daryl whenever someone is close to him like oh mAh gawd it's to die for!
YESSSSSS!!!
i really enjoy writing in the way that makes reader seem like guard dog at times… i love the trope and that’s what inspired me to make the series too.
i think that reader just loves her man and wants him safe, it’s like when she turned all she wants to do is keep him safe— not caring for anything or anyone else. like for example; if michonne were to be in danger i don’t think reader would be inclined to protect her opposed to if daryl was in danger she’d risk being devoured by a herd to safe him.
i have too many ideas for the storyline that it almost seems like it’s just different little stories in one series, which makes me feel better because tbh i don’t have a set storyline (writing series is not my forte).
i really appreciate the feedback and positivity! it’s what keeps me going with the whole writing thing :) can’t wait to finish and post part 5!!!!
summary: usually the dead don’t protect humans, or so we thought.
warnings: zombie!reader, mentions of blood, kinda angst, killing, established relationship, intentional age!gap though not mentioned. no use of y/n. unedited. pilot, but eventual smut as the fic goes on. emotional/sexual yearning daryl, m!masturbation, cop-a-feel ;)
setting: alexandria (post-whisperers)
word count: 2.5k
notes: thank you to @clussysposts for the ideas and inspo 🫶🏼
credits: @tophollands inspired me to do this as they have a zombie!leon fic and we’ve established this theme would work well in twd. they were inspired by @quackysprouts zombie!leon art as well.
divider credit: @solitary-serendipity
ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ
once daryl had successfully brought you back to alexandria he began gathering the necessities to clean you up, bring you to your designated cell first. he'd never get used to the anxiety that coursed through him having you here and locked away like an animal, because if he had it his way you'd be home with him.
you didn't deserve to be locked up the rest of your life for something that you had no control over. and quite frankly; it was still you in there, deep down in the subconscious space of your mind. more things shone through than others, but the way you looked at him and comforted him— even the way you kissed him —made him believe that he still had his girl.
as he was on his way back to the cells he ran into michonne and filled her in on his discoveries and what had happened with the walker. it was something that shocked her too, that made her wonder if it was a good idea in the first place to bring you out behind the walls anymore.
but despite everything daryl said it was beneficial. having seen you in the state he did was something to be noted, could be useful against anything and anyone.
of course that peaked michonne's interest. anything to do with protecting her people, her kids even, she was all ears. and if that meant that you got to stay here with everyone and figure life out as you were now, then daryl would be damned for stopping it.
"sweetheart? m'back." he announced as he stomped down the steps to your new 'home'. you immediately stood up from the cot and made your way to the barred door, reaching through to grasp at him while whining like he'd been gone forever. it made him chuckle lightly, setting down the tub of warm water and wash clothes before opening the door and ushering you out.
you hummed as his hand brushed your lower back, guiding you to sit on the stool that he'd been perched on the past week as he guarded you with his life.
"gonna get ya cleaned up now, let me know if anything's uncomfy..." he trailed off as you nodded, head tilting as you took in the sudden nervousness that he gave off.
daryl was never nervous or anxious to see you naked. if anything he encouraged you to walk around the house naked, or at least just in your underwear with one of his shirts. he loved touching you're bare skin, being able to see your ass peaking out from the cotton fabric that fit you nearly like a dress. but that was before— this was now.
it felt almost wrong. felt as though he should call michonne or even carol in to help (though his best friend didn't know about you yet), because he didn't know how he'd fair— seeing you naked is one thing, but now you're different. your once olive-like complexion, thanks to the virginia sun, was now so pale that he swore you'd blend with the snow in a couple months.
all of the conflicting feelings that were swirling through his head like a storm made his hands shake and his mind draw blanks. taking one look at you, he knew that you knew he was feeling that way. you're eyebrows furrowed as you reached forward gently to grab his hands, guiding them to the hem of your shirt. you didn't realize that this was what he was nervous about.
you thought he was nervous about cleaning the walker blood off, like he was scared of you, even though he made it clear he wasn't. you couldn't help it in your recessed mind.
"hmmm." you hummed at him, tugging his wrists gently as if to pull him free of the confines in his brain. the only thing that you wanted was for him to give you attention, to make you clean again. and your confusion was slowly turning into frustration— like the dots in between weren't connecting. because at the end of the day, you and daryl were on differing waves.
"i'm sorry... m'just nervous is all— maybe i'll grab micho-" he stuttered hard, something that daryl just didn't do. not until now at least. never in his life had he become an anxious pile of mush, and it was beyond any type of emotion he could ever feel. but before he could finish speaking you growled loudly, like his words pissed you off.
you knew how to agree or disagree still, that didn't change.
you shook your head with fervour, grip tightening on his wrists so tight he swore it would leave marks. he hissed gently, eyes widening slightly at your sudden outburst— because you didn't want michonne or carol or anyone else for that matter, you wanted him. his attention was all that mattered to you.
you felt as though you were reincarnated to protect him and him alone. he was your person, therefore he was the only one allowed to help you in return. the only thing you thought about day in and day out was him, if he was safe or not.
"okay, okay! christ— i'll do it, m'sorry sweet girl." and like a flip had switched in an instant, your eyes lit up again and you're tight expression turned loose with a smile. a stark contrast in emotional intelligence, but maybe that was part of the turning as well. at this point the hunter felt as though he should find a notebook dedicated to his findings with you.
without anymore thought, daryl pulled the hem of your shirt up until the fabric slipped over your head and arms— exposing the cadaverous skin of your bare chest to his eyes, something he'd never get used to seeing. his face flushed as he stared at your breasts for a moment, quickly adverting his gaze to your shirt in his hands with a blush crawling to his cheekbones.
thinking you did something to make him uncomfortable you quickly bring your arms up to cover your chest and whimper like a kicked puppy. daryl knew what it may have looked like to you, having his hands pull quickly from you and his gaze to deter away from you as well. he was starting to catch on to your new mannerisms.
"sweetheart it's not like that. don't gotta be upset, s'just yer still my woman and i feel that i shouldn' be lookin' at ya like that." he huffed out, surprising himself that he didn't stutter like an idiot as he confessed to you. your head only turned to the side, brows furrowing in confusion.
“this is why i suggested bringin’ michonne in, i don’t think i can do this… professionally?” was that the word to use right now? he didn’t know for sure, but god; if he couldn’t control his dick now that you were in such a vulnerable state he’d feel like the worlds worst boyfriend ever. he’d just hoped you understood the words he was trying to give way.
so he watched your face carefully, watching it contort from confusing to sadness to realization. your arms dropped from your chest and hands smacked against your thighs as you groaned out with a displeased tone. you only wanted daryl to do this, not someone else. and you couldn’t understand why he was being so stubborn about it. it made you angry, but you didn’t know how to show it to him.
maybe by touch he’d understand that you were comfortable with him here? an idea had formed too quickly in your mind as you stood off the chair and stepped towards daryl, reaching quickly to grab both his hands in both of yours only to bring them up to your chest— allowing him to hold your breasts, making his breath catch so hard you could basically hear his lungs stop just by expression alone.
and then you smiled at him again, the only way you knew how to confirm you were okay. he’d be lying if his dick wasn’t twitching in his jeans right now, but nonetheless he gave the tiniest of smiles back.
“mm.” you hummed in content, a soft giggle like noise leaving your lips as daryl was trying to keep his composure— the growing tent in his pants not helping any. he’s lucky that you didn’t notice, he didn’t feel like explaining it to you and feeling the shame that came with getting a boner for his walker-fied girlfriend.
“as much as i’d love to stay in this situation sweet thing, ya still got blood all over ya. if ya insist on having only me then let’s get this done fast, yeah?” with that, he released your chest and allowed you to sit back down so he could use a soft washcloth and now room temperature water to help ease the dried blood off of your skin.
you seemed beyond serene as your breathing slowed, limbs relaxing into daryl’s touch. he grounded you more than he knew, his presence being enough in itself to keep you sane. it was a bonus that his hands were all over you— craving nothing but him as your brain went numb. small little moans we’re heard falling from your mouth as he scrubbed your skin clean.
“enjoying yerself?” he questioned, voice low as he soaked in every sound you made— vibrations shooting straight to the raging boner he had in his pants. it was inevitable that this happened to him, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. daryl prides himself in his ability to control his emotions but when it came to you it was a different story.
nonetheless you hummed in agreement, groaning softly as your eyes made contact with his in a way that he took as too sultry— evident in your squinted eyes and your pursed lips.
“that’s good, nearly done.” he trailed off, mostly to himself as he wiped the last bit of dried blood from your face and chest, leaving a light flush on your skin. he didn't want to read into that either, mostly just in a rush to finish and help himself out after. his poor dick was beginning to hurt and you remained ever-so-clueless to the matter.
"there ya go sweetheart, all clean."
daryl's words made you smile and bounce in your seat lightly, excited to be rid of the muck that coated your skin and that made him upset. it was like a new beginning for you and you were just so happy that you couldn't contain it. but the hunter couldn't focus on that— no, only thing he can focus on is your breasts bouncing along with you.
even when you stood up and gave him a hug was it the only thing he could think about. and here he was thinking he could stay strong for the sake of you— the close proximity didn't help the fact that he was trying to hide it, but now he knew that you felt his love for you in the form of a rock-hard-on in his jeans.
he all too quickly pushed you back slightly and just smiled at you, partially so you didn't get upset at the lose of contact with him. "how 'bout we put this towel on ya for now, i'll go grab a new shirt for ya." it was his excuse to help himself, not being able to contain it anymore as he turned to pick up the bucket holding bloody water— and to tuck himself so no one else sees.
you pouted at the fact he was leaving, but all together you obliged as he passed you the soft terry cloth so you could cover yourself once and for all tonight. once you did so, you quickly pulled at his shirt as if asking for the one off of his back.
"baby, i'll grab ya one of mine— promise. just stay put."
and with that he left in a rush, leaving you so utterly confused that all you could do was stand exactly where he told you to stay put. on the other hand, daryl was finally able to sigh in relief as he dumped the water onto the grass and threw the container off to the side— practically running back to your shared house to finally wrap his hand around himself and feel any type of release.
the guilt was there, of course it was, but what trumped that in the moment was the fact that you pulled his hands to your perfect tits and allowed him to cop a feel without any sexual intention— though of course he was just a man at the end of the day, and he had urges. it had also been a little over a week since you'd turned.
the angel and devil in his shoulders were internally battling as he slammed his front door shot, running up to the bedroom, stripping out of his jeans and underwear so his dick can finally be free from the too-tight confines. he sighed out in content as he finally spat into his hand while sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapping a big and rough hand around himself and pumping in a suddenly fast motion.
he'd never felt so desperate to cum in his entire life leading up the this moment now, he didn't even care to string it out. his fist was moving at a rapid pace for what was only 5 minutes before he was shooting thick white ropes into his palm. he felt pathetic, like he didn't know what to do with himself now.
all he could do was pray that he could control himself from here on out, if you must insist he did everything for you.
or he could pray that maybe one day, he'd feel you again.
yeah— one day.
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