Every Word Feels Like A Hug, Forreal. If You Don't Read This, You're Truly Missing Out On A Work Of Art.

every word feels like a hug, forreal. if you don't read this, you're truly missing out on a work of art.

I Knew You in Another Life, You had that Same Look in Your Eyes

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Throughout the flagship series

Warnings: Self harm; Allusions to Abuse; Poorly written smut (kinda); Allusions to canonical character death

Summary: It all started with a smile.

A/N: I have been having trouble finding time to write recently. When I do have time, I’m either too tired or just don’t have the desire. I know it’s not what people are waiting for, but here’s some fluff. Rambling, really. Anyway, here it is. I love you all and I'll update Blood Ties and other things as soon as I can.

It was his smile. 

From the moment he smiled at you for the first time, you knew you were his. Daryl didn’t just smile at anyone. No, he had a look he gave that was a near grimace to signal he was content or appreciative, and folks were lucky to get that. There was a time you could be counted among those fortunate few. 

At the quarry, you barged into his space, intent on arguing with him, but your foot got caught in the strap of his bag and you tumbled into his tent face first, muttering every colorful word in the English language. You had one hundred percent expected him to harshly admonish you for your uninvited entrance, but he didn’t. Nor did he laugh. When you looked up at him—your face red, hair askew—you found him smiling. A smile that was inches from a chuckle that had been held at bay, but still—a smile. 

You felt like even more of a fool then, for falling on your face. And for the way the fluttering of butterflies in your tummy could be seen stark naked in your expression. You had entirely forgotten what you had initially come to say to him. 

From that moment, Daryl Dixon held your heart. 

It was your smile. 

Daryl had never been a man who put much stock in love. It was a silly, pointless notion that only allowed the heart to open long enough to be crushed more easily. He had never even really found himself attracted to anyone, much less interested in them enough to entertain the idea of loving them—or the idea of them loving him. 

Then you came along. From the moment you stepped out of that truck that was meant to bring back his brother, he knew he was a goner. He tried to fight it, told himself that he was being an idiot, that Merle would call him a pussy and damnit, the man would be right. 

It didn’t take long for you to wiggle your way past his defenses. Though he had been watching you warily, keeping his distance when he could, he could have never predicted the moment you would render him undone. You were doing your laundry alone by the fencing toward the edges of the Greene farm. He had truthfully wandered into your space to scold you about being there alone. But a single wasp had a different idea. 

It landed on your hand just as you reached toward the water, garment in your soft grip. He opened his mouth to speak, flinching when you screeched and threw the clothing. Your panties hit him square in the face and, like a fool, he lifted a hand and caught them as they fell. Words fled, embarrassment raged. His mouth moved like a gaping fish but then you were smiling. You didn’t laugh at him, didn’t make fun. You apologized and approached, gently extricating the fabric from his hand, your smile steadfast. 

And from that moment, he was fucked. 

You were watching Daryl discuss a particularly dangerous run with Rick. He was standing by the gate, hands on his hips while you were perched at one of the picnic style tables with Carol at your side, a basket of laundry and a tub of water at your feet. 

You were hardly paying attention to what you were supposed to be doing, continually stealing glances. 

And then he caught you. 

Your hands froze on a pair of jeans, the fabric dripping into the tub, your eyes widening. You were unable to look away. Whether he was in the same predicament or was just simply challenging you was unclear. 

Until he smiled. 

You damn near melted and he knew it. There was a heat that started in your cheeks, spreading down your neck to your chest and all the up to the tips of your ears. You swore you could feel it on your scalp. 

When he finally chose to stop making your pulse race, switching his gaze back to the map in Rick’s grasp, you exhaled, wondering if you had breathed at all. There was a chuckle beside you, Carol’s head turned away while her shoulders bounced. You muttered a quick shut up and nudged her with your elbow, aggressively scrubbing at the jeans. 

Shaking her head, Carol also returned to the task at hand. “Oh, sweetie. You’ve got it bad for that man.”

You couldn’t disagree. 

His eyes flitted up to your approaching form, and he quickly wiped the remaining ashes from the top of his hand. Clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his forearm, he fixed you with a weak glare. 

“Cut it out. I already know.” You slid down the side of the trunk, shoulder to shoulder with him, presenting an open palm. “Let me see.”

Daryl felt his chest tighten. You had seen the scars given to him when he was a boy, but those weren’t self inflicted. He had added to the collection on his own—a few times more than he cared to admit. But he knew you. Caring yet determined. You wouldn’t relent until you got what you wanted. Heaving a sigh, he reluctantly placed his hand where you beckoned for it. 

“Ain’t nothin’.”

“Don’t do that.” You answered without a single ounce of hesitation. “Don’t act like your pain doesn’t matter.”

“It don’t.” He rasped, feeling the sting threatening his waterline. “Not when ev’ryone else is sufferin’ too.” When he tried to retract his hand, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged it back, a hell bent expression on your pretty features. 

“That’s bullshit, Daryl.” You held his gaze for longer than he was entirely comfortable with given your proximity. Grunting, he turned his head but let you hold onto his hand. “This’ll likely scar.” You finally said so sadly that he couldn’t help but look at you again. 

“Ain’t like I ain’t got a few already.” He couldn’t seem to look away. Daryl had admitted to himself long ago that he was stuck on you. He didn’t love easily, didn’t know how, but for you, he was willing to learn. And the way you were looking at him in that moment was giving him that fluttering sensation in his chest that he had grown accustomed to when you were close. 

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth and promptly back up. He was filled with such a foreign hope, wishing that he could feel the softness of your lips, even if only once. You cleared your throat. “I know this is hardly appropriate, but I really wanna kiss you right now.”

He blinked. There was no way he heard you correctly. “What?” He said after a moment that lasted altogether too long, his eyes squinted. He could have slapped himself. Wasn’t he just thinking of how badly he wanted to do the same thing? Maybe he could fix it before you changed your mind, say something to encourage you to continue. “Well? G’on then.” Daryl inwardly sighed. He would have been better off keeping his trap shut. 

But then your soft palm was on his cheek, your plump lips pressing against his. His eyes shot wide while yours fluttered closed, his fingers closing around the hand that still held his. It was so simple to ignore the burn of his self inflicted injury. He allowed himself to melt into your ministrations, his blue orbs mimicked yours, mouth following your lead. It was uncomplicated but exhilarating. When he pulled back, your thumb stroking beneath his eye, your lips remained puckered, eyes still closed. 

When the bright pool of your gaze finally reappeared, your mouth opened to reveal all your teeth in a gleaming smile. “Wow.”

But Daryl didn’t hear you, mesmerized by your expression. That smile was always his undoing.

And he found he didn’t mind in the slightest being repeatedly unraveled. 

Alexandria was never going to be safe. You both knew it. Still, it was the safest you had been since the prison, especially with your group now behind its seemingly infallible walls. Jobs assigned, routines established, and residences assigned, maybe it could be home if nothing else. 

You and Daryl had requested one of the smaller houses, all to yourselves. Everyone knew you were close, but they were all ignorant to that moment in the woods, how you had thrown caution to the wind and had been so pleasantly rewarded. There were no other kisses since then, things too busy, too new to let your guard down so quickly. Everyone was at a gathering that night, knowing full well that Daryl would never attend. They might come looking for you, though. 

You wouldn’t be answering the door.

Daryl’s lips were blazing a wet trail down your neck, across your collarbone. One large hand held yours next to your head while the other gripped your waist. You arched up into him, encouraging both his mouth and the rolling of his hips, the gentle push and pull that was grazing him across your most sensitive walls. This dance had been slow, in both anticipation and execution, a gradual joining that you could savor in tandems of breathy moans and featherlight kisses. There was no reason to rush. No reason at all.

After you had both ascended to the pinnacle of ecstasy and drifted back down, you lay with his head on your chest, your fingers whispering up and down the length of his spine. He was so relaxed, breaths deep and even, that you thought he might have drifted off.

“What are we?” His voice was raspy, quiet, but not panicked. He wasn’t tripping over any thought of emotion he might convey. That said a lot for Daryl Dixon. Still, you were taken by surprise.

“What do you want us to be?” You brushed the hair away from his forehead before your fingertips explored his jaw. He snorted, though it was weak.

“Just made that obvious, didn’t I?” 

He did. You hadn’t thought about it so deeply until then. Daryl wasn’t the type of man to strip himself bare, both literally and figuratively, for just anyone. He would never let just any woman touch his scars so intimately and not flinch. Angling your neck, you pressed a kiss into his hairline. 

“I’m yours, Daryl.”

When he lifted his head, shifting onto his elbow beside you, his free hand was already brushing away your sweat-damp hair. Watching you with a gaze so deep, seemingly bottomless, the corner of his mouth raised tentatively, one side and then the other. A smile so soft, so genuine, that your heart nearly swelled too large to beat adequately behind your ribs. 

Clearing his throat, he ducked his head, the smallest flash of teeth before that upward curve of his lips disappeared. “Ya mean that?” 

“With all my heart.”

They only made it a couple of miles before Daryl was forced to let Jesus take the wheel, so to speak. The Hilltop runner was managing the bike well enough while the archer simply tried to stay awake, the constant abuse his body and mind had suffered finally able to culminate to the surface when he was free of the Sanctuary. Everything ached, inside and out. He was exhausted, ready to go home. 

Ready to see you. 

Had you been spared Negan’s wrath? Had the tyrant discovered your ties to Daryl and used them against you? Made you pay for them? Were you safe? Were you even alive?

“You can’t go back to Alexandria.” Jesus called over his shoulder. Daryl shifted uncomfortably with a grunt. He was never one to ride on the back of the bike. 

Unless it was with you. 

“They’ll be looking for you there.” The bike slowed to a stop, Jesus calling out to someone. It was then Daryl saw Hilltop’s walls, his stomach twisting with an anxiety just below the surface. 

“Need to go back.” He rasped, nearly coughing from the scrape against his vocal chords. His voice clearly suffered from the lack of use. “Need to see—”

The gates opened to reveal Maggie and Sasha. Just behind them—was you. He should fall onto his knees in front of Maggie, beg her forgiveness. 

But forgiveness would have to wait. 

He didn’t even wait for Jesus to dismount, uncharacteristically clambering off the back and into an unsteady beeline straight for you. You were already running toward him. Your voice was crying out his name in disbelief, in hopeful relief. It was mere seconds before you reached him, just enough time for his tired legs to buckle. You willingly went down with him, both sets of knees hitting the dirt as you clung to him. 

“You’re alive. Thank god, you’re alive.”

He could feel the fine tremors vibrating your form, the jerks of your shoulders as you sobbed. You should never cry. Negan would pay for making you cry. “Yeah, m’here, Sunshine.” Daryl returned your embrace with as much strength as he could muster, given his poor condition, and held on until you pulled back, your tearful gaze roaming over his person, pausing on every bruise, every laceration. 

“What did they do to you?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

He shook his head. “Didn’t break.” He backed the words with a confidence he found buried deep within, surprised he had any left after his ordeal with the Saviors. “Didn’t let ‘em break me.”

You smiled then, through your tears, and began brushing his dirty hair away from his face. “Not even a question, Bowstrings.” He didn’t hear you. He was too focused on that smile—the smile that brought him such a feeling of peace, of love. He let you guide him upright, staggered along behind you, your hand in his. Every few seconds, you looked over your shoulder, still smiling. 

Everything would be okay. 

You watched him from across the way while sitting on the porch of your home in the Commonwealth. Daryl had taken a vital role in the community after Pamela had been removed from power. Everyone had fallen into some role, but Daryl was important. He had a hand in everything. 

Carol had taken Lance’s role, organizing trade and alliances and just simply keeping the community running from behind the scenes. While Daryl refused a seat on the council, his voice was in every ear, his opinion weighing on every heart when decisions were made. 

With Mercer stepping down as head of the guard, Daryl assisted in the training of new recruits. The process of selecting the guards was much different than it had been before, thanks in large part to the man you now called your husband. 

Watching him now—lifting RJ onto his shoulders, holding him steady with a hand on the boy’s leg while his other arm encircled Judith’s shoulders—you were whole. You were happy. 

He noticed you staring—of course he did—and he smiled, lifting his chin in a nod while he and the children walked toward home. 

Home. 

That’s where you were. It’s what you felt. It was in Daryl all along. In his eyes, in his arms, in his smile. 

Daryl was home. 

NORMAN REEDUS in Dark Harbor (1998)

PEDRO PASCAL as Joel Miller The Last of Us | S01E01 - When You’re Lost in the Darkness

Kiss the tip before you gag on it.

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from a reader (& secret writer) to another reader: leave that comment, like that post, reblog that shit.

idk how i'm still alive after reading this omg 😭 dad!daryl is the best thing that ever happened to me

teddy bear 🏹 daryl dixon

summary: just pure dad!daryl fluff tbh

author’s note: genuinely i was just trying to sleep when this popped into my brain and i had to get out of bed to write it otherwise it would have been lost forever. i hope you enjoy !

if you liked my work, please leave a like, reblog, and don’t forget to follow to keep up with my writing ! 🫶🏻 as always, requests are open

warnings: nada

word count: 1,555k

by the time daryl had realised he actually wanted kids, he thought it was too late. that he was too old to be a dad, and he’d be stuck with the “uncle daryl” title for the rest of his life. it hurt him, sometimes, thinking he couldn’t give you what you both wanted, and constantly kicked himself for thinking he didn’t want to raise a child in a world like this. you never blamed him either, for not wanting children. because he was right. this world wasn’t exactly made for kids.

daryl would constantly watch you with the kids in the community, the sight of you with children tugging at his heart strings, wishing they were your own children. and he’d sit and wonder what they’d look like. would they have his blue eyes? your nose? his loyalty? your loving heart? it made him regret what he had told you all those years ago, and how you simply agreed with him. because what if you didn’t want kids anymore either.

so when daryl climbed into bed with you one night, his chest pressed against your back with his arm wrapped around your waist, he had mumbled something that you didn’t quite catch.

“is it too late to ‘ave kids?” he spoke a little louder, his gravelly voice low in your ear. you felt your stomach flip at his words, turning around in his arms to face him, looking into his steel blue eyes.

“you want kids?” you questioned, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek and gently stroke your thumb across his cheekbone as he nodded his head, avoiding eye contact with you in case he had said the wrong thing. “i would love nothing more than to have your babies, dixon.” you chuckled softly, a small smile on your lips. “but only if you’re sure.”

“i’m sure.” he mumbled, his forehead pressing against yours. he may have sounded blunt, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he had never been more sure of himself.

“i guess we’re gonna have a baby then, hey?” you giggled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips as he wrapped his arm around you tighter, pulling your body on top of his.

— — —

you had been trying for what felt like forever for a baby, but there had been no signs of any little bundle of joy showing up in your lives anytime soon. until one day you had just woken up with this… feeling. you weren’t 100% sure that it was something, but you also thought it couldn’t be nothing. so you had made your way into the bathroom, rummaging through the drawers for the pregnancy tests you had found on a run a few months ago ( because you never knew when you’d need one ) and took the test. you paced anxiously in the small bathroom, chewing on the skin around your nails as you waited for what felt like forever, but was only a couple minutes before you flipped the test back over, seeing the little positive sign on the test.

absolutely overjoyed that you had actually managed to get pregnant, you couldn’t wait for daryl to come back home and ran out into the community to find him. you had located him by the front gates, running over to him.

when daryl saw you running towards him, his first reaction was to panic. he thought something was wrong, that something bad had happened to you, but when you had said those two words that he had been waiting months to hear, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off the ground and swinging you around.

“y’aint lyin’?” he looked at you after he put you back down on the ground, watching as you shook youre head with a huge smile on your face. “oh my god, ‘m gonna be a dad,” he grinned, hugging you tightly once more. “yer gonna be a momma, ‘m gonna be a daddy.”

“you’re gonna be the best daddy.” you squeezed him back just as tight, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

— — —

throughout your pregnancy, daryl had been amazing. he made sure you were always comfortable, that you had eaten enough— and would even try to give you food off his own plate. even if you protested every time. “don’ care. baby’s gotta eat,” he’d huff, scraping his food onto your plate, ignoring your huffs.

he’d make sure you didn’t do anything to strenuous, and when you were further along in your pregnancy, he would try to be by your side as much as he could. and when he couldn’t, he’d send carol to look after you. you’d tell him you didn’t need to be babysat, but he’d simply ignore you. because he wanted nothing more than to keep you both safe.

when you had gone into labour, he had ran to get siddiq, leaving you back at the house with carol just until he got back. he held your hand the entire time, letting you squeeze as hard as you needed too. and you were sure you were on the verge of breaking his hand multiple times, but he didn’t wince once. because he knew what you were going through right now was ten times worse than a broken hand.

“i can’t— i can’t do this.” tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, hours of being in labour had exhausted you, but you were so close. so close to delivering that little baby that you both wanted so badly.

he wiped the sweat from your forehead, brushing away your hair that had clung to your skin and pressed kisses to your face. “you can do this, baby. yer strong, ‘kay?” he encouraged you, squeezing your hand. “plus, i don’ think there’s any backin’ out now.” he tried to joke, but you just groaned, your head falling back as siddiq instructed you to push again.

when daryl heard the little cries coming from the little baby, he squeezed your hand once more, kissing all over your face. “ya did it, sweetheart. ‘m so proud of you.” he murmured, looking at siddiq as he had announced it was a boy. “a lil boy, we have a son.”

he watched as siddiq wrapped him up, placing the tiny little baby on your chest before stepping out of the room to give the both of you some privacy. you both stared in awe at the baby in your arms, your pinkie finger tracing over his tiny, delicate features.

“he looks like you,” you whispered, looking up at daryl with an exhausted smile.

“ya think?” he asked, his large hand brushing against the baby’s cheek, in absolute awe that the both of you had created something so precious. so beautiful.

“yeah. he’s got your nose, and your lips.” you pointed out, fingers tracing over each feature as you listed them off. and when your little boy opened his eyes for the first time, you grinned. “and he’s got your eyes. i’ve literally just given birth to a mini daryl dixon.” you rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head.

when it came time for daryl to hold him, he was told to take his shirt off when he held him. you watched as there was no hesitation in him taking off his top as he sat down, his large hands gently taking the baby from your hands. you noticed how much tinier he looked in daryl’s hands, and your heart swelled with happiness.

“wha’ do we name ‘im?” daryl asked, eyes not leaving his little miracle once.

“i like theodore. teddy for short.” you looked at him for his opinion, and he had nodded his head, finally looking over to you with the proudest look on his face.

“theodore dixon. my lil teddy bear.” you heard a sniffle come from him, noticing the tears in his eyes as he looked at teddy. “thank ya, baby. don’ think ya know how much ya both mean t’ me.”

— — —

as teddy got older, being a dad had really changed daryl. he was ( obviously ) super protective over his little teddy bear, not letting him out of his sight if you weren’t around. and when he got to that wild toddler phase, daryl was having the time of his life. he loved to chase after his son, watching as his little legs carried him as fast as he could to you, wrapping his little arms around your legs for protection from the tickle monster. or how his giggles never seemed to end when daryl was blowing raspberries on his tummy. daryl was full of pure bliss when it came to his family.

he loved to lift teddy up onto his shoulders, walking through the community with the proudest smile on his face. and he especially loved when teddy would crawl up between the two of you in bed, planting himself right in between his two favourite people. when teddy had a bad dream? daryl was there. when he fell over for the first time? daryl was there brushing his tears away and kissing his sore knees better.

it made your heart swell at how much of an amazing dad daryl was, and you wouldn’t have picked anyone else to raise a child with in this world.