venus

requests status: closed for now <3 please look at intro before requesting! writing side blog, follow back from @appelcakes

[venuspops]

intro! ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

masterlist | before you request something

divider above from aadilshaikh5566 on pinterest, all others made by me

venus | 18 | she/he | full-time nerd | college student

currently writing for: jjk, twd, twdg

main blog: @appelcakes

i’m okay with minors following me, but there is explicit adult content on my blog (it’ll always be tagged as such) so please be mindful. i am not responsible for the content you consume

i love to talk! feel free to ask me questions about myself, thoughts on fandom discourse, or pretty much anything in my submission inbox regardless of my request status

i’m a human with a very busy life outside of tumblr, please treat me as such :)

i do not own or have the rights to any character i write about! i am not claiming them as my own, it is simply fan fiction made by a fan for other fans

i do not consent to any of my work being reposted on any other platforms or being fed to any sort of ai program

if any links don’t work, DM me pls!

[omg-imstillatotalmess]

Blowing a kiss at Daryl as he’s leaving on a run and he flips you off, then runs face first into the gate bc you made him nervous.

[venuspops]

I enjoyed reading your Daryl, could you please do one about him finding out he's going to be father

hi lovely anon, thank you!! sorry it took me so long to get to your request! i’ve never written anything like this before so i hope you enjoy :)

twd masterlist

Daryl finding out he’s going to be a father is about as grand as you’d expect.

Daryl never had a reliable male figure in his life, only men who couldn’t tie their own shoes and call that “true masculinity.” Not knowing what that figure looked like, he wasn’t sure if he could be that or not so he wrote off being a father all together.

Masculinity, to him, didn’t matter in the apocalypse. You either survive or you don’t. Having a family just lessened your individual chance to survive, so it was definitely written off now.

Then he met you. You took care of him even when it inconvenienced you, you helped him like he mattered. He found himself wanting to take care of you too. You made him feel safe and he wanted you to be safe.

When you guys made it to Alexandria and you two were finally able to just be, he couldn’t believe it. He still can’t, not while you’re smiling up at him with a likely expired pregnancy test like it was the second most precious thing in the world, second only to him of course.

Is it real? What if it’s a false positive? Maybe you haven’t gotten your period because of your diet. What if it’s real? What’s scarier: real or fake? What if he’s just like his father, or Merle? Can he do this?

Daryl spends so long staring at you, lost in his own head, you get scared, “Daryl?”

“That real?” You nod. “You’ really..?” You nod again.

Daryl looks between you and the test and pulls you into a hug, as if he’s trying to crush you. He whispers an “okay” into your ear. Regardless of the uncertainties, he’d be there.

When you’re in bed together later that night and you’re asleep, he pulls you into to spoon you and rests his hand on your stomach, getting teary eyed. A kid means someone else to protect, someone to be there for, and he will.

He’s scared, truthfully, but he’s just grateful that he goes through this with you. Yeah, he didn’t think he’d be a good father, a father at all to be honest, but he also didn’t think he’d find someone like you, especially not during the apocalypse. Look where he ended up. He‘ll make it work.

[lavandine]

hiii i love your daryl stories you write him so well >-< i was wondering if you could write something with a reader that has long curly hair, and she always has him in a braid or another hairstyle but then one day she didn't have time to do her hair so she just left it loose and daryl sees her hair like that for the first time <3 sorry for the bad grammar english isnt my first language

hi angel! 🤍 i'm absolutely overjoyed to hear that you enjoy my work! this was my first time ever receiving a request. i originally had a clear idea written out in my head but then it turned into this. i hope you like it!

⸻ 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑠.

𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 / 𝛰𝘩 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 / 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒! / 𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 / 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒 / 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑦 / 𝑆𝘩𝑒'𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙 / 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦...

𝜗౿ — 6.8𝑘. 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓. 𝑃𝘩𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑖𝑟. 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑛, 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐴𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.

Daryl loves many things about you. How could he not? You’re easily the most lovable person he’s ever come across.

But the thing he most admires is the calm sense of normalcy you emit. It’s like nothing can throw you off. You live so securely in your little bubble that it sometimes feels like a walker doesn’t even pose a real threath to you. To your body, maybe, but not to your mind, your demeanor, your own sense of reality.

So far, he’s only seen people destroyed by the apocalypse because their sense of reality was taken away from them at once. It feels surreal sometimes still, this place that the world had become.

But never when you were present. Somehow, you managed to make this horror feel… normal? That couldn’t be the right word, this life had become normalcy for most people. No, you accepted it, and this was what intrigued him from day one. What drew him in, what pulled him closer and finally into your bubble, your rosy delusion that stretched to make room for for the whole group. You made them feel at home in a place that was inhospitable. And to Daryl, who didn’t even know he was capable of this emotion, this was big.

It’s not so much of a delusion as it is a coping mechanism, he learns as you shed layer and layer of carefully crafted masks. It makes him feel strangely seen, even though it’s you revealing yourself slowly. Maybe that’s ‘cause he’s known you since the quarry and it’s only now, behind iron bars, that you deem him worthy of seeing all of your true self.

It’s flattering. And… pretty, yeah. Real pretty.

Yet, even though it was more choice than delusion, as much as it gave you power to go on, it grew painful for you at times, too. Daryl knew you clung to old parts of life, sometimes a little too much so.

That realization hits as he sees you braid your hair one morning. He’d been on a run the day before, ran into some trouble at the deserted town. Consequently, it was already dark when he turned in, and he’d headed straight to bed. Hadn’t had time to tend to his bike yet, so he got up early to make up for that.

Stupid thing had some kind of an engine problem, there must be something wrong with the tank. Somethin’ to take care of before the next run, before it became a real danger. Yesterday he made it back to the prison, but if that happened again, he might not be this lucky.

The thoughts and plans swirling through his head go quiet at once when he catches sight of you on the stone steps. Sitting with your back turned to him, idly taming your long curls. He stops in his tracks, unable to tear his gaze off of your body. Your hands weren’t moving right now, though, instead holding the half-finished braid as you were focused on something on the meadow.

His eyes follow your gaze and he catches a glimpse of a rabbit. Mhm… weird sight. He didn’t think it possible that it had come past the fences and, well, the countless walkers lurking behind them. It should be long dead, and yet… it was just hopping around without a care in the world.

He huffs, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Leans against the door, arms crossed, observing. That rabbit reminds him of you. It would seem impossible to a stranger that you of all people had made it this far. Seemed way too innocent for that, easily distracted as you were. He bets you would not hear him coming right up behind you if he chose to do so, too caught up in watching the rabbit. Cute, that hypothetical stranger might think. Still cute if he knew, just like Daryl, that you were a force to be reckoned with and had earned your place inmidst the survivors just like everyone else.

The rabbit disappears in a bush. Would make a nice lunch. He’d never think of killin’ it though, not after catching a glimpse of your happy smile as you went back to braiding.

Daryl figures this would be a good moment to move on, or else he’ll get stuck here watching you until you notice him, and that wouldn’t be ideal. So he pushes himself off the wall and walks past you, heading to the shed where he kept his bike.

Nods curtly as he walks past you on the steps. You flinch as he passes by — just as expected, you were too lost in your head to notice him ealier. But then, you look up and his gaze brushes yours and that alone might actually be enough to have him blushing. ‘Cause you’re smiling at him like that again. So infuriatingly sweet… And he’s almost out of danger, almost down the steps when he hears your soft voice.

“Good morning, Daryl!”

He stops in his tracks, hesistant, turns around again and mumbles a rushed “…Mornin'.” Walks away faster than before because he fears you might start a conversation.

… It’s been like that for a while now. He can’t really trust himself around you anymore. Doesn’t really know when it started, or what’s different about today, because it’s definitely gotten worse since yesterday — and since last week and the month before.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you braid your hair before.

Truthfully, he knows you come out here at dusk to take care of it pretty much everyday. He’s not stalking you or anything! It’s just, he wakes up pretty early and sleeps outside the cells, so he notices stuff. You’re the first one up and you leave your cell at the same time every morning. He hears you shuffle around trying to be quiet, so… he usually can’t keep resting knowing you’re out there. In case a walker makes it over the barricade after all, or something else happens, anything; you catch his drift. So he’s bound to follow you outside eventually, pretending to have work to do. It’s not a lie, he usually finds some tasks that need to be taken care of.

Seeing you fleetingly in that calm moment you take for yourself is merely a perk.

God, it always is. No matter where he is while the rest of the prison is still asleep, the shed, the fences, whatever — he always makes sure he can see you from there. Not in a creepy way. He just likes to know you’re alright.

And it’s strangely comforting that you have that little routine, that you’re there doing the same thing at the same time everyday. He admires your persistance.

Really, ‘cause if he had hair as long as yours, he’d just cut it off. Only gets in the way when you’re fighting walkers. He’d think it impossible to actually take care of it like that.

At the beginning, people had still tended to such things as appearance. He remembers that back at the quarry, some had cut their hair. Daryl didn’t. Honestly, he already used to just keep it short and out of the way before everythig went to shit, never cared much about it at all. Now, he downright ignores it. There’s more important things to focus on.

Not in your world, apparently. You made life the prison have countless routines. Which is good, right, ‘cause they might be able to stay there for a while. Forever, Hershel insisted, but he wouldn’t be so sure of that. Even if so, all caution shouldn’t be thrown into the wind.

Maybe he clings to it a little too much, though. It’s what he ponders on now, crouching down beneath his mud stained bike, trying and failing to focus on the engine. You seem happy in this place, and on top of that, you seem to truly believe in it.

It’s enough to make him work even harder to make it a place worth living in.

Daryl gives up on fixing the bike completely now — there’d be time for that later. Instead, his gaze drifts over the meadow to the cell block you were still sitting in front of. The braid had turned out beautiful. Well… your hair was always pretty. But since the prison, you had put more time into it. Yeah, he noticed that.

It had been nothing but simple, practical braids for a while now, all during winter. Lately though, you wore your gorgeous curls in such elaborate hairstyles he’d only ever seen in magazines. Daryl didn’t even know there were multiple types of braids, or maybe he just never paid attention before.

Yeah… that’s it, probably. You make him notice things he’d never ever care about if they weren’t connected to you.

Deep down, he knows what was different today. Of course, he knew it from the beginning.

Just yesterday, you’d shyly approached him as he was prepping the motorcycle for the run. It was supposed to be a quick sweep, they knew the nearby town well by know. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just, well, scouting for things worth coming back for. Maybe check out the couple of shops they hadn’t entered yet, see if there was anything left in there.

Asked him if he could look for some hair care products while he was out. And you looked at him so sweetly too, with that shy smile as if you were actually expecting him to tell you off. It had become his main goal the second you asked, of course you didn’t know that. Meanwhile he didn’t want you to get your hopes up since, well, he didn’t know shit about beauty products (also, it was possible that he wouldn’t find anything of the sort). Just gave a gruff “Yeah”, but your eyes immediately lit up.

And then, well, that got him even more motivated. The run stretched and at some point he’d been out hours longer than he planned, but he was dead set on fulfilling that wish of yours.

As fate had it, he actually did find a bunch of stuff he thought might be what you were talking about. Fancy shit, shiny ‘n all after he dusted it off. And a spare hair tie, too. Maybe you’d like that. Since you only had one left after losing the rest during the winter.

God, he hoped he had picked the right thing. If not, that was a fucking waste of time. He grew more anxious by the second on his trip back to the prison. It was distracting, dangerously so. It’s a pattern, really, has been developing for some time now: you, occupying his thoughts.

That night, it led to him overlooking a group of walkers on the road until it was too late to turn around. Shit. Not really that much of a problem, but he had to hit the brakes real hard until they were screeching. Could feel something snap in the engine, but he couldn’t deal with that right now. Hastily grabbed his crossbow and took care of the walkers.

As he returned to examine the bike, he realized that something was in fact broken, but it was only a minor problem. He’d tend to it later. Or… tomorrow, one glance at the dark night sky told him. Driving home was still possible, anyway.

After that momentary distraction from whether or not you’d like his findings, he went back to worrying. ‘s why he staggered to your cell before going to bed… The curtain, serving as a makeshift door, was pulled close, so you were probably sleeping. Not wanting to disturb your slumber, he placed the things in front of your cell.

You must have heard his shuffling around. Right as he turned aorund to head to his own cot on the stone floor, the curtain was pulled back, revealing you, still in your day clothes. Must have been reading or something.

Before he could say anything, your eyes dropped to the bottles he had carefully placed on the floor. Your eyes lit up immediately. Flickering up to his nervous ones, you gave him a giddy smile, and a wave of calm washed over him.

Clutching the precious bottle of hair oil to your chest like a treasure, you thanked him profusely. Apparently, it was the exact same brand you’d used before… Daryl thought your happiness excessive at first, but you seemed genuinely grateful. It got him a little flustered, so he just waved it off and trotted off to his bed.

Now, leaning against the bike and watching you from afar, your careful movements, how blissful you seemed, the pink bottle standing next to you on the stone step — he understood. This was what was different… Seing how serious you were about this. How something small like this made your whole damn day, judging from the giddy look on your face.

Knowing that he caused it…

Fuck, he might be in deeper than he thought he was.

In all honesty, Daryl would have been absolutely content dwelling on his small victory for the whole day.

However, fate had other plans. He’d been busy repairing the bike, it seemed like any other day in the new prison community. It was strange, after spending the winter on the run, constantly on the verge of starvation. He doesn’t yet know what to think of the whole community thing, either. Reminds him of this Woodbury place, and his memories of the town were anything but fond. The people there… how they cheered when he and Merle were shoved into a group of walkers like it was some sick and twisted form of entertainment…

He knew it wasn’t like this now. Though he recognized some of the faces, that he did.

In his heart, he knew that this was a good thing. People cared for each other.

Today, this was proven again. Yet, everyone would have preferred if it had happened in some other way. There was a breach of security in one of the cell blocks, near the infirmary. Only one walker, and they secured the passage afterwards, but it was enough…

The screams came first, children who had been playing in the yard. Of course, he went running towards it. So did Rick, Carol… everyone, really. But they were too late, again. No children had been harmed, but one of the men. Maimed right there in full sight of the helpless community.

He heard a shot ring trough the air, faintly recognized that it had come out of Glenn’s direction, but his eyes were fixed on you. Breathless from running so fast, arm hanging limply down your side as you clutched your gun, motionless.

You looked devastated.

Most people were, as a grave was dug and the body buried that same day. But they were used to such occurences by now, though they had become rare as of lately.

With you, it seemed different. The light in your eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, melancholic shimmer.

Daryl couldn’t shake the visual all day. Worked up the courage to see if he could do something, ‘cause he itched to see you smile again. It made him straight up uneasy, worry gnawing at his heart to see you this wistful.

It might not be his place to look after you, but you see, he was genuinely concerned. It was such a harsh contrast to your happiness in the morning! A small, stupid part of him hoped he could make you feel better somehow. He tried hard to fight it, ignore the impulse, but it was in vain.

So, he found himself right in front of your cell that evening. Most people had gone to sleep early, not in the mood to have fun after what happened. Your curtain was half open, though.

Daryl cleared his troath before coming closer, fighting his nerves.

“You, uh… y’in there?”

No answer. Growing worried, he pulled the curtain back and stepped inside.

What he finds makes his troath go dry instantly. It’s… it shouldn’t, really. But it’s you, and he’s never seen you like this.

Daryl stops dead in his tracks. Can’t tear his gaze off of you, actually. You must have noticed him going still in the doorway, since you turn around. The motion makes your wild curls bounce, cascading way over your shoulders. His eyes trail down to the tips of your open hair, stopping at your hips.

Fuck… That’s a new kind of pretty. In their free, untamed state, you look like a completely different person, actually. Or rather: like that part of you that has survived on pure grit. This is why you’re still here. This is the woman that saved his defenseless ass when he was cornered by a walker, shooting the corpse straight through the head. With his crossbow, no less. He’d thought you were badass back then, but now you look the part and more.

You look like a warrior angel.

He should probably say something now. Feels your eyes burning into him, a silent question. Finally, he looks up.

“Your hair.” He croaks.

Tilting your head, you wait for him to go on. “Mhm?”

Daryl feels his face flush. He feels like he’s burning up all of a sudden, though the stone walls of the prison make it a shadowed, cool place.

Clears his troath, then mumbles, “… ‘s different.”

God, why can’t he be normal. Could’ve said anything, complimented you even, because you clearly deserved one or a hundred. Instead, he’s just, what… stating the obvious? Smooth, really.

To his surprise, you get a little shy. Look away as if you can’t hold his gaze, “I know. It’s messy. I just… leave it like that when I sleep. It’s more comfy.”

Is he imagining things or are you blushing a bit?

Anyway, he doesn’t know what to say. So he just stays silent and stares at you.

However, you seem to grow more nervous with the second. The bashfulness seems to have turned into offense, and your brows furrow as you glare at him from where you’re sitting on the bed.

Crossing your arms over your chest, “You know, some people actually care about their appearance. Not everyone can walk around all— dirty and muddied with old blood clinging to them…”

It stings. It shouldn’t, ‘cause that shit has never bothered him, but it does. Because you said it.

He shifts in the doorway, debating on whether he should leave. He huffs, “… Didn’t mean ta-”

You interrupt him, lips pursed. “Do you even know how much time it takes to do my hair everyday? Huh? Well, a lot, actually. It’s exhausting! And I know it’s not the same thing, but it makes people feel normal. Not like you coming back from some hunt or run or whatever looking like you lived in the woods for years. It makes them uncomfortable, don’t you get that? It’s so…”

Your voice trails off.

Daryl has not interrupted you once, just listened you go on and on with your rant. If it hurt him, he doesn’t show it at all. His face seems to be made of stone, not one muscle moving. The mere sight of him makes hot tears burn behind your eyes. It’s not his fault, he… You wish you could disappear right now. What had gotten into you?

You didn’t mean any of the things you just said, so why did you feel the need to say them?

Daryl observes your change of emotion. You seem… deflated, all of a sudden, sunken into yourself. Because of him? A clump forms in his throath, and he feels hot guilt flare up in his gut.

Then, a broken sob echoes in the small cell. It rings in his ears. That might just be the saddest thing he’s ever heard… and all the insults you just threw at him are forgotten in an instant.

He’s next to you in a heartbeat. Leaning over your crouching form, a hand hovering just over your shoulder. “Hey, uh… You alrigh’? Didn’t mean ta… yunno.” You look up at him, eyes sad and watery. Run a hand over your face, then sigh. The sound damn near breaks his heart. “Daryl, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said all that.”

He gulps, finally deciding to gently rub your shoulder. “’S okay. Know I ain’t some pretty sight. Jus’ didn’t think ya cared ‘bout that. … If ya wan’t me ta, I’ll take a sho—” You shake your head violently, a tear rolls down your cheek. “No, don’t. I really didn’t mean that. It’s just… with what happened today… I felt so useless. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

His heart softens. And then he does something he never thought he’d have the courage to do… He sits down right on your fucking bed and wraps an arms around you in an attempt at comfort.

To his immediate relief, you lean into the touch. Shaken by another sob, you cling to his shirt, face buried in his shoulder. “Shh…” He rocks you gently. Feels tears wet the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn’t care about that, either… though it’s a hundred times worse than blood ever could be.

His voice is a deep rumble in his chest, vibrating against your cheek, “Y’ain’t useless.”

Your grip on him tightens, then. Your sobs have died down, too. He takes that as a sign to continue.

Clears his troath, “’N fer the record, ya hold this whole damn place together. Smilin’ an’ bein’ sweet ta everyone ‘n all that. … With the hair stuff, too.”

A weak, defeated laugh.

“Nah, ‘m bein’ serious. Ya’ve done more fer this group than y’know.” He hums, grip losening. You slip out of his arms then, pulling back to look at him.

Your eyes are red and puffy. Makes something in his chest hurt real bad. He attemps a smile, though it probably comes out as more of a grimace. He’s not good at this stuff.

You breathe slowly, eyes softening. “… You know I don’t mind the dirt, right?”

He looks away, down at the floor. Offers a gruff “Mhm”, nothing more.

You reach out, touching his arm. Persistant. “Really. I don’t, not at all. Clean or dirty, doesn’t change how much I like you.”

The depth of what you’re feeling flies straight over his oblivious head, too caught up in keeping his feelings at bay to even consider that they might be mutual, but he picked up on the sincerity of your words. Looks at you again, this time you smile.

Daryl doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to. Instead, you fall into his arms again. You’re not sad anymore, this is something different. You just hold him, and he holds you, one hand gently tangling in your curls and stroking your head.

His voice breaks the silence after a long time has passed. “Coulda worn ‘em like this all the time.”

You smile against his bicep. “It’s so messy though, don’t you think?”

“Nah. ‘s pretty.” Good thing it’s dark in your cell, because both of you blush at that.

He might feel your heart beating a little faster, though. If he does, he keeps quiet about it. Instead, he stays perfectly still, breathing quietly, steady. He’s not going anywhere. He’s still there, looking at the dark ceiling, solid as a rock next to you as you drift into slumber at his side.

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed. The mattress is cold beside you — he must have left a while ago. A pang of guilt makes your heart convulse, as slowly and torturously the events of last evening come rushing back. You bite your lip, staring at the dark ceiling. Why did you have to say these things? It’s not like you’re the only one affected by the death of that man. You didn’t even know his name, and still you took out your frustration on Daryl.

Daryl, who had done so much for you. Probably the person you trust most out of everyone in this prison. Scratch that, he’s the person you trust most in the whole world.

And he wasn’t even angry. A vivid memory of the way he stood there resurfaces: just taking every word you threw at him. He looked like a kicked puppy.

Even though he forgave you on the spot, you don’t feel right about it.

Another apology would feel stale, but you still felt the urge to do something. Mhm, you would apologize to him every day from now on if it meant he’d believe it someday.

… Maybe he’s outside already. A quick glance out of your cell reveals some stray rays of morning sunlight shining trough the barred windows. You know that he gets up early like you, and as you step behind the makeshift curtain-door you see that his cot by the officers watchpoint is empty.

It doesn’t take much more to make up your mind. The tiredness vanishes from your bones and quietly, trying not to wake the others, you taper to the exit.

It’s really early, barely dusk. You’re about to close your eyes and take in the quiet, pleasant atmosphere in your little morning ritual when you halt in your steps at once, going still.

It’s him.

You don’t know what to say. Barely have time to take in the sight of him, right at the steps of the cellblock, fiddling with something. Around him are your hair supplies, scattered chaotically on the steps. He’s holding your precious wooden brush, there’s two hair ties, and next to him, the oil he brought back yesterday.

Before you can say something, he jerks his head towards you. Lets out a defeated grumble, as if you were interrupting him with something. He gets up, resignated, and looks up at you from the bottom of the stairs awkwardly.

“… Yer awake.”

You nod hesistantly.

A hint of something flashes in his eyes, gone before you can put a name on it. He clears his troath shyly, averting his gaze. “Thought I could fix yer hair t’day. Since it’s so much work ‘n all… You jus’ lean back and let me do it fer ya.”

Warmth floods your heart. He is… He did that for you. Not angry, he still wants to make you feel better despite everything that happened.

Still feeling a little bit guilty, you walk down the first few steps, leaving only one in between the two of you. It leaves you on eye level with him, a weird position. You’re used to him towering over you.

From here, the anxious glint in his eyes is even more obvious.

Nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you answer. “Are you sure?”

Relief flashes over his face. His voice is steadier as he grunts, “Yeah. Wouldn’t’ve offered if I wasn’t.”

You smile happily. “I… Okay!”

Without further ado, you plop down right there in front of him on the stone stairs.

He blinks once, shakes his head. Huffs, then he steps behind you and sits down, too.

This… mhm. This was not how he imagined it to go down. He thought you might protest but… you seem thankful. Makes him feel proud, but at the same time, he’s absolutely panicking.

He just hadn’t planned that far yet! And now, having only just escaped your expectant eyes, with your back turned towards him… You’re right there. You trust him with this.

He clears his troath. “Uh… Ya gon’ tell me what ta do?” He blushes a little bit, feeling all clumsy all of a sudden. Good thing you can’t see his face right now.

A soft laugh rumbles trough your body. Daryl relaxes instantly. “Mhm. I’ll show you.”

And then you turn around a little bit, and he’s mesmerized by your warm smile. Doesn’t care that you can see him now, all caught off guard and at a loss, which is so uncharacteristic for him — no, not when you look at him like this.

Especially not when you take his hand in yours, the one that’s clenched around your pretty hairbrush, and lead it towards your head. You demonstrate the motion like that, and he feels a little stupid ‘cause he probably could’ve figured that out by himself but then again, he doesn’t ever want to hurt you on accident.

You let go after a while. Turn around again, and he inches a little closer. You sit between his thighs, and he’s dead focused on detangling those pretty curls. It’s easier than he expected. Still, he’s extra careful not to tug too hard. His fingers are impossibly gentle as he runs them through your soft hair… It feels really nice. You close your eyes, getting lost in the sensation.

Daryl, meanwhile, is fully immersed in the task at hand. He’s begun braiding now, copying the motion he’s seen you perform every morning for weeks now. Only, well… it turns out looking just a little off somehow.

He curses under his breath, undoes a part of the braid again only for it to turn out exactly the same on second try.

Still gives it his all, concentrated up to when he ties it in the end. He leans back to take in his work. Yeah… it’s a little different. He hopes you won’t mind.

His voice is deep and rumbly when he speaks up again. The sun has fully risen now, it took him a few minutes to get the hang of it. “I uh… ‘s done.”

You turn around, smiling. “Thank you, Daryl.”

He lets out a strangled laugh, “Yeah, don’t gotta thank me. Ya haven’t seen it yet.”

He expects encouraging words, you undoing the braid right there to do it again yourself, everything, but not that giggle. “Let’s see it then!”

Doesn’t expect the way you grab his hand and pull him up, nor that you don’t let go of it as you run up the stairs and lead him to the rundown lavatory, where you stop at the mirror and look at yourself.

He’s nervous, shifting on his feet as you take in the messy result of his work. His worry is gone the moment you turn back towards him. Your eyes are earnest, and there’s a glimmer in them that makes his heart do a strange flip.

“… It’s perfect.”

He bites his lip, a little confused ‘cause he knows it’s anything but. Your hair always looks beautiful, yeah, but his attempt at putting it in a simple braid didn’t come close to the elaborate, fancy hair styles you’re used to.

Yet, you surprise him once again. The bathroom feels smaller after your quiet confession, but he loses all sense of time and space when you take a step towards him and give him that look. You’re smiling, but in a soft, whimsical way he hasn’t ever seen before.

He loves it. But what he loves even more is the way you stand on tiptoes, reaching up to press a small, lingering kiss to his cheek. Daryl tenses up instantly, body going rigid as his skin burns where your lips brushed against it. You’re still looking at him, and he couldn't avert his gaze if he tried to, mesmerized by your eyes. Your hands are holding onto his forearms, but he doesn’t even realize it, still feeling the ghost of your touch.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered, only for him to hear, but it pulls him out of his trance. Daryl blinks, trying to think of something to say, but he can’t come up with anything.

You don’t seem to mind. Your eyes soften at his silence. And then, you walk away, braid swinging, a light bounce to your step, leaving him dumbfounded, standing right in the middle of the bathroom.

Daryl can’t think about anything but that kiss for the whole day. You’re occupying the entirety of his thoughts and it’s worse than usually. And he doesn’t even mind. Keeps quiet the whole day instead, pondering on what to make of the gesture. Why did you do that? Do you also get this strange feeling whenever you stand close to him? Like nausea, but in a good way. Did you really like the way he did your hair?

Even though he doesn’t find answers for the first two questions, he’s pretty sure about that last one. When he sees you again at lunch in the yard, you’re still wearing the braid. He expected you to have changed it up right after you left, so he’s incredibly flustered when he sees you haven’t. Carol must think he’s sick or something, he didn’t even dare look into your eyes when you filled his plate.

But he’s observing you when you’re not looking. It warms his heart, how you interact with the other people. It’s as if you’re healed again — not a trace of that crying woman he rocked to sleep yesterday to be seen.

You’re yourself again, even if the messy braid makes you look a little different.

And you’re so pretty. Though he has to admit, he thought you looked breathtaking with open hair, wild curls untamed.

Which is why he feels extra lucky when he catches sight of you again that night. After avoiding you for the better part of the day, still unsure of what to make of the new dynamic between the two of you. He’s still thinking about it, can’t stop actually, even though he should sleep. Everyone else has gone to their respective cells, he’s stretched out on his cot at the side, overlooking the room. Lost in thoughts, he doesn’t even hear the soft padding of footsteps approaching.

But then he sees you. Wearing your sleeping clothes, an old tattered shirt and worn pants. Daryl sits up quickly, propped up against the stone wall, staring at you.

Your hair is open. Must’ve been on your way to bed, then. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and he gets a little lost in tracing singular curls with his eyes.

You stop just short of his blankets, a little bashful. Your voice is quiet, as to not wake the others. “I just wanted to say thank you again.”

He hums, “Said tha’ twice this mornin’.”

But your shake your head. “Not for that. Well, also for that, but I was talking about last night. I didn’t mean to lash out and I, uh… I hope I didn’t keep your from sleeping.”

Ah. “Nothin’ ya gotta thank me for.”

“Yes, I do. You stayed until I fell asleep. And I know I apologized already, but I want you to know that I really didn’t mean what I said.” You look at him, and Daryl realizes that you still feel bad about the things spoken then. Sure, it had hurt in the moment, but he believed you the first time you insisted it wasn't how you felt about him.

He nods. Eyes softening a little. Did you think he was mad about that? Really? When he can’t imagine anything nicer than having you fall asleep in his arms. Except for waking up next to you, maybe. But he didn’t want to overstep.

“’s okay, really.”

You still don’t look convinced, but a little less guilty, reassured. Can hear it in your voice when you say goodnight. He looks at you as you retreat to your cell, wild curls bouncing with every step.

Mhm… he’ll just have to prove it to you again, then. Work hard to convince you. Your glow is back, and he needs to keep it that way. Won’t stop at anything.

And just like that, he’s waiting for you in front of the prison again the next morning. It becomes a routine, him doing your hair. And with every day, you smile wider at him when it’s done.

Also, he still gets a kiss on the cheek everytime he does it, so. That alone would be motivation enough to keep going! But it makes you happy, too. That’s what does it for him. Everything else is just a perk.

His hands still tremble. And he’s scared of fucking up and it looks messy the first couple of times — but you still tell him it’s perfect just like that first morning.

He’s beginning to think that you’re perfect. No, scratch that, he knows you are.

You were when he first met you back when you were a skittish, shy woman that couldn’t kill a living thing.

You were when you realized that this was reality now, and that to live, one had to take life.

You were when anger and gried clouded your senses and you let out all of your frustration on the undead.

You were when you used his arrows to shoot a walker that cornered him, when you saved his life like it was something worth saving.

At the same time, you were when you kept the group alive by not protecting but nourishing them. Perfect. You were truly perfect in every sense of the word, in every state of mind. You were perfect when you tamed your curls and perfect when you left them wild and open.

Or maybe it’s just that to Daryl, you’re the only ideal worth protecting. Something golden, something purely good inmidst danger and ruins. Maybe it’s not “you were perfect when” but “he loved you when”, ‘cause he did! He always has.

There’s sides of you he doesn’t know yet, and in his eyes, that makes you all the more perfect. Your beauty is not limited to vision, it’s transcendent.

And you trust him enough to reveal it to him, and he falls harder every single fucking time, merely because you were already perfect before and he was already on cloud nine, and he didn’t think he could feel with even more intensity but you always convince him otherwise.

It’s like with the hair. Such a small thing, yet so meaningful.

He’s honored every time you allow him near you when it’s not done, when you’re your most vulnerable self, unwound. Proud that you let him do it, too, because it’s your special ritual. It helps you live in this reality. Daryl knowns now that it doesn’t come as easy to you as he thought it did because you make everyone feel at home.

This is a battle too, one he didn’t witness before but now pays extra attention to.

It’s he who holds on to that spare hair tie, now. Because yeah, he’d always stop to braid your hair if you asked him to. In the morning, in the evening, on a run. No matter the danger, either. It’s always dangerous now, everyday, everything. He doesn’t do it because he wants to help you accept reality, or pretend this is normal. Not because he’s ever enjoyed norms: no, he adapts quickly, doesn't even blink when devouring a piece of squirrel.

But he wants you to feel just right, put together, at all times. He wants to protect your bubble. Because it isn't really one… it’s just a way of seeing things. Your way of living.

He’s overjoyed anyway whenever you leave your hair open.

You’re beautiful. Love grows wherever you go, but it’s not because of your hair, it’s because of you. Because you love wildly even though there isn't much left to love. You make it feel worth it in spite of that fact, and, following your example, Daryl begins to fall in love, too… Only it’s not with the world.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝐼'𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡𝑠! 𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 🤍 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

[venuspops]

so freaking cute

[venuspops]

rick is the kind of guy whose favorite way of showing you affection is kisses. there are so many ways to kiss you and he’s determined to execute them all. one of you is going on a run and the other is staying back? he’s pulling you into a deep kiss as a way to tell you i‘ll be back/come back to me. he has to leave real quick because someone needs it? quick kiss on the cheek. no matter the context, he will kiss you. he loves having his lips on you. it’s a way to show devotion, love, passion, and his undying loyalty to you.

daryl is the type who expresses his affection with hugs. to him, it’s a way to give him physical reassurance that you’re alive and okay and that what it is between you two is real. while his displays of affection aren’t as bold as others, he never hesitates to pull you into a hug no matter the setting. if he’s just found you after being separated, one of you just returned to camp, or he sees that something is wrong, he immediately pulls you into a hug. his hugs are secure, both arms around you—maybe even a hand holding your head—making sure the both of you are grounded and that you know his love for you is real.

can’t stop thinking about affection from these two it might be a problem

twd masterlist

[voids420]

hi! i really enjoyed your other hcs for daryl! i’m also watching twd for the first time right now lol.

i was wondering if you could do hcs for a poc reader x daryl! would he stand up for reader against merle? is he the type to ask questions about where you’re from or just wait until you bring something up? i’m hispanic if it helps you write this at all but this doesn’t have to be catered to hispanics specifically! have a great day :p

Daryl standing up for you !🏹🌲

A/n: Hi! Tysm for requesting! Divider by @/skittishlamb ! These are kind of short sorry 😭 im not a poc, but i hope i did this justice! If i got anything wrong plz dont hesitate to tell me!a (ALSO SPOILERS FOR SOME THINGS SO YOUVE BEEN WARNED LOL)

☆At first, i feel like Daryl wouldnt say or do too much, he would just tell Merle to shut the hell up if he gets over the top.

☆But after Merle went missing (as he was trapped on that roof), he found himself asking you about things.

☆He'd ask you about where you're from, and just all sorts of other things about your culture, like music, food, ect.

☆The more he learns, the more he defends you against anyone whos got anything to say.

☆Once Merle finally returns, he finds himself arguing with him a lot about what he says.

☆He's punched people over the nasty comments they'd make, and wouldnt hesitate to do it again

☆He'd try to find you things that you used to have before the apocalypse when he goes on runs that remind you of where you're from.

☆Always listens if you bring something up, he finds it incredibly interesting

[venuspops]

I read something briefly where Daryl rejects reader’s touches cause he has to leave somewhere and I can’t stop thinking about all the possibilities of this scenario could you please write more of reader trying to initiate sex and Daryl rejecting for whatever reason (you can pick the reason and how reader reacts)!

hi anon!! thank you for your request! this isn't very angsty. i can't see daryl as the type to have sex with anyone he isn't with nor the type to rudely dismiss his partner. i hope you still enjoy <3

warnings: sexual themes, implied sex, fluff, established relationship

word count: ~600 set in: prison era

summary: you wake up wanting to spend some quality time with daryl, in bed of course, but he has to go out on a run. dismissing your attempts with him, you spend the day sexually frustrated. although, daryl makes sure to make it up to you when he's back.

TWD Masterlist

You start to wake up, rubbing your eyes as if that’d make seeing this early in the morning easier. You can also feel Daryl sitting up, ready to get out of bed. 

“C’mon, what’re you in a rush for?” You hold onto Daryl’s arm and sit up to pepper kisses along his shoulder and jaw. 

Still somewhat tired, Daryl puts a hand on your shoulder and lightly pushes you away, “I gotta go on a run, told Glenn I’d go wit’ ‘em.”

“Right now?” It wasn’t often you and Daryl had time to yourselves, so the few times you two did have time for yourselves it was either late at night or early in the morning. You just wanted some time together after waking up feeling needier than usual. 

“Yeah “right now,” gotta take advantage of daylight.” Daryl gets up and shrugs his vest on before looking back at you, now laying back down. “C’mon, I’ll be back by tonight.”

“Okay,” you mutter, understanding even though you were frustrated. Not with him, but still. You understand why Daryl had to leave, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting to watch him leave instead of hanging back. It’s not ridiculous to want some time to spend having sex with your boyfriend, is it? Besides, it wasn’t often you woke up like this. 

Frustrated or not, you had things to do: helping Rick harvest plants and tend to the garden, completing your own shift on watch, and even helping Carol take care of the kids. It wasn’t long after Daryl left that you decided to just get up and get an early start on the day. Anything to distract you from the worry that always lingers whenever Daryl’s outside the walls and your underlying want for him. 

It was a long day’s worth of work and you hadn’t even realized the sun was setting until it was already fully gone. Daryl’s words echo in your head once you realize it’s dark, “C’mon, I’ll be back by tonight.” Right when your worry was about to get the best of you, you hear whoever was currently on watch shout for someone to open the gate, the sound of Daryl’s bike following shortly after. 

Whenever Daryl gets back from a run, he always leaves what he got in the makeshift pantry and seeks you out first. Knowing both that he was okay and that he’d come find you soon enough you made your way back to your cell—room (?), you’re still unsure what to call it. 

Like clockwork, you take your shoes off and use the tiniest amount of water to “wash” your face before getting into bed. Also like clockwork, Daryl walks in, “Done for the day?”

“Yeah, how was your run?”

“Good,” Daryl places his crossbow next to the bed and takes his shoes off—kicking them off next to yours, an oddly domestic sight now that you think about it—before joining you on the bed. 

“Just ‘good’?”

Daryl grunts in acknowledgement and pulls you closer, leaving a hesitant kiss just below your ear. You two have been exclusive for a while, but he still feels unfamiliar with such gentle acts of love. 

You turn your head slightly to look at him, giving him an intrigued look. Thankfully, with all the time spent with you, he can read your looks with ease. You’re telling him not to start something he won’t finish right now. 

“Told ya I’d be back tonight, didn’ I?”

“You did,” you answer slowly as he kisses you again. 

“Gotta make up for leavin’ you frustrated earlier.”

hi guys i'm still experimenting with tumblr banners so if my posts are ugly as shit please lmk im not a graphic design major </3 i have basic canva and a dream (isn't it so stupid you need pro to save transparent backgrounds? i bet the banner looks silly for anyone who isn't using dark mode but we ball!)

anyway thank you sm for all the love of my last few daryl posts!!! my requests are closed for now but hopefully i stay in this writing groove and can crank the rest of them out. drink water!!!

[honey-and-halos]

Burnin' Up

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You try to hide that you’re sick, but Daryl notices your fever and makes you rest. He acts gruff and annoyed at first, but stays by your side all night, changing the cloth on your forehead, bringing you water, and quietly worrying while pretending he isn’t.

You knew you were getting sick before anyone else did.

It started as a weird ache behind your eyes. Then came the chill that clung under your skin no matter how close you stood to the fire. By morning, your throat felt raw, your arms felt too heavy, and every little noise around camp seemed to hit your skull like a hammer.

Still, you got up.

There was always something to do. Water to carry. Clothes to wash. Food to sort through. People were already stretched thin enough, and you hated the thought of being one more thing for everybody to worry about.

So you tied your hair back, pulled on your boots, and pretended your hands weren’t shaking.

You made it almost an hour before Daryl noticed.

He was sitting near his bike, cleaning dirt from one of his bolts, when his eyes caught on you. You were stood by the water buckets, one hand pressed lightly against the side of your head like you could hold yourself together if you just applied enough pressure.

His gaze narrowed.

“You alright?”

You straightened too fast. The world tilted for half a second.

“Yeah,” you said, voice coming out rougher than you wanted. “I’m fine.”

Daryl didn’t move at first. He just looked at you in that quiet way he had, like he was reading all the things you were trying not to say.

“You don’t sound fine.”

You forced a small laugh and reached for one of the buckets. “That’s because you’re dramatic.”

“Mhm.”

You managed about three steps before your grip slipped. The bucket hit the ground with a heavy splash, water spilling into the dirt around your boots.

Daryl was up before you even had time to swear.

“Hey.” His voice sharpened as he crossed the space between you. “The hell are you doin’?”

“I dropped it,” you muttered, bending down.

He caught your arm before you could grab the handle.

You looked up at him, ready to argue, but his expression shifted the second his hand touched your skin.

His brows pulled together.

“You’re burnin’ up.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m just warm.”

“It’s freezing.”

You glanced away, annoyed because he was right and even more annoyed because he knew he was right.

Daryl let go of your arm, but he didn’t step back. “Go lie down.”

“I’m fine, Daryl.”

He scoffed under his breath. “Stop bein’ stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m helping.”

“You’re about to fall on your ass in the middle of camp.”

You rolled your eyes, but the movement made your head throb. You tried to hide the wince. Of course, he saw it.

His jaw tightened.

“That’s it,” he muttered.

Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed the bucket with one hand and nudged you gently but firmly in the direction of the house.

“Daryl-”

“Walk.”

“I don’t need to be babysat.”

“Then quit actin’ like a damn child.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re very comforting, you know that?”

“Good. Maybe you’ll listen.”

You wanted to argue again, mostly out of pride, but your body had started giving up on you. Every step felt heavier than the last, and by the time you reached the spare room, your legs were shaking badly enough that Daryl had to put a hand at your back.

Not pushing. Not rushing.

Just there.

You sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, trying to make it seem casual.

Daryl stood in front of you, arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.

“Boots off.”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Boots. Off.”

“You’re bossy when you’re worried.”

“I ain’t worried.”

“Right.”

He looked away too quickly.

You smiled a little, though it faded when another shiver rolled through you.

Daryl noticed that too.

He crouched down without saying anything and tugged at the laces of your boots. You watched him quietly, your fever making everything feel soft around the edges. The room, the light through the window, his hair falling into his face as he worked.

He pulled one boot off, then the other, setting them neatly beside the bed like it mattered.

“You eat today?” he asked.

You hesitated.

His eyes lifted.

“That means no.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Course you weren’t.”

He stood and grabbed the blanket from the chair, throwing it over you with less care than he clearly meant to. It landed half across your shoulder and half across your face.

You pulled it down with a weak laugh. “Trying to smother me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

But his voice was softer now.

He disappeared for a few minutes, and you told yourself you were only going to rest your eyes until he came back.

Then you woke up to cool water touching your forehead.

You flinched slightly.

“Easy,” Daryl murmured.

The room was darker now. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, only that your clothes were sticking to your skin and your head felt like it was full of smoke.

Daryl sat beside the bed, one elbow on his knee, a damp cloth in his hand. There was a small bowl of water on the floor beside him, along with a cup and what looked like the sad remains of some soup Carol had probably forced into his hands.

“You’re still here?” you whispered.

He glanced at you. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere useful.”

His face tightened at that. “Ain’t useless.”

You looked at him for a moment.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Daryl dipped the cloth back into the water, wrung it out, and placed it across your forehead again. His fingers brushed your temple, rough but careful.

You closed your eyes.

“That feels nice,” you admitted quietly.

“Fever’s high.”

“You been checking?”

“Had to. You were mumblin’.”

Your eyes opened. “What was I saying?”

“Bunch of nonsense.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He shrugged, but there was the smallest hint of amusement in his face. “Said somethin’ about Rick’s hat lookin’ stupid.”

You let out a breathy laugh, which turned into a cough.

Daryl leaned forward instantly, one hand hovering near your shoulder like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how to do it without making a whole thing of it.

You waved him off once it passed. “I stand by that.”

“Yeah, well, don’t say it in front of Carl.”

You smiled faintly, but the tiredness was already pulling at you again.

Daryl noticed. He always noticed.

“Drink.”

You made a face.

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

He helped you sit up enough to take the cup. You tried to hold it yourself, but your hands were unsteady, so he kept his fingers around it too, pretending he wasn’t basically helping you drink water like you were made of glass.

It should’ve embarrassed you.

It didn’t.

Not really.

Not with him.

When you were done, you sank back down into the pillow, exhausted from doing almost nothing.

Daryl adjusted the blanket around you. Again, not gently at first glance. But he tucked it close around your sides so the cold air couldn’t get in.

“You don’t have to stay,” you murmured.

He sat back in the chair, stretching one leg out. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“Had worse.”

“That’s not comforting either.”

“Go to sleep.”

You turned your head slightly, watching him through half-open eyes. He looked tired. More tired than he’d ever admit. His shoulders were tense, his fingers tapping against his knee, his gaze flicking from your face to the cloth to the window and back again.

Pretending he wasn’t worried sick.

You knew better.

“Daryl?”

“What?”

“You’re being nice.”

He scoffed. “Fever’s makin’ you delusional.”

“No,” you whispered, smiling faintly. “You’re always nice. You just make it weird.”

He looked at you then, properly. For a second, all the gruffness slipped. His eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache more than the fever did.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, looking down. “Somebody’s gotta keep you from dyin’ over a damn cold.”

You hummed. “So dramatic.”

“Sleep.”

This time, you listened.

You drifted in and out for the rest of the night. Sometimes you woke to the cloth being changed. Sometimes to Daryl shifting in the chair. Once, you woke to him standing by the window, crossbow in hand, checking the dark outside like your fever was something the whole world might try to take advantage of.

Each time, he came back.

Each time, the cloth was cool again.

At some point near dawn, when the sky had gone pale and the worst of the heat had finally started to break, you opened your eyes and found him sitting on the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall.

His head had tipped forward slightly, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest.

He’d fallen asleep sitting up.

You watched him for a while, too weak to move, too warm in a different way now.

“Daryl,” you whispered.

His eyes opened immediately.

He looked at you like he’d been awake the whole time.

“You okay?”

You nodded a little. “Think so.”

He leaned forward and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Then your cheek. His expression loosened by the smallest amount.

“Fever’s goin’ down.”

“Told you I was fine.”

He gave you a look. “Don’t push it.”

You smiled.

He reached for the cloth again, but you caught his wrist lightly before he could move away.

“Thank you.”

Daryl froze for half a second.

Then he shrugged, like he hadn’t spent the whole night beside you. Like he hadn’t checked on you every time your breathing changed. Like he hadn’t looked scared when he thought you weren’t awake enough to see it.

“Ain’t nothin’.”

Your fingers slipped from his wrist, but he didn’t move back right away.

His hand stayed near yours on the blanket.

Close enough that your pinky brushed his.

Neither of you said anything.

Then he cleared his throat and stood, grabbing the bowl of water like he suddenly had a very serious job to do.

“Gonna get you more water. Maybe somethin’ to eat.”

You settled back into the pillow, smiling to yourself.

“Bossy,” you murmured.

He paused at the door and glanced back.

“Stubborn.”

Then he left before you could see him smile.

[venuspops]

The Walking Dead Masterlist (Show & Game)

+ : NSFW content/themes 𓂃ﾟ⋆ ༄˖° Main Masterlist

Daryl Dixon x reader

How Daryl would show his love

Daryl wanting your attention by the pool

Daryl and PDA

Daryl Dixon jealous headcanons

Daryl dismissing your touch and making it to you up later +

if any links don't work, please dm me!

[venuspops]

Hi!! Would you be open to writing jealous daryl headcanons? XD including how he acts when another guy tries to get close to reader

hi anon!! thanks so much for your request, i hope you enjoy!! also, thank all of you so much for 400 followers this past weekend :) i've been getting a more daryl requests, so i'm going to be making a twd masterlist. be on the lookout for that! :p

reqs are still open as of now but may close soon! (ty to everyone who has sent something in)

Daryl is the type of guy who just observes. He doesn't hover over you like you need to be taken care of, he knows you can kick ass if need be, but he likes to observe. He likes knowing where you're working and who you're working with, it gives him peace of mind.

Because of how observant he is, he immediately notices when someone stands a little too close to you or laughs a little too hard at your jokes. He sits back and sees how you handle things because he knows and trusts you. Trusting or not, he's jealous, truly. It brings out some insecurities in him: is he enough for you?

From then on out he's always closer: sitting as close as possible during dinner, making sure whoever was flirting with you notices your head on Daryl's shoulder or your hand in his, things like that. Whenever he isn't close, he's glaring. Everyone around you two notices.

"You're lookin' at 'em like you're gonna kill 'em," Rick says. Daryl just scoffs and gets back to working on whatever he was doing.

He usually doesn't physically get in your business with other people, but if anyone flirting with you were to put their hands on you, Daryl would step in before anyone else could do anything.

Yeah, you could also handle things, but he wants to handle things. This person has been messing with you, Daryl's been trying his best not to let his jealousy get the best of him, and then they have the nerve to put their hands on you? He'll beat them into the ground and no one'll be able to pull him off.

On the off chance that Daryl does interact with someone flirting with you without beating them into the ground, he is so petty. He'll "forget" their name or simply pronounce it wrong, show off if they're out hunting and act like it's something everyone should be able to do, always give them the smaller share of things, etc.

Daryl isn't a man motivated by ego or trying to look like a "real man," but jealousy changes people! Anything that gives him the upper hand against anyone who wants you is a win in his books.

Whenever Daryl is jealous, he doesn't act on it, but it is so obvious. When it's just you two, you immediately confront him about it. Not because you're mad, but because it's funny. He'll try to deny it, use any word but jealous, "Ain't jealous, jus' don' like it when they're that close to ya."

"So you're jealous."

"Ain't say that."

Even though he denies that it's jealousy, it gets to him. He's clingier when it's just you two. "Clingier" in his unique Daryl Dixon version of clingy: wanting to sleep closer to you, not fussing when you mess with his hair, and not being as sarcastic with you.

[venuspops]

Daryl isn’t one to hide his affection for you, he simply expresses it in ways that most people miss if they aren’t looking close enough.

Whenever one of you comes back from a supply run and you spot the other, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you in for a hug.

Whenever everyone is huddled around a campfire, he never moves away from you no matter how close you get. If you sit flush against him with your arms and legs touching, he welcomes the warmth but doesn’t address it.

Whenever you two are working together and he gets a cut somewhere, he doesn’t push you away when you gently grab him to see if he’s okay.

Whenever you two are in the back of the truck, he gets out first and turns back with his hand out incase you need it. If it were anyone else getting out the truck after him, it wouldn’t even occur to him to offer his hand.

Sure, Daryl isn’t the type to profess his love from the rooftop or pull you in for a kiss when there’s an audience, but everyone can see how he’s softer with you than anyone else.

They see the way he doesn’t pull away from your touch, the way his shoulders relax when you’re with him, and even the way he starts to expect some small affectionate gesture when you pass by.

He may not be the ideal man for pda, but he never denies himself your affection. He considers himself to be a very lucky man.

if you liked this, my reqs are open for short blurbs similar to this and hcs <3

[venuspops]

Hello! This is my first time asking so please go easy on me, but can you do Robert x Magical Girl! Reader? Like Glitter Lucky or Precure Happy

hello love! unfortunately, i don’t write for dispatch anymore! if you’re talking about a different robert then feel free to send in another ask, but the fandoms im currently writing for can be found in my intro 🩶

[omg-imstillatotalmess]

Actually obsessed with the thought of ex-boyfriend!Daryl carrying around a picture of you from before. Especially if it's just one that was definitely taken with a shitty disposable camera on some random day while you were doing some mundane task. He'd take it out at night when no one was watching and just stare at it. There would he a little worn spot near your face from where he rubbed his thumb over it while he tried to remember what it felt like to be loved. Not in the fucked off way Merle did or the way the other survivors saw usefulness in his abilities but for real. And if he cried a little because he missed you well before the world ended and even more since? Well, that's his business

[venuspops]

was at the pool today and couldn't stop thinking about daryl bugging you while you're by the poolside because he wants your attention

Everything was good: the sun crashing down onto your skin, no one else around, just you, the sun, and the soft sounds of the pool water moving around. Then, suddenly, the sun was blocked and it was no longer just you.

"Hell are ya doin'?"

You don't even have to open your eyes and move to know that it's Daryl, your boyfriend, blocking the sun from you. "It's a nice day out, just enjoying the sun."

"I was lookin' for you inside." Daryl, as usual, doesn't offer any sort of context as to why.

"I'm here now," you offer, seeing if he would decide to give you any context. When he doesn't, just looks you up and down and looks around the pool, you speak up again, "Wanna go in the pool with me?"

Daryl scoffs and shakes his head, "I ain't playin' in the damn pool. You jus' wanna see me shirtless."

"Who says I can't want both? But if you really won't go in the pool with me, move so I can feel the sun again."

"Oh, so the sun matters more?"

"I could be having both, but someone is being stingy."

As much as Daryl acts like things are corny or not in his comfort zone, he always ends up by your side. In this case, by your side in the pool, shirtless.

[venuspops]

thinking about how daryl would choose to show his love for you since he‘s not too big on words of affirmation

daryl would always be on the lookout for things you may like during runs. yeah, he’s making sure he’s staying alert and getting what the group needs, but any trinkets he thinks you’d like are immediately taken with him

daryl would make sure you got the hotter bowl whenever he fetches dinner for you both

daryl would always make sure your guns are clean and unlikely to jam, and make sure your knives aren’t dull

daryl, who doesn’t accept physical affection lightly, would let you run your hands through his hair when it’s not too crowded because your hands don’t make him curl in on himself

daryl who pushes himself out of his comfort zone to be present with you. you’re out gardening? not what he typically does, but he‘ll learn. you’re out teaching the kids something? he‘ll stay close by, taking note of how gentle you are with the kids and how they naturally gravitate towards you

daryl who is so enamored with you that he sometimes forgets why he was so scared to love in the first place

[yourmum8609]

will die on this hill. the dad best friend fanfics that go into detail about how they have known you since your were 4 are disgusting and borderline disturbing. like your talking about having sex with a girl you literally watched grow up. ew. it’s creepy. like… no.

[dkrafs]

satoru gojo with a baby who looks exactly like you.

his genes didn't even try. not a speck of white in his baby girl's hair, not a sliver of crystal blue in her eyes. she's all you—from the eyes to the nose to the laugh. good lord, satoru has been blessed by the gods.

he fell in love with her the moment the doctor handed you the little bundle of joy. and when he first carried her? you just laugh at the way he almost melts to the floor.

everytime he gets home from missions, he goes straight to where you're playing with mini you. his daughter giggles upon seeing her dad. he crashes on top of the two of you, careful not to squish neither of you. first and foremost, he kisses you. then, the baby. then back to you, then back to her—it goes on and on until you go and tell him to shower.

at night when your daughter makes a fuss, it's satoru who gets up and soothes her. he carries her over to your shared room, lays her in the space between, and talks to her about anything—his latest mission, his students, her big brother megumi, how the two of you met, his bestfriend suguru, her uncle nanami, her aunt shoko.

all the while, his baby listens earnestly, eyes wide and curious like yours. she even responds sometimes! no, she can't talk yet, but she's already a good listener.

"maybe we should take you to see uncle suguru. do you miss him? who do you miss more, him or papa?"

"ah."

"there's only one answer to that. why are you hesitating?" he pokes her cheek, and holds back the urge to bite and chomp.

"ba.."

"papa? yes! that's right. you miss papa more, right?"

"ma!"

satoru gasps dramatically, "mama? you're already with her 24/7!" your baby grins, and he's in awe by how much of you he sees in her.

he picks her up with ease, and settles her on top of him. he glances at your sleeping form, "you look like your mom, you know?"

your baby also glances at you, one hand reaching out before satoru grabs her little wrist and holds it to his chest. "mama's sleeping. she's tired, we need to let her rest."

your daughter babbles, "ma-ma-ma."

"yes, mama. you look like mama. that means you're also pretty and beautiful." he kisses her cheek.

"pi. pi!"

satoru nods in understanding, acting like your baby just said something revolutionary. "yes. pretty. that's you," he pinches her nose, she huffs. "and mama. my pretty girls."

"when you grow up, you need to marry someone who'll preach your beauty like how i do to your mom, okay? never date a boy who doesn't tell you how beautiful you are every passing day." satoru whispers, eyes locked onto an identical pair to yours.

his daughter only yawns in response, dropping her head into his sternum. satoru adjusts her so she's laying on her back in the middle of you two. instinctively, your baby wiggles around, searching for your warmth in her sleep. satoru only sighs with a smile. what a velcro baby he's raising.

from jade: self-indulgent dad gojo fic bcuz im ovulating and im sleepy and i got crazy baby fever from spending a few days at my aunt's and her two month old baby boy and i also wrote this instead of stressing out over my groupworks so enjoy tehe