Twd Fic Writers On Tumblr, I Love Y'all So Much

twd fic writers on tumblr, i love y'all so much <3 especially the ones that i follow

Have you ever read a really good fic then looked up the author's other works and lo and behold a treasure trove of fics that are exactly your kind of shit? Because god that is what euphoria feels like. I love you random fic writers i unexpectedly find

I’m a sucker for a angry man with a tragic backstory. There just so hot

I need a Joel Miller type of man, that is maybe a little too protective over me. He has just a hint of silver in his hair, the cutest smile, broad shoulders and smells like leather, whiskey and oak. He’s grumpy and intimidating but with me he’s sweet and gentle. That’s what I want.

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magniticent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it and I would give this man the sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death DROPPING, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotising, ungodly, astonishing, leg trembling, back arched, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath " I can't take much more of this", breaths getting quicker, twitching, throbbing, eyes shut, lip biting, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up, spit upon the tongue twisting ground tip-talking against the mouth, sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit and lick to the bottom.

PART TWO

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a two-part fic entitled 'Chivalry is Dead.' Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader WORDS: 6.1k SUMMARY: Accepting that your persuasion of Daryl is going nowhere and deciding that you’re better off as friends, you begin to welcome the idea of a sure thing with Spencer. So if Daryl has turned you down multiple times, what gives him the right to be frustrated? WARNINGS: fluff + angst! plot twist HSHJHSJASA SETTING: pre-negan alexandria A/N: kinda felt like the ending turned out weak, but i'm confident this is a fun read still :) reblogs and comments are appreciated!

IV. A CHANGE OF SCENERY…AGAIN - ALEXANDRIA

When you were introduced to the prospect of a change of scenery, you didn’t expect it to be like home. Alexandria was huge. It wasn’t simply a ‘change of scenery,’ it felt like a different world from the one you’ve been living in just a few hours ago.

No blood-stained fences, no corpses stabbed to the head thrown away haphazardly across the streets… 

You were damned convinced it was a new world altogether. From a couple of steps away, Daryl observed your eyes darting from one neat detail to the next, fascinated by this neighborhood before you.

He stepped forward to say something nice, maybe something along the lines of, “How—”

You look up at him, curious as to what he has to say. But he stands there frozen, looking as if he was about to say something he’d been debating on saying. He settles for a nod your way, shrinking back to where he stood. You gave him a tight-lipped smile in response.

Daryl sighed to himself, shifting his attention to his crossbow, not knowing what to do with either. Great job, dumbass. 

Back in Terminus, Daryl’s only concern was you. Once upon a time, Daryl thought that the worst thing in the world was being liked by you. He was proven otherwise. 

The worst thing in the world was having you be mad at him. He couldn’t look out for you, couldn’t keep you safe. You wouldn’t let him. 

The entire walk to Alexandria, you spent it with everyone but Daryl. You mostly hung around with Tara, happy to provide her company seeing that she didn’t know what to do with herself either. 

“[Y/N],” Rick called as he stepped out of the door to Deanna’s home. “You’re up.”

Daryl spared a glance your way, hoping you would at least look his way so he could assure you with something as minimal as a smile. You didn’t. 

After all, you had every right not to.

He recalls the last time you snapped at him. It was in Gabriel’s church, when you decided that you wanted to come along with Abraham’s group. 

“You’re out of your mind,” he had said just as you’re about to get on the bus, your hands keeping the door from closing. “There’s no guarantee that Washington’s safe. You should stay here.”

“For what?” you hissed, challenging him to say something. Daryl had thought of what Beth told him. But now wasn’t the time. So he let you go that time. Glenn looked away as you took your seat just to look out the window where you wouldn’t be watched by Daryl as the bus drove off.

No one said a thing as you cried yourself to sleep during the trip.

That’s why up to this day, Daryl still couldn’t find the right words to say and the right way to say them. First, he had to find the right timing.

Except that the right timing was tricky to find. You were always speaking to someone, getting all friendly with everyone. The way you fit right in should’ve been enough to make him doubt his intentions again, but he wouldn’t let that same mistake get to him.

Once the Alexandrians finally left you alone, Daryl made his way to you, trying not to attract any of the people to him as he did.

It was the first time he saw you in a dress, the first time he’d ever seen you neatly groomed. 

Daryl didn’t prefer any version of you, he just wanted you. He didn’t care if you were in a dress or blood-stained cargo pants. He found you beautiful nonetheless. He’d always felt that way, he just didn’t want to unload any of his feelings.

He should’ve.

Alas, the right timing was a bust again when a fine looking gentleman came in to talk you out of boredom. Daryl halted in his tracks, a sinking feeling in his stomach coming in when he noticed something about the guy.

“Prim and proper, clean-shaven, wears an authentic watch, bothers to use cufflinks, gets a neat haircut often, works in corporate…”

Daryl eyed his hair. Neat haircut? Check. 

“I like them worthy of an introduction to the fam, y’know?. The kind of guy who I could brag about to them shamelessly! The guy who would do well in the role of a sweet, loving husband and father and all that crap in a suburban home.”

He wondered if you could recall how you described it to him. He should be leaving now, running away, accepting that this is what you wanted. 

Daryl kept thinking of his conversation with Beth back when they were the ones left together, how he feared he’d lost you forever. How he told Beth that he wishes he’d told you how he really felt about you. How he should’ve never let you go when he kissed you, and that the only regret he had was that he even thought of pulling away.

“Tell her,” Beth had urged him back then. 

It was easier said than done. 

Daryl couldn’t seem to bring himself to function when he finds you about to look his way. Everything happened in slow motion. 

He caught sight of Carol and Tara approaching his way, heading for the doorway he was stationed right next to. Just in time, he gets a hold of them and he asks them about what they think of Alexandria.

You had seen him in your peripheral vision, and you hated that you felt disappointed that he wasn’t walking over to talk to you. You stared at the archer for about two seconds while the man spoke.

Daryl appeared to be deep in conversation with two of your group members—Carol and Tara. 

You’d been waiting for him to reach out to you, talk to you. You were waiting for an apology, hoping he’d eventually find the words he wanted to say so you could finally move on.

But it looks like he’s just as nonchalant as you knew him. Maybe it was for the better. And you didn’t mind talking to a charming guy like Spencer, unaware that three of your friends were listening in.

“You know, I’m surprised.” He leaned against the wall, a bottle of beer in hand as he gave you a kind smile. “I didn’t think you’d be easy to talk to.”

You rolled your eyes at the guy. “Why, ‘cause I’ve been with the dead for too long?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, feigning thinking to himself by tapping his finger on his chin. “I got it.”

You laughed. “Oh, yeah? Then what?”

“Because I thought a pretty girl like you would have another guy tied to your waist by now.” Spencer was a devious flirt, and you were in for it. “I mean, there isn’t anyone, is there? I’d hate to be that guy.”

Daryl’s thoughts froze even while he pretended to be nodding at whatever it is that Carol and Tara were pretending to be saying. 

They were just as busy listening into your conversation, only making feign chatter so as to not have you on their trail.

Carol and Tara watched Daryl, preparing themselves for how he would take whatever it is you were about to say. 

“Nope,” you confessed. “There’s no one. Plus, I’m not interested in anything at the moment.”

“Why not?” 

“Because chivalry is dead.” You shrugged.

He chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, and so is romance. It died along with everyone else.”

“So, it’s still alive.”

“Right!” you chuckled.

“You must be fun at parties,” he quipped, an effortless stance in his gait.

“Well, you think I’m hilarious.” There was doubt that he was a smooth talker, but you did not know yet.

“Spencer!” he delightfully said, extending his hand to you. To Daryl’s badly disguised dismay, you shake it. “Spencer Monroe.”

“Monroe? Why do I—you’re related to Deanna Monroe?”

“I see you’ve met my son!” On cue, Deanna stops by in front of you and Spencer, delighted at the sight. 

The three of your friends noted how well you fit into this life, and that same onslaught of self-doubt crept up to Daryl.

Maybe you suited this life better. . .

But he knew Spencer was a bust, that this was only his facade, exactly like the guys you said you used to date.

“Hi! Yeah, I was just about to introduce myself to him, actually.”

The older woman smiled. “There’s no need for that, he’s watched your introduction one too many times already!”

“Has he now?”

“I might have,” he confessed.

A couple of steps away stood Daryl, who was now dead silent. Daryl wondered if you had told Tara something, but she looked just as confused as to why they were bothering listening into the conversation.

It goes on like that for a while, ending with Deanna inviting you over for dinner sometime within the week. Almost as if you were her son’s girlfriend already. 

As soon as Deanna left to entertain the rest of the guests, Carol and Tara could only watch in confusion as Daryl absentmindedly slipped away from them to approach you, not a single thought or plan in his head on how he would even start the conversation.

He grabbed you by the arm with no warning. You yelp in response, confused and slightly furious. The fuck does he want now?

“Daryl!” you exclaimed. You turned to Spencer as you tried to minimize your temper. “Sorry, he’s had too much to drink.”

He hasn’t. He’d never been thinking more clearly than ever before. “Nah, I didn’t. In fact, this is the first time I’m thinkin’ clearly.”

“Is everything alright?” Spencer asked, his eyes on the man he also assumed was intoxicated. Daryl hadn’t even sipped any drink. “There’s more food, if you need some.”

He shook his head. “Nah, m’good. Just needa talk to my friend ‘bout the mattress we gotta bring down from the upper bedrooms to downstairs.”

“Sounds like matters best talked about after a party rather than during one,” said Spencer politely, but there was a threat in it somewhere. 

“It’s urgent.”

“Well, this is the time for your group to talk to everyone else other than yourselves! And I think she wants to stay.”

You couldn’t butt in, busy racking your mind on why the fuck Daryl Dixon decided to bother you during this specific moment.

Daryl glared at Spencer. “Why don’t we let her decide?”

“What?” you blurt out, returning from your dazed state. “Decide what?”

“Daryl here—Did I get that right? Daryl here wants your help with moving bed cushions from upstairs to the living room. I, on the other hand, think everybody will be happier just enjoying the gathering as of present.”

“I…”

You felt Daryl’s eyes on you this time, almost pleading. It was so quick, you thought you’d imagined it. But it was there. But if he had no issues denying your pleas, then denying his this time shouldn’t be a problem, either.

“Actually, I think we can talk about the… Mattresses later.” A couple of months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to imagine saying ‘No’ to Daryl, much less outright reject him for any reason. “You should just go do whatever you want for a while.”

Ouch.

Spencer was a master at holding a friendly atmosphere around him, but Daryl could recognize the sinister intentions in his eyes. He didn’t know what it was, but it was there. He looked at you again, hoping you could see through the guy in front of you.

He wanted to ask you if this is what you really wanted, but his reasoning returned. 

“Alrigh’ then,” was all he said before leaving the house. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about not saying anything else, but you were also satisfied to get back at him. He deserved it.

He did though, right? You’ve been waiting for him to talk to you, to apologize or to confess, anything. So many times when you were left alone, it was easy for him to approach. And yet he never did!

It’s over, just like it should be. 

Carol followed Daryl outside, looking for answers. 

She watched as he hoisted himself on his bike, ready to leave again. “You like her, don’t you?”

“What does it matter?” he said, getting off just to catch a cigarette break while speaking with his friend. “She made it pretty clear it’s over, whatever it is.”

“No, she didn’t,” Carol argued, her arms crossed. “The problem with you is that you take maybes for final answers and final answers for maybes.”

He looked up after lighting his cig. “Whaddya mean?”

“[Y/N] tells you many times she likes you, she stops when she realizes it’s going nowhere, you give her motive so she pursues you again, it’s… You have to understand why she’s frustrated, where she’s coming from. She’s a woman after all, she knows her worth. Which is why it’s disappointing having it worn out.”

“She tell you anythin’?”

“No, never,” Carol said honestly. “Although, she used to be vocal about how she felt about you. That’s probably just what she’s been waiting for for a long time. She’s just waiting for you to change, but you’re taking so long and you’re so inconsistent that she eventually got tired.”

“Huh,” Daryl said thoughtfully. “Thanks, Carol.”

It wasn’t just Carol he seeked advice from. He traipsed from one person to the next, hoping to find an answer he wasn’t seeing. An easier solution. The next person who was lucky enough to run into him in the morning was Glenn, just getting out of the second house provided for their group.

“Heya, Glenn, whaddya think of that Spencer guy?”

“Who’s that again?” he asked.

“Deanna’s son. The one—er—[Y/N] was talkin’ to.”

“Oh! I dunno, I never really got to meet him properly. Saw him kind of flirting with Sasha, though.”

“You did?” he asked excitedly, thrilled to have intel. Glenn had to laugh. 

“Are you jealous?” Glenn asked.

Daryl ignored the question. He wasn’t. He thinks. He wasn’t sure. Maybe…? “She ever told you anythin’ when yer group was supposedly on the way to Washington?”

Glenn thought back to that day, trying to find ways he could help out. “No, but she was cryin’ during the first few minutes. Then she was… Okay? I guess? Like nothing happened, y’know. Why?”

Daryl was already walking back home. “Nothin’, thanks.”

The next one was Tara, whom Daryl caught just getting out of the same house Glenn came out from. It was still around six in the morning. The poor girl had puffy eyes, having just woken up, and the curious little archer just had to bombard her with questions as he walked with her.

“So you and [Y/N] were with each other on the way,” Daryl started. “Did she… Maybe say anythin’ at all?”

Tara’s face scrunched up, thinking. “About you?”

“Well, I—it ain’t like that, I just—”

“She didn’t, bro.” Tara shrugged, yawning while she scratched at her neck. She halted. “Look, if this is about last night’s party, I didn’t even know the two of you were” — Tara made a kissing gesture with her two hands” — “you know? I mean, I sensed you guys had some history, but she never told me anything. She just kept me company.”

Though Daryl decided just the night before that your anger towards him was the worst thing he could ever live to experience, he felt worse knowing you didn’t care enough to feel anything towards him. He could settle for anger.

“What am I gonna do now?” he asked himself quietly, but Tara still managed to hear it.

“I dunno, man. Maybe you need to change? Most of the time, in relationships, the reason one person starts to lose interest is because there’s something that the other guy’s doing they’re not happy about, so…”

Daryl waited. “So…?”

Tara groaned, rubbing at her eyes. “Sorry, I’m not really the best person to ask these kinds of things. Maybe try Aaron? Seems like a wise dude.”

“He ain’t around, he’s out. I need advice, as in for somethin’ I could do as soon as possible.”

“Erm, talk to her?”

Daryl shook his head, carefully considering his options. “Nah, nah, that’s not it. Thanks, though.”

He pats Tara on the back and prepares to leave, but he halts in his tracks. “Also, what’s that ‘ya said ‘bout suspecting that we uh…”

Tara made the same kissing gesture with her hands, but this time with a question on her face. 

“Yeah, yeah, that.”

“I dunno, I didn’t think too much of it before because I was new to the group. But now that I think of it, you guys were pretty obvious with how you felt about each other. Maybe it’s just me.”

“Obvious how?” Daryl interrogated.

“The way you guys stared at each other when the other wasn’t looking? Like, back at that barn?”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks at the thought of you watching him whenever he wasn’t looking at you. “She—?”

“I don’t know. Listen, you’re a cool guy. I like you, you’re strong, crossbow, cool, strong, and all that but I just need to take a walk right now.”

“Oh, right, m’sorry, thanks for the talk.”

One would think that was the end of it. That is, until he got home and caught poor Rick just coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Hey, Rick, say, I like a girl, righ’?” Daryl started. Rick stood in front of the bathroom door, dripping wet on the floor. Daryl was blind to hints now thanks to you. “What if, say, the girl I like, and the guy I don’t like, got together? And it was all ‘cause of me, I guess, but it’s ‘cause I didn’t think I deserved the same girl—”

“[Y/N]?” asked Rick, to which Daryl pressed his finger to his mouth, signaling Rick to keep it quiet in fear that you’d wake up next door.

Rick Grimes counted with his fingers at Daryl, who listened concerningly well. “Number one, I know you like her. We all do. Don’t give me that look. Number two, we all know she likes you, she’s made that clear. You never make anything clear. And number three, I need you to go downstairs and have some breakfast and that I’d appreciate an ounce of my privacy and maybe even my dignity. I need to change.”

“Oh, righ’,” Daryl said, bewildered to realize he’d just interrupted Rick who had just gotten out of the shower. He then hurriedly ran downstairs to get himself a glass of water.

Carl was sitting on the couch, reading a comic book.

“Hey, Carl?” Daryl asked.

Carl turned around from his comfortable position on the couch, his brows raised in question. 

It was there that Daryl realized how crazy he’d gotten, even about to ask a child for love advice. What’s gotten into him? “Y’know what? Nevermind.”

After drinking a glass of water, Daryl stepped out of the house to feel the breeze of the morning air. Daryl didn’t realize he misheard the last sentence Rick told him. He thought Rick told him to change, opening this whole door of realization—there was a pattern, he thought.

Carol, Glenn, Tara, and Rick have all urged him to change. And he was gonna. Daryl Dixon finally understood, finally knew what he had to do. It all made sense, really. You said it yourself—what you wanted. And you were gonna get it tonight.

“Hey, Rick!” he called from the bottom of the stairs. “"I needa borrow something from ya later! I just gotta run some errands out.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You awoke after sleeping for around three hours, feeling the need to visit the restroom. Half asleep, you got out of your bed to use the restroom. You’re surprised to find that it was locked. You try again.

“Rick?” a voice called. Pressing your ear against the door, you could hear water rushing. It was the shower. “I ain’t done yet!”

“Daryl?” you called.

“[Y/N]? S’that you?” he asked. The shower stopped abruptly. 

“Are you taking a shower?” you asked, a smile forming on your face.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Really?”

“Fuck you,” he said in response. “Also, you can, uh, use the toilet if ya need to go.”

“What?” you asked with a laugh. You really needed to go, though. “Would that be fine?”

“Erm—yeah, sure. Hearin’ you piss is a walk in the park compared to when ya puked all over me, anyway.”

You laughed. That already feels way too long ago. . .

“I’ll unlock it, then I’ll tell you when you can come in.”

You scoffed. “You better not be flaunting your nether regions when I get in, Dixon.”

“Fucker.” You heard shuffling from behind the door, then a click from behind the doorknob. “Come on in. I’ll turn the shower on so I can’t hear your…”

“Piss?” you added as you came inside. He turned the shower on as he continued on with his bath. “Please, it’d be music to your ears. Walk in the park, right?”

“Shuddup.”

While you answered nature’s call, you looked at the mirror. Then your eyes fell to the sink, finding some wet crumpled tissues. You stifle your laugh, resisting the urge to tease him about the wet tissues. You did your business, flushing afterwards.

“I’m gonna go now,” you said. Daryl merely grunted in response.

Just as you left the bathroom, you caught sight of a razor with cream by the edge of the sink. 

Once you were back in bed, you told yourself you were going to sleep, unaware that you were waiting for Daryl to finish just to hear his footsteps go down the stairs. You think of that time in the Greene farm again. Then the time in CDC. Then… everything. 

No. You didn’t want to think about it anymore. Spencer was good. To you and for you. But you felt as if he was only showing you a fabricated facade. But you wanted to like him so bad. You liked talking to him, but that was it. What you felt for Spencer was what you thought was what you felt for Daryl back at the Quarry.

Now, you knew what you felt for Daryl was more than just that. And it pained you that he didn’t feel the same. As your memories together flashed in your mind, you shook it off to will yourself to sleep.

The following morning, you looked for Daryl, disheartened to not find him anywhere. More so when you checked the garage to find that he’d brought along with him the bike Aaron had given him. 

He’s avoiding you again, you thought to yourself. After all, that’s what he always did. So running into Daryl today was out of the question.

The one you did run into, though, was Spencer Monroe.

You had to hit yourself internally when you found yourself disappointed at the prospect of spending another moment with him. 

You don’t know why it was so difficult to attach yourself to him, really. He was practically perfect in so many ways and yet… He wasn’t Daryl. Nobody was Daryl. You could try to hide these feelings of yours in all the drawers and compartments back at home, but it’ll always manage to find you and haunt you.

Today, in every single second you spent with Spencer, you always found your mind lingering on being with Daryl. It was a disease at this point, consuming you wholeheartedly. And by the time Spencer walked you back to your home come nighttime, you’d made up your mind.

When you turned around to face him after taking one step on the porch, he knew too.

“It’s not happening, isn’t it?” he asked with a friendly smile. He probably saw the apology in your face, as well as the way you spoke with him throughout the entire day. “I get it. It’s because of that guy, isn’t it?”

“What?” you asked, still burying your feelings within you. “No, it’s…”

“[Y/N], it’s fine. This was fun while it lasted.” He extended his hand to you again in surrender. For the second time, you shook it. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “It’s… It goes way back.”

Spencer gave you a warm smile, already coming to terms with the end of your time together. “I’ll see you around, [Y/N]. Though, you’re really gonna break my poor old pa’s heart once he finds out.”

“Oh, damn, really?” you asked with a laugh. “Tell him I love him.”

“Will do, will do.” And then Spencer was gone, leaving you alone on the porch of the house. You made your way back upstairs to take a shower. It felt monotonous. You understood where Daryl was coming from, why he was always outside.

You missed the thrill of being outside, not knowing what would come next. It just annoyed you to the bone that the universe gave you the supposed thrill of not knowing to you and Daryl. 

The minute you sat in your bed after getting dressed, you felt an all too overwhelming feeling of doom closing in on you. You settled for spending your time on the couch, reading all the old magazines to pass time. A loud rumbling in the sky shook you awake while you were about to doze off to sleep. 

It was raining. Daryl still wasn’t home yet, and you found your mind racing with all the possible troubles he could have gotten himself into. You still haven’t moved on from him and that one instance in the ravine… 

No, no. He was fine. You had to believe he was—

A knock. Then thunder.

You yelled in shock, dropping the magazine you were holding. You hoped you didn’t wake the house up. You rushed to the door, hurriedly swinging it open.

Nothing, and as in nothing could have prepared you for what stood in front of you.

“Prim ‘n proper,” the figure started, “clean-shaven, wears a… Well, it’s a watch for sure. Couldn’t find any cufflinks. Got a neat haircut, at least the best I can do. I hope the corporate part of yer criteria is up for reconsideration because… Ya get it.”

Mr. Daryl Dixon.

In front of your door, wearing a clean button-down shirt tucked into a neat pair of black slacks completed with a leather belt. Under a neat vest, he wore a necktie, albeit a little cluttered, but a necktie nonetheless. He wore black dress shoes and in his hands, he carried a small brown suitcase.

“Good thing we share the same family now, ‘cause I sure as hell ain’t the kind you’d—”

“Holy shit,” you blurt out, in disbelief. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or… Well, you definitely wanted to laugh. And you did, so did he. “Are you my attorney or something?”

But it wasn’t his attire that threw you off. It was his hair and his face. It was the first time you saw Daryl’s face clearly. The first time that his mole stood out as a mole and not just as part of whatever gunk he had all over his face. 

His jaw was neatly shaven, too. And you thought of the razor in the bathroom the night before. That’s what it was about. You were relieved to say the least, but you’d tell that to him some other time.

“Whaddya think?”

His hair, on the other hand, was trimmed enough for his face to be the center of attraction. He definitely had the most captivating eyes, but you already knew that long before this. Daryl was a little wet from the rain, but it didn’t destroy the new look he’d fabricated for himself.

“I—The fuck did you do?” you asked, eyes bewildered in shock.

From behind you, Rick came down the stairs while brandishing his gun. “Hands—Daryl? Is that you?”

The archer froze. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued on him, still adjusting to his new look. Rick Grimes seemed to be just as dumbfounded as you, dropping his gun to his side.  

“Rick, I—!” You watched as the archer, who now looked like a total stranger, panickedly stepped closer to let you step out so he could close the door shut as soon as possible. “Alright, [Y/N], let’s talk outside. Just here on the porch.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just obliged. Rick just stood there at the stairs, still in shock. Almost as if he was literally frozen.

By the time it was just the two of you out on the porch, you laughed out loud.

“Some look you got there,” you teased.

“I try my best,” he said. “Ya like it?”

You shake your head in disbelief, looking him up and down. “Seriously, what… What’s up with you?”

“See, I… I talked to our friends. And I thought ‘bout what ya said and I put two and two together and I realized that I should’ve been what ya wanted me to be and—”

“Hold up, what I wanted you to be?” you clarified. “Daryl, you still don’t get it. Why can’t you get it? Just—why?”

You wanted to be mad at him—you were! It was just hard to stay that way when you feel like you’re at the precipice of laughing everytime you look at him. You take a deep sigh.

“I never needed you to be anyone else, alright? The thing I told you that was my type long ago, that was just it. A type. And it was all because I wanted to impress my parents.” You started to feel the anger return, bubbling inside you. “Fuck, Daryl! I’ve been nothing but clear with you what I wanted! All I ever wanted was you, and all you did was just confuse me! You didn’t need to do all this.”

“[Y/N] —”

“No! You’re gonna let me finish! I hated that you kissed me and then you took it back. I hated that you never even tried to talk to me before we got here. I hated that you never let me move on.”

“It’s ‘cause I never moved on from ya. And I hated seein’ you with that prick.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled, walking away from him. Furious, you feel your feet moving of their own accord, leaving the house to face the unforgiving rain.

“[Y/N], stop! I ain’t lettin’ ya catch a cold. Are ya nuts?” he yelled after you, leaving behind the suitcase he’d brought along with him.

“Am I nuts?” You faced the now properly groomed archer. “I’m not the one who changed who I am for someone I say I care about when really all they ever wanted was assurance!” 

If you were stubborn, Daryl was obstinate. “So, what, yer gonna marry him or somethin’?”

“For your information, I cut it off with him! Because of you!”

“‘Cause of me?”

“Yes, because of you.” The one thing to thank the rain for was that it was hard to tell which drop on your face was from the sky and which one was from your eyes. Unfortunately, Daryl was a master of telling them apart. “Everything I did was for you, and you just keep missing the point!”

“M’sorry,” he said, pulling you into that same damned embrace you’ve always been craving. He held you against his body, his arms wrapping around you. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You wept against his chest, beating your fists against his chest, trying to get away. But he held you like that for a while. And the next second, your lips were on each other’s once more. The rain soaked your clothes and his. 

This time, you pulled away. “Daryl, I never needed you to be someone else. Can’t you see? I’ve only ever wanted you. Your long, untamed hair, your stubble, your—just all of you. I’m sorry you ever felt like you had to change. You never had to. I just needed you to be—”

“To be sure ‘bout ‘ya,” he finished your sentence, nodding. For the first time, Daryl’s mind was clearer than how the skies would be once the rain comes to pass.

You nodded. 

The rain poured down on the two of you, but it made the scene worth the wait, worth the back and forth. 

“Ya did nothin’ wrong, alrigh’? I… I’s just an idiot, I—”

You pressed a finger against his lips and asked him, “If I let you kiss me again, do you promise to not take it back?”

“I just caught ma hair off for ‘ya, sunshine. S’look like I plan on takin’ anythin’ back?” Daryl smiled as he leaned forward, but you resisted. Confusion took over his face, his shoulders slumping, dejected. “S’matter?”

“Actually,” you said, reeling yourself for the confession, “I kinda had the hots for the hair. And the, uh, the stubble. And… Everything?”

“Oh,” he uttered. You were on the verge of apologizing. “Thank God. I ‘dun really know where I’m gonna get any more of these shirts, I—”

This time, you were the one who pressed your lips against his, hoping it was enough.

Enough to tell him you loved him just as Daryl Dixon.

Rugged and unconventional, sports a stubble jaw, wears a crossbow instead of a watch, favors a leather vest over unnecessary cufflinks, grows his hair out, loves to hunt…

You liked your men— No. You loved Daryl Dixon as Daryl Dixon, never not worthy of being bragged about to anyone and everyone. Daryl Dixon who’d do well in whatever path you decide to choose together, as long it was with each other.

The rain eventually came to a stop once you pulled away from each other, and you couldn’t help but laugh once more.

“What did I tell you, Dixon?” you jab at him. “Never say never.”

“C’mon, let’s get ‘ya washed up, yer gonna get sick if ‘ya let that sit.” He pressed a kiss against your cheek, and when he returned to face you, you were met by the sweetest smile that has ever graced his face. Somehow, you knew you’d be seeing more of that smile from that moment on.

On the way back to the house, you asked him to wait while he stood on the porch. You bent down to scoop a little bit of soiled dirt with your hands. “Wait, I need to see something.”

Grinning, you wiped a little bit of mud on his face. Daryl was scowling, acting all tough, but that’s just Daryl—routinely accustomed to holding a tougher front. You saw through it, and you were willing to wait until he was able to take it off for good.

“Now that’s Daryl.”

“Should I be flattered or offended?” Daryl asked. 

“I still need to spell things out for you?” you jokingly asked him. You took it back the moment you saw him getting flustered. “I’m kiddin’, idiot. Flattered. You should be flattered.”

“I knew that,” he answered. Before you could get to the door, he made sure he got there first, his hand on the handle already.  “I got this for ‘ya.”

“Wait, before you open it.”

“Mhm?”

You pointed towards the suitcase he’d dropped on the floor moments before. “What’s in that?”

“Oh!” With his memory refreshed, Daryl jogged over to the suitcase to pick it up. Daryl opened the suitcase to reveal two packs of chocolates. “Couldn’t find any more, just found this in the minifridge of a car parked a couple of miles from here.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were sure you didn’t need the shower anymore, you were already warmed up by everything he’s done already, but you knew he’d pester you to clean up so you wouldn’t get sick.

You stepped forward, no longer resisting the ever present urge to kiss him. You press a soft kiss against his cheek in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Daryl clasped the suitcase shut for now and returned to his position by the door, his hand ready to open it for you. 

“You really have to do this?” you asked him.

“Every door ya gotta open, I’m openin’ all of ‘em for ya.” At that moment, he swung it open.

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.” To your surprise, Rick was still there at the stairs, sitting on one of the steps, staring blankly at nothing.

“Hey, man,” Daryl called. The same look of confusion flashed in Rick’s eyes upon getting a good look at Daryl again. “Ya should go to bed now.”

“No, yeah, right…”

And Rick was off walking back upstairs to bed, and you waited until the door shut upstairs before you and Daryl laughed.

“Just you wait until Glenn and Tara get to see your new look,” you told him. “You’re gonna be the hot topic for the next three weeks.”

You were right.

And just like that, Daryl Dixon was yours, just as you were his.

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