Daryl Dixon Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

Reckless

↝a/n: reader is indeed a badass in this. A dumb one- but a badass nonetheless.

↝pairing:Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝warning: death, murder, weird guys, set after Negan shows up, Alexandria, fear of losing a loved one (Daryl and reader, separately),, reader endangers herself, pigs (men),cursing, slightly proofread, idk it's kinda graphic ngl, reader is kinda crazy but who isn't in twd universe?

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 8.16.24

Note: Kate is reader's friend

“You ain't goin' out there.” Daryl said nonchalantly, bringing the lighter up to light the cigarette hanging between his cracked lips.

Taken aback, you could only stare at him. Watching as he leaned against the porch railing, looking at you with a calm look in his eye.

It's almost like he believed you wouldn't walk outside the gate of Alexandria. Like you would listen to him. You weren't about to argue about what you can and can't do, especially when a man is on the other side.

Huffing, you stomped past him, back into the house.

After Daryl finished the cigarette, he stood to his full height, turning to open the door. He grunted when the door wouldn't open.

“Seriously?”

You heard him on the other side, but didn't care. Kate was out there. Who was Daryl to tell you to stay in the safe zone, to not look for someone who would be out in the woods looking for you the second they heard you were missing? You knew it was dangerous, but that was the chance you were willing to take for a friend.

“Open the door.” Hiding the last bit of supplies, you twisted the lock, letting him open the door. Ignoring the glare he was sending you, you made your way to the bedroom, exiting with a blanket and pillow. “Are ya kiddin'? What, 'm I in the doghouse?”

“No,” you scoffed, throwing the blanket on the couch, and began to make it comfortable. “I'm not sleeping in the same bed as someone who thinks I can't take care of myself.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You implied it.” With that, you finally looked him in the eye, daring him to say another word.

Huffing, he made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door.

You stood in the darkness for a moment, thinking everything through, whilst also listening as he walked around the room, before the mattress springs creaked, letting you know he flopped on the bed. You give it 20-30 minutes before he gets up and tries to apologize, like he always did. You'd turn him down, of course, and he'd finally leave you alone for the night. Then you'd make your run for it.

Sticks and leaves crunched under your feet, the quiet of the night having the hair on your arms stand straight up. Light illuminated ahead of you, the flashlight held tightly in your grip, knife in the other hand. The backpack you were quick to pack only had a few things, but they were important. A pistol you stored with you at all times sat on your belt (only for emergencies), small first aid kit–in the hindsight you do find Kate– but she's hurt, a can of whatever was out on the kitchen counter that you didn't get the time to actually look at-it was probably a can of peaches or something-, water, and the thin blanket you kept sprawled across the back of the couch.

Hearing voices from the distance, you quickly cut your light, catching the smell of a fire, along with the sound of the crackle of wood and drunken laughter. You took your chance with your surroundings, putting your trust in what was blindly in front of you.

You managed to sneak closer, now being able to see the group from between the trees. They sat around the fire, cackling about God knows what, blood and grime coating their skin in a thick layer. They passed a bottle around the circle, taking a big swig to numb their reality. Looking around them, they set up an alarm type thing with empty cans connected to wire and string, something your group has done many times, especially when you were without a stable housing system.

Stained tents were close together, nearly side by side with how small the alarm system was. “She's a beauty.” One man snarled, standing to wobble toward one tent, unzipping it, bending over, and reaching into it.

He struggled for a minute, nearly losing his footing, before he straightened up, dragging the body over to the other guys. They whooped and hollered, passing the bottle around again.

The guy who pulled Kate out of the tent started playing with her matted hair, a nasty grin on his face. Your nails dug into your hand. There were 4 of them, all of which had an advantage for having Kate. Even if you were to attack them, they would probably kill her without a second thought.

She snarled, pulling at the rope that bound her hands behind her back. “Ain't she?” He bent down, closer to her ear. She pulled a disgusted face.

One guy cackled, loving her reactions for a sickly reason.

The handle of the knife nearly left a permanent indention on your palm, the skin beginning to sting.

Maybe if you brought something like a bow you could catch them off guard. But you didn't, alright?

You have a knife and a pistol.

“I think it's time to turn in, fellas.” Another guy stood, stretching his long, skinny limbs. The other guys mumbled an agreement, beginning to retreat.

Kate was dragged toward the fire by the original guy, “can't let you out of my sight, can I, pretty girl?”

Kate uttered a 'fuck you'.

The guy stood back from snuffing the fire pit with dirt, moving to lean over her. His hand caressed her cheek, dirt smearing. “ You have a mouth on ya, doncha?"

The knife slid across his throat in one quick motion, a garbled sound was put to an end as the knife punctured his skull quickly after. You laid his body down gently, glancing at the tents as you moved to Kate.

She silently watched you with wide eyes. To her, you just appeared out of the darkness, leaping over the wire and taking her and the guy by surprise. If anything, she didn't recognize you at first. You looked scary, crazed, even. Your eyes held a fiery she'd only seen a handful of times since the apocalypse started.

Finally untying her hands, where rope was tied in a tight knot, leaving her wrist red and raw, you heard rustling came from one of the tents, followed by, “I gotta take a leak.” Kate quickly scanned the dead body, taking the knife off his person.

You quietly blended in to the woods, running as fast as your limbs would let you. You could hear cursing from the tents. Far enough away, you slowed down, coming out of the woods. Kate heaved, rubbing at her wrist.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Rosita came back from the supply run, and she said you were taken.” The two of them had gone out early that morning, in search of something-anything to satisfy Negan.

“That was dangerous. Those were Negan's men.”

“They're disgusting.”

She couldn't disagree. You didn't see what they did before, or hear what they said. She was thankful for that. If she were to tell you, you'd turn around and go slaughter every one of them.

Coming to an abandoned, dead car, you settled in the driver's seat, helping her wrap her wrist and any small cuts she had on her body.

You offered her the can of peaches, opening it up with your knife for her. She took it, her stomach growling as soon as you uttered the word 'food'. She chugged the water. You watched.

You had known her before the apocalypse. She had it made, never having to starve or wait all day to eat, always having the comfortable bank account to just be able to buy whatever she was feeling at the moment. You had watched first hand as her life flipped upside down. Reckon she thought the same about you. Deep down, you knew she would've gone looking for you if the roles were reversed.

“They took everything we found, which wasn't much but still. I was going to drink that alcohol.” She broke the silence, slightly pouting her busted lip out. Your lip twitched, not quite finding the amusement in your body. “Surprised Daryl didn't come with you.”

“He didn't want me coming.” She nodded, understanding where he was coming from. “They were going to look for you in the morning, but a lot could happen between now and then. I couldn't risk it.”

“You're reckless.”

“You could've died,” you countered. Maybe you were reckless and stubborn, you didn't care at that moment.

The door suddenly swung open, a gun cocking as soon as the cold metal touched your temple. Kate yelped as she got dragged out, falling out on the broken asphalt. “You think you could do that shit and get away with it?” Alcohol wafted in your nostrils, hot breath fanning across your ear and neck. “Get out.” A harsh hand gripped your arm, pulling you out. He grabbed your knife, pocketing it before you had the time to use it. You could only see two out of the three surviving men from before. The other one was probably still at their camp, keeping an eye out.

The grip on your arm tightened.

Daryl stumbled out of the woods, hearing commotion on the old, worn down road. He saw the car, the men, your silhouette.

He saw the man in front of you, getting in your face. The darkness of the night didn't do anything to show your facial expression. But Daryl knew you, knew how you were holding your ground.

He loaded his bow, watching as a punch landed to your left cheek.

You fell to the floor, quickly shuffling closer to the car. You grabbed the jagged metal of the old can of peaches you had mindlessly discarded, swinging around and dragging it across his face, nicking your palm in the process, but you didn't care.

Daryl jogged closer, arrow ready to shoot, now aimed at the man holding Kate.

Before he could release the arrow, you grabbed the gun that was recently pointed at your head, swirling around to shoot the other guy right in the face, despite his scared protest, before aiming it at the man holding his face at your feet, cursing you, belittling you.

Daryl stood, stunned.

In the span of a minute and a half, you had killed two men without flinching.

—

The door to your bedroom creaked, Daryl stumbled out of it. He stood behind the couch, shirtless, his pants hanging low on his hips. His face was set in a scowl, his distaste about having to apologize evident on his face. “Ya know you're a badass. Ain't no secret. Didn't mean it like that, ya know that.” You grunted, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You were turned away from him, laid out across the couch as you glared at the wall through the darkness. The backpack laid under the couch, everything ready.

“Say somethin'.”

You turned on your back, looking up at him. You knew he was leaned across the back of the furniture, searching for your face in the darkness, you did the same. “Fine.” Your words held no truth to them, only evident annoyance.

He sighed, straightening his back. “It's dang-”

“It's dangerous, yeah, I know. Which is exactly why we need to look for her. There's no telling what has already happened to her, especially with Negan's men out there.”

“A group is goin' in the mornin'. First thing.”

You stayed silent. At least they were trying, and being smart about it. But you weren't using your brain, only your heart. She means too much to you to lose her. She's all you have left of the normal life, before all this.

“You gonna come to bed?”

Maybe you were being unreasonable.

“No.”

Daryl shuffled back to the bedroom, letting the door shut harshly behind him.

Three minutes later, you were quietly opening the back door and wiggling out. You blended into the night, walking around Alexandria without anyone noticing. You ran by the people on watch, making your escape. You ventured into the woods, Daryl's words in your head. You were a badass. Maybe not a smart one when it comes down to being rational, but a badass nonetheless.

Daryl shuffled out of bed, his throat feeling dry. His feet patted against the cold floor, hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

He stopped when he caught sight of the couch. You were probably asleep. Anger wore you out easily, he had noted very early on.

“Look, I know you're pissed at me, but I'm just tryin' to keep ya safe. I can't lose ya.”

The vulnerability was evident in his voice. Usually, you would comfort him, knowing he doesn't show his emotional state to just anyone.

It was true, he couldn't lose you. He fears he might actually go insane without you.

Ever since you two moved into the house of Alexandria, a fire burned in Daryl.

A fire that told him he could lose you at any moment, but also told him that he had to make it where he couldn't lose you. To try everything to keep you safe.

Negan was out there, in the shadows, waiting. He was waiting for one little slip up. He wasn't one to be merciful. Yet another threat on your head.

Daryl leaned forward, bringing his hand to find your body warmth, something to soothe him before he spirals. “Honey?”

He was met with cold silence.

—

“Well shit.”

You swirled around, gun aimed to kill. Daryl dropped his arm that held the bow, raising his other in surrender. A grin tugged at his lips, pure pride at seeing you take care of yourself like that.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

Out Of The Woods

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Prompt - ‘When the sun came up, you were looking at me.’

Requested - Yes - @cinnamonmurda

If you had been asked years ago to describe your relationship with Daryl you would have said it was anything but simple. At the beginning, all those years back in the earlier days before Rick had even joined back in Atlanta, Daryl hadn’t liked you, of course Daryl hadn’t liked anybody back then but you he especially had a special dislike for. There was something about you that made him even angrier, even more hot headed and defensive than he had been around the others, years later he knew that his old self hated you because he saw you as a liability. If there was ever a person not made for this new world, it was you and Daryl knew it, you were too damn kind, too naive to survive long.

You hadn’t thought too much of Daryl either, the man far too quick to start a fight, too ignorant, too harsh. You hadn’t wanted to be around him back then, both of you going out of your way to put distance between you and yet you were always the first to call each other out. Whenever Daryl voiced his intolerant views, whenever you made a move that he deemed unsafe, whatever it was you and Daryl were always the first to point out the others flaws.

Things didn’t change much until the prison, well for you they changed earlier than that. For so long you had thought Daryl wasn’t capable of caring for anybody else but watching how determined he had been to look for Sophia, watching him go night after night without sleeping, sneaking away to look some more after doing the same all day, something about it changed something for you.

During your stay at the prison though Daryl had watched as you offered to go on a run with Rick and before Daryl could shoot that idea down Rick had agreed to let you go only for you to show back up not long after dark with a bleeding head and holding your aching side.

Something changed for Daryl there, he had no idea what it was but he had waited a few days, tried to talk himself out of it but eventually gave in. He waited until you were alone to approach you, feeling awkward as he did, despite being around each other for so long Daryl could safely say in that time you hadn’t had one civil conversation.

So when he came to you with an offer to teach you how to shoot and defend yourself it made sense for you to jump to defensiveness, accusing him of messing with you because of the incident a few days ago that had resulted in Hershel giving you a line of stitches on your forehead.

It had taken some time for Daryl to finally manage to convince you that he was serious but eventually you gave in, knowing that if you wanted to survive then Daryl was right you needed to learn to protect yourself, even if it meant spending time with the man.

Of course learning to protect yourself didn’t come in too handy, how could it when at even the slightest sign of danger Daryl stepped in. At first it started off with him taking a shot at a walker when you froze, only moving again when an arrow shot passed your head and Daryl knocked into your shoulder to retrieve it. From there though it grew, as you spent more time with each other Daryl started putting himself between you and whatever danger was there before you could even raise your gun, whether it be him grabbing your arm and shoving you behind him or taking out the target from the other side of the fight.

By the time you arrived at Alexandria the two of you were best friends, rather than jumping to point each other's flaws out now you were the first one to defend the other, always ready to take a swing or go head to head with anyone who had something bad to say about the other. It was easy to ignore the change in your relationship, glaring at anyone who dared mention the shift from worst enemies to the best of friends.

It wasn’t until Alexandria you were forced to admit something had changed, when everything was settled and your group was moving in and you and Daryl were both offered separate houses. Immediately your gaze fell to him upon hearing the new living arrangements only to find he was already looking your way with a glare, though the glare wasn’t meant for you.

For the longest time it had been you and Daryl, you’d slept practically within arm’s reach of each other since sorting yourselves out and forming a friendship and now you were meant to sleep in a whole different house? You had hated the idea, despite how things had started between you, you felt safe with Daryl, when he was around you knew you were going to be ok. To suddenly not have him next to you left you feeling unsettled.

Daryl hated the thought of you not being near him. A while back he would have done anything to be away from you and now the idea of it made his skin crawl, he already didn’t like this place all that much but to take you from him, to move him to where he couldn’t protect you, no he hated that.

Daryl was the one to voice his displeasure to your shock, you had known he wouldn’t have liked it but you hadn’t expected him to actually say anything, especially not in front of the whole group but he had and it was worth it when you placed your bag down on the bedroom floor.

Both houses you had been offered only consisted of one bedroom but neither you nor Daryl had complained about it. Daryl would never have admitted it out loud but he was secretly glad for it, not ready for you to be away from him. It wasn’t even just the fact he wanted to protect you but he knew you both felt safer together, knew you both slept better knowing the other was right there.

And so it went on like that, the two of you living together and despite having kept close quarters for some time now this felt different, it was more intimate, more domestic. Once the door shut behind you it was easy to forget that the world had fallen apart, it was easy to just fall into a world that only existed for you and Daryl, one where the two of you left your baggage at the door and just let yourselves be.

Of course it wasn’t all perfect, how could it be? The world outside was still a mess and you were insistent on helping however you could. There was a run coming up, one that Eugene had mapped out and called a suicide mission. Once Daryl had found out you had volunteered he had stormed into the house full of demands that you stay behind whilst he went.

His argument hadn’t gone down well, you shooting back why he should be allowed to go and put himself in danger whilst you stayed behind, you yelling that you were perfectly capable of defending yourself and that you didn’t need him to treat you like a child.

It was rare you and Daryl argued, it had happened a lot in the early days but since the prison you could count the number of times you had on one hand. When you did fight though it was ruthless, both of you knew exactly what buttons to press, knew exactly what words would hurt most and neither of you held back.

This fight lasted a while before Daryl ended it by storming out of the house, the echoing slam of the door silencing you as you listened to the roar of his bike before you were left alone.

You couldn’t say what it was that had gotten both of you so riled up, recently things had been more tense, not between you and Daryl but between Alexandria and the outside world. It had put Daryl on edge and he’d been hovering around you more than usual, always quick to snap at anybody who even looked at you for too long.

The hovering had been starting to get to you a bit but now that Daryl had put space between you, you found you hated it.

You didn’t know how long you stood in the living room for, silently staring at the door as if you could make Daryl to walk through it but Daryl was long gone and you tried to push the bad feeling in the pit of your stomach away. With a sigh you turned and made your way up to your bedroom, sinking onto the bed.

Your eyes fell on to the nightstand, a small huff of laughter escaping you as you saw the polaroid that rested there, reaching over to gently pick it up, your thumb brushing against the photograph, remembering the day you had taken it.

It had been a quiet day, one where you both got to stay in bed later than usual, you held against Daryl’s chest with his fingers brushing against your skin, holding you close. Neither of you had told the other how you felt, both far too scared but content with what you had now, it didn’t need to be defined but some days you did wish it was out there, that you could run your finger through his hair and pull him in for a kiss.

Once you had finally managed to pull yourself out of bed for food you ended up laying on the couch together, music playing softly from the old record player that had been here when you moved in. Daryl’s arms wrapped around you as you traded secrets of lives that didn’t exist anymore and soft laughs whilst entwined together.

As you tilted your head to laugh your eyes fell on the polaroid camera Daryl had managed to find for you on a run a few months back, you hadn’t used it yet because there wasn’t much film left and you wanted to save it for something special.

You and Daryl had done this since moving to Alexandria, whenever you’d go on runs you’d both bring each other gifts back, some with the intent to just make the other laugh, some that made you smile and get slightly teary eyed, some that he accepted with a mumbled thanks but his smile showed how much it meant to him. At some point because of this the house you shared had become a home filled with pieces of you and Daryl littered throughout it.

“Where you goin’?” Daryl had asked as you wormed your way out of his arms and walked the few steps between the couch and the shelves to pick up the camera. “What you doin’ with that?”

You didn’t answer him as you got back on the couch, his arms immediately circling around you again and you smiled up at him widely, shaking the camera at him and laughing as he groaned.

“Please!” You begged before he had the chance to protest, turning further in his hold to pout up at him.

“Nah, save it for something.”” Daryl said, holding back a smile as you shook your head.

“Come on, Daryl, please. I wanna remember this.” You told him, causing him to scoff. “I wanna remember you.”

“You don’t need no dumb picture to remember me.” He grumbled, his face softening even as he rolled his eyes causing you to laugh. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“You know that’s not the point!” You pleaded with him, watching as he narrowed his eyes with no real heat behind the action and you could see the way his lips twitched as he fought back a smile. “C’mon just let me take my dumb picture.”

More pleading had followed but eventually the sound of a shutter going off filled the room and as you looked at the picture you couldn’t stop your gaze from falling onto Daryl’s smile, one that was reserved only for you in the privacy of your house.

You couldn’t say for sure how long you sat in bed, fingers brushing against the photograph in your hand but at some point you knew you had to go track Daryl down, knowing full well he’d be too scared to show his face back at the house for fear of you wanting rid of him, as if that could ever happen.

The snow had been falling steadily the past few days so you made sure to shrug a jacket on before heading out of the house and taking one of the cars, only stopping to pick a radio up before you put the tracking skills Daryl had taught you to use and headed out.

Daryl had no real destination in mind when he had sped away from Alexandria, cursing himself for picking a fight with you and hating that he had left without making things right. He couldn’t turn back though, he wanted to give you some space, afraid to face you again in case you told him to leave.

He hated that even after all these years he was still so unsure around you. He knew you were his best friend, he knew you loved him like that but he never knew if there was anything behind those lingering touches, the way you’d brush his hair out of his face or hug him tight when he’d been gone longer than planned.

He knew he loved you, more than anything in this world, you were the best thing in his life. It might have taken the world ending for you to meet but Daryl couldn’t say he was sorry for it, he knew in a life long gone you and him would never have crossed paths and even if by some miracle you had there was no chance somebody like you would have wanted anything to do with someone like him.

Sure to begin with things hadn’t been easy between you but at some point you had come to mean everything to him. He knew if he had to he’d turn the world upside down for you, kill without a second thought if you were ever in trouble. He loved you and he was too much of a damn coward to ever tell you.

Eventually he stopped the motorbike, climbing off it to take a moment and catch his breath. Thinking about his feelings for you always made him feel unsteady, he wished he were brave enough to just tell you but he could never tell if you felt the same.

At some point during Daryl’s musing the twigs around him snapped, footsteps coming closer to him but he was so deep in thought he didn’t hear them, not until he heard a gun click.

He whipped around and glared hard at the two men before him, both pointing a gun at him and he cursed himself again for being so stupid and not grabbing his crossbow before he had stormed out of the house.

“We don’t want no trouble now.” One of the men said, causing Daryl to scoff.

“Yeah, sure as hell don’t look like it when you’re pointing that damn gun at me.” He shot back, looking around for something to use as a weapon but coming up empty.

“We ain’t gonna use ‘em if you don’t give us a reason.” The other man sneered, walking slowly towards the bike. “We’re just gonna take this bike and be on our way.”

“Nope, you stay right where you are, mister.” The first man said when Daryl took a step towards them but Daryl was never in the mood for people like this on a good day and today was not a good day.

He swung his fist, feeling a sense of satisfaction as it connected with the man's nose and blood immediately sprayed from it but it didn’t last long as the other man swung for him and sent him staggering back. It only lasted for a few minutes but punches were traded until Daryl was bruised and bleeding, only falling to the floor when one of the men got a well aimed kick in.

He hissed in pain but still went to get back up, falling straight to the floor not a moment later, the sound of a gunshot ringing through the woods and Daryl clutched his side, feeling his shirt soak with blood immediately.

“Told you we wouldn’t use it less you gave us a reason.” The man said as he gestured for his friend to get on the bike and Daryl struggled to keep his eyes open as the sound of his bike faded.

By the time you found Daryl the snow was coming down hard and fast, you struggled to get the car through it but eventually you were jumping out of it, leaving the keys behind and the door wide open when you saw a patch of blood in the snow.

“Daryl?” You called out, not giving a second thought as to who or what could be lurking in the woods. “Daryl!”

A small groan of pain came from somewhere to your right and in an instance you were falling onto your knees in the snow, cradling Daryl’s bruised face in your hands before your eyes fell onto his blood soaked shirt.

You cursed softly as you patted his cheeks, pleading with him to open his eyes. He didn’t move for a second but his eyelids fluttered open for a moment before falling back shut.

“Alright, you’re gonna be alright, I’m gonna get you home.” You promised him, moving to stand up and drag Daryl to the car when you heard a door slam from behind you.

Your head shot around just in time to see a man quickly reversing out of the small clearing in the woods before you could even stand up, leaving you staring at the empty space the car had been wondering how on earth you were meant to get Daryl home.

As if it couldn’t get any better, it was then you heard the groans and snarls.

“Shit.” You cursed again, eyes darting in every direction as you wondered how on earth you had managed to miss the horde of walkers closing in from all around.

With all the energy you had you managed to get Daryl up off the ground, swinging his arm around you as you carried his weight and winced at the pained groan that slipped past his lips as his wound brushed against his shirt.

You had no idea where you were or where you were going but you knew you had to move, apologising as you practically dragged Daryl away from the hoard of walkers.

As you fought against the snow, cursing as you nearly tripped a few times, having to stop several more to hoist Daryl more securely around your shoulder, you fought to get the radio you’d left attached to your belt and desperately hoped somebody was listening.

“Is anybody there?” You asked, waiting for a response but there was only silence. “Come on, come one, somebody answer please.”

“Y/N, is that you?” Eugene finally answered back and you felt your knees almost give out in relief as you forced your feet to keep moving through the snow.

“Eugene, thank god! Listen I need help, I’ve got Daryl but we ran into some trouble and shit, shit, shit.” you cursed again as you tripped on something in the snow, nearly sending you and Daryl to the ground but just about managing to right yourself.

“Y/N, what happened? Are you alright?” Eugene asked as you turned around and your eyes widened as more of the herd broke off to move in your direction before you glanced down to see what had tripped you, taking a shaky breath and pulling Daryl along when you saw a walker on the ground reaching for you.

“Eugene, there’s too many of them, we’ve got no car, no bike and no weapons, you gotta send help.” You pleaded into the radio, voice breaking as you forced yourself to stare ahead, to not look back as more and more walkers followed after you.

“Do you know the whereabouts of your location?” Eugene asked and you frowned before telling him what route you had taken, trying desperately to remember everything.

“You have to hurry, Daryl, he’s hurt and I can’t do this on my own.” You pleaded with him, voice cracking as a few tears made their way past your eyes and down your cheeks.

“Rest assured Y/N, we will find you.” Eugene promised and then the radio turned silent again whilst you prayed you and Daryl could hold up long enough for help to come.

You carried on dragging your feet through the snow, freezing but breaking out into a sweat from having Daryl’s entire weight on your shoulders and almost cried in relief when you saw a small shack not too far in the distance.

With a final look behind you you forced yourself to move faster as you saw more and more walkers moving in your direction, practically panting by the time you had the door shut and Daryl set gently on the floor.

The shack was small, barely big enough to fit both you and Daryl in but you didn’t care, it was a safe place that the walkers would hopefully walk right past, leaving you and Daryl alone until help came.

You crouched down in front of Daryl, ripping your jacket off despite the cold and balling it up before lifting Daryl’s shirt up to see the gunshot wound. You winced at the blood leaking from it and pressed your jacket against it with as much pressure as you could causing Daryl to jolt awake with a pained hissed, his hand coming up to weakly try and push you away but you caught it and gave it a soft squeeze.

“You’re alright, it’s just me.” You murmured, watching as he forced his eyes open with a frown.

“Y/N?” Daryl slurred your name out and you forced a shaky smile onto your face. “Wha’da hell you doin’ out ’ere?”

“Rescuing you apparently.” You laughed, watching as Daryl frowned when the sound came out more like a sob.

“S’meant to be my job.” Daryl huffed, another pained groan escaping him causing your panic to worsen.

He was right, rescuing you had always been his job, even back in those early days when you hadn’t gotten along. You remembered when you had gone out on a run into the city, determined to prove yourself to Daryl as he scoffed at you. He had told you it was a suicide run for someone like you and yet when you failed to come back after storming off he was the one to track you down, he was the one to pull you out of the room surrounded by walkers.

Once you were friends Daryl made it his mission to protect you but sometimes you wandered off, sometimes you just managed to get yourself into situations that lead you to needing to be rescued. No matter how many times Daryl grumbled about it he was always the first one to notice you missing and the first one to bring you back.

“Thought I’d have a go at the rescuing this time.” You smiled and watched as he chuckled before his face scrunched up in pain. “You’re gonna be alright, the others are already on their way.”

You watched as Daryl’s eyes slipped shut again and let out a shaky breath, squeezing his hand again and feeling the smallest bit of relief as he squeezed back before he forced them back open to look at you.

“M’sorry,” he said after a few beats of silence passed between the two of you and you frowned, looking at him questioningly. “For before, for pickin’ a fight, was damn stupid.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” You assured him, knowing that the blame didn’t lie solely on him, knowing that you hadn’t needed to fight back but had anyway. “All that matters is that you’ll be alright, we’re gonna get outta here and you’re gonna get patched up then we can just lay on the couch until you get better.”

“Yeah,” Daryl chuckled a bit breathlessly, “yeah we can do that.”

You smiled to yourself, letting your thoughts fill with how many nights had passed with the two of you in the living room, too tired to pull yourselves off the couch as your bones ached and you were comfortable resting against each other.

The first time it had happened you remembered waking up to a flustered and apologetic Daryl, you quickly blinking awake to realise you had fallen asleep together, at some point in the night after a long run away from Alexandria you had ended up against Daryl’s chest with his arms around you.

You had avoided each other for most of the day after that, your thoughts on how much you liked being in Daryl’s arms, how safe you had felt, how easy it was to sleep and how well rested you were.

From that night it happened a few more times until eventually you both stopped waking up flustered and avoiding each other, neither one of you even pretended to be bashful about it anymore, both content with lying on the couch, safe in each other’s arms, easily drifting off to sleep with Daryl’s heartbeat against your ear.

You were startled out of your thoughts when you felt Daryl’s hand on your skin, his fingers lighting brushing against the top of your chest where a necklace rested.

“Forgot to bring my damn bow.” Daryl grunted as he tried to sit up straighter and you were quick to help him before letting him pull you down next to him, making sure you were still applying pressure to his wound. “This one ain’t much help.”

You laughed again, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked down at the necklace, it was well worn at this point, you had hardly taken it off since Daryl had given it to you.

You could still see the nervous look on his face, all week he had been nervous, he kept opening his mouth as if he had something to say but always let it fall back shut and turned the other way. You had gone to say something to him but decided against it, you didn’t want to pressure him to talk about something he clearly wasn’t ready to discuss.

So you were surprised to say the least when Daryl eventually grew impatient with himself, unable to find a way to give it to you without feeling painfully awkward so he had settled for just thrusting a chain at you. Your eyes had widened in shock when you took it off him, noticing the small archer's bow hanging from the chain before your expression morphed into a grin, pushing the necklace back into his hands and turning around, urging him to put it on you.

Once you turned back around and saw the smile on Daryl’s face, a barely there pull of the lips and his eyes softer than you had ever remembered seeing them, you wished you had had your camera then because you wouldn’t have hesitated to capture him in that moment.

You remembered that time clearly because it was the first time you had thought to yourself that you were in love with Daryl Dixon.

“I’d take this one any day.” You told him softly, tracing the bow with your fingers as you looked up at him, desperately praying to any force that was listening that the others would hurry.

Daryl was pale, a sheen of sweat covering his face as he fought to keep his eyes open, letting out pained hisses and groans every few minutes as you kept your jacket against the bleeding wound.

From outside you could hear leaves crunching, branches snapping, each sound sent a new wave of fear running through you, your mind running wild with different scenarios of the monsters lurking outside.

You shifted your gaze back to Daryl, lifting your hand to gently brush strands of hair from his sweat coated forehead, smiling slightly as he leaned into the touch. Your thumb brushed over a scar that was barely visible anymore, faded with age and only visible if you really looked but you knew it was there, you had been there when he got it. It had been during a bad run, you had come across another group who had immediately gotten the jump on you but Daryl had managed to get you both back in the car, tearing out of the parking lot and speeding down the road long after he had put distance between you and them.

All it took was Daryl glancing away to look at you, assuring himself that you were alright before he turned back to the road, foot slamming onto the brakes at the sudden hoard in front of you. The next thing he knew he was cursing in pain as he was thrown forward before he passed out.

You had immediately gone into panic mode as you so often did whenever Daryl got hurt, now that you were looking back on it it was a wonder you had remained oblivious to your feelings for the man for so long. When Daryl refused to wake up you cursed, looking between him and the walkers and knowing you didn’t have long.

Somehow you managed to drag Daryl into the back seat, ripping your sweater off and pressing it to his bleeding forehead, not unlike how your jacket was pressed to his side now, before jumping into the driver's seat and taking over, getting him back to Alexandria and into the small clinic.

They had asked you to wait outside for them to patch him up, telling you his injury would need a few stitches but when you were finally allowed to see him he was awake and looking at you apologetically.

“M’so damn sorry, Y/N/N,” Daryl had started to say but you cut him off immediately.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, you’re alright, that’s all that matters. You are ok, right?” You asked, sliding into the seat next to him and taking his hand in yours, brushing your thumb against his knuckles softly.

“Yeah, m’alright, few stitches but Y/N I could’ve got you killed.” He was clearly feeling guilty for something that wasn’t his fault and you knew nothing you said would stop that, looking back on it it was obvious Daryl had feelings for you, he had always put your safety miles above everyone else’s, if you got hurt or if there was even the slimmest of chances you could have gotten hurt then that was on him no matter how much you tried to convince him otherwise.

“Daryl, I’m fine, I didn't even get hurt. You’re alright, we’re alright, okay?” You asked and watched him hesitate for a moment before his face crumpled.

In all the years you’d known Daryl you could count the number of times you’d seen him cry on one hand, so when you saw his eyes turn red and teary you couldn’t stop yours from doing the same as the morning sun filtered through the window and you clung to each other.

Daryl caught your hand in his, pulling it away from his scar and entwining them together. Your gaze shifted to meet his eyes and saw his pupils were bigger than usual, a tiny ring of blue barely visible as he looked at you, clearly struggling to stay awake and alert.

“Thanks for coming t’get me.” He whispered, suddenly sounding exhausted but shushing you as you went to sit up in panic. “M’alright, that’s what you always say right, I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright. We’re gonna be alright ain’t we, Y/N?”

“We’re alright, Daryl, I promise. You just gotta hold on a little while longer for me, you hear? I can’t do this without you, you promised me I wouldn’t need some dumb picture to remember you.” You told him, watching as his lips pulled into a shaky smile.

“I meant it.” He told you, squeezing your hand weakly. “I meant what I said but just in case, m’glad you have it.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna be alright.” You told him as tears began to slide down your face.

“Doesn’t feel like it.” He winced, shifting to pull you close enough so that he could rest his lips against your head. “Should have told you years ago, was never brave enough though.”

“Don’t do this now.” You pleaded with him but he shook his head.

“Just in case.” He repeated and you sniffed as more tears fell down your cheeks. “Should have told you how pretty you were, every damn morning when I got to wake up next to you, the sun shining on ya, so damn pretty. Should have told ya how much I wanted to kiss ya, all those nights on the couch but I really should’ve told ya how much I love you, should’ve told you you made this world worth livin’ in.”

By the time he finished his voice was barely a whisper, his breathing becoming fainter and fainter and you were sobbing, shaking his shoulder with your free hand in an attempt to get him to open his eyes but they stayed shut.

“I love you too, I love you so much, Daryl. We both know I’d have never made it this far without you, not just because you protected me all these years but because you made this world worth living in too.” You told him, desperately hoping for him to wake up but he didn’t move. “Please Daryl, you can’t do this, I won’t do this without you, please.”

Your sobs filled the shack as Daryl refused to wake up. There was nothing left to believe in and yet you still prayed to any force, any god, anything that would listen that you could keep your promise, that the group would find you and Daryl would be just alright. He had to be because you weren’t sure how you were supposed to go on without him.

By the time you heard the sound of boots outside you sobbed even harder, you couldn’t say how long had passed since you found Daryl but his breathing had gone faint not too long ago and you were both freezing, the small shack and your lack of jacket doing nothing to ward off the winter chill.

“Told you we’d be alright.” You whispered to Daryl even as he stayed motionless, letting your cold lips press against the scar on his forehead. “We’ll be alright.”

“Help him.” You pleaded with Rick once the door opened, his eyes soft and sympathetic as he nodded, gesturing for Maggie to help you stand whilst he got Daryl.

You made a noise of protest when you felt yourself being moved away from Daryl but were quietly shushed as a warm arm wrapped around your shoulder and led you out of the small shack you’d found.

When Maggie led you out though you couldn’t help but look around, noticing that there were no monsters out here, not anymore, just the wide stretch of trees that towered over you, full but still not able to block the rising sun and you let your gaze fall to Daryl.

He would be alright.

The two of you were placed in the back of the car where you pulled him close, brushing his hair with numb hands and letting yourself relax as you were finally on your way home.

It took a couple of days for Daryl to wake up, you hadn’t moved from his hospital bed, sleeping in the chair and not caring how uncomfortable it was, not when the other option was to leave Daryl whilst you slept in your bed alone, without him. The others had tried to get you to leave but you refused, wanting, needing to be here when he woke up.

When he did open his eyes it was when the sun was just beginning to rise over Alexandria, the golden rays shining into the hospital room and making it look less cold, less unwelcoming.

Daryl’s eyes found you straight away and he let himself take a moment to just look, to watch as you played absentmindedly with the necklace around your neck with one hand whilst the other held his, your thumb brushing soothingly across his knuckles. He could see the dark circles formed under your eyes and knew you hadn’t gotten much sleep since being rescued but he couldn’t blame you much there, whenever it was you in his place nobody could drag him away from you.

Despite looking exhausted and despite clearly having been crying at some point during the night Daryl couldn’t help but think you looked more beautiful than ever and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, smiling as surprise filled your face as your head shot up to look at him, both of you soaked in the morning sunlight.

“I’m alright.” Daryl said first, watching as a smile spread across your face as you chuckled breathlessly.

“You’re alright.” You confirmed, unable to stop your smile from widening. “We’re alright.”

“Are we?” Daryl couldn’t help but ask, remembering his confessions to you when he had doubted if he would open his eyes again, his only thoughts being how much he needed to tell you and how much he hated that he was going to leave you alone.

“I meant what I said, I love you, I love you so much. Without you I wouldn’t have wanted to make it this far into this world but having you with me, it makes everything else worth it. I love you and you were right, we should have said it earlier.” You told him honestly, watching as his lips pulled into a smile reserved just for you.

“I love you too, I know we didn’t start great but what we got now, I love that, I love getting to wake up with you every morning and sleepin’ at your side every night. I love you, Y/N/N, I’d tear the whole world apart for you.” Daryl said, feeling lighter than he had in years now that it was finally out there, now that he finally knew where he stood with you. “Can’t wait to go home with you.”

If you were asked to describe your relationship with Daryl you would have said it was simple. It was the simplest thing in the world, you loved him and he loved you. It didn’t matter that that hadn’t always been the case, not now, not when he was finally given the all clear and the two of you practically fell onto the couch, Daryl pulling you close against his good side, your head against his chest with his heartbeat in your ear. It was the simplest thing in the world when he pulled you close and pressed your lips together, it was simple in the way he held your hand and you brushed strands of hair from his face.

It was simple because you had made it out of the woods and it had been enough for you and Daryl to finally say how you felt, to say the words that had been held back for so long. Even if nothing really changed between you except for the fact you knew how his lips felt against yours or that you knew every part of his body and he did yours, except for the fact you finally knew how the words I love you sounded coming from the other. It was all so simple and even if it had taken years longer than it needed you had finally got there and everything was alright, the two of you had each other and it was more than enough.

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Thank you so much for reading!🤎

I’m ripping my hair out GIVE HIM TO ME 😭😭 ‼️

thinking abt daryl with a size kink!!!

he definitely loves how big he feels in comparison to you, especially when he can hold both of your wrists in just one hand, pinning you down and fucking you into the mattress

“fuck baby, you’re so small, like my own lil personal fuckdoll.”

“gonna let me throw ya’ around and use ya’ like a toy?”

he loves when he can see the outline of his cock bulging through your stomach while he fucks you, it sends him over the edge every time. he always makes sure to point it out to you.

“see that, baby? look how well you’re taking my big cock. doing such a good job, pretty girl.”

Y/N, giggling: You sneeze like a girl.

Daryl: How ‘bout I pound ya like a boy?

Daryl: …

Daryl: Tha’ didn’ come out righ’.

Y/N: I know what you meant. Your place or mine?

Daryl: Yers.

REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Y/N, breathless after a kiss: You wanna go upstairs?

Daryl, nodding: Mhm.

Y/N, taking his hand: You have protection?

Daryl, placing his free hand on his knife: Why? Wha’s up there?

I would love to see a fic of Daryl with pregnant reader (bonus points if there’s a breeding kink [if you’re comfortable, I didn’t see it in the list] that results in her being that way). She’s concerned about the changes in her body and that he doesn’t find her attractive in her condition. So, Daryl gets to share his love for pregophillia. :)

masterlist || MDNI

depths of your despair.

daryl dixon x pregnant!reader

summary: after a series of misunderstandings, insecurities regarding your pregnancy start affecting your relationship with daryl. but as soon as he becomes aware of that, he makes it up to you, worshipping your pregnant body like he should've done since the beginning.

warnings: 18+ smut, pregophilia, dirty talk, pet names, praising, cunnilingus, degradation, daddy kink, creampie, impregnation, arguments, rough sex, pregnancy sex, outdoors sex, slight choking, dacryphilia, self-consciousness, manhandling (if you squint), squirting.

word count: 8.1k

a/n: tysm for your request, i really enjoyed writing this one <3 it turned out a tiny bit more angsty than i intended it to but i promised it has a happy ending!

<flashback>

“Tha's righ', doll” Daryl cooed against your ear, harshly gripping your hips to keep you in place while he pounded your tight cunt at a fast pace. His chest pressing on your back, making your body shake with intense pleasure at his every thrust, each one deeper than the previous. You could feel his sweat wetting your body, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Takin' daddy's cock so well like a good lil’ slut” The contrast between praising and degrading turns your brain into putty. That man knew all your weakest spots, he always knew exactly what to say to make you weak in the knees, struggling to keep yourself on your feet. You couldn't think of anything else or anyone else in that moment but him and the feeling of his big cock almost ripping your little cunny apart.

Daryl's always been the sweetest to you, always making sure you were safe, giving you all the shoulders when you cried, but when it came to sex, he was always just so eager and desperate for you that he couldn't help but be rough. He made every fucking feel like the last one, as if it was his last chance to ever lay his hands on you. He made it count, making you wonder how you were capable to have lived so many years without that man before you met him.

You tried to keep quiet, careful not to catch the attention of any of those walking dead fuckers' roaming around the woods while Daryl harshly abused you against a tree, whispering the dirtiest words into your ears. But he wasn't making it easy on you, and despite your effort, your moans and cries were getting louder and louder as you got closer to your high. He reveled in the way you bit your lips and threw your head back to rest it on his shoulder. He took the opportunity to let go of your hips and wrap his big arm around your throat, his other palm now pressing against your lips in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Shhh...” He shushed you. “Be nice 'n quiet fer daddy, yea?” His teasing words and a small nibble on your earlobe from him were all it took to make your legs finally fail as you sank to your knees. Instead of holding you up, he nearly finished throwing you on the dirt, laying your body flat on it. The tickling of the leaves and the rough texture of the ground could almost bother you if you weren't so lost in pleasure. He got even rougher, if that was possible, banging his hips against your ass so hard that made your moans shaky and your eyes start tearing up.

He loved whenever he gave you so much pleasure that you cried on his cock, the sight of thick tears running down your cheeks only fueling his twisted desires for you.

“Aww, wha's the matter, sunshine?” He mocked you, his voice coming out a bit louder than he expected. His piercing blue eyes looked around for a moment, searching for any threats but never stopping railing you. When he found none, he fully returned his attention to you, noticing the way your moans had practically dissipated and your had your eyes shut tight, a clear sign that you were dangerously close to cumming.

“Gunna cum fer daddy?” The volume of his groans and grunts getting harder and harder to hold back. You weren't able to speak with his hand pressed against your mouth and almost couldn't breathe with his big bicep wrapped around your throat, but you managed to nod slightly.

“Fuck, 'm gunna cum!” His needy voice filled your empty mind and you felt his hips stuttering when the rhythm of his thrusts started faltering. “Gunna fill ya up, make ya heavy w' ma babies.” You widened your eyes out, it was the first time he ever said something like that. But you were willing to give that man all he wanted, make his every wish come true like your life depended on it. You wouldn't say no to him and honestly, the thought of caring his children strangely turned you on even further. A faint smirk managed to creep on your face.

“Ya wan' tha', beautiful? Ya wan' Daddy ta make ya pregnant, hm?” How could you ever say no to him when the neediness in his voice was so obvious?

“P-please, fuck a baby into me.” The strangled sound of your voice while you begged him to fill you up was the fuse for him to finally start shooting ropes of cum into your velvety walls. Your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you weren't able to stop your own orgasm from dominating all your senses. It was like the world stopped spinning and the whole Universe contributed to make that moment perfect.

As both of you came down from your highs, Daryl gently brushed a strand of hair off your cheek, tugging it behind your ear to place a soft kiss to your temper. In that moment, the sounds of your labored breathing as you struggled to catch your breath was all that could've been heard until he let out a light chuckle.

“Can't believe we did this.” You could hear a smile in his voice while he pressed his cheek against the back of your head for a last time before adjusting his position, sitting down on the dirt and gently grabbing your arms, helping you do the same. Even though you were in the middle of the woods, you couldn't care less about it. All you wanted was to be in Daryl's strong embrace. “But I'm glad we did” You whispered, snuggling his chest.

<end of flashback>

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~4 months later~

It still felt vivid.

It's like you could still feel his love from 4 months ago, the way he groped your body and made love to you like it was the last time. How ironic, if somebody told you that was actually the last time, you would have laughed right in their face. Now, as you unwrapped the towel off your naked body and tossed it aside to stare at yourself into the mirror, you wondered if you'd made the right choice, if you really should've let the heat of the moment get the best of you.

Your belly was round and your bellybutton was puffing out, an unusual look to you but it's been your reality for the past 4 months. You didn't really know how to feel about it. You were happy to be the one having the privilege to carry Daryl's baby, but at the same time it still felt so new and strange to you. And the way he felt so distant since the day when he knocked you up was not helping you feel any better about it.

He wasn't exactly neglectful of your needs as a pregnant woman. He was always around you, making sure you were safe, helping you through the symptoms of pregnancy, holding your hair up whenever you threw up. He was there, but at the same time, he wasn't.

4 months ago Daryl used to be so eager for you, always so thirsty for you. And now, he just left you aching for his touch. Whenever you tried to initiate some intimacy, he turned you down, leaving you confused at his strange behavior. He definitely wasn't the type of guy to refuse sex, at least not after knowing you, so you started wondering if you were the problem.

The stretch marks on your belly were getting more and more obvious as the time passed, your breasts all swelled up with milk. You gained some weight, and as you leaned in closer to check on your face on the mirror, you could see how round your face was getting.

Disgust.

That's what you felt when you looked at yourself. You were so sure your looks were the reason why Daryl wanted nothing to do with your body ever since you got pregnant. As that feeling filled up your whole body, you quickly started putting some clothes on, not able to look at yourself like that not even for one more second. Maybe he didn't like you in dresses, you wondered, trying to find a reasonable motive for his absence when it came to the moments of intimacy between you two that used to be so frequent and special in your relationship. Anyways, loose dresses were all that fit your body as your belly grew bigger and bigger each day.

It just broke your heart. The feeling of helplessness took over you as thick tears ran down your face, smearing the makeup you started to put on to see if it would make him even just a little bit interested in you. But just as all your other attempts, it was useless. You brought your soft palm to your mouth to muffle your sobs, but that only reminded you of how Daryl used to do the same exact thing to muffle your moans when he loved your body. More and more tears streamed down your cheeks as you reminisced your last time together like that.

You made a decision. You didn't want to suffer like that anymore, so you decided that you were gonna try to get his attention for the last time before shutting down completely. You didn't wanna give his love up, but you were so tired of practically begging for him only for him to brush you off every time. You sighed and looked at yourself on the mirror for the last time, wiping your tears away and taking a deep breath before going about your day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~Later that same day~

It was dark and Daryl still hadn't come home from his run. He was out scavenging, or hunting, you weren't even sure since you didn't bother to ask much. You had promised yourself that you were going to try to be intimate with him one last time, but that day he just vanished, leaving you waiting for him all day until you gave up waiting. You weren't only disappointed, you were almost angry at him, trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. But who were you trying to fool? That didn't make you feel better at all and you weren't sure if he noticed it.

It was happening again, that one familiar knot started forming in your throat as your lips pouted and you pulled the blanket over your head, feeling embarrassed at your own vulnerability. You brought a hand to your own belly, gently stroking it. Oh, how you loved that little bundle of happiness that was growing inside you. But at the same time, you felt so strange about it. You loved your baby, that's for sure, but you felt like it was the reason why Daryl didn't want you anymore. At the same time it made you hopeful of a new beginning in life, it was reminder of the day when Daryl stopped finding you attractive, even remotely.

Once again you weren't able to hold your sobs back, but this time, you were forced to abruptly swallow them down when you heard the creak sound of the door being gently pulled open. You knew who it was, and you almost wish you didn't.

“Pumpkin'?” Daryl's quiet voice filled the room as he called you that stupid nickname he only used when he knew you were feeling down. You didn't answer.

Light footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer to the bed before you felt the weight of his body on the edge of the mattress. “Y/N, hun'?” He called for you again, but when he got no answer for the second time, he reached for you, gently touching your arm from over the blanket.

“What do you want?" Your tone sounded a bit harsher than you intended to, but you didn't care. He sighed.

“I think we need ta talk, pumpkin'” He voice, making you even more frustrated.

“Quit calling me that, alright?” The muffled sound of your voice reached his ear, and he flinched a little at your sudden aggressiveness, removing his hand from you.

He was silent for a moment, digesting your strange reaction after speaking again with an even softer tone. “Aigh'.” He sighed. “Listen, Y/N...” It's like he was struggling to form a sentence. He was never really the type of person to have the right words or to know what to say to comfort somebody, but he tried nonetheless.

“I need ta know wha's happenin' if ya wan' me ta help.” He muttered. You almost felt guilty at the way you were treating him, but you had enough.

“Ugh, Daryl.” The way you said his name had a hint of scorn, a clear reflexion of the troubled feelings in your heart. You finally pulled the blanket off your face, lifting your body up to sit down on the mattress in a quick and almost aggressive motion. “Who the fuck said I need your help? Just leave me alone, ignore me like you always do.” You spitted out, looking deep into Daryl's widened out eyes. “I don't want you here.” You continued. You knew damn well you were saying all that because you thought that's how he felt, like some sort of revenge, but your heart was broken because of him. It was his fault and you were tired of pretending everything was okay. “Why don't you go fuck some other slut out there? Maybe they're better, thinner, prettier than me!” Your tone was filled with hurt as you voiced your insecurities. “Maybe you should be with them once and for all.” You practically whispered that last line, muttering under your breath.

The truth was you started considering the possibility of Daryl having an affair behind your back ever since you got pregnant. And you just couldn't take it, you couldn't help the way your heart shattered at the thought of Daryl putting his hand on another woman, making her feel good just how he used to do when he still loved you. You were so sure he hadn't left you yet just because he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing that he left a pregnant woman behind. You knew that was the only reason was he still bothered to even talk to you.

Daryl was so dumbfounded by your attitude, since you were usually such a sweet and caring person, that he freezed. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just sit there, looking obviously negativity affected by your harsh words, wondering what the hell did he do to deserve that kind of treatment.

“Y/N-” He started talking, but you were having none of it. You spent so long begging him attention that now you just didn't want it anymore. When he threatened to scoop closer in a final attempt to ease things out, you surprised him by pushing him away from you with your hand pressed on his chest. “Get out!" You practically yelled. That was the most shocked you've ever seen Daryl's face before. After a moment, he averted his gaze to the floor, looking lost in thought before standing up and nodding slowly, knowing better than to push you harder. He walked to the door and closed it behind him, finally leaving you alone as you wanted him to. Or at least that's what you thought.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ *One week later*

You haven't seen Daryl since your last one-sided argument. If you missed him before, now the feeling got even worse. Ever since he closed that door a week ago, you haven't even heard of him. Maybe he'd left you for good. But could you blame him? You literally kicked him out of your life like it didn't matter. But after all, he was the one that made it feel like it didn't matter. That's what you had to keep feeling yourself, trying to comfort your poor soul or make yourself feel any less guilty. It didn't really work, though.

You tried. When he was gone for the first day, you wasted no time before trying to make it up to all the time you lost longing for him. You flirted with random men and women, trying to catch a glimpse of that feeling you used to get when Daryl gave you attention, but it wasn't the same, it didn't feel remotely similar. Maybe pushing him away like that was a mistake, maybe you had really lost him.

But fuck it. You were pregnant with his baby and he still had the gut to leave you behind. You had every single right to be mad and to try to restart your life, this time away from him. Even though it had been only one week, it felt like an eternity, every second he wasn't there made you feel every cell on your body begging for him, but you couldn't give in.

Sigh.

Spencer. You noticed the way he looked at you before and after you got pregnant. His gaze didn't change, he still licked his lips and looked you up and down with that stupid smirk on his face everytime you walked by. He was often the reason for arguments between you and Daryl when you were still together, but now, there was nothing stopping you. Not that you were attracted to him exactly, to be honest, he kind of annoyed you, but you just wanted to try. You just wanted to give yourself a chance to be loved, actually loved, not only for your looks. Deep inside, you knew you were just needy to feel something, anything, but you couldn't be blamed for wanting to feel okay after such a long time of feeling neglected.

You turned your head to search for him just to notice he was already staring from afar. You turned your head to face forward again, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the way he looked at you. Now that Daryl was gone, that type of behavior wasn't unusual coming from Spencer. He got even more spunky than before, flirting with you every single time he had the opportunity to. You swallowed your pride, trying to convince yourself that you were actually into him, taking a moment to decide whether or not to approach him and try something. You knew he wouldn't reject you, you just needed to dominate your heart that was still very much in love with Daryl and move on with your life, and maybe trying something with someone new was the first step to finally get over him.

As you gathered up the nerve to walk over to Spencer, slowly turning your body, you gasped in surprise noticing that he was already standing behind you. You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear him approaching you.

“Easy there, doll.” He uttered. It felt weird to have anyone else that wasn't Daryl calling you pet names, but you quickly shook those thoughts away, trying to focus on the present. “Hey.” You answered, sounding significantly more uninterested than you meant to.

“What's eating you?” He pondered with a hint of playfulness in his voice and that stupid grin once again when he noticed your stiffness.

“Nothing.” You faked a smile. “What you been up to?” You tried to remain polite but flirty at the same time, trying your best to cover up how much you found him annoying. It was for the best, you thought. You just needed to adapt.

“Well...” He came closer. You had to fight all the urges to step away. “You know, the usual. I was just...” His fingers brushed your cheek before tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. Too close. But you continued playing along as he resumed his speech. “... Admiring your beauty.” God, could he get any cornier than that? It's like everyone that wasn't Daryl just looked so stupid trying to get your attention. There was you again, thinking about the archer. You sighed, failing to mask your lack of interest towards Spencer, but you managed to speak either way.

“Uh... Thanks...” You scratched the back of your head, feeling uncomfortable at his advances, but you tried to remind yourself that that whole thing meant a new start.

He looked so full of himself when he puffed his chest and had the audacity to say: “Can I follow you home?” You tilted your head in confusion. “Huh?” For the first time since you acknowledged his presence, he actually had your attention.

“Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams.” He said that as if it was the most genius thing one could say. You had to make physical effort not to throw up or burst out laughing right there and then. The hell was that supposed to mean? Were you really the type of woman to fall for corny pick-up lines? But... You didn't really had other options. You had to give him a chance, maybe he was the one.

Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything, so you just stood there with a stupid fake smile on your face. Spencer must've interpreted that as an invitation, because he leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You two weren't even 3 minutes into that conversation and he was already all over you. You wondered if that whole situation was awkward just for you, because he behaved as if he had you wrapped tight around his finger.

You really, really wanted to start running right away from him, but you were paralyzed, trying to decide if you should stay or go. But before you could make up your mind, he pulled you in by the back of your head, connecting your lips together.

Ugh.

It was probably the most awkward kiss of your life, as if you just forgot how to kiss in that moment. You widened your eyes out at the uncalled situation, and as he licked, bit and kissed your lips, yours remained stiff, like he was kissing you but you weren't kissing him. You felt deeply disgusted. What were you doing? Just like your lips, your arms were rigid on your sides, but his hands were roaming all over your body. You felt assaulted, even though you were allowing him to do that.

You wondered how the hell you ended up there: pregnant, with a missing boyfriend and making out with some douchebag out of emotional deprivation. In that moment, it finally clicked, you were just trying to fill the hole Daryl's absence left in your heart, and putting up with Spencer's audacious manners was no way of dealing with grief.

You finally pushed him away, accidentally sounding too annoyed. “See you around.” You spitted out before turning around and leaving him standing there in confusion, or maybe confidence, you didn't know since you didn't bother to study his reaction before quickly entering the house you were settled in in Alexandria.

You closed the door behind you, pressing your hands on your face, fighting the urge to scream and let all that frustration out. You slowly slid your back against the wooden door until your bottom reached the floor. If one word could describe you right now, it was helpless. For the hundredth time in the past few months, you started crying. It was like it was all you knew how to do since you lost control of your life. Oh, how you regretted that one moment 4 months ago where you slipped, causing your life to be destroyed right before your eyes while not being able to do a thing about it. Now not only you felt ugly, but you felt ugly and lonely. Your sobs got louder and louder as you wrapped your arms around your legs, lowering your head to press your forehead to your knees.

Knock-knock

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door. You abruptly interrupted your crying, feeling embarrassed at the possibility that someone's heard you like that. After a few seconds, you heard another knock. You sighed.

“Leave me alone...” You muttered loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. You knew it was probably Carol coming to visit, maybe bringing you some cookies or something like that to make you feel better. It was so sweet of her, but you hated how everyone was treating you ever since Daryl disappeared. You just couldn't take the look in their eyes, the so obvious pity they felt. After all, you were a recently abandoned mother, and Carol along with your other group mates, just wanted to be there for you. Little did they know they were just making it worse.

When you were starting to think the person finally left, you heard a third knock on the door. Whoever was there, didn't seem to be giving up soon. You almost felt grateful for having someone give a shit about you, but deep down you just wanted to be left alone. You breathed out for a last time before standing up with difficulty due to your heavy pregnant belly and reaching for the doorknob, contemplating whether you should let them in or not. Then, you turned it and slowly pulled the door open.

Your eyes remained glued to the floor, not having the courage to look into anyone's eyes right now. Then, to your surprise, a familiar hoarse voice made its way to your ears.

“The hell was tha'?” You swiftly lifted you chin up, locking eyes with him, the man who left you when you needed him the most. He definitely had seen your pathetic attempt of feeling appreciated with Spencer. For a millisecond, you were actually relieved to see Daryl, but quickly enough anger flooded your senses once again. It's like it was all coming back to you, the same exact feeling from one week ago when you saw him for the last time making your blood boil once again. How did he dare to disappear into the world and then come back as if nothing happened?

You didn't wanna waste no more time with him and that situation anymore, it was just too nerve-wracking and you just needed a break from all that. So you aggressively pushed the door aiming to slam it on his face, but he was more cunning and placed a hand on the way, stopping it from closing all the way.

“Please, Y/N!” He almost shouted, visibly impatient. You turned your back and started walking further into the house, ignoring his calls for you.

“Can ya please just talk ta me?!” He continued, following you around. You remained trying to disconsider his presence.

“Why r ya doin' this fer, woman?!” Now, he finally yelled. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you. In that moment, you felt like any hint of the caring man you once loved had faded away forever. The feeling hit you like a truck and you stopped your angry steps, turning around so your back was facing him. You couldn't stop your tears from falling not even if you wanted to, and suddenly, all your anger was replaced with a deep sadness. You weren't even trying to muffle your loud noises, sniffing and sobbing hard. When he saw you like that, he decided to just drop it and pretend like he hadn't seen you kissing that bastard. It felt a sacrifice to him, but he didn't want to make you feel worse than you already did.

For a few moments, Daryl gave you some space, not trying to startle you or make things worse. Then, after a while of silence and almost feeling as if you were alone in the room, you felt a warm breath hitting your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, something you hadn't felt in such a long time.

He studied your reaction, and when he felt it was okay to touch you, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back closer to his chest. That made you cry even harder, the sting in your heart getting worse. But at the same time, it felt so good to finally be in his embrace once again. You had missed his strong arms and his warmth so bad, it was a mix of confusion and relief. You wanted to push him away, yell at him, tell him to go, but the second his scent of cigarettes and wet grass filled your nose, you knew you wouldn't be able to. That's how much you missed him, though you weren't ready to asmit it just yet.

“Jus'... lemme talk to ya..." He whispered, placing a soft kiss to the skin behind your ear. And just like that, you melted in his hands. You had no idea what to say, but you were willing to listen to whatever came out of his mouth.

“I jus' wanna know wha' happened. I understand, 'm s'pposed ta know and 'm a dick fer not knowing, but... If ya don' talk ta me, I... I jus' won' know how ta make things righ'.” He was so gentle with his words, so caring. He sounded actually worried, making the situation so puzzling to you. You opened to mouth to speak, but nothing came out of it.

“Ya said sumthin' 'bout me goin' out with other women...” He spoke after a few seconds. “Wha'... Wha' was that all about? I would never...” Daryl didn't really have a way with his words, but you could see he was putting effort into talking to you and trying to fix things. The way he kept you tightly into his hug and his fingers brushed gently against your arm were actually being helpful, and your sobs slowly faded away as your tears stopped falling.

“You don't want me anymore." That's all you managed to speak before you felt tears threatening to fall once again, but you inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to keep calm. You couldn't see his face, but Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Wha'd'ya mean, hun'?” Those pet names never failed to make you weak in the knees. “I couldn't ever, ever stop wantin' ya. Ever.” He whispered the last word. As he did so, he traveled one hand down your plump belly, caressing it ever so gently. It almost made you want to cry again.

“Then where did you go? Why'd you leave me? Why'd ya even come back?” Even though you stopped crying, your voice was still unstable.

“...'Cuz ya asked me ta and I... I wanted ta respect yer choice. 'M here now 'cuz... I can't live withoutcha. I... need a second chance.” Now, he was the one with a shaky voice. Seeing him like that broke your heart.

“I told you to leave because I didn't wanna force you to be with me. I didn't...” You gulped. “I didn't wanna baby trap you or something like that, I don't know...” You sniffed. Throughout that whole conversation, you kept your arms stiff. But then, you lifted one of them to wipe your nose with back of your hand.

“...I don' get it.” He mouthed. You sighed, finally turning to look at him. After such a long time, looking into his eyes was a remedy to your infirm heart.

“Look, Daryl, I know I'm not in my best shape, alright? I know this whole 'baby' thing changed me, I know that my body ain't the same anymore. All these stretch marks, my face, my belly, I know it all deforms me and...” He just stood there with an unreadable expression. “...And you have every reason not to find me attractive anymore, and I'm just so sorry that I kept pushing you into having sex with me, I should've just given you some space, I...” Those stubborn tears you've been trying to hold back finally get the best of you. “I'm sorry that I snapped at you, I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch, you... You shouldn't see me like this, and... And I-”

Daryl interrupted your babbling nonsense, grabbing your face with both of his hands and pulling you in for what felt like your first kiss. It was probably the most gentle you've ever been kissed in your whole life. You didn't know you craved the warmth of his calloused hands against your wet cheeks that badly until you had it. Everytime a thick tear dared to run down your beautiful face, he quickly wiped it away with his thumbs. After what felt like an eternity, he slowly broke the kiss, but remained with his forehead pressed against yours.

“Yer the most beautiful woman 've ever seen.” His sweet whispers made you finally feel safe after feeling lost for so long. “N there's nuthin', nuthin' in this world tha' could ever change tha'.” You were left speechless as he contradicted you. “If only ya knew how badly I wanted ta touch ya... It's not easy seein' you walk 'round all heavy with ma babies, knowin' I was the one tha' made ya like this n not bein' able to eat you up alive... God, ya look so...” He let out a guttural grunt. “...So fuckin' hot.”

Your mind was rushing. So this whole time he didn't think you looked terrible? He actually... Liked it? In your head, it made no sense.

“If you wanted me so badly, then why did you reject me over and over again?” There was a very obvious hint of hurt in your voice, like you were trying hard to believe his words but your own insecurities were stopping you. He averted his gaze from your eyes for the first ever since you broke the kiss. For a moment, he looked in a contemplative state.

“I got scared.” He admitted. Your eyes narrowed.

“...Of what?” You asked. What could ever make Daryl, the most brave man you know, scared?

“Hurtin' ya.” You tilted your head, still not convinced of his reasons. Your silence served as a cue for him to resume speaking. “Seein' you like this... I jus' wanted ta protect you. I... I never thought I'd ever have a child of my own 'n... I don' know how ta say this, but...” His thumb brushed against your cheek once again. “...I thought ya were doin' this fer me. I thought maybe, I dunno... Maybe you felt like ya had to be there fer me, y'know, sexually...” He was stuttering and struggling to speak his mind. “I felt like if I said yes... I'd be forcin' ya.” He placed a peck on your soft lips. “But I do wan' ya. 'Ve been wantin' ta have ma way with ya fer so long...” He closed his eyes.

“Then what's stopping you?” You challenged him. You almost felt stupid for thinking he didn't want you that whole time and he was actually just trying to protect you. As those words left your mouth, his eyes snapped open, and suddenly, they had a different aura to them. They were darker.

I'm a swift motion, Daryl pulled you in for another kiss, but this time, a more needy one. Though his touch showed he was aching for you, it was still gentle. He didn't wanna hurt you, after all you were still pregnant.

He gently bit down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before letting it snap back. His piercing gaze found yours and the way he smirked at you made your body tremble in anticipation.

His hands found the strap of your dress, slightly fidgeting with the tied bow strap over your shoulder just to tease you. And when he finally undid it, your dress slid down your body and onto the floor, revealing your semi-bareness to him.

That's when it kicked again, your self-consciousness taking a hold of you and in a flash, you felt the urge to cover yourself up. Daryl hadn't seen you naked ever since the last time you were intimate together, you two even stopped showering at the same time due to all of the previous misunderstandings. It almost felt like one of those dreams where you're completely naked in school, vulnerably standing in front of the judging eyes of everyone else, even though you were still in your underwear. As you felt your face warming up in embarrasement, you shifted your hands to your swollen breasts and your legs instinctively closed.

Your shy manners didn't go unnoticed by Daryl's attentive eyes. “Hun'...” He brought his hands to your own, softly stroking them until you eased your grasp on your breasts. “Ya can trust me.” He murmured. You took a deep breath and you finally let your hands fall to the side, fully revealing your bra to his sight. A smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth and he looked lost in your beauty.

“God, look at those tits...” He said mainly to himself. The way your breasts were all swollen, all heavy with milk awakened desires within him he didn't even know he had. He reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, removing it and tossing it aside.

He wondered how he was able to deny his attention to those beauties for so long. If he had properly talked to you about his intentions from the beginning, probably none of that misinterpretation would've happened, he thought. But that time wasn't one to mourn, but to cherish. Without warnings, he grasped one of your nipples with his mouth like a starving man while gently but firmly squeezing your other one. You let out a small squeak of pleasure, blushing at his sudden eagerness. Some of your milk leaked, and he was quick to lap at the liquid, wasting none of it. The sweet and mild taste of your essence coated his tongue, sending shock waves of ecstasy all the way down to his cock and in no time, his pants started feeling way too tight. But in that moment, he just wanted to make you feel good and appreciated, so he payed little to no mind to his forming erection.

“Ya taste so fuckin' good.” He groaned against your skin. You were too embarrassed to say anything, but you loved when he talked dirty like that to you, it made your pussy even wetter if that was even possible. He kept his attention to your breasts for a while, teasing, flicking and sucking on them until your nipples felt sore. Then, he made a trail of kisses from your under boob until his lips reached your belly button, slowly sinking down on his knees. He placed soft kisses all over your round belly.

“Look at ya, carryin' ma babies like a good girl.” He looked up at you for a moment, biting his lips at you. You gave him a shy smile, clearly affected by his sweet praising, and he found you so adorable like that. He'd been wanting to put his hands on you for so, so long and he finally had the opportunity to. You looked prettier than ever and he was determined to convince you.

“Let's get ya settled, yea?” And with that, he carefully picked you up bridal style, paying attention not to hurt you. He carried you to the couch, laying you down on it on your back, too eager to go upstairs and to your room, he wanted it there and then. Now, feeling a little more confident thanks to all his praising, your legs instinctively spread themselves out for him, revealing a wet stain on your white panties, clear sign of your arousal.

That sight made a smirk creep on his face, his hands roaming up and down your legs as he pulled them even further apart. “Is this all fer me?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. You were so visibly surrendered to him, he could see how much you missed him because he shared the same exact longing.

His hands slowly made their way down to your core, his thumb gently rubbing your clit in circling motions over the fabric of your panties. You were so desperate to feel anything that you felt like his most subtle touch could make you cum in the same second. Still, you wanted more. You needed more.

“D-Dar...” You muttered under your breath, throwing your head back as his finger starting working your clit a bit faster and adding a little more pressure. “Wha' is it, doll, hm? Tell me what ya need.” His teasing words only made you more hungry for him. “Mmm...” You protested, struggling to put your desires into words. “C'mon, jus' say the word and I'll give it ta ya.” He encouraged you with the sweetest tone, slowing down his motions against your extremely sensitive clit just to tease you.

“Eat my fucking cunt like you mean it.” You spitted out, your voice all shaky with need, and even you were surprised at your own bold words.

“Don' need ta tell me twice.” He said before pulling your panties to the side in one swift motion and diving into your wetness, quickly starting his assault on your clit and lapping at your folds. He practically buried his face into you, eating you out like it was the last time. Your back arched in that same second and you already felt embarrassingly close to orgasming. He noticed the way you squirmed and moaned for him, grasping his hair with both hands and humping his face, smearing your slickness all over his handsome features.

And he let you use him for your pleasure however you pleased. That night was about you and about making up to all that wasted time. “D-Daryl...!” Your tone was one of warning. You were barely two minutes in but you could already feel the first orgasmic contractions forming in your lower belly. The way you said his name, he knew damn well you were about to make a mess on his face, and he was all in for it.

You threw your head back and let out a loud high-pitched moan as you coated his tongue with your wetness, and all he could do was hum against your sensitive skin, sending vibrations all over your cunt and intensifying the sensation. Despite your first signs of overstimulation, he continued enthusiastically lapping at your juices until you were a quivering mess under his tongue. You had to manually give his head a very gentle push so you could have a break from that intense pleasure. You chuckled at his excitement to please you. If you had ever felt insecure about any of that before, you couldn't remember it.

He lifted his head up, placing tender kisses on your pregnant belly once again, stroking it lovingly. “Ya want me ta fuck ya, darlin'?” He said as he crawled up your body, getting face to face with you. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing his lips against yours in a sensual dance. “'M takin' that as a yes” He voiced with a hint of playfulness. The thought of being inside you made his cock throb even harder inside his pants, and he knew he just couldn't wait any longer. He reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and taking it off. Then, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pushing it down his thighs alongside with his black briefs just enough to free his cock.

Oh, you missed it so fucking badly. You two used to fuck like rabbits before, and after going 4 whole months without getting dicked down by your man, you were more than desperate to feel him. Now, you finally understood your pregnancy wasn't any type of obstacle for sharing pleasure with him.

You stared down at his now visible erection. He was girthy, and you could feel your cunt stretching out just by looking at him. A small droplet of pre-cum threatened to run down his length, from the tip all the way down to his full balls. When you averted your gaze to his face, you could see he was admiring you while you took in the sight of his cock. Your eyes got all sparkly in anticipation, sharing a knowing look with him. You didn't have to say anything and he was always brushing his tip on your slit.

He gently tapped your clit with his tip, watching closely for your reaction, his smirk not fading away not even for one second. Your pussy was so slippery with your wetness that when he pressed his cock against your slit, it went in with ease.

“Fuck.” You moaned in unison. The feeling of his cock going in for the first time was always one of your favorite parts of fucking Daryl. He tried to hold back a little, still careful not to hurt you since you were pregnant after all, but when you wrapped your legs around his waist, he couldn't help but bury his whole cock inside you in one harsh thrust, yearning loud moans from both of you.

You didn't care at all if it hurt or not, you just needed to feel him inside you. He shut his eyes tight and it was obvious that he was fighting the urge to burst right in that same second. He gritted his teeth and leaned in to press his forehead against yours, slowly starting to move his hips. He wasn't exactly thrusting, it was more like humping his cock inside you, which made you grow more and more impatient. You needed him to pound you.

“P-please, Daryl, just... just fuck me already.” The clear frustration on your voice did it for him, and in no time, he started harshly banging his hips against yours, giving you no time to adjust to the pace. Squelching sounds, your moans and the sound of your skins slapping against each other filled the room in a dirty orchestra. The intense smell of sex made you dizzy.

You were so cock-hungry you could fuck that man for days straight without breaks, and as he gently groped your pregnant belly, you knew he wanted you just as much. You couldn't hold back a smile at the sensation of his palms and fingers gently caressing you, contrasting with his hard thrusts inside your pussy.

It was your favorite whenever he treated you like that, with a mix of tenderness and an urge to absolutely rail you. “Fuck, feels so fuckin' good inside this wet cunt.” The archer almost sounded vulnerable. “'M gunna give ya even more babies, princess.” He whispered, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. The thought of feeling his warm load inside you again made your mind rush and once again, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your high.

As the pleasure grew more intense, your tight walls clenched around Daryl's thick cock, making his legs tremble as he struggled to keep his composure. “Shit baby, if ya keep squeezin' me tight like tha' 'm not gunna last long.” He admitted through gritted teeth. “Don't hold back, give it to me.” Your encouragement words only fueled Daryl's desires even further.

You felt so full, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper, filling you up to the brim. He was still holding onto your round belly, gently not to hurt you, and when you clenched your cunt around him one last time, he moaned louder than ever before.

“Fuckin' take it!” His whole body was shaking as his orgasm coursed through his body. The sight of him like that was so sexy, so dirty and raw that you couldn't help but squirt all over his cock. You didn't even know you could do that, and Daryl looked just as surprised as you as you drenched his cock and lower belly with your arousal. He buried his length deep inside you one last time as the final spurts of his warm cum coated your insides, keeping that position.

“I love ya, Y/N. Dontcha ever forget that again, woman.” He said, placing sweet little pecks all over your face, making you giggle like a little child. “Yer stuck with me. Both of ya.” His hand never left your pregnant belly that whole time, and now, he gently brushed his thumb on it.

“I love you more.” You confessed, bringing a hand to his cheek to cup it, feeling the rough texture of his salt-and-pepper facial hair against your soft hand. As he slightly shifted his position with his cock still deep inside you, you felt how he was still rock hard and ready for you. After such a long waiting, he wasn't ready to stop just yet.

“Round two?” You asked, already predicting his answer.

“Fuck yeah.”

a/n: hi there!! just passing by to thank you for reading this. i know it's not even close to perfect but it took me 10+ hours to write, so i really appreciate you if you read it this far! as i've said before, i'm a beginner writer, so i'm still on the process of adapting and i'm really thankful for all the support you've been showing me. see ya!

GIF by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Carol: So, you and Y/N?

Daryl, fiddling with his crossbow: Mhm.

Carol: Have any couple’s spats yet?

Daryl: Mhm.

Carol: What’s that like?

Daryl: Asked her fer a glass’a water while she was still pissed off. She brought me a cup’a ice n’ said “wait.”

Carol: Creative.

Daryl, trying not to smile: Yeah, she’s alrigh’.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Beginning at the quarry and heavily following the series

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, poorly written smut, masturbation, allusions to abortion, medical blood draw, vomiting, allusions to suicide, minor canonical character death, child injury, pregnancy complications [Will update warnings as we go]

A/N: The series will heavily follow the timeline and events of the show but there will be additional non-canonical events/injuries/etc.

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter Moodboards by @dannyo000: Pg 1, Pg 2

Summary: Daryl met you while hunting to feed the group he saddled himself with at the quarry. It was just sex, no strings attached. Until it wasn’t. Strangers to friends to lovers. A bit of slow burn and angst.

•Chapter 1

•Chapter 2

•Chapter 3

•Chapter 4

•Chapter 5

•Chapter 6

•Chapter 7

•Chapter 8

•Chapter 9

•Chapter 10

•Chapter 11

•Chapter 12

•Chapter 13

•Chapter 14

•Chapter 15……in progress

Gorgeous moodboard by the amazing @dustbunniess ❤️

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ A Mess ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

About: Your husband wasted no time getting his dick wet after the world ended. When you catch your adulterous husband in the act, you find an unlikely companion in Daryl Dixon.

Pairing: Reader!Walsh x Daryl Dixon

Era: Quarry -> Pre-Alexandria/Post-Terminus

Genre/Vibe: TWD typical things, Drama, Romance, Eventual Smut, Survival, Apocalyptic/Dystopian

Warnings: TWD typical violence, spoilers, character deaths, profanity, eventual smut, attempted SA, loss, grief

18+ MDNI

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

'•.¸♡ Teasers ♡¸.•'

╰┈➤        "I'm confused." Andrea spoke up. 

        "Oh, allow me to clarify." You smiled, sickeningly sweet. Lori shook her head at you, but you ignored her. "Shane, my husband, and Lori, have been keeping a secret from us. Care to share with the class?"

        "(Y/N), man, come on. Why you gotta start problems?" Shane let out an exasperated sigh.

        "No? Okay, allow me to speak on your behalf, then. My husband has been fucking Lori, who, if you guys weren't aware, is married to Shane's best friend, who he claims is dead." You said.

»»-------------------►

╰┈➤        "I don't ever wanna catch you near her. Ya hear me? You so much as breathe too heavy in her direction and I'll fuckin' kill you. Ya got that?" Daryl got closer and closer to Shane's face with every word. When Shane didn't answer him; "I said do ya fuckin' understand the words that are comin' outta my mouth?"

»»-------------------►

╰┈➤       "You don't have to watch over me. I can take care of my own shit." You assured him.

        "I know." He said. You felt something warm wrap around your hand. You looked down and it was his own hand, laid over yours, fingers cupping under your palm lazily. 

        "What are you doing?" You asked, looking over your shoulder to him.

        "Dunno. Keep singin'." 

»»-------------------►

╰┈➤        "Here, let me show you." You whispered. You reached up for his face, his hands sliding softly off of your arms. When your palms found his checks,you tippy-toed up a couple of inches, and slowly leaned in, placing your lips softly on his. It wasn't a long, rhythmic kind of kiss. It was just simple and soft, and it lasted just a few seconds longer than a quick peck-and-go.

»»-------------------►

╰┈➤ He massaged you on the inside without ever losing his pace with his tongue. By this point you weren't even moaning anymore, you were blatantly whining. It was almost torture -- it felt so good. The pressure was just enough to keep you on edge, to build up that feeling in your stomach that spread all over, but not quite enough to get you there, not yet. He slipped another finger inside. Your lower half started buzzing, legs trembling as your hips jerked and twitched. You were getting so close.

You, you, you.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Season 10

Word count: 1.2k

Plot: After a long night, Daryl comes home and you decide he needs a little break.

Warnings: It's not smut but its implied? It's nothing explicit ig.

A/N: This is my second fic and I can not believe I'm actually doing this lmao, this is one of my favorite scenes on the show and I've always thought Daryl deserved someone who take care of him after a rough night. Thanks to my friend @weretheones for all the amazing help, I seriously couldnt have done it without u, muah!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The dawn was beginning to come out when the gates of Alexandria came to Daryl’s sight, it had been a long night for him, where everything that could go wrong actually did.

The walk home was silent between the archer and his best friend, the only sound intercepting the thick tension were the grunts of the hooded whisperer trying to set himself free. This would end up really bad, he could feel it in his gut. 

Daryl’s mind was spinning around what happened, trying to understand Carol’s actions. He knew she wasn't the same after what Alpha did, but after all these months he could only hope her grief was at least healing — he was clearly wrong. There was something he couldn't identify in her eyes, more than anger or revenge, something that scared him.

Gabriel saw them coming inside and hurried once he spotted their hostage.

“You put us all at risk!” he barked at Carol.

“We need to find that horde before it shows up in our gates” Carol replied.

“So you decided for all of us? Knowing what it could mean?” Gabriel angrily answered back.

“Don’t matter anymore, we still gotta fin’ them” Daryl's voice came from behind the livid father — “We will figure it out'” he stated, ending the discussion as he started to walk home, to his home. To you. 

He opened the door slowly trying to be quiet, you were probably still asleep and he would be damned if he perturbed your very needed rest.  Daryl placed his crossbow down on the table you reserved for it.  “Come on baby!” you pouted, “This way you can always know where you left it and it’s easy for you to grab it on a run! It’s a win - win, don't you think?”  Your eyes were so wide with excitement he couldn't say anything else but to peck your lips while nodding “Alrigh’” he simply answered. 

The memory made him smile, then, it hit him. That was the reason why Carol’s intentions to stir things up scared the hell out of him: he was finally happy.  After so many years of walking on eggshells just surviving, being with you gave his life meaning, and the idea of you being in danger for her impulsive actions unsettled him, he couldn’t lose you.   Daryl sighed as he began to take his vest off, a fresh pair of clothes should be enough to remove the smell and fatigue from the night before.

“Hey, you’re back” your voice broke his thoughts. Daryl turned to you and his heart jumped.  You were together for more than 6 months now and he still couldn't believe he was lucky enough to behold you like this.

“Msorry, didn't mean to wake ya, go back to sleep angel” he softly said.

You frowned, something was wrong. “What happened? Is everything ok?” you replied with a sweet tone in your voice. 

He bit his bottom lip, staring at the window. “It’s Carol, she took one of em’ here, I, huh, helped her '' he wasn't certain why, but he felt ashamed as he spoke —“We will try to make him talk”.

Your mouth formed an “O” picking up on what troubled the archer. Alpha could take retaliation if she knew what happened. Shit.

“Come on baby” you softly said, raising your hand so he could take it. “We need to get you clean first”.

You led him to the bathroom. Unsure of what was happening he followed every step you made with the feeling of thousands butterflies in his stomach. The way his old shirt embraced every one of your curves barely covering your bottom made his heart race. He never thought getting a shower could be this exciting.  Sitting on the sink, Daryl watched you unbutton his shirt very slowly, pecking at the skin revealed with every button that was undone. Soon, his broad chest was displayed and you smirked with satisfaction. Bringing your hands to his neck, you brushed his lips just a little and whispered “Let me take care of you, please”. 

Daryl trembled, he didn't feel tired anymore. 

Once you were satisfied with the temperature of the water, you took your robe off getting into the shower. Daryl couldn't help but stare as he got rid of his boxers, the sight of your naked body wasn't something he would ever get used to. 

The hot water splashed against his ached body, making him gasp with delight. You chuckled at the action “I thought you didn't like showers, huh?” you teased him.  “I like them with ya” Daryl sheepishly answered.

Your eyes traced his whole body searching for injuries that might need more than just some cleaning, to your relief, there wasn't anything new. Taking a sponge, you delicately started to wash his chest, paying extra attention to every one of his scars, caressing them gently, wishing they could disappear along with his pain, just like the soap with the water. Daryl’s eyes were glued to the action, feeling a warm sensation spreading over his broad frame, god, he loved you. 

“I know you’re worried” he looked into your eyes, listening to your words closely, “But I need you to understand, whatever happens, I’m here for you, we can always fight together”  You placed his hand on your left breast, “Do you feel it? My heart beating?” Daryl nodded, lost in the sensation of your soft skin against his rough hand. 

You kissed him deeply, wanting to make him forget about the troubles of the world he always felt the need to carry on his shoulders. “I love you Daryl” you whispered between kisses. Daryl felt like crying, he wasn't used to this kind of burning, unconditional love. “I love ya too” Daryl managed to answer, unable to concentrate in anything else but the feeling of your lips on his, you were the only thing in his mind. Every fiber of his body was consumed in you. You, You, You. 

Soon, the steam from the hot water wasn't the reason the bathroom was boiling, it was the way you both got lost into each other until you became one.

Daryl came out of the house with his hair dripping, Gabriel approached him as soon as he spotted him. 

“Did you take a shower?!” he said with a hint of surprise in his voice “I thought we were going to check on that whisperer guy?”

Daryl remained stoic to the father's questions but he felt himself blushing, just when he was about to brush him off Aaron caught up with them.

“Hey! We were looking for you!” he exclaimed, pointing at Daryl — “You showered?!” Aaron’s eyes widened with disbelief and Daryl left a frustrated grunt.

 “Can't take a damn shower or what?” Daryl growled as he walked away from the two men with a hidden grin on his face. 

⊹ ⋆ ꒰ఎﾟMOODBOARD ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

biker!daryl dixon x reader

“c’mon, hun” daryl caressed your arm as he walked passed you and towards his bike. your eyes followed him as you turned around only to see him turn on the engine. “let’s get outta here” he said waiting for you and with an excited little smile, you walked to him. his protective gaze never leaving you as the soft touch of your hand laid on his shoulder and you sat down behind him ready for the wild ride.

⊹ ⋆ ꒰ఎﾟMOODBOARD ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

daryl dixon x secret!reader

“we’ve talked about this, doll” he stated while caressing your soft hair affectionately. “i’m keepin’ ya safe, the world is fucked up out there” daryl explained and you sighed in defeat, cuddling up against his chest. the candle light illuminated the bedroom in the safety of the hidden house he kept you in. the idea of going out without him terrified you so eventually, you gave up asking. after all, he wouldn’t lie to you, would he?

I’ll be the first to admit I’m a total trope groupie and AS ALWAYS @sourwolf-sterek32 has managed to make me have a high pitch squeak + happy dance moment in this one.

The trope in question is modeled by Mr. Reeves below

I’m a sucker for the “one person protects the other by covering them with their own body”. It is so rarely used anymore!! Artfully delivered in this chapter in what might be an unnecessary move but it says SO MUCH about the feels between Daryl and the heroine.

I think one of the things I love best about this fic and something that I don’t know if I’ve ever seen delivered as perfectly in any fandom, is that the fic isn’t about a Mary Sue heroine, it isn’t a snog fest of the heroine and Daryl... It’s truly just the retelling of the story with a truly charismatic and original character.

Course, the slow burn between the heroine and Daryl is just the cherry on top ❤️

Unforgettable Memories ( Daryl Dixon x Reader )

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister. You used to be in the military and have enough PTSD to last a lifetime. With Shane’s help you created the quarry camp and came across the Dixon brother’s in the woods. You bought them back to camp, but after that everything changed and you were still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not. 

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Rick’s Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings)

Chapter 10- 

“Did you just lock us in?” You heard Glenn question from somewhere and you quickly spun around and sighed with relief when you spotted Carl, realising that everyone was still together and nobody had left the room yet.

“You son of a bitch. You let us out of here!” Daryl yelled and you turned back around just in time to see him throwing the bottle of alcohol before he ran towards the doctor. Jenner was now sitting on a chair by the computer, but Shane quickly grabbed Daryl before he could do anything.

“Jenner, open that door now.” Rick ordered, marching over to him as you adjusted the strap of your assault rifle over your shoulder, your eyes scanning the room for any other exits. 

Keep reading

THIS IS SO FRICKIN CUTE I'M DYING 😭😭😭

Silent Night || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Request from my old blog: "I was wondering if you could to a little thing of daryl and a female mute reader? If you can, maybe selective mutism, so there can be some trust building themes and things! Just fluff, and two idiots in love"

Summary: You get stuck in a cabin overnight with Daryl. He tries to get to know you. Lots of trust building and cute bonding.

18+MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, sad backstory, TW: child loss, mostly cute

        Daryl lit the fire in the old fireplace, rubbing his hands together and holding them out to soak up the heat. It was dark and rather chilly with the roaring storm outside. It had blown in fast, and the torrential downpour was too much to drive in. With slow squeaky windshield wipers and dim headlights that desperately needed replacing, there was no other option. Daryl pulled over to the first cabin he saw and rushed you inside, leaving the two of you to spend the night in an old dusty cabin that smelled like mildew and aged wood.

        "Should start warmin' up in a bit." He told you, standing up and looking around. He didn't bother waiting for a response, you wouldn't have anything to say. Nobody had ever heard you talk. I mean, sure, people did when yo were younger, before the turn. You weren't deaf like Connie. You thought it was probably just a trauma response. The day you came home to find your fiancé hunched over your two year old daughter, blood pooling on the ground... You could just never bring yourself to speak after that. When you heard your voice, you heard goofy laughs with your baby, sweet talks in bed with your man, phone calls with family and friends. Nowadays there was never anything worth talking about. Every time you tried to speak you were flooded with sweet memories and clouded by the terrible image of your undead lover eating your baby, your world. It was like this large painful lump in your throat had made a home there and prevented any sound from coming out.

        Nobody actually even knew your name. You never told them. They usually just called you Jane, as in Jane Doe. Daryl didn't mind you at all, though. In fact, he was quite fond of you. You were pretty, you could hold your own, and you were also... pretty. So pretty. He couldn't keep his eyes off you some days. He was never sure if you noticed, and you really didn't. That was really only because you tried your best not to look at him. You were helplessly attracted to him, so anything to avoid giving that away, you did.

        "Still got them bars in your bag?" He asked you, referring to the protein bars Carol sent you with. You opened your bag and tossed him one, opening another one for yourself.

        The two of you ate in silence. He tossed you a water bottle from his own bag, and you drank.

        Then, it was just the two of you, left to occupy yourselves. He spent an hour or so sharpening arrows and tweaking bits and pieces on his bow. You mostly just laid on the couch and picked at your nails, or scabs, or stared up at the ceiling, watching the spiders in their webs. 

        His mind was plagued with questions. Every time he was alone with you he found himself wondering the same things. Where were you from? What was your story? Why didn't you speak? What was your name?

        He got frustrated with he lack of answers or anything else to stimulate his mind and distract him. He sighed and pushed himself back and forth in the old dingy rocking chair.

        "Need to find you a notepad or somethin' like Connie has." He spoke.

        You looked over at him.

        "Just sayin', silence is deafening, y'know?"

        You just looked back up at the ceiling.

        "What about.. Okay." He sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. You looked back at him. "What if I asked you... yes or no questions. You can just nod or shake your head." He sounded hopeful and bored. You almost wanted to laugh at his eagerness, like a little kid trying to get his grandpa to tell him stories from the war.

        You didn't answer, because, of course not, but you just watched him curiously, not giving any indication of refusal.

        "Alright. Do you like fishing?"

        You furrowed your eyebrows. 

        "Right. You don't fish." He nodded. "Stupid question. What about.. Okay. Have you ever talked?"

        You gave a single nod after a moment of deciding if you want to tell him that or not.

        "Do you know why you stopped?"

        The question was like a dagger in your chest. You decided you didn't wanna play anymore. You just sighed and turned your attention back to the ceiling. 

        He didn't press further. He just stood up and started to wander, checking all the cabinets in the kitchen for anything useful. He found one thing, a can of Spam. 

        "You like Spam?" He asked, walking back into the living room. You glanced over at him and shook your head. You weren't hungry. He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He said as he dug into the canned meat.

        "Y'know, I had a friend. Her name was Beth. She died, and uh, I didn't talk much after that. It was hard to. Like my throat got all tight every time I tried." He said. "It took a while, but I got through it."

        You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to relate, hoping you'd open up some. You wished it was that easy, you really did. It was miserable having all these thoughts, needs, desires, and no way to express them.

        You knew you could speak, if you really wanted to. The problem was that you had never wanted to work hard enough to get past the lump.

        "You, uh, you're really no fun at sleepovers. Y'know that?"

        Silence. He waited a while. He wondered if he could make you laugh. He couldn't recall ever seeing you give more than a smile. He remembered the story he told Andrea all those years ago, and how it made her laugh.

        "Y'know, this one time when I was a kid. I got lost in the woods. I'm talkin' days, right. So, I gotta use the bathroom at some point. I wiped with leaves, cause I didn't have toilet paper or nothin', and turned out, it was poison ivy. I made it home eventually. Ass itched somethin' serious. I'm talkin' pullin' my underwear 'til the wedgie was so bad it gave me rug burn. Tried everything. Even took a fork outta the kitchen  and tried that. Nothin' helped."

        You were watching him now, grinning. A fork? Really? You wanted to ask if he threw it away or left it to get washed and used. He admired your smile for some time, before it faded. At least he got that.

        "My brother was in juvie back then. Dad wasn't around either. Did I ever tell ya about the time Merle got crabs?"

        You shook your head,

        "Well, he came home one night from the bar. Passed out. Next day he couldn't stop itchin'. Come to find out, there were little bugs crawlin' around in his pubes."

        You frowned in disgust.

        "Anyways, tried to tell the dumb son of a bitch to just shave 'em off, but he didn't wanna so I had to ride with him to the free clinic to get some kinda dick shampoo. Turns out he slept with the same girl like three more times. Kept goin' back to her 'til the shampoo ran out. Guess he figured it didn't matter if he could keep washin' 'em out."

        You looked mortified.

        "Yeah, guess that wasn't funny." He agreed. "He was a nasty son of a bitch."

        You raised your eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

        "I see you hang around Connie a lot. She ever teach you any sign language?"

        You shook your head.

        "I got a book back home if ya want it."

        You shrugged. Could be nice to communicate again.

        "Looks like ya need new shoes." He commented, nodding to your feet propped up on the arm of the couch. The rubber soles were starting to detach from the shoe itself. You nodded. "Wanna stop somewhere and look?"

        You thought for a moment, nodding and shrugging at the same time, as if to say, 'Why not?'

        He sat back down in the rocking chair and rested his head back. He wasn't tired really. It wasn't even that late. The rain just made it seem darker than it was. He listened to the crackling fire and the windy storm outside, the occasional thunder booming around.

        He looked down at you. You seemed just as restless.

        "Wish I knew more about ya." He admitted.

        Usually he wouldn't be so forward with a pretty girl, but your constant silence made him feel like he was just talking to himself. He didn't have to worry about your reaction, though he often wondered what you thought of him.

        You looked at him again, curiously.

        You glanced around the room for anything you could use to tell him something about you. It could be like a game of charades.

        You noticed a map on the wall and walked over to it, pulling the large frame off the nail and walking over to him. You placed your finger on your home state to show him.

        "That's where you're from?"

        You nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips.

        "I'm from Georgia." He said. You gave an acknowledging nod.

        "Ever been to any other states?"

        You dragged your finger from your home state to  Virginia, showing him you had only been through the states that led you to wind up as one of the Saviors. Of course, you weren't one of Negan's fighters, you were just a maid on the cleanup crew. He had actually seen you a few times during his captivity at The Sanctuary. You almost looked as miserable as him.

        "Mm." He nodded with understanding.

        You set the map on the coffee table and walked around the room, looking for anything else to use as a clue. Your eye caught on a little pink bow, the kind with an elastic band that would go around a baby's head. You picked it up, eyes watering as you ran your fingers over it. You turned back to him and walked back to where he sat, holding it out to show him.

        "Ya like pink?" He asked, not quite understanding. You shook your head, trying to think of a better way to explain. Then you remembered the horizontal scar over your lower abdomen. You had your daughter via C-section.

        You lifted your shirt and pulled the waist of your jeans down slightly to expose the scar. You held the bow up again, then pointed at the scar.

        "Oh." He said lowly. "You had a daughter?"

        You nodded, still teary eyed. You took the bow to your bag, concealing it in one of the zipper pockets. You had run out of the house horrified on that awful day. You had no time to grab a memento for her, so that bow would have to serve as one.

        "I'm sorry." He told you. You just nodded in place of a thanks, wiping the tears away. You continued your search around the little cabin for clues. It was kind of fun, albeit painful. It was like a game.

        You took a little longer this time on your search, until you found a phone book. You took it and flipped open a page and walked back to him. This time he was standing up. 

        You held the book open so that he could see it, and pointed to two individual digits.

        "That's how old you are?"

        You nodded.

        "Is your name in there?"

        You shrugged and set the book down, reasoning that it'd be too much work to find it in all those pages.

        "So, you're (age), you had a daughter, and you're from (state)?"

        You nodded and smiled. This was the most you had communicated with anyone in years. It was nice.

        "Cool." He nodded with a small half smile. "You hungry?"

        You shook your head no.

        "Thirsty?"

        You waved your hand to say kind of.

        "I found some tequila in the kitchen."

        You raised your eyebrows. Now that was temptation if you ever saw it. Tequila was a luxury you hadn't come across in, well, you didn't even know how long. You nodded giddily and he huffed a silent chuckle, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of clear, liquid joy. You rushed over and grabbed it from him, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. You made a dramatic face as you shook your head. God, you didn't remember the burn being that bad.

        "Easy, tiger." He teased as he took the bottle and had some for himself.

        You smiled at him as he handed it back, the two of you taking turns until you felt that alcoholic heat in your ears and cheeks.

        "You like tequila?"

        You shurgged.

        "Just like drinkin'?"

        You nodded.

        "Good to know. If we don't finish this off we can bring it back for ya."

        You nodded and grinned. It was cute how happy you got over a simple drink, but he guessed with so little means of communication, anything was nice to take the edge off. He wondered if you felt lonely, like he often did. His was from a place of feeling misunderstood, though. Maybe it wasn't so different than being mute.

        "Is it hard?" He asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair as you sat on the coffee table just a foot away.

        You tilted your head inquisitively.

        "I mean, not bein' able to talk to nobody." He clarified.

        You nodded truthfully, looking down at the floor as you grabbed the bottle from him. 

        "Do ya remember what your voice sounds like?"

        You thought for a moment. Of course you did, that was what made it so hard. Your voice was linked to memories that you couldn't bare.

        You nodded.

        "Maybe I'll hear it one day."

        You smiled sweetly before you took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding. Maybe he would.

        "Something on the bottle caught your eye, a little sticker stuck to the bottom. You reached over and peeled it off as he tipped it back to take a drink. It was a simple yellow smiley face. You smirked and waited for him to put the bottle down before you reached over and stuck it to his nose.

        "The hell?" He grumbled, peeling it off and looking down at it. You couldn't help the silent giggle, your shoulders rising and falling as you scrunched your nose. The little sticker just contrasted his dark, serious exterior too well.

        He noticed your silent laugh and stuck it back to his nose, smiling a little at your amusement. You reached for the bottle and had some more before you passed it back.

        "Y'think that's funny, huh?"

        You nodded, still grinning. He swished the drink around in his hand, staring at it thoughtfully. He had learned more about you in a couple of hours than anyone probably had in the years you'd been around. Still, it wasn't enough. He was greedy and he wanted more.

        He glanced around the room, the fire growing smaller making it fairly dim. He noticed a little banjo off in the corner near the couch.

        "Ya like music?"

        You nodded.

        "Rick, too. Always playin' the worst CDs he can find. Makes my ears bleed." He complained. "What about like.. drawin' or anything. Got any hobbies?"

        You shrugged. Before, you mostly just liked being a mom and watching your favorite shows. Now, you really only worked to survive, so what hobbies were there really?

        "What about church? You like that kinda thing?"

        You shook your head.

        "Yeah me neither. Never believed in it much."

        You nodded in agreement.

        "My mom did, though. Liked to read the bible. She died. When I was a kid."

        You placed a hand on his knee, letting him know you empathized.

        "Yeah. Dad was a real ass, too. Merle was all I had and he wasn't around all that much."

        You gave a sad, thin smile.

        "What about you? You had both parents?"

        You nodded.

        "Brothers? Sisters?"

        You shook your head. You were an only child.

        "Consider yourself lucky." He joked. You nodded. "Pets? Did ya have any?"

        You nodded.

        "Cat?" 

        You shook your head.

        "Dog?"

        You held up the number two with your fingers.

        "Always wanted a dog."

        You smiled. You loved your dogs.

        "Ya miss 'em? The dogs."

        You nodded.

        He yawned.

        "Ya tired yet or ya wanna keep goin'?"

        You shrugged.

        He passed you the bottle and stood up, ruffling your hair a little. You swatted his hand playfully and took a drink.

        "Gon' make sure the doors are sealed up tight." He announced, walking off to find the back door and reinforce it.

        You stood off the coffee table, the hard surface making your butt sore. You stretched and walked back to the couch. When he came back he asked, "You sleepin' there?"

        You nodded. You would offer it to him, but last time you guys had to share a sleep space he hogged the bed and snored as loud as humanly possible, so this time you were doing him no favors. He laid out some blankets he found, making a nice palette on the floor to lay on. You set the bottle on the coffee table, feeling pretty tipsy by now, and relaxed on the couch the way you had before. He laid down on his back, propping his bag under his head for comfort.

        It was silent for a while, just the two of you enjoying the sounds of rain and the flames that were slowly dying down.

        "Thanks." He spoke up. You peeked down at him from the couch. He was mostly obscured by the coffee table but you could see half of his face.  "For tellin' me all that."

        You just smiled to yourself as you turned on your side, facing away from him and curling up into the ball you usually slept in. A few minutes went by. Just  as his eyes got heavy, he heard it.

        "(Y/N)." You said. "That's my name."

cuteness overload, pls read this 😭

I really love your writing and I was just wondering if you could write something that doesn’t include smut where the reader moves into the trailer park where Daryl and Merle are staying at a friends, Daryl and the reader get close, the reader waits for Daryl but he never makes anything more of their relationship, so the two grow apart, until the reader gets a bf and finally Daryl confesses his feelings

Angels

Paring: Daryl Dixon x female reader

Era: Pre-apocalypse

Summary: You move into the trailer park where Daryl is staying.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of violence, creepy men, and kissing.

Word count: 21,136

Daryl could vividly remember the day he first laid his eyes upon you; the male had been momentarily crashing at an acquaintance's place with Merle, spending his days in a worn trailer, a tiny home placed within a village of copy and paste houses. A trailer park. He had been floating around with his older brother, roaming aimlessly from place to place, couch surfing, before he ended up in the destination he was currently: A paint chipped trailer with holes placed within various walls, ratty furniture retrieved from the depths of a dump inhabiting the home, and old clothes, food, and other objects considered garbage, were littered throughout the domicile. He had lost track of how long he had been staying within the confines of the rotten community, and there was no foreseeable end to his visit. Or at least, not one anytime soon. 

He often spent his days drinking alongside Merle's friends, taking part in fist fights within the front lawn, and nosely observing as other residents did the same. He would waste his days away by rotting in the summer sun, maybe speaking a sentence a day before falling asleep somewhere within the dingy home. The male wasn't too happy with his current situation, he often kept to himself, remaining quiet as he let his mind wander, practically trapped in the fictional world he had created within his own head. 

It was on a day just like any other, he was placed upon the front steps of the small home, legs outstretched as he let a cigarette hang from between his lips, smog surrounding his head as he smoked like a chimney. The hot, summer sun was currently beating down upon his skin, the multiple layers he was supporting proved to add to the sweltering heat as he sat upon the ground, surrounded by his brother and his pals. The group was conversing about some subject that Daryl was unaware of, their voices becoming muffled as he often used their talking as some sort of background noise. 

His vision was pulled from a small bird bathing within the murky water of a puddle placed within a neighbors yard, observing as the tiny critter laced itself in perspiration before the rumble of an oncoming vehicle echoed throughout the small town. The male’s head slowly turned towards the direction the noise had erupted from, eyes scanning over two of Merle’s friends beginning to shove one another angrily before his eyes landed upon the road placed to his right.

There was an unfamiliar truck approaching, dirt and dust flying up from the poorly paved concrete, the light brown cloud caged itself around the vehicle as it slowly made its way down the pavement. Daryl had no recollection of the truck, it was one he had never spotted within the vicinity before, but he wasn't quick to make assumptions about the cars backstory, as an array of vehicles often entered the community before seemingly vanishing the following day, never to be seen again. His eyes watched as the vehicle passed in front of him, heading towards a vacant trailer placed about two or three houses down the street. 

As the car parked within the small driveway carved in front of the home, the male rolled his eyes, uninterested in another pesky civilian who would wake him up within the night with their self indulgent yelling or another community member who would soon rob him of the few belongings he still contained. He observed for a moment longer, about to yank his vision away from the rusting pick up as its engine shut off, the previous rumbling, that had been plaguing the vicinity, dyed away before the driver's side door popped open.

His breath caught within the depths of his throat as his eyes landed upon you: Your legs slipped from the vehicle, feet dangling from the side of the truck momentarily as your fingers curled around the doorframe. Your thighs were glazed in a layer of sweat as the male watched your nails grip at the metal before you eventually pushed your figure from the chambers of the vehicle, finally revealing yourself to the males awaiting eyes.

Your feet landed upon the concrete with a slight thud as the souls of your shoes thrashed against the ground, legs vibrating for a few seconds, threatening to give out before you turned, placing your back towards the biker as you reached for the door. You were supporting a pair of shorts, skin laced in perspiration as the sun rays being cast down upon you were unfaltering, the liquid glued to your flesh caused your skin to glow underneath the burning star placed within the cloudless sky. As you placed your palms upon the door, pushing it shut with force, a loud bang erupting from the truck as you did so, Daryl observed the way your hair hung upon your shoulders, cascading down your neck in thick clumps. Your locks were slightly fluttering as a reaction to your sudden movements, your hair flowed behind your head like a river as you spun around once more, a direct depiction of the waves that would crash down upon the ocean shore.

The bikers eyes stayed magnetized to your hands as you brought your palm up to your forehead, dragging it across your skin as you rid your flesh of the beading sweat rolling down your face before your fingers trailed down the side of your head, digits swiftly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before you waltzed towards the side of your pick up. Once you arrived beside the bed of your truck, you lifted yourself onto the toes of your sneakers, leaning upon the side of your vehicle as you dropped your arms into the trunk, reaching for something just out of Daryl’s sight. The male picked up upon the small smile etched upon your lips as you retrieved a box placed within the truck, surprise washing over the biker as he contemplated how you could possibly feel any form of happiness while you unloaded your belongings into the diminishing trailer. Had you not seen the condition of both the homes and the people currently placed all around you?

As Daryl watched you disappear within the depths of your house, observing you like you were a heavenly spirit, as if you were a ghost grazing the Earth right in front of him, he wondered how an angel such as yourself could possibly end up in such a dump. Sure, the trailer park was littered with other females, trashy women who would often beat their kids and cheat on their husbands, but there had never even been a trace of a girl like you in this area. You were practically angelic as you bound from the steps of your tiny home, hair flowing around you as you emerged from within your trailer once more, a wide grin inching across your mouth as you returned to your truck. You appeared fragile, delicate as you fluttered towards your vehicle to retrieve yet another package of your belongings. It was almost as if you were out of place, like a rose amidst a bush full of thorns as you walked, moving swiftly, like a dancer, as you grasped another box.

“Daryl! Lil brother!” Were the words that finally drew the male from the seemingly hypnotic trance you had placed him within.

The redneck reluctantly yanked his eyes from your figure, pupils yearning to view you once more as Merle’s voice echoed through his ears. It was as if heaven and hell had collided as he turned his head, vision landing upon his brother who was now placed within the middle of a fight that had erupted about five feet beside him. Daryl wondered how you could even possibly exist within his vicinity, pondering upon how truly ironic that moment was: One second, he was observing a Goddess as she graced the Earth, but in a matter of seconds, he was rising to his feet as he let out a disheartened huff, tossing himself into yet another aimless fight, just to save his brother’s ass. It was like he was suddenly comparing an angel to the devil.

Over the next couple of days, you proved to be well adjusted to the robust behavior of the males that populated the trailer park, often paying the men no mind as they catcalled you, shamelessly flirting as you walked past. When Merle and his friends did their best to charm you, bestowing pet names upon you or applying their best pick up lines, you often replied to their foul behavior in a teasing manner, responding with a light chuckle before saying something along the lines of “in your dreams” or “you're gonna have to try harder than that.” You even surprised Daryl one afternoon when he observed you throw a pretty good punch at a guy who had attempted to grope you after you had returned in a bathing suit, previously paying a visit to the small river placed behind the civilization. You appeared much more composed compared to the other women who inhabited the trailer park, the females who would aimlessly yell and scream at the unpleasant men, although they often had the right to do so.

The biker adored your competent behavior, proud of your ability to take care of yourself, secretly smirking at the way you effortlessly rebuked the nasty men; the calm and collected manner you displayed while you reciprocated the men’s vile words with a variety of your own always seemed to infuriate the subordinate men, as any sign of yelling and anger is what they had desired. They yearned to antagonize others, and by not giving them what they wished for, you became superior to the inferior men. 

And Daryl had never witnessed anything like it.

The brunette’s behavior had not gone unrecognized by your own, observant eyes; sense you had transferred to your new home, you quickly noticed the way Daryl had never treated you like an object, he never jeered at you or attempted to make a sly pass at you, he had not once allowed his hands to find their way upon your figure in any sort of manner, and he had yet to disrupt your peaceful moments of sleep with loud hollers or yells, unlike the other men within the trailer park. Instead, you picked up upon the fact that he always treated you with the utmost respect: He remained quiet while his acquaintances howled at you, he often simply addressed you with a silent nod of his head or shared a small, polite wave with you. And, although those actions don't seem like much, to you, they meant the world.

You had grown up around men like Merle, males who had been heckling you since you were old enough to understand the seriousness of the situation. You had grown used to the snide remarks and the stares received from inappropriate eyes, you had become accustomed to the flirtatious vocalizations and the creepy advances, so, overtime, you learned how to respond to these actions. You figured out how to handle yourself around trailer park trash without getting your teeth knocked out. 

About a week and a half into your residency within the community, against your better judgment, you advanced upon the rowdy group Daryl had been accompanying one morning; you were experiencing struggles with your shower, questioning if the drain had possibly become clogged as water often pooled within the bottom of your tub after every shower, stubbornly resisting the urge to plunge into the depths of your drain.

You were aware of how capable you were of providing for yourself, not often requesting others' assistance as you had grown strong enough to adjust furniture on your own, you had acquired enough knowledge, when it came to appliances, to restore small problems, and you were obviously tough enough to stand up for yourself. And, you had also grown a strong distaste for many of the men found within the confines of trailer parks such as your own, so you always did your best to stray away from them.

But, this was an inconvenience you couldn't quite solve on your own, one you knew too little about to fix without assistance.

So, at around eleven one morning, after your drain had failed to engulf the water elicited from the pipes of your shower, you collected as much courage as you possibly could before exiting your house. With your hair still sopping wet and your feet bare, you stepped out upon your porch, the unfaltering blaze of the sun above you immediately began pounding against your moist skin, an effect that suddenly made you deeply desire the comforts of your cold shower once more. The air was filled with the sound of chatter amongst the loud civilians: People laughing, talking, and the muffled noise of far away yelling. The warm breeze currently burrowing through your clothes ejected the smell of cigarettes mixed with motor oil into your nostrils as your outfit rippled against the wind, the bright sunlight blinding you as thin stands of your hair began to blow into your vision.

As you brought your fingers up to your eyes, removing your locks from your irises, you quickly spotted Daryl placed among a group of bikers; the male was leaning against his motorcycle, back to you as he fiddled with the pads of his fingers, the other men around him bellowed loudly, cackling like they were the only people in a ten mile radius. The male’s brown hair was fluttering within the wind, short strands fighting against the lukewarm breeze as it crashed against his figure. The nape of his neck was dripping with sweat, skin turning a slight pink as the sun beat down upon him, the bike placed beneath him glimmering underneath the rays of light.

The male supported his typical leather vest, your eyes skimming across the tattered, black material before your vision landed upon the wings engraved within the article of clothing. You observed the aging wings, turning a light brown overtime, loose strings dangling within the wind as the cloth bent and contorted under the control of his shoulder blades. You smiled to yourself, unsure of the symbol's true meaning, but you could concur that the wings fit him quite well, he appeared as an enthralling angel within in the sweltering sun, surrounded by a crowd of demons as he perched himself against his bike.

He was truly angelic, from the way his blue eyes always seemed to glimmer in the sun, matching the rhythmic waves of the ocean or the vast blue of the skyline placed above you, to the way his light locks framed his face when the wind blew through him, thin strands of hair flowing around him like a soft current. He was large and muscular, upper body wide and stocky, but something about him seemed so delicate. Maybe it was the way he walked, carrying himself with ease as the people surrounding him bounded or shuffled, or perhaps it was the way he was always observing his surroundings, watching the trees or wildlife in such a curious and interested manner. He was alluring, enthralling and mysterious, everything about the male made you wonder about him. 

You traipsed towards the cluster of men, feet kicking up the gravel placed beneath your toes, hair beginning to dry underneath the warming sun as the furthest male spotted you, a venomous smirk inching across his lips as he watched you approach. He suddenly nodded his head in your direction, signaling to the other bikers that someone was nearing, an action that caused you to fight back the overpowering urge to roll your eyes out of annoyance. You watched as the group glanced towards you in unison, heads looking lazily over their shoulders in a synchronized manner as they followed the first male’s gaze. Eventually, their vision landed in your vicinity, eyes circling your silhouette as if you were some sort of delicious feast and they hadn't eaten in years: Some licked their lips, others grinned at you, but all of them displayed their very nasty intentions, like they were the predators and you were the prey.

All of them except Daryl; the solemn male was staring down towards his bike, exhibiting none of the same etiquette or manners as the disturbing men surrounding him. The only thing he did that was similar to the others was the fact that he had turned his head as they had. He was shyly gazing upon the gleaming metal of his motorcycle, hair dangling within his face as he continued to dwindle his thumbs. The material upon the bike was casting an array of light upon his features, characteristics that exhibited his feelings of deep embarrassment, eyes frantically darting around and the obvious fact that he was chewing upon the inside of his cheek, ashamed of the actions that were obviously about to unfold. 

You planted your feet upon the warm pavement, finally stopping in front of the pack as you stared at them, eyes scanning each and everyone of the men as you waited for them to unleash their gruesome attack of flirtatious remarks. Your vision skimmed across the various men: Some had long, overgrown hair, while others were balding. A few were supporting leather jackets and other biker equipment, while most were wearing ratty clothing, some still left within their work attire. Some were short while some were tall, and some had sharp features while others had rounder characteristics, but all of them were somehow the same, mushing together into one, giant, intimidating being as they sized you up.

Finally, some unknown man with a receding hairline, a male you had never laid your eyes upon until that moment, began to speak:

“Hey, I think I recognize ya.” He stated in a matter of fact type manner.

As his slurred words entered the chambers of your ears, your lips curled up into a slight smile while you crossed your arms upon your chest, an attempt to shield your cleavage from their desperation filled gazes. And you hated to admit it but, you were kind of excited to receive the disturbing words he was about to place in front of you.

“Mhmm?” You murmured in response, inviting him to continue.

“Yer tha girl of my dreams.” He replied.

His words caused the group to chuckle around him, laughter erupting all around you as many of the men stared down upon your frame, thrilled expressions etched upon their faces, like they perceived you as some sort of helpless, little creature. The men of the trailer park enjoyed antagonizing you, creating some sort of deranged image within their heads that you were more than happy and very willing to be with them, to love them as though they deserved your affection. A thought that couldn't be farther from the truth, from your snide remarks to physical retaliations you had laid upon them, but you weren't exactly surprised by the fact that they had yet to give up, or even consider the fact that you were uninterested, as it had never once crossed their minds that they were epiphany of what most women despised. 

But, your eyes never forgot Daryl, noticing the way he kept his head down in shame, eyes peeking up at you from time to time, watching you through the curtain of hair he had created for himself, as though it was some sort of barrier. He remained motionless, feelings of remorse washing over him as he observed the situation unfold around him.

You allowed the laughter to die down, their chuckles and giggles eventually dissipating before you spoke once more.

“That's kinda funny cause I think you're the guy of my nightmares.” You retorted, giggling at the words that had just tumbled from your lips.

Your sentence caused an uproar of laughter among the men, the idiots just ate your vocalization up, cackling as though it was the funniest thing you had ever said as their friend grew deeply humiliated. The guy, who seriously needed to invest in a toupee, grew embarrassed, face turning a flustered pink as his acquaintances made fun of him, cussing you out from beneath his breath as he practically shrunk underneath your scrutinizing gaze, cowering away into the crowd behind him. You could hear the balding male swearing at you as he disappeared into the group of men, exclaiming something about you being a whore, or something along those lines.

Your eyes momentarily placed themselves upon Daryl, catching a glimpse of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, lips twitching into a smirk as he remained quiet. You watched as his head slightly rose as he suddenly grew interested in the current conversation when he realized you were more than capable of handling yourself, although his eyes remained hidden behind the wall of brown locks.

Your fierce actions caused Merle to suddenly step forward, the dominating male began to loom over you as he challenged your previous actions. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he thought of himself as a worthy opponent, a contender who would be able to make you cower beneath him, that he would be the male to conquer you. As Daryl’s older brother hovered in front of you, he released a horse laugh, a cackle exiting his lungs while he conceived you as some sort of game, like the prior conversation had just been some kind of show you enjoyed putting on, flaunting yourself in front of the men.

“Hey, come on now, lay off Wade,” he said, words that caused you to come to the conclusion that Wade must have been the male you had just spoken with, the man who was now practically hiding behind Merle, eyes filled to the brim with an embarrassed anger as he glared at you “what's a nice girl like ya doin over here anyways?”

“I was just gonna ask you the same thing.” You spoke with a smile, another statement that caused his pals from behind him to begin to laugh.

As the sound of more obnoxious and vile chuckles entered your ears, you noticed how your comment appeared to just roll right off Merle’s shoulders while he chuckled form above you, seeming much more laid back compared to your previous opponent, Wade. The graying male smiled down upon you, a hint of pride flashing through his eyes, licking his lips as if he was finding joy in your satirizing antics. 

Eventually, your irises finally fell upon Daryl once more, only to have a wave of surprise wash upon you when your vision met his own, his eyes already glued upon you. His blue irises were shimmering, sparkles appearing within his inky, blue eyes, an exact portrayal of the night sky, a dark landscape filled with gleaming stars. The biker bit his lip, entrapping the pink skin between his teeth as he attempted to hold back both a small smile and a light chuckle as he received the words you had just directed towards his older brother. At some point, he had lifted his head, hair pushed from his vision, revealing his entertained features and shy characteristics as he grew much more comfortable within the current situation.

“Anyway,” you spoke, feeling no need to wait for the laughter to diminish before finally drawing the attention back to yourself “Daryl, I was just wondering if you could help me with my shower? I think something is wrong with it.”

The other trailer park residents began to cackle once more upon hearing your words, and other than drink and smoke, it appeared to be the only thing they ever took part in. You mentally slapped yourself due to the way you had phrased your previous sentence as even you could understand that the way you had expressed your problems had been a bit deceiving. But, you were smart enough to understand why the men had begun laughing: They weren't chuckling due to your vague request, they were giggling at the idea that you even thought of soliciting Daryl’s assistance, as if he was unable to execute any of your needs or repair any of your troubles. In their eyes, it was as if the brunette was less of a male due to the fact that he wasn't loud and obnoxious, or the fact that he never attempted to make any vile moves on you, or any other women for that matter.

Daryl obviously thought the same of himself, he perceived himself as an inferior being, he thought of himself as some worthless human who didn't deserve the attention you were currently giving him. The fact that you were even interacting with him, speaking to him, and saying his name, asking for his help, not Merle’s, not Wade’s, not any of the other men, you were requesting for his aid, appeared to surprise him: His eyebrows began to raise slightly, lip escaping from the previous death grip he had bestowed upon it, and his prior fidgeting suddenly came to an end.

“Ya want my baby brother’s help? I could solve any of yer shower problems way better than he could, darlin. Hell, even Wade could.” Merle exclaimed, exhaling a short laugh.

Even after the older male’s statement, your eyes remained glued upon his younger brother, as though he was the only person in the world at that moment, like the balding man's words hadn't even entered the chambers of your ears. Like Merle, and all the obnoxious men, didn't even exist. You respected the quiet biker too much to even gratify his brother's words with your own, you couldn't even fathom the possibility of perhaps embarrassing the brunette or making him even slightly uncomfortable. But, you strongly believed that the angle of a male was much more of a man then any of the others would even amount to be.

Daryl watched as you smiled at him, a sweet and innocent grin as you nodded your head towards your home placed a few yards behind you, as if you hadn't even heard Merle's word or any of the other men chuckling from behind him. You were displaying a small, polite smile, your lips pulled taunt as your teeth threatened to reveal themselves while you waited patiently upon him to join you. And that was the first moment Daryl learned he would never be able to say no to you.

Eventually, the biker began wiping his palms upon his upper thighs, ridding his hands of the layer of dust they had accumulated before he sheepishly rose from his position upon the bike, standing to his feet before he began to saunter towards you. His actions caused an uproar of hollers and mocking jokes to start erupting from the mouths of the pigs placed behind him, many of the males whooping as the others whistled, their antagonizing behaviors causing Daryl’s cheeks to grow a light pink hue, one that was just barely noticeable to your observant eyes as the two of you began towards your house, continuing to pay no mind to the men left behind you.

“Sorry bout them.” The male stated simply, his Southern drawl extremely evident as the two of you stepped across the concrete, the heat emitting from the road quickly beginning to warm your feet.

Daryl’s voice was quiet, barely audible over the environment surrounding the two of you, speaking just loud enough for your ears to receive. His tone was raspy, voice gravely as his redneck accent shown through his words, his kind sentences causing your smile to grow a bit wider, your teeth quick to reveal themselves. The exposure of your mouth caused you to look towards the ground, growing a bit flustered as you stared upon the floor, watching as the biker’s shoes stomped across the street. That had been the first nice thing someone had said to you in a long while, you were also pretty sure that was the first time you had ever really heard the male speak: His delicate, yet thick, voice shocked you as you arrived upon your dirt laced driveway, not really expecting his voice to be as soothing as it seemed to be.

The aroma currently being emitted from upon his body suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks, the smell of pine mixed with a hint of motor oil fogged your brain. His fragrance was almost intoxicating, your mind momentarily short circuiting as the two of you waltzed underneath the large shadow being casted upon the ground by your home, the sun beating down onto the trailer, an action that caused a dark figure to appear upon your lawn. Your legs suddenly threatened to give out from beneath you while you fought back your giddy smile, occurrences that caused you to wonder upon why you had randomly grown nervous within the presence of the silent male. Maybe it was his striking looks, or possibly his gruff tone, a raspy voice that had just blessed your ears for the first time. But, you just chalked it up to being within the same vicinity as an actually decent man for the first time in a long while.

“Pshh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it.” You responded as the two of you began to climb the front steps.

Daryl decided against explaining how no, what had happened wasn’t okay, and the fact that everything you had to grit your teeth and struggle through, almost daily, wasn't alright either, he came to the conclusion that it would be out of line to push the topic further. Although he really desired to; he often wondered how you always appeared to be so okay with the way the other park residents seemed to treat you, pondering upon how someone like you could even be in a place like this while simultaneously tolerating the nasty civilians. But he inevitably decided not to pry or even ask about the situation, as the two of you were practically strangers.

“Don't mind the mess, my maids on vacation.” You teased, drawing the quiet biker from his thoughts as you grasped the door handle, turning it until it grinded open.

As you walked through the front door, the brunette followed close behind you, your words causing his eyes to inevitably scan his surroundings when the two of you finally entered the living room: You owned seemingly spotless furniture, your couch didn't appear to be supporting any cigarette burns, your coffee table was stain free, and you possessed a fully functional recliner. Your furniture appeared to be retrieved from places other than the dump or taken off someone's front lawn. You had managed to patch a lot of the holes that remained upon the walls of the trailer, left by the previous owners, the rug placed below the bikers boots had obviously been cleaned as of recently, vacuum lines still visible upon the mat, and the walls were even decorated. Other than a few half filled, or completely empty, moving boxes and some dirty dishes scattered around your home, your domicile was practically sparkling.

The male felt as if he had just wandered into some foreign land, as your home appeared to be an actual, livable environment compared to the rest of the trashed trailers placed within the area: Cluttered homes filled with garbage or screaming family members, while your home was extremely clean and it remained completely silent, so quiet to the point that Daryl was sure he could hear each blink of his eyelids or the sound of his blood currently pumping beneath his skin. Your house was possibly the nicest home he had ever been invited into, a fact that caused him to wonder how your trailer had not been broken into just yet.

Daryl carefully shut the door behind him, waiting for his ears to receive a slight click noise before he followed you through your home; he was in complete and utter amazement as the two of you ventured through the den, eyes scanning his surroundings as he lumbered behind you, vision skimming across picture frames and small, decorative items until the two of you reached a minuscule hall that branched off from upon the living room. As you both entered the corridor, the smell of lavender cleaning supplies and the summer season wafted into his nose while the sound of the rug crunching beneath his shoes echoed throughout the passageway. 

You inevitably lead him into your bathroom, making your way through the open door before the two of you finally stopped in front of the shower. The biker continued to scrutinize his surroundings, noticing the spotless mirror, the mopped floor, and the fact that the trash can wasn't currently overflowing before pooling out onto the ground. Eventually, the brunette allowed his eyes to land upon the bathtub, noticing the puddle of still water that had collected within the bottom of your shower.

“See,” you lightly gestured towards the appliance “it wont go down.”

The biker stood silently for a moment as he observed the situation, watching as the liquid remained completely motionless, basically refusing to venture down into the maze of pipes. Daryl could feel your vision upon him, eyes burning holes into the side of his head as you patiently observed him, your actions causing him to grow increasingly nervous under pressure. Eventually, the male ended up coming to the conclusion that it was most likely clogged, maybe some sort of small, dead rodent had gotten lodged within the pipes or possibly a snake, but it was probably just a large ball of hair that had accumulated beneath the home. 

“It's probably clogged, do ya have uh plumber’s snake or somethin?” He asked while turning to face you.

In all honesty, you had no idea what he was currently referencing to, your mind immediately resorting to the thought of the thin, reptilian animal, due to the fact that anything to do with plumbing wasn't exactly one of your strong suits. You suddenly spun on your heels, facing the skin behind you before bending down, your random movements causing a light gust of wind to brush against Daryl’s figure. Once you landed upon the floor, you outstretched your hand, fingers grasping at the cabinet placed in front of you before you wrapped your palm around the small, plastic handle. You finally yanked the tiny door open, revealing an array of cleaning supplies and other washroom products. 

“Whatever I have is in there.” You responded, rising to an upright position once more.

Once you had finally given him directions, the biker stepped forward, slowly dropping down into a kneeling position in front of the cabinet, placing one knee upon the cool tile floor while he rested his forearm upon the other, beginning to rummage through the belongings placed within the cupboard; he was starting to lose hope as his fingers brushed passed many cleaning supplies, hands grasping sponges, digits pushing window cleaner to the side, and palms even moving some toilet paper as he braced himself to return empty handed. Until his eyes landed upon a long, white, plastic rod: A plumber’s snake. He quickly retrieved the thin object before standing, grasping the utility within his palm as he rose to his usual height.

Your eyes followed the male as he traipsed towards the shower, pushing the cabinet door closed with the heel of his foot before he made his way across the shower mat until he arrived in front of the bathtub. He lowered himself once more, this time positioning his body upon both calves, knees pressing against the porcelain tub as he leaned over the acrylic appliance.

You scanned his figure as he did so, unable to pull your vision away from the sight of his muscles tensing as he pushed himself forward, exposed biceps bulging while he placed one hand upon the edge of the shower for support, his shoulder blades grinding together from underneath his leather vest. You grew speechless as you admired his large upper body, his wide build causing you to pull your lips into a thin line while you observed him; he appeared to be so strong, so manly, and the way his sweat laced muscles strained under the pressure he applied to them mixed with the image of his fingers splayed out and gripping the rim of the shower, made you grow ashamed: He had been nothing but nice and respectful to you and here you were, watching him like all the other males of the park often observed you, like he was some sort of animal at the zoo. 

Daryl was quite aware of your wandering eyes, due to the fact that the hairs scattered upon his nape began to rise as you assessed him. Although the male couldn't lie, he was kind of enjoying the attention, loving the feeling of your eyes adoring him, vision circling his toned upper arms as the sound of your soft voice entered his ear canals. The biker was almost 100% sure this was the most he had spoken with another human being in a long while, even if all he had said was about two sentences, and he was currently relishing in the fact that it was you he was speaking with, the angle he had been smittenly observing for about a week at that point. 

“Can I get you like, a beer or something?” You offered as the previous realization dawned upon you, face turning a light shade of red as you forced your pupils away from the recent discovery that was his toned upper body.

You distracted yourself with the view of the washer and dryer placed to your left, noticing the large stack of unfolded clothing you had placed lazily upon the appliances, a reminder of the future chores you had in store for you once the biker had successfully finished.

“Ya don't gotta.” He responded, voice low, almost inaudible from where you stood.

You listened to his words reverberate from within the bowl of the ceramic shower, sentence sounding almost programmed as a wave of deep focus and attention washed over him, doing his best to fix the problem you were experiencing within your drain. Your eyes slowly drifted back to the male as you began to engage in conversation, although you were no longer observing him but instead watching as he inserted the plastic rod into the depths of the clear water. Your eyes followed the white stick as it disappeared into the void of the drain, plumbers snake vanishing from your sight as the biker politely declined your offer.

“It's the least I could do. And besides, I was thinking of having one myself.” You admitted.

Upon receiving the sound of your confession, admitting that you were pondering upon the idea of having your own drink, the male caved; in all honesty, he wasn't a big fan of drinking on his own, not exactly fond of the idea due to the fact that it usually put him directly into a shitty mood, making him angry, irritable, and oftentimes: Upset. But, he had a feeling that with you to accompany him, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. And besides, it was only one drink. 

“Alrigh then.” He said once he had finished the mental war he had been participating in within the confines of his own mind.

As he heard you exit the room, feet padding against the cold, tile floor while you wandered behind him, he fought the almost overpowering urge to glance over his shoulder ever so slightly as you left the vicinity, to allow his eyes to trace over your silhouette as you walked through the doorway. 

While you treaded down the hall, you exhaled a large breath that you were unaware you had even been holding as you momentarily passed through the living room. You felt the fabric of the rug placed beneath you card between your toes, the scent of Daryl now permeating your household, glazing itself upon the walls, furniture, and even the floor before entering your nose. You needed to escape the tension filled room, to give yourself a moment to relieve some stress and somehow rid your mind of such impure thoughts before collecting both yourself and the most courage you possibly could before returning to the male. 

Images of his perspiration laced hair and skillful fingers flashed through your head as you entered the kitchen, thoughts that caused you to squeeze your eyes closed as you made your way towards the fridge, doing your best to clear your mind. Once you reached the refrigerator, you wrapped your fingers around the handle, as you had previously done with the cabinet, before practically throwing the door open; your eyes scanned its possessions, in search of some sort of alcohol, vision dancing across a variety of vegetables, disregarding a jug of milk, and ignoring a small container of butter before inevitably landing upon a collection of beers, a discovery that caused you to lean forward, retrieving two of the bottles before removing their caps. You pushed the door closed once more, a slight breeze being ejected from within the confines of the fridge as you leaned against one of the various counters placed around the room.

As your back settled upon the wooden surface, your head immediately began to wander, absentmindedly returning to the male, allowing yourself to reminisce upon the biker. He appeared to be so hard working and obviously good with his hands as he bent over your tub, repairing the appliance. He obviously took part in a lot of manual labor as his muscles were extremely evident, a visual that would most likely cause a problem between him and your undisciplined eyes. You had never once desired to have a man around to take care of your problems before then, you had grown stubborn as you often insisted upon fixing your own belongings and tending to your own manual labor chores, but God, did he look good while doing work around your own home. Once more, your brain promptly remembered the way he had placed a large palm upon the porcelain wall, steadying himself as his hair fell within his vision, thin locks fluttering with each movement as his large upper body muscles flexed and pulsated while he leaned forward, biceps bulging from underneath his tan skin.

As you placed a cool, glass rim upon your mouth, lips wrapping lightly around the bottle, you shook yourself from your trance, quickly realizing the inappropriate zoning out session you had just taken part in, one you were swift to erased by titling the container back, allowing the metallic liquid to splash into the chamber of your mouth. You felt the liquor lace your tongue, the bitter taste coating your cheeks as you pushed yourself from your spot upon the counter, swallowing momentarily before heading back towards the bathroom.

“So,” you spoke as you entered the washroom once more, allowing yourself to receive yet another gulp of your drink “what is there to do around here?” 

Your eyes landed upon the male, frame still placed beside the tub as you walked into the room. When you passed by Daryl, you slightly leaned forward, handing him his beer, an action that caused the perspiration laced bottle to momentarily slip within his outstretched palm before you observed him take a swig. The biker placed the glass within his own mouth, dipping his head backwards a bit, letting his hair brush against his shoulders as he too allowed the liquid to enter his mouth. You watched as he took a few gulps, waiting patiently to receive his response while he placed the glass upon the stone floor beside him.

For once, since you appeared within the trailer park, the brunette grew thankful due to the fact that he was back to you, using this as an opportunity to hide the stern look currently etching itself upon his face, a slight frown to match his grim expression that he was now shielding from your awaiting vision. As he wiggled the snake further into the drenched pipes, it instantaneously dawned upon him that he didn't really do anything; about all the biker ever seemed to do was hang out with his older brother and his rowdy companions while they all drank, smoked, and visited the many bars they often inhabited, basically just reeking havoc around town upon their motorcycles. The question caused the male to be overcome by his many insecurities, the fact that he didn't really amount to much causing him to grow slightly embarrassed, ashamed that he just kinda allowed himself to rot away upon some strangers' front lawn with every day that seemed to pass by. His small amount of self esteem suddenly began to plummet as he did his best to quickly come up with an acceptable answer to your inquiry.

“There's a few bars, some diners, and uhm…” he paused momentarily, attempting to conjure up another example that seemingly didn't exist “the river.”

You frowned slightly at the biker's statement, taking another drink of your beer as you received Daryl’s words, suddenly realizing that the loneliness you had been experiencing for about the last week or so wouldn't slowly dissipate overtime, it was most likely something that was sure to carry on for a long while. You appeared to have no interest in the idea of mingling with or befriending many of the other communities residents, not concerned with becoming closer pals with any of the drunken men or the rude women, and there didn't seem to be many other activities for you to take part in. There were only so many days you could spend at a bar without beginning to morph into another example of common trailer park trash, and you weren't extremely fond of the idea of getting harassed everyday while attempting to take a relaxing swim within the stream.

“Well, where do you go on that motorcycle of yours?’ You asked.

“I dun know, just kinda… Ride round.” He responded, a slight halt appearing within his sentence as he momentarily paused while applying more of his attention upon the drain.

You smiled to yourself, adoring the concentration he was presenting to the task at hand, a small grunt escaping his lips as he forced his fist towards the drain, pushing the flimsy rod further down the pipes. It was as if he was genuinely attempting to help you while simultaneously doing his best to relieve you of your problems, not just aiming towards obliterating another task upon his agenda, not just lazily accomplishing your request by doing a horrible job. He was actually trying his best to help you, and that thought made your heart start to warm.

“I've never ridden on a motorcycle before,” you admitted “you'll have to take me sometime.”

The gesture was innocent, or at least, that's how it was originally intended; you hadn't really applied much thought towards your words before they inevitably began to tumble from your mouth, not exactly picking up upon the suggestive undertones of your sentence as you spoke, due to the fact that it was nothing you had went over within the confines of your head before you began to utter the words. Your statement was just made as an attempt to carry the conversation forward, a simple suggestion as you had also desired to receive the experience of your first motorcycle ride.

But that's not how Daryl comprehended your words.

To the male, your words were taken like a proposition, an offer for your arms to be wrapped tightly around his waist while you placed your head upon his back, transmitting your heat upon his own body as he escorted you from destination to destination. He understood your words as if they were presented like some sort of date. Your sentence was received as sweet, kind, even somewhat flirtatious, words he would later convince himself that you only ejected out of complete pity upon the brunette. And, although your words had been spoken in solely a friendly manner, Daryl would later twist and contort your sentence into a statement only made out of sympathy and compassion for his numerous insecurities, which had not been your original intent.  

Your tone caused the biker to lean over, retrieving his liquor before taking another drink.

“Mhm.” He muttered, too flustered to speak as he mumbled, dropping his glass within its previous placement before continuing the task at hand.

The two of you chatted for a while longer as Daryl pursued his focus upon the pipes, talking about your shared complaints revolving around your neighborhood, specifically relating to the loud and annoying civilians, the way they hollered all throughout the night while trashing the streets. You also conversed about things you had experienced during both of your separate days, Daryl recalling a story about watching a five person fight over a single blunt and you exclaimed the strange phenomenon of finding a loose twenty just laying upon the street, something you perceived as some sort of trap before inevitably swiping the free money you had spotted within the wild. You even asked a few, small questions about Merle, seemingly quizzing the male with simple, basic inquiries, ones the biker responded to with short, blunt replies, causing you to receive the hint about his uninterested in the topic, a discovery that caused you to quickly change the subject.

You were generally enjoying his company, often catching yourself blabbering and rambling while the brunette silently listened, you were practically jumping upon the opportunity to actually converse with someone other than a few words a day to random strangers. Let alone someone who was actually a decent being. You had been growing bored around your solemn home, due to the fact that there was only so much television you could watch, there was only a certain amount of songs you could replay over and over and over again, and there was only a select quantity of chores you could tend to in a single day. You were lonely, plain and simple, and the feeling of laughing and talking with another person was almost heavenly.

The two of you were complaining about a citizen who was placed down the street, an older women who was constantly blasting the most God awful gospel music, no matter what time of the day, morning or night, sun or rain, she always had the volume practically all the way up, when suddenly, Daryl retreated his wrist, an action that caused you to stop mid sentence. Your words fell short when he removed the thin rod from the drain, a large clump of long, white and gray pepper colored hair accompanying the plumber’s snake as it retreated. The drenched hair had wrapped itself around the plastic stick, twirling around the appliance as the water suddenly began to drain, liquid disappearing into the pipes, swirling within the porcelain tub before exiting your vision, a loud slurp noise following in quick pursuit.

Obviously, the locks had not belonged upon your head, most likely left behind by the previous owners, a fact that seemed to spare you from the ton of future embarrassment you had been previously bracing yourself to receive. 

“Thats fucking disgusting.” You exclaimed at the disturbing discovery, completely forgetting the topic you were conversing about prior to the scarring revelation.

The male grunted in response, a sign that signaled to the fact that he agreed with your vulgar statement while his expression echoed around the room. The biker was quick to rise to his feet, desperately desiring to rid of the object placed within his palm as he headed towards the trash can, boots heavy against the thin flooring. Once he arrived in front of the plastic bin, you observed him as he hesitated slightly, unsure of how to disregard the strands without having to come in contact with the locks, obviously not too fond of the idea of touching the drenched hair in an attempt to slide it from the skinny rod.

“Just throw the whole thing away.” You exclaimed once you spotted the expression etched upon his face.

He let out a relieved sigh at your orders, loosening his grasp upon the tool before releasing it, watching as the coated stick floated towards the bottom of your trash bin. Once the biker had rid of the hair, he waltzed towards the shower once more, glancing down upon the now void bathtub before he collected his half finished beer. The two of you finally exited the bathroom, arriving in the den area before starting up a new conversation, chatting for a bit longer while you finished your drinks, standing aimlessly within the silent room as you downed the alcohol. You continued to talk about other small things, topics such as experiences you had witnessed during your time spent at the park and funny things Daryl had observed amongst the residents until you emptied your bottles, your voices slowly dying away before you eventually thanked him for his help.

“Anyway,” you cleared your throat as the room began to emit a thick smog of pure awkwardness “thank you for your help, Daryl. Really.”

He smiled lightly at the sound of his name falling from your lips, a slight wave of confusion falling over him as he ducked his head in embarrassment, quick to notice the fact that he had become slightly fond of you, someone he barely even knew, someone he practically just met. A wave of pride washed over him, feeling fulfilled as you thanked him, praising him for his assistance as his affection deprived mind ate up your grateful statement. It was rare for the biker to receive such flattery, it almost felt foreign as he thought of an acceptable response.

During the time he had spent within your home, the male had come to terms with the fact that this was probably the only opportunity he would have to spend time with you, realizing that soon, he would have to disappear back into the trashed trailer placed down the street. He would have to retreat to his previous life, to return to a seemingly far away world where he would experience the loud yelling of Merle mixed with his acquaintances and the familiar taste of a cigarette placed within his mouth as he placed himself upon the front steps. But nevertheless, he was happy you two had at least shared this experience with one another, grateful that this time spent together had even happened in the first place.

“It's nothin.” He responded, placing his empty glass within your outstretched palm.

“I'll find you if the water doesn't drain again.” You said as you collected the warm bottle.

When your ears received the statement of your own words, you realized that the two of you most likely should have tested the quality of the drainage before the biker inevitably exited your home, making sure the water would continue to enter the pipes as it had done before. But, the previous discovery of the disturbing mound of hair appeared to be good enough evidence for both you and the biker.

Finally, the male nodded slightly in response to your words, taking one last glimpse upon your gorgeous essence before turning towards the exit and stepping out the door. Once the two of you had successfully parted ways, the brunette softly shutting the door behind him before heading home, you both noticed how much you suddenly missed one another, yearning for the casual company each of you had just provided before you returned to your old patterns: Daryl rotting away upon a trashed lawn before getting caught within the middle of a petty fight, while you laid upon your couch, staring up towards the ceiling as you became surrounded by a deafening silence.

When you took a shower the next day, the water sank swiftly down the drain.

At around six in the afternoon the next evening, you ran into another problem you discovered around your home: You had purchased a new bookshelf for your living room, a wooden piece of furniture that the owners of a small antique shop, the one you had bought it from, helped you move into the bed of your truck. You had been planning on placing the object within your den for decorative purposes, a wooden bookshelf you were yearning to place photos and trinkets upon that didn't seem to have their own home up until that point. But, you quickly discovered the fact that the purchase was much too heavy for you to successfully carry from your vehicle into your home all on your own.

You sighed in defeat whilst you stood behind your truck, hand placed upon your hip as you assessed the situation: The flimsy tailgate had flopped down sloppily while attached to the car, sweat dripped down your forehead as you lightly panted, the bookcase still stuck within its original position, slid into the middle of the trunk. You had yanked and pulled upon the edges of the furniture, attempting to make it budge even just the slightest bit, but it appeared to fight against you, practically glued to the metal of your truck while it silently cackled at you, watching as the sun beat down upon your exhausted frame. 

Although Daryl was nice, sweet, and helpful, you didn't wish to bother him with another task, to disrupt him by requesting his assistance once more, but, you were afraid you had no other options; you tried to relieve yourself of some guilt and culpability by arguing the fact that you genuinely seemed to enjoy each others company, you two smiled and laughed together the day prior, a look of joy, that you rarely saw, inhabited Daryl’s face, as the male was often frowning or glaring towards someone. You also declared that you were lonely, bored and isolated, to the point that you were convinced you were going insane, that you needed someone to talk with. And again, what better option did you have besides the cute handy man placed silently across the road.

But little did you know, the biker was currently sitting upon the front steps of the small home placed down the street, observing you adoringly as you struggled with the large item, smirking to himself as you tugged and pulled at the furniture. He watched as you eventually stepped back while the object stayed put, glaring at the bookshelf as if you were attempting to move it with your mind, a deep focus inching across your face as you assessed the situation, as if the object was going to move upon its own, like it was going to get up from the truck and walk away. With your palms placed upon your torso, you swayed slightly in frustration, wiping your brow as you stood in silence, your beauty growing extremely evident within the summer ambiance. 

The male was secretly hoping you'd come over and retrieve him as you had the day before, requesting his assistance once more before disappearing within the depths of your home. He might never admit it but, he too had enjoyed the time you two had spent together the day prior, talking and laughing like average people, chatting about normal topics that did not revolve around drinking or angrily yelling. Everything had just felt so ordinary, extremely customary as he forgot about his life that existed outside of the walls of your trailer, ignoring the hooligans placed within the roads that twisted between the community. 

And eventually, that's exactly what you ended up doing: You strutted towards the biker’s direction, doing your best to shake the annoyance and slight anger that had laced your system before you arrived within the male’s vicinity. Your vision quickly picked up upon the fact that he wasn't currently surrounded by a group of four or five other motorcyclists as he was placed all by his lonesome upon the porch stairs, his bike sitting about six feet to his right. Your eyes scanned across some squirrels as they tussled upon the grass, green blades swaying within the wind as the brunette stared towards his empty palms, head down as you approached him. Other than the male placed near the home and the rapid movements of the fighting mammals, the property was vacant. 

“Hey, Daryl,” you spoke as you approached him, your voice causing his head to rise, eyes peering up at you from behind his curtain of bangs as if he hadn't been watching you only seconds prior “where's everyone else?” 

The male acted as if he hadn't seen you making your way down the street, lifting his vision from his lap to momentarily meet your irises like he hadn't been observing you since the second you pulled into the neighborhood, as if he wasn't just watching you struggle with the shelf about ten seconds prior, and like he hadn't been glancing towards you as you walked down the dust covered road.

“They went to a bar.” The biker stated simply, a response that you punctuated with a nod that displayed your understanding. 

“Well, I was just wondering if you could help me with moving a bookshelf? If you have time, that is.” You said, adding the last words rather quickly, an action that caused your sentence to be spoken in a jumbled manner.

You grew slightly embarrassed as a reaction to your distressed addition; you had made the insertion in a polite manner, doing your best to relieve Daryl of any pressure or stress you had possibly applied to the situation. You didn't want to put the male under the impression that he had to help you, trying to avoid perhaps making him receive feelings of guilt or responsibility, as if he was required to assist you. Suddenly, every word that had just been ejected from the depths of your throat seemed to apply a much heavier pressure upon you, like every sentence you were about to utter had to be the definition of perfect, suddenly beginning to stress over the possibility of messing up in front of the quiet biker.

Although, the male did not appear to take notice of your flustered words as he rose from his place upon the wooden steps, exclaiming zero objections as he joined you. You had just spent about ten minutes yanking and pulling upon the wooden object, exerting all of your energy and strength into removing the shelf from within the confines of your truck, and of course, Daryl had witnessed almost every second of this occurrence as well. So, when the biker waltzed towards the bed of your vehicle before effortlessly pulling the piece of furniture from the car, your jaw practically hit the ground. You were going to offer your assistance, to help carry one end whilst he held the other, but he didn't appear to need it as he wrapped his digits around the frame of the shelf, nails digging at the oak material before dragging the furniture from the truck. You watched as he let the object slip into the grasp of his large arms, practically hugging the bookshelf before beginning his journey towards your home. 

Observing the biker pick up the piece of furniture with ease, sliding it from upon the truck into his tanned arms, wrapping his biceps around the object was an action that caused his muscle to strain under the pressure, tendons flexing and bulging as his limbs grew tense, the setting sun casting a glimmering mix of warm colors and cool tones upon his smooth skin. As the male headed towards the open door, the recent realization caused your mind to begin to wander, pondering upon the idea of his toned arms wrapped tightly around your torso, your body replacing the bookshelf currently occupying his grasp. You did your best to imagine how the warmth of his figure would feel as it radiated upon your own, wondering how your flesh would perceive his soft skin as it rubbed and pressed against you, and finally, you visualize how his hands would appear as they were placed upon your waist or linked around your back.

You suddenly shook your head, doing your best to rid yourself of the previous thoughts occupying the chambers of your mind as you quickly followed within the male's footsteps, traipsing behind him while the two of you crossed your lawn. You were growing excessively confused, and even a bit concerned, due to your sudden magnetism towards the brunette, finding your eyes searching for both the male and his alluring features as if your mind disregarded the fact that he was practically a stranger, someone you had been alone with once before that moment. Although, you just ended up convincing yourself that you were lonely, you had been without the affection of another human being for a long while now and you were becoming slightly attracted to the qualities of the first decent person you had come in contact with. You didn't know him enough, he was sweet, pleasant, and somehow handsome all at the same time, of course you'd develop a small appeal towards the male, but it was nothing more than that.

“Where do ya wan it?” He asked as the two of you started your adventure up the steps of your home.

“Just right there would be perfect.” You responded once you both arrived within the den, pointing towards the corner of the small room.

He was quick to obey your orders once more as he stalked across the living room, carefully placing the shelf upon the rug once he arrived within the object's desired destination. He turned towards you once more as he had successfully accomplished the mission, setting the bookshelf within your home before awkwardly awaiting your next directions. But in all honesty, you had none: Carrying the new furniture had been the only thing you required his strength for, now your need for assistance had come to an end and before you knew it, your time spent together was soon to be over.

You observed the way Daryl stood anxiously while swaying within the depths of your den, clasping his hands together as he stared down upon the floor, appearing so awkward and out of place: His dark clothing were clashing against the light interior of the trailer, his nervous actions were conflicting the calm and relaxed essence of your home, and most of all, a creature, other than yourself, inhabiting the room was almost unheard of. You wracked your brain for anything else you could possibly need him for, something that perhaps required repairing or an object that remained just out of your reach, any reason that could help fend away your loneliness for just a few more moments.

“Uhm, Daryl,” you exclaimed, your sudden vocalization causing the biker to glance upwards towards you “can you bring me on that motorcycle ride now?”

Your request appeared to catch the male off guard; in all honesty, Daryl had assumed you would just forget about your previous proposition, guessing it was just an idea you had thrown out to keep the conversation flowing successfully, not that it was actually an activity you desired to take part in.

The brunette nodded timidly.

You smiled suddenly, a stupid, girlish grin appearing upon your lips as the two of you returned to the outside world, your eyes quickly landing upon the setting sun placed above you: The large star had begun to really disappear behind the horizon at that point, an action that caused an explosion of reds and oranges to paint the sky. The clouds were laced with a neon pink, detailed with a light yellow while the glowing orb coward behind the trees, small, glimmering stars beginning to scatter themselves across the rainbow sky, gleaming dots that freckled their way along the darkening atmosphere. Your eyes widened at the observation of the landscape placed above you, wondering how it had turned this beautiful during the short period of time you had spent inside. 

Daryl quickly took notice of the effect the sky had upon you: Your skin was glazed in a light orange, flesh glistening like the sparkling stars as you were placed beneath the neon hues blazing within the skyline. Your dazzled eyes were shimmering, irises twinkling underneath the lighting, pupils sparkling with little glints of yellow and orange. The aura surrounding your entire frame was almost hypnotizing, your body seemed to be outlined by a light pinkish static, your hair laced with a vermillion type of gloss, an effect that caused the top of your head to begin to almost shine. The environment caused you to glow, your entire being was glimmering as if you were an angel who had just recently landed upon Earth, with amazed features to match, ones that made you look as though this was your first time witnessing a sun set. 

“M sorry,” Daryl began to speak, a random apology that caused you to glance towards him as you advanced upon his bike “I dun really own any helmets.” 

You responded with a silent nod, his admission a bit unnerving, your anxiety beginning to heighten at the idea of taking part in your first motorcycle ride without any form of protection, head void of any sort of headgear was a risk factor. But, oddly enough, you somewhat trusted the male, strongly believing that he would never put you in any sort of danger, certain that he wouldn't drive too fast nor too dangerously while supporting you, and you were convinced that he wouldn't take any risky turns or become involved with any form of threat. For some odd reason, he presence alone somewhat relieved you, as if he was some sort of guardian angel sent down to protect you as every interaction you two shared had been an example of him purely helping you: First, with the clogged drain, assisting you with clearing it, next with the shelf, helping you decorate your home, and now, he was supplying you with a completely new experience. You also couldn't forget how genuine he had been, unable to put you within an uncomfortable situation by possibly flirting with you or perhaps making any other, nasty advances.

This realization caused you to observe the biker in a new lighting, features soft as you gazed upon him, tan skin glazed with a layer of sheen under the orange lighting, rustic characteristics becoming subdued as he too admired the setting sun, blue eyes relaxed as he blinked in slow phases. The way he carried himself within that moment was swift, movements appearing almost programmed as his hair bounced with every movement, shadows currently being casted down upon his large muscles. He was so rough yet so mellow, as if he really was a pure spirit wearing the disguise of a belligerent individual. 

Daryl helped you upon his bike, generously offering you a hand, palms connecting softly before he showed you how to straddle the seat and where to place your feet, presenting directions that would be the most helpful before he eventually mounted the vehicle as well. You instinctually wrapped your arms around his torso, limbs snaking around his waist before your fingers laced together upon his chest. He was warm, a comforting heat was being transmitted from the dark leather onto your stomach, a relaxing discovery that caused you to resist the seemingly overpowering urge to place your cheek upon his back. His frame was thick within your grasp, structure wide enough to cause your upper arms to stretch and pull taunt as you did your best to twist your limbs all the way around the male. He felt homely as well, so much so to the point where you desired to cuddle into him further, to allow your eyes to become heavy before you inevitably fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. 

The male swallowed harshly, it was an unfamiliar feeling to have another person wrapped tightly around him, to receive the motion closest to a hug from another being, although he had no objections. The biker enjoyed the physical touch, to have your small figure pressed against his own as you held onto him for protection just felt so correct. He liked the feeling of your arms placed around him tightly, squeezing his sides before your hands clasped together upon his upper abdomen, he appreciated the feeling of your plush body pinned against his own. Your frame was warm, figure melding with his own as your flexible skin invited him further, holding him against you as you awaited his next movements.

The brunette had not exactly expected for you to do what you had just done, to wrap yourself around him as though he was some sort of large teddy bear, although it had made sense as to why you had: Safety. Perhaps, if this had not been your first bike ride, you wouldn't need to rely upon the support of the male, possibly just allowing your arms to fall limp as your body began to roll with each bump upon the road, moving simultaneously with the gyrations of the bike. But instead, you were fearful of flying off the motorcycle, being launched from your place upon the vehicle if the biker possibly hit a turn too hard or drove very fast.

“Alrigh. Ya ready?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You grumbled, scared that if you had actually spoken a correct word, the audible shaking within your words would become evident.

Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure Daryl was able to hear it from his spot upon the bike as it rattled around within your rib cage, banging against your skeleton. You were positive the biker was receiving the movements of your organ thrashing against his back, heart pumping so violently that he was able to feel its rapid activities pressed upon him. Your face was growing warm due to a mix of fear and embarrassment, nervous that he would turn to ask if you were alright, as a result of your overactive heart, just for his vision to land upon your flustered face. You were growing humiliated as you became inevitably nervous, although you knew your reasonings were illogical. 

The roar of the bike suddenly coming alive began to drown out the thumping within your ears, a rumbling that began to echo around the alleys and pathways placed throughout the neighborhood, one you were extremely acquainted with as it often woke you during the late hours of the night. The slight trembling within your palms became also hidden by the violent vibrations being admitted from the metal vehicle placed below you.

After both of you finally exited the park, entering the street placed outside the entrance of the community, the two of you coasted for a while; you didn't exactly have a desired destination in mind, remaining silent as you took in all the views that surrounded you, watching as trees and homes flew past your vision like a blurry photo while you ventured through the heavily wooded area. You observed the setting sun for a while, noticing the way the bright colors slowly began to morph into much darker ones, starting from warm yellows and mellow oranges before ending upon a dark blue after mixing with a light purple. Dust was quickly trailing behind the motorcycle as you rode, rocks being expelled from beneath the rough tires and dirt ejecting itself beside the bike. The heavy wind that had began to flow through your hair felt celestial, a breeze roaming within your locks that seemed to cool your entire system, relieving the previous heat that had appeared upon your cheeks, the red that had traveled upon the tips of your ears and the bridge of your nose slowly disappeared as the lukewarm air washed it away. You barely took notice of the civilians roaming the concrete when you began to enter more populated areas, the motorcycle drowning out your thoughts as you became relaxed, easing all of your previous fears, doubts, nerves, everything as you just observed the multiple areas you drifted through.

You picked up upon the fact that the male began to magnetize towards a much more desolate area, merging upon a dirt covered street, a much heavier set of trees guarding the road, shrubs that began to block the illumination of the moon placed above you, an observation that caused you to grow tense. You remained mute, not uttering a word about the off putting situation as you allowed the biker to lure you further into the woodland area, grip upon him growing tighter until he finally came to a stop.

Daryl allowed the motorcycle to come to halt within a small opening, trees parting upon what you believed was one of the highest points in town. The tiny expanse, that didn't seem to support any sort of greenery, allowed your eyes to land upon a dazzling view, vision quickly placing itself upon the land below you: There was an array of glimmering lights speckling the night fallen civilization built beneath you, windows glowing and lamp posts shimmering as if they were small stars littering the inky town. You began to spot the many homes, shops, and other buildings as your pupils adjusted to the dark landscape underneath you, your position caused the structures to morph into tiny, ant sized versions of their previous selves as the sound of a bark released from a far away dog began to echo into your ears, howl muffled and almost inaudible. The mountains and hills placed far behind the homes rolled and rose within the background, remains of the previous sunset still barely evident as a light glow danced its way across the peaks of the elevations, crowning the dark mounds with a light yellow. The sky placed above you was almost a direct depiction of the land beneath it, twinkling stars dotting the inky sky just as the lamps and windows did to the dark area below you, and the atmosphere was seemingly void of color, a deep black supporting a dark, navy blue just as the town appeared underneath you. The landscape placed beneath your vision seemed to perfectly mirror the one held above you. 

“Woah,” you exclaimed, almost in a breathless manner “it's beautiful… How did you find this?”

The male was unresponsive for a moment, picking up upon the way your grasp had fallen from his body, palms landing upon your thighs before you spun upon the bike, turning yourself so you were placed towards the landscape, wishing to diminish the pain that was beginning to appear within your straining neck. Daryl would never admit it, but he secretly missed the warmth of your body; the male did not often receive any form of physical affection, not really experiencing many hugs, kisses, or simple pats upon the back throughout his lifetime, and although your actions were far from fitting the definition of “physical affection,” any sort of touch he received often had him flinching. But not with you, it seemed different. Almost instinctual or natural. It felt normal.

The brunette shrugged as the wind continued to clash against his frame, the air howling, leaves upon the trees quivering and rattling from above you, shaking and trembling within the breeze. It was quiet for a while after Daryl’s response, the two of you just remained within a comfort laced silence as the male observed you; you were watching the view with wide eyes, vision darting across the landscape, attempting to witness every possible view due to the fact that it was your first moment witnessing the sight. He smiled, pleased with himself as he noticed the look etched upon your features, one of pure amazement and bliss as you admired the miniature town placed below you. 

“Why did ya move here?” He asked suddenly.

The biker was placed back to you as he spoke, taking away the opportunity for you to observe his features, for you to assess the situation and concur exactly why he would ask such a thing, seemingly out of nowhere. If you had access to his face, you might be able to read the emotions etched upon his characteristics: Maybe he would have had his eyebrows furrowed, indicating that he was genuinely confused, or perhaps he would have a lip drawn upwards, supporting a look of disgust and judgment. But instead, all you could spot was his fluttering hair and the dark outline of his nose as he stared into the horizon. 

The wind suddenly grew stronger from the incline you were placed upon, a gust that pulled your hair backwards, locks dancing within the breeze as you stared upon the back of the male's head, an action that caused your hand to rise, palm successfully pushing the strands from your face.

“Crazy ex.” You replied simply, a wave of awkwardness washing over you, crashing down upon you like a ton of bricks as you brought your hands together, suddenly lacing your sweaty fingers between one another. 

You had contemplated lying to the biker, exclaiming that you had wished to escape to a new area or run away to start a new life, but two complications clashed with these fleeting ideas: The first being that the story was strongly unbelievable, why would someone possibly run away to a place like this in the hopes of become a new version of themselves, and the second being the fact that the little voice within the confines of your head strongly advised you not to lie to the brunette. And because of this, the truth came out rather unexpectedly, a confession that caused your system to suddenly flood with anxiety, frame stiffening and breath growing erratic under the intense pressure. A slight change in your demeanor that didn't go unnoticed by the male placed only a few inches in front of you.

Guilt began to plague Daryl’s mind, feeling extremely terrible for the transformation he had put you through, assuming that his inquiry had possibly ruined the experience, and the friendship that was seeming to spark between the two of you. He felt horrible for putting you in such an uncomfortable situation, perhaps causing you to want to grow further from the biker, and because of this, he didn't pry. The brunette didn't ask any further inquiries about the previously mentioned “crazy ex,” not assessing you upon what he had done or how you were recovering. Instead, he asked one more, minuscule question: 

“No. Why did ya move here?” He spoke, repeating himself softly.

The brunette added a bit more emphasis to the word “here” the second time around, making it much clearer that he had wondered why you picked this specific area, not what had caused you to move in the first place. You sat with his sentence for a moment, allowing yourself to ponder upon his question while you grew increasingly embarrassed. As you fiddled with his words, you mentally face palmed, scolding yourself for admitting to an occurrence that you initially hadn't needed to confess. You felt that familiar warmth rising to your face once more, a heat that radiated across both your cheeks and nose, a discovery that caused you to turn back towards the outlook, an attempt at shielding your features while you began to scream within the confines of your mind. You had most likely made the situation awkward by misreading his tone and the context within the circumstance, an intense confession that you had planned upon keeping to yourself for a while.

“I-” your sentence momentarily stopped short before you continued “don’t know.”

What you had said was technically true, you didn't exactly know why you had moved into the trailer park, you had taken the low pricing into account, a realization that the living costs were cheap played a large role within why you had moved. Although, so were the living conditions, inexpensive and poor, but you had always lived within places such as the one you were currently calling your abode, you had always inhabited the confines of trashed trailer parks or rundown, tiny homes, quickly becoming used to the below par lifestyle and the constant struggles you had to face, whether that be with the utilities or other civilians. Perhaps you had morphed into a creature of habit, resorting back to the only environment you had ever known, but your reasoning for why you had chosen this specific trailer park was practically a mystery to you. It wasn't in your dream town, desired city, or even the state you had aimed for.

Although Daryl had just replied with a simple nod of his head to your stuttered words, his mind was currently racing: You appeared to belong nowhere near trailer parks, or even close to the type of town you two were currently venturing through, so much so that if the biker had spotted you upon the streets, he would have assumed you belonged in some fancy home or upscale neighborhood. You were extremely attractive in the eyes of the brunette, you obviously took care of your appearance, with your pristine hair and smooth skin, whilst you were also very kind; you had good manners, you were sweet, and you seemed very compassionate, nothing compared to the obnoxious and immoral women he had grown used to. So in his mind, he was still stuck upon the unanswered question that was why you had even chosen a trailer park in the first place.

But, once again, he didn't pry, he remained silent as he allowed you to observe the view for a while longer before starting his motorcycle once more.

After that experience, the two of you quickly grew much closer; in the beginning, Daryl was often much too shy to ask for your company, too nervous to possibly disrupt you or overstep your unspoken boundaries, he couldn't possibly risk coming off as creepy or being perceived as annoying. But, he quickly came to the conclusion that you were quite the opposite, often bounding at the opportunity to request the bikers companionship, a fact that the brunette was surprised and happy with; it wasn't often that someone desired to hang out with the male, and because of this, he was not really used to the idea that another being could possibly enjoy his presence, but just knowing you were very willing to be around him was a thought that made his stomach do a summersault, a revelation that warmed his heart.

At first, the two of you would maybe go on a short motorcycle ride, like the one you had that night, or perhaps he would help you with more tasks around your home, often chores you were very capable of completely on your own, like moving the couch or reaching something placed high upon the wall, but you genuinely just wanted someone to converse with, and the biker never seemed to object. Then, it escalated into a more comfortable, relaxed environment as you began just sitting around and watching television whilst sharing a few beers, or possibly finding your way to a bar in the hopes of playing pool, the two of you would even take a trip down to the river placed behind the small community when you desired a swim, an activity Daryl rarely joined you in, often remaining upon the embankment whilst chatting with you. As the two of you formed a tighter bond, you practically became attached at the hip; you began appearing within Daryl’s current living situation, maintaining your composure when his brother and the older male’s acquaintances licked their lips and flirted with you. Although, the brunette preferred disappearing to someplace different, enjoying the minimal time he spent away from his brother and his boisterous pals. 

It was as if you were some form of escape for the biker, a chance for him to erase the memories of the environment he would eventually have to return to. From the way you looked and the way you behaved, to your home and your ideals, everything about you appeared to be the exact opposite of what he had to deal with on a daily basis. During the amount of time he would spend with you, he no longer had to manage his brother and his obnoxious antics, he wasn't constantly berated by the neighbors and their idiotic statements, instead, he was surrounded by the sound of your lovely voice, allowing himself to take part in enjoyable, and sometimes intellectual, conversations as the two of you shared your opinions and stories. He would no longer be engulfed within the disheveled structure his brother called their house or surrounded by constant bickering and violent brawls, instead, he could escape within the walls of your beautiful home, receiving the opportunity for the two of to attend a cute diner or take a walk within the desolate woods. You were like his own, personal paradise. His heaven.

With this forming friendship, overtime, you began to notice how you were beginning to grow different types of feelings towards the biker; you often found yourself daydreaming about the brunette, whether you were placed within the confines of your bed, unable to drift off to sleep as the thought of the male began to creep within your head, or when you were tending to some chores around your home, the thought of him always seemed to be lingering within your mind. But, how could you not become fond of him? 

The male was sweet, nice, and very helpful, always offering you a hand around your trailer, more than willing to repair multiple appliances or tend to any problems you were experiencing. Other than your previously listed struggles, Daryl had assisted you in getting your vehicle fixed, helped you repair your sink, and he had even painted your bedroom walls. The biker was also very respectful, he had never once made you feel uncomfortable as he was extremely careful when it came to valuing your boundaries. The brunette had never made an uncomfortable joke, he had never attempted to touch you or use you in any inappropriate manner, and he had even beat the shit out of another man who had slapped your ass while the two of you were partaking in a walk. And somehow, the biker was very attractive as well, his sharp features mixed with his mysterious aura was very alluring. His bright, blue eyes seemed to stand out against his dark hair, irises that portray his every emotion as he often remained silent, pupils lively, displaying all of his feelings and opinions as he stared upon you with them. His chiseled jawline and light stubble were also huge factors that played into your attraction towards the man. He was also so manly, you often spent your free time adoring him as he worked upon his bike or fixed appliances around your trailer, growing smitten over the way his muscles strained and tensed underneath the pressure he applied upon them, large upper body bulging as he repaired your utilities. Images of his muscular arms wrapped around you while the two of you held one another, or as he embraced you after you returned from a stressful day, often plagued your dreams. 

You were very aware of the fact that you most likely shouldn't have been receiving those sort of feelings towards Daryl, due to the reality that he was one of your only friends and you most certainly were not fond of the idea of possibly losing him. You didn't enjoy the thought of frightening or disgusting him with a rash confession of your feelings, an admission that you were 100% certain would scare him away. The biker had also been very humble, as mentioned previously; you had never caught him ogling you, not for one moment had he objectified you or fetishized you by announcing any form of nasty pick up lines or gross ideals, in no way shape or form had he ever made any inappropriate advances upon you, and, most importantly, he had always remained extremely helpful and accommodating. So, you decided that you'd just keep your feelings to yourself until you were no longer able to, staying consistent with your previous pattern of daydreaming of the biker and taking part in friendly conversations and socializations with the male.

But little did you know, Daryl felt no differently; as time went on, the male had grown smitten with you as well, jumping at any opportunity to spend time with you, even if it wasn't one on one. He adored making you laugh and giggle, and he would never miss the chance to observe your wide grin as the two of you approached one another. Your presence alone made the brunette's stomach do summersaults within his abdomen, your striking features, intoxicating aroma, and admirable personality never failed to cause the biker’s knees to grow weak. He adored how confident you were, poised enough to wear the clothing you desired to, amplified assurance to behave the way you often did, even within the confines of an environment such as a trashy trailer park, and sufficiently assertive to approach Daryl the way you had about a week into your stay, even after taking into consideration who he had been surrounded by. He also admired your ability to take care of yourself, standing up to the vulgar men as they treated you like a possession, an animal, an object, anything but human. You were so capable of repairing your problems and struggles on your own, even if you often asked the brunette to reconstruct various tasks, chores he was aware you knew how to mend with your own strength and knowledge. But, he could never bring himself to deny your requests, although he had never desired to do so.

However, what had kept the male from admitting his pleasant feelings for you was a mix of fear, terrified of the notion of you slipping from his grasp, the only thing that had made him feel true happiness in a long while, and his extremely low self esteem; Daryl had never thought much of himself, always imagining himself as a lowlife, unattractive, inferior, criminal, ideals that had always been repeated from the mouth of his older brother, two participants that constantly lowered his self image. And, due to these bombarding beliefs, the biker had continued to patronize himself, reminding himself of all the things he had yet to accomplish, convincing himself that he had done so much wrong that he was just a waste of space, someone who didn't deserve to have an angel such as yourself to call his significant other. The biker viewed you as a celestial being, a superior human who he was lucky enough to have graced his vision, someone who would never consider a being such as himself. He believed he wasn't good enough for you, and he couldn't risk the embarrassment of being rejected by a human such as yourself.

One night, around ten o'clock, about a month or two after the both of you had taken part in your first motorcycle ride, you and Daryl had placed yourselves around a small fire. You had built the blaze within your front yard, one that would give you the ability to view the glimmering stars above you without the overcasting shadow of the trees mixed with the shielding structure that was your own trailer. The two of you were currently sitting around the fire, you were placed comfortably within a lawn chair while the brunette had plopped himself down upon a tree stump placed about half a foot to your right, one you often used to chop and cut wood. You were quietly observing the flames as they licked up around the logs of the campfire, successfully projecting small sparks into the night sky, tiny, glowing chunks that joined the glistening stars littered above you as the blaze groaned and crackled. 

At some point, you had begun watching the biker from within the corner of your eyes, noticing the way an orange glow had glazed his face, illuminating his solemn features as he stared into the fire, as if he was contemplating something. You quickly recognized the look etched upon his characteristics, it was one he often supported whilst he sat upon the front steps of the tiny home placed down the street: His lips were drawn into a thin line as his eyes remained glued to one, specific object, the item that had fallen victim to his scrutinizing gaze this time was the lively flames. His hair was currently dangling in front of his features, bangs that casted a light shadow onto his face, a grayish silhouette that outlined his smooth forehead, the bridge of his nose, and a portion of his right eye, pupils that were glimmering within the lighting. His blue irises had transformed into a light teal mixed with a layer of yellow as he sat in silence, fire contorting his face in small segments, pieces that had only revealed themselves to your attentive eyes.

The two of you had remained quiet for quite some time, a silence that was no longer awkward compared to the way it used to be. At some point, the tranquility had morphed into a comforting aura, one that engulfed you as the, oftentimes mute, biker accompanied your surroundings. You both had resorted to listening to the sound of the laughter echoing itself down the populated streets as community members wandered the roads, talking and laughing amongst one another. You also allowed your ears to receive the slight tremble of the nature that seemed to guard the backside of your home, bushes rustling as the flames hissed in front of you. A mosquito had also begun buzzing within the shell of your ear, one you were quick to raise a hand and smack. Merle had even stopped by momentarily, chatting you up for a bit before eventually disappearing into the night, allowing you and the biker to remain alone once more. The two of you had permitted yourselves to enjoy each other's company for a while, not being pestered or harassed by other civilians as you alternatively became relaxed within one another's presence.

You knew exactly why you had invited Daryl over, you were aware of the actions about to unfold when you skipped across the road around eight that night, in search of the handsome biker. You could no longer hide your feelings, plain and simple; you were finding it much harder to fight back the overpowering urge to reach out and grasp at the males hand while the two of you walked side by side, or from kissing his cheek every time he repaired one of your appliances, and you were even receiving the impulse to refer to him as “hun” or “sweetie” whenever the two of you greeted one another. The male was beginning to take up every second of your being, you made it a priority to visit the biker at least one a day, spend time with him whilst chatting and laughing amongst each other, and when you weren't lingering around the brunette, you were thinking of him, following little storylines within the confines of your imagination or reminiscing upon a moment the two of you had shared together, and when you were not reflecting upon the male, you were sleeping. Slumber that was plagued with dreams of the handyman. 

Your heart yearned for him, that was obvious, it just about hurt how much you desired him at that point. It was as if there was an emptiness within your chest, a hole in the shape of a quiet and adorable biker. You had to tell him, you had reached the point of impending implosion, the secret was eating you alive.

“I want you to kiss me.” You blurted out.

In all honesty, that probably had not been the best way to approach the situation, even you could admit that, but it was as if the words began to tumble from your lips before you could even ponder upon your course of action. You were screaming within the confines of your mind, face beginning to turn a light shade of pink as your own sentence entered the chambers of your ears. You quickly came to terms with your previous action, a small voice speaking loudly over the continuous, frantic yelling, exclaiming that what had been said was done, there was no going back, so you embarrassingly allowed your head to turn in his direction. 

You observed as Daryl did the same, neck spinning as he faced you; his features were blank, eyes void of emotion, eyebrows placed comfortably upon his brow bone, skin remaining its previous tan color, and his lips continued to lay in a tight line as he gazed upon you. Your vision was darting around his face in a delirious manner, searching for any sign of a response as he remained frozen in time, even his hands were motionless upon his knees, not even a slight twitch had been emitted from his legs.

“Daryl,” you sighed, feeling a much stronger wave of embarrassment wash over you as a response to his concerning reaction, eyes quickly falling from his face and landing upon your lap “I really like you, and I-uh, I don’t exactly know how to say this, but I don't think we can continue being just friends anymore.” 

As the biker remained silent, staring at you as if the words that had just tumbled from your lips had not even reached him yet, you grew even more nervous, anxiety nipping at your stomach. The male remained quiet, eyes glued to your own as no sign of emotion appeared to wash over him: His eyebrows hadn't drawn themselves into a confused knot, his face never turned a deep, flustered red, nor had his hands began to nervously fidget, as they often had when he was placed within an awkward experience. After a while of this, the brunette remaining mute as you became nauseous, you finally exhaled a large huff, defeat crashing down upon you as you rose from your spot upon the lawn, wiping your dirt laced palms upon your jean covered thighs.

“I'm sorry, really. I'm sorry.” You spoke as you stood, repeating yourself like some sort of broken record before you made your way towards the front steps, disappearing within the walls of your home.

In all honesty, Daryl had not remained silent out of disgust or some form of protest, which was the way you perceived his actions. You received the biker's quiet behavior as a pure sign of distaste, his mute gestures a clear indication that he was in fact very against your suggestions. But, that could not have been further from the truth: The male had remained silent as he was much too nervous to mess up the bond the two of you had formed, a delicate structure both of you had spent carefully building over the last couple months, and the brunette was scared of the idea of possibly losing you. A little known fact about the biker was that he had never really had a girlfriend before, he had been with women and experienced a few dates, but he had never really dated a female he truly had feelings for, a verity you were very unaware of. Therefore, because of this, the male was almost positive that if the two of you were to carry on down that sort of path, he was certain to mess up and ruin things between you two; he didn't know the first thing about a genuine, loving relationship, he was unsure when to kiss you, where to hold you, how to act during dates, or even how to act as a boyfriend. So, consequently, he couldn't bring himself to accept your offer, although it had been everything he had ever wished for, he was just too fearful of losing you.

However, little did the biker know, that was exactly what had happened right then: You were slipping from his grasp.

After that night, you slowly began to distance yourself, too embarrassed to face the biker following the eventful evening, nervous that he was disgusted with you and no longer desired to spend time with you. So you took it upon yourself to reject yourself: You stopped approaching him, cheeks burning as they grew a rosie red whenever you happened to spot him, you gave up upon spending time around both him and even he buddies, and worst of all, you stopped requesting his help, often resorting to the assistance of another male down the road, a lengthy man named Adam.

Daryl noticed the change in your demeanor very early on, picking up upon the fact that you rarely came to visit and you completely stopped talking to him, only rewarding the male with a polite wave mixed with a small smile. Naturally, this revelation irked him, a sudden pit forming within the depths of his stomach due to this discovery, a finding that inevitably made him realize that he would be forced to return to the front steps of his current living situation. He had resorted back to dissolving upon the stares of the ratty trailer, rotting away in the summer sun as he sipped upon a beer, occasionally jumping within the depths of a fight that his brother had somehow started. The only source of happiness he had received, practically since birth, had escaped his life, but nothing could have prepared him for what would conspire about three weeks after the incident, when Daryl began to spot another male entering your home, the previously mentioned Adam.

Adam was a blond, 5 '11, salesman who lived down the street, he owned a nice, silver car alongside an all black motorcycle, one he often took upon joy rides. Admittedly, the blond was a fairly nice guy; during the few conversations the brunette had shared with him, Adam had remained very polite, respectful, and kind with the biker. The blond was practically the epiphany of a woman's dream man: He was tall, nice, blond, and supported a striking pair of blue eyes, facts that lead the brunette to conclude that you were most likely pining after Adam, a realization that caused Daryl to grow ill. The brunette’s constant obsessing over the thought of you and Adam together didn't do wonders for his self image.

Daryl would observe the two of you as you entered your home, giggling amongst yourselves before disappearing within the doorway of your trailer while the biker remained placed upon the rotting front steps of his current house. The sight made him become sick, his heart shattering into a million pieces as he silently let you go, keeping to himself as you appeared to replace him with the blond. The male would often reminisce upon the moments you had shared together beforehand, the motorcycle rides you had spent pushed against his frame and the long conversations you shared late at night within the darkly lit confines of your living room, he had even began to miss the way you insisted upon washing his worn clothing and tending to his deserted hair, slight habits that often annoyed the solemn male at the time, but that was the most he had technically interacted with you: Through memory. 

His breaking point creeped up upon him when the sound of a bike roaring to life entered his ears around nine one night, a familiar rumble that caused the male to sit up from within his spot upon the couch; in any other circumstance, the amicable noise would have been one the brunette wouldn't have thought twice about, due to the fact that many of his acquaintances were motorcyclists, he would have just concluded that the abrupt sound had been one of the lousy fools he often surrounded himself with. If it weren't for the fact that the large pack was currently engulfing the biker, a sea of motionless bodies littered the room as the group had passed out much earlier than expected, a result from their full itinerary of drinking and smoking that day. That piece of evidence was what led Daryl to rise up from his slumber, sitting up upon the couch before pushing himself to an upright position, quick to carefully creep towards the windowsill. Once the male had arrived at his desired destination, he allowed his fingers to trail up the curtain, parting the shades with his digits before peaking through the glass.

His eyes surveillance the area, blue irises scrutinizing his surroundings, skimming across the discarded pile of black trash bags that had been deserted at the end of the short driveway, vision dancing across the motionless landscape, the moon shining high within the sky, atmosphere dark as minuscule stars dotted the skyline, before his eyes landed upon your property. The biker quickly spotted you, your shoulders jolting as you tossed your hair upon your back before eventually straddling an unfamiliar bike. He allowed his pupils to trail up the vehicle, vision grazing past your dark silhouette and up the black frame of the motorcycle before he finally spotted the outline of another person's body: Adam. The brunette observed as you placed yourself upon the blond’s bike, arms wrapping themselves around his torso as you settled into your position before taking off, disappearing into a cloud of dust down the vacant road.

The sight caused his breath to hitch within the back of his throat, the heart-rending sight resulted in his eyes growing weak, glazing themselves in a layer of moisture as the perspiration threatened to spill from the barriers that were his eyelids. That had been the activity the two of you shared, the first real bonding experience you both took part in, not an occurrence Adam and you should have been experiencing. This thought caused the brunette to huff, a shaky breath that expelled itself from the chamber of his mouth as he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his palms in small circles onto his closed eyes in an attempt to dry them.

The feeling of his eyes growing wet was not something he was used to, it was some sort of foreign sensation to the male, unable to remember the last time he received that sort of feeling. As he dried his eyes, he grew confused, due to the fact that crying wasn't exactly in his nature: He could get punched in the face and have his nose become broken, or witness the same occurrence happening to another being, and he most likely wouldn't have shed a tear. So why then? It didn't take a genius to figure it out, Daryl was losing the one thing he truly cared about, he was being deprived of the place he called home, the person that helped him escape his treacherous life, even just for a bit. The one form of light and happiness in his life was disappearing forever, and it dawned upon him right then that he needed to make his final decision: Would he let you go, let you escape this world with another male, or would he make one last attempt to patch things up? 

Gathering the little amount of courage and confidence still left within his system, he tiptoed towards the door, making sure to step over limp bodies and not to activate any noisy floorboards before reaching the exit. He was careful whilst utilizing the door knob, turning it in a manner that was most effective, reaching his fingers around the metal circle and twisting it in a certain fashion that was guaranteed to silence the object. Once the door finally popped open, the biker was quick to exit the crowded home, feet mute upon the small, front landing before he turned back towards the entrance, repeating the previous cycle. Finally, he placed himself upon the stairs, awaiting your return whilst he busied himself with the objects surrounding him: 

Understanding that he could be waiting for a long time, he lifted his head, observing the sky placed above him for a while, trying to create shapes and objects with the flickering stars or attempting to spot the darker splotches upon the glowing moon. Eventually, when he found himself growing bored of his previous activities, he moved onto his next target, which happened to be the open window of the trailer placed across the street; the male allowed his eyes to focus upon the glass, shades pushed to the side as his vision circled the interior. He could spot a few brown framed pictures placed upon the yellow stained walls, although his irises were practically completely obscured by the fighting couple placed in front of the window. The male and women were obviously arguing, their screaming voices slightly muffled by the exterior of their home, but he could still hear the faint yelling of the two as a few hits were placed upon one another. The brunette watched them for a long while, observing as they hollered and hit one another, attempting to make out their words and sentences, doing his best to decipher what their fight had been about until a far away rumble began to present itself within the warm breeze. The quiet roar being carried through the wind was a familiar one, the intimate grumble was one of a revving motorcycle, a sound that caused the bikers ears to perk up.

Daryl did his best not to let his impatience get the best of him, due to the fact that the bike could have belonged to practically any resident within the neighborhood, but he couldn't hide his growing restlessness when he began to fiddle with his hands, rubbing his palms together as the noise neared. As the, previously unknown, bike turned into the community, an action that caused the male to begin to fidget with his fingers with much more intensity, his vision finally focused upon the jet black motorcycle, a vehicle that was currently holding two passengers. The brunette momentarily stayed put, eyes following the bike as it came to a halt at the end of your driveway, the blond allowing you to hop off the motorcycle, exclaiming an obvious farewell with the wave of his hand, his lips moving as his words remained silenced under the intense rumble of his vehicle, before he eventually drove off, disappearing towards the direction of his own home.

Once Adam was finally a good distance away, not paying any mind to the women he had just dropped off, the brunette rose from his place upon the wooden steps, practically stomping across the lawn. As Daryl made his way across the street, he observed you as you walked up your driveway, a slight thump noise being emitted from your feet as the souls of your shoes slapped against the pavement. It was evident that you were unsuspecting of the male advancing across the road, until he called out to you:

“(Y/N).” the biker exclaimed, his words echoing throughout the vicinity as the sound of the blond’s bike died down, erasing its previous roar from the area.

The brunette’s voices caused you to swing around, spinning upon your heels before you spotted his figure as he crossed the threshold of your lawn, boots stamping upon the split between the cold concrete and brown dirt. The male was supporting a stern look, eyebrows pulled together, a sign of determination, his irises steady as he gazed upon you, and his lips pulled taunt into a tight line, as if he was in some sort of deep thought. His shoulders were drawn jointly, muscles dense in a stressful manner, fist clenched and knuckles white as he made his way towards you, knowing that deep down, if he didn't do what he was about to, he might never attempt again. His sudden appearance caused your eyes to grow wide, not exactly expecting him to return to your property that night. Or ever for that matter.

“Dar-” You attempted to respond as he finally placed himself in front of you, although your vocalization was cut short by his lips landing upon your own.

You were quite taken aback by his actions, his mouth pressed plush against your own as his large hand snaked its way around your back, firm palm settling upon the small of your spine as he pulled you closer to his figure. You couldn't lie, you momentarily allowed your body to practically liquify into his grasp, mind reeling as you were finally introduced to the way his strong, muscly arms felt as they caged you between his wide chest and his large biceps. The hold the male had upon you was comforting, your figure relaxing into his own as the heat of his limbs radiated upon your own, his body soft and pillow-like as you cuddled further into his warm and safe grip. 

You practically felt relieved as his lips pushed themselves against your own, mouths slotting together as if they were pieces of a puzzle, like your lips had been made for the others' usage. His mouth was soft, lips plump as they pressed upon your own, smushing together as the tips of your noses collided. He tasted of cigarettes and metallic beer as he mouthed further into you, a flavor you had never expected to find as delicious as you did right then, mouth practically lapping at the tang being ejected from him. You tilted your head, allowing the male to deepen the kiss as the features of your faces were no longer in the way, permitting the male to pull you further into his lips, soft mouth that practically put you within a trance, hypnotizing you as you allowed him to pepper your lips with long, affectionate kisses.

Daryl began to smile into the depths of your shared kiss, lips curling up into a small grin as he relished within the grasp of your junction. He would have never dreamed of kissing an angel, but here he was, the taste of mint and sugar flooding into the cave of his throat as he held you, small body pinned against his own as the warmth of your figure radiated into his own. Until, suddenly, you began to push him away, a slight irritation rushing through your system that the biker quickly picked up upon, frantic hands prodding at him as you separated.

“You-” you paused while untangling yourself from his grasp, sighing in a mix of defeat and exhaustion, a result of your previous activities, as you did so “You can't just do this to me, Daryl.”

The male gazed down upon you, face an exasperated red, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and lips covered in a sheen of saliva as he grew disoriented. He observed the look etched upon your face, cheeks a pinkish hue, eyes fluttering up towards him, and a slight frown inching across your lips as a breeze blew through you, strands of your hair trailing behind your dimly illuminated silhouette. He could have sworn you had been enjoying yourself just moments prior, from the way you had kissed him back, to the way you allowed your body to mold into his own.

“I really like you, Daryl, and you broke my heart. And now, I'm trying to move on, and now you come back?” You huffed in a slight anger, although your previous irritation began to simmer.

While you were still annoyed, you could never actually remain frustrated with the sweet biker, it was as if you had grown some sort of soft spot for the male, one that had refused to disappear over time. You had not become frustrated due to his actions, you had quite enjoyed his unanticipated behavior, instead, you were angry with his timing. Why now? Why did it take seeing you with another man for him to suddenly magnetize back towards you, after all that heart break, days spent crying within the depths of your bed as you became overloaded with a wave of overwhelming emotions.

You crossed your arms, tempted to turn back towards him before vanishing into your home, but once your vision landed upon the concerned look written across his characteristics, you couldn't bear to resist him: His eyebrows were now completely pulled together, this time furrowed in a look of confusion rather than determination as he stared down at you, vision darting all across your face as he observed you in deep uncertainty, a look of sadness hidden far within his inky pupils. His mouth was drawn into a thin line as he obviously began to chew upon the inside of his cheek, worry coursing through his veins, fear washing over him as he became terrified of the idea that he had just possibly ruined his last chance with you.

The male had never been one with words, maybe that was why he had remained quiet when you had confessed to him, or possibly why he had just sat there for a few seconds, silently searching for the correct words to use and the right tone to utilize that would make you wish to stay. The biker had always been worried of disrespecting you whilst he spoke, scared of perhaps exclaiming the incorrect words and in turn, ruining a moment with his vocalization, so he often remained mute in situations such as these. Although he remained unaware of the harmful effects his silence often had upon others.

“I like ya too, but,” he paused, momentarily drawing a blank once more before inevitably just allowing himself to continue, permitting the words to flow “I didn't wanna ruin what we had, but… Thas what ended up happenin anyway.”

You quickly spotted the deep, red hue beginning to spread across the male’s face while he spoke, tears of embarrassment mixed with an overwhelming sadness threatening to spill over his eyelids and leak down his cheeks at his confession. You had never witnessed the biker this close to sobbing before, so the genuine sincerity in his words, strong enough to perhaps make him cry, was enough to repair your previously damaged heart.

In all honesty, you had grown fond of Adam, he had made you smile, laugh, and he had been great company, but you desired him in nothing more than a friendly manner, never allowing your relationship to become anything more than that. A friendship. Yes, you and the blond had taken part in some of the same activities as you had with Daryl, occasions such as walks, conversations, and he had even assisted you with some of your maintenance problems, but it had all remained in a friendly manner. Your heart had always belonged to the mysterious, quiet male, memories of him often keeping you up within the late hours of the night, mind yearning for his company throughout the days, and you continued to allow your eyes to take quick glances in his direction whenever you had passed by his abode. You missed him, plain and simple; you often caught yourself calling out to the brunette while you remained alone within the depths of your home, you yearned for your previous chats, and you deeply desired his presence within your life. It had become obvious, during your growing friendship, that he had been made for you, that the two of you were practically perfect for one another: You had supplied each other with a happiness you had not received in such a long while, a joy that caused the two of you to grow unable to envision a future without one another.

Your sudden giggles caught Daryl off guard, erratic chuckles that echoed against the structures surrounding you as you began to support a wide grin paired with squinted eyes, features that only confused the male further while you brought a hand up to your face, placing it over your revealed teeth before you began to shake your head, almost as a display of disbelief.

“I could never stay mad at you, Daryl. You didn't ruin anything, I did. I shouldn't have pushed you away.” You admitted.

The biker had heard what you said, allowing your genuine sentence to enter the canals of his ears, but your words had not clarified anything for him. Perhaps it was the mixture of your abrupt laughter and vague vocalization, but your actions only caused him to wonder if you had been giggling at him, towards his embarrassing confession and you still desired to remain distanced from him. 

You glanced up towards the brunette once more whilst removing your hand from upon your lips, laughter dying away as you perceived the look plastered upon his face: He was still supporting his previous expression, one that made you concur that he had remained confused, eyebrows still furrowed and his mouth drawn into a thin line. 

At this discovery, you smiled softly at the awkward male before raising yourself upon the toes of your shoes, lifting your face to his lips before placing your mouth gently upon his own. You were quick to allow yourself to melt into his touch, as this time, you had expected the connection and were more than willing to savor it. Your movements remained still as you felt the brunette's hands shakily placed themselves upon your torso, fingers gripping at your skin as the pads of his digits began to carefully rub at your flesh. It was relaxing to receive the feeling of his plush lips once more, mouth soft and inviting as you returned to his protective grasp, the whole world disappearing around the two of you as a feeling of true safety washed over you.

The biker's eyes fell heavy under the control of your passionate mouth, lids clamping shut as he leaned further into your lips, deepening the kiss as you pressed your faces together much harsher. The kiss was deep and passionate, everything the two of you had ever dreamed of as your connection was evidently heavenly, movements angelic as you breathed brutally through your nose. You felt perfect placed beneath the brunette, the male allowing his face to nuzzle into your grip when he received the feeling of your palm upon his cheek, hand grasping at his warm skin as your lips moved in sync. 

“Wanna go on a ride?” You asked the biker once the two of you eventually parted.

The male smiled down at you, a completely adoring smirk, breath lagging as he panted, nodding quickly before you grasped at his hand, sweaty fingers lacing together as you practically dragged him towards his motorcycle.

That time, and during the many yet to come, you didn't hesitate to allow your head to rest upon his leather covered back while he drove.

this is so perfect 🥺

you found me

if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did.

҉ summary : daryl finds her reading his book and realizes that she has scars on her soul too.

҉ warnings : hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of child abuse, a lot of kisses, reader was also a victim of her father, they wants to be parents.

҉ words count : 998.

Daryl left a book on the table. You had never seen him read before, so it caught you off guard. You moved closer to check the title, and when you read it, your heart skipped a beat. You began reading the first few pages, noting how the words seemed so close to reality, and it frightened you.

You closed the book, keeping your hand on the cover. You took a deep breath and felt overwhelmed by your emotions. You thought about Daryl and the reasons he had for picking up that book, especially after he confessed his conversation with Beth. He didn't just want to leave his past behind; he wanted to understand himself too.

You opened the book again, which he had placed near his crossbow. You thought both things served as forms of defense: one against visible monsters, the other against invisible ones. That made them inevitably invincible. When you finished the first chapter, you heard footsteps, and something in you knew it was Dixon. You had never told him much about yourself. The past didn’t matter now that the present took up so much space.

The door was slightly ajar, so you decided to close it. You took off the shirt you were wearing, the belt that held your knife, and your jeans. These movements revealed an inexplicable vulnerability. You took the book again and continued reading. The words about how to overcome the things you know are wrong even as a child made your head spin, your lungs feel tight, and your eyes begin to well up with tears.

Everything was paper, but the memories were not.

The door opened, and you closed your eyes. Daryl and you had shared enough moments to consider yourselves in a relationship. You had felt his lips on yours, your breaths had mingled, and you had fought to keep each other alive. But he had never seen you like this—naked and fragile.

Your back had scars stretching from your shoulders to your lower back. You had thought time would take them away, but they were immortal. You had to live with them and the memories they brought every time a mirror reflected them. For a while, you believed you deserved that pain, that your father was only being fair. Then you realized that someone who loves their child would never do this. You kept reading, your knees bent, your hands holding the book delicately.

You heard his slow breathing and could even hear the crack of his heart. His energy shifted from alert to calm. You felt the weight of his body on the mattress and a smile formed on your lips. Your eyes didn’t seek his, even when your heart begged you to. You continued reading those words you both understood.

A few seconds later, you felt the tips of his fingers rest on the deepest scar on your skin, and you remembered the blood it caused and how close you came to losing your life because of it. Daryl’s touch on your skin was so gentle, like a feather brushing your back. Your eyes filled with tears, and you clenched your teeth.

“There were monsters before all this,” you said, and then you felt his lips tracing the line of your scar. You shivered and looked at him over your shoulder. That was enough to make your heart pound faster against your chest. He looked so broken, even while he was fixing you.

Soft kisses trailed to your shoulder, and just when you thought he would ask why you never told him before, his hand took the book and placed it on the mattress. Before kissing you, he held your chin between his thumb and index finger.

"Our kid ain't never gonna have to deal with 'em." That words made you break into tears that wet your genuine smile. You buried your face in his neck, and before you could settle into his body, Daryl slowly pulled away to take off his shirt.

You watched him while thinking of a child you could call yours. Even if you were in this world, you wanted to be the mother of his children.

You ran your fingers over the scars on his back and began tracing them as if you had memorized them. It was his story, and you were caressing it, just as he had caressed yours. You brought your lips to his, and they fit together effortlessly. You broke the kiss to look at him, and Daryl wiped your tears with his thumb. Those tears stopped being tears and turned to dust.

“Do you want to have a child with me?” you asked, tilting your head and running your fingers through his hair, burying them gently in his strands.

He nodded, and you rested against his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, and by the fourth beat, you knew they were yours. It was a sound you would never tire of. You would always want to close your eyes and rest your head against his skin. His heartbeat meant he was still alive, and therefore, so were you.

Your heart and his were bound by something even stronger than love. Unconditionality was something more eternal.

Daryl was your idea of angel. He pierced your soul.

“I love ya,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on your hair. You smiled, and the scars on your back resisted. When the people who are supposed to love you don’t, you forever hope that someone will love you as you deserve. And you can be the one to love yourself, but you also wish someone else would do it too.

Your mouth met his, and the kiss became so real that it almost took your breath away. His warmth and your warmth were allies in a world of adversaries.

“I love you too,” you whispered, knowing that for the first time, your wounds had found a cure instead of salt.

so. damn. cute. I LOVED EVERY PART OF THIS STORY OMG 😭😭😭

Heaven's Gate

Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral Reader

If there were any more left of me - I'd give it to you.

Summary:

Hope. Not the fragile, delicate thing that everyone mistakes it to be.

Hope is stubborn, and grows inside of you long before you ever realize its purpose there.

Hope can't be crushed by a thousand pound tank or torn apart as easily as concrete walls can. Hope is balanced on the backs of songbirds, it whistles quietly in the wind, and it brings you right where you need to be (even if you don't know it).

Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff. Set during Seasons 1-5.

Word Count: 24,200

The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

...

Warnings: the reader character in this fic is completely gender neutral - there is no mentions of the reader's genitals, their clothing style, or their general appearance, and I did not use any gendered terms to refer to the reader whatsoever; a few times the term 'they' is used in conversation, but I tried to be clever and make it so that it could be referring to just the reader or the whole group, interpret it how you want; it is possibly implied that the reader is younger than Daryl, but it's never explicitly stated (when I was writing, this I had in mind that they do have an age gap but I didn't want to state so to leave it more open-ended) - the main focus is the reader being less experienced with survival skills and more 'citified', which is the case for a lot of the characters at the beginning of the apocalypse; there is a lot of TWD themes in the fic - death; canon typical violence, hunting and killing animals for food, killing other humans in order to survive, killing walkers, gun violence, mentions of food scarcity, the general emotional depression that comes with being surrounded by death and being on the brink of survival, mentions of Merle being racist and sexist (the fic does not contain him saying any slurs or performing any actions in alignment with this, it is a background element); there is mentions of canon plot points and this fic will spoil Seasons 2 through 5 if you are watching the show for the first time and haven't seen those episodes yet (I am looking at you, Star), mentions of 'fate' and 'good luck' as concepts; bird symbolism (that may not be accurate to the general recordings of these symbols and are just things I have learned from my personal life), mentions of religion - mentions of the reader praying to 'any god that will listen' (the reader is not religious to one specific religion, but believes in prayer) (yes all of the spiritual concepts in this fic come from my personal life lmao); mentions of canon injuries - Daryl being shot with his own crossbow and then being shot in the ear by Andrea; mentions of stitches for medical purposes; use of the term Y/N (I am nothing if not a traditionalist); mentions of alcohol/characters drinking (Beth and Daryl at the moonshine shack) - implications of genetic alcoholism and how it plays into Beth and Daryl's interactions with alcohol; passing mentions of Daryl smoking cigarettes; mentions of Daryl's abusive past (non-detailed); Daryl describes the reader as 'beautiful' in his personal narration; mention of reader having an abusive father (a father who is 'similar to Ed') (this is not described in detail); mentions of suicide (performed by a non-named character not during the time of the story) (also mentions of Daryl having suicidal ideations due to hopelessness when the prison falls); mentions of taking things off of dead bodies because those things are useful for survival; I think that's it.

A/N: I re-wrote the summary like four times cause I actually have no clue how to summarize the essence of the fic. But I hope this fits well. This is way more about the emotions than it is about what's actually happening in the fic. I am really proud of this fic and I hope that you guys like it.

...

Daryl Dixon was someone who came into your life quietly. 

When that original group first made camp at the quarry around Dale’s old RV outside of Atlanta, trying to escape the epic traffic jam and the chilling after effects of the hellish bombs that had been dropped on the city, everyone thought that it would only be temporary. Everyone thought that it would last a few days, at most. Everyone held onto the comforting delusion that it wouldn’t be long until the world got back up on its feet again. 

You certainly never thought that all of the people within that camp would become a second family to you - people you would die for, kill for if needed. 

When you first saw Daryl, he was trying to hold back his drunken brother Merle from getting into a fight with Shane. You didn’t think much of him then - perhaps you wondered why he stood up for someone so sour and surly, but you knew that the loyalty of blood related family meant too much to some people. That he was likely willing to do far too much for someone who would never return the same favors for him. (And you turned out to be right.) 

These days, you thought of Daryl Dixon with increasing frequency and a mixed bag of emotions that you struggled to carry. Bitter nostalgia being at the top of that list. 

When you woke up on this particular morning, you thought of him as you gathered your hunting gear. You heard his quiet, gravelly voice in your ear telling you to travel light, but reminding you that the items you should take would each be important and serve a planned purpose. The knife on your belt was heavy with memories of him, ached with the ghost of his touch. 

You thought of him as you tracked a buck’s steps through the dirt. You thought of him as you crept through the woods, feeling equal parts peaceful and dangerously pensive. You thought of him that night as you sat beside a gently crackling fire, the flames warming you only beside he had taught you how to start one. You thought of him as you eventually took down the deer - as you skinned it, gutted it, and portioned  exactly how he had taught you. 

Stepping under a stream of hot water after three long days out in the woods was one of the most satisfying feelings you could have ever conceptualized. The bottom of the tub quickly became muddy with a combination of blood rinsing off your skin (from when you had cleaned the deer), and the general dirt you had gathered on you from the hunting trip. You let the heat of the water relax your tired muscles, and tried your hardest not to let your mind wander back to something you couldn’t have. 

But you missed Daryl so damn much. 

It was strange to think that things had been so different not that long ago. 

… 

The quarry was an oddly beautiful place to be during one of the darkest times in your life. 

It was the definition of breathtaking - crystal blue waters, bright green grass, nothing but open space to let the sun shine down on you. None of that city stink from the piled-up, rotting corpses. This far away from Atlanta, it was easy to forget why you were all gathered here, camping out night after night. It was easy to forget that this was about survival and it wasn’t a simple summer vacation. 

Well, it was easy to forget when you weren’t actively staring down that city full of corpses. Which is something that you tried your best to do - forget. You tried to focus on the task in front of you, tried not to let yourself get too bogged down with dread at the idea of the end of the world. 

You knew that the others likely would have called you foolish because of it. But you had to keep your head up in order to keep going. It was how you survived. 

Currently, you were playing a game with the kids - a makeshift game of kickball with an inflatable beach ball that you had gotten for them during your last trip into the city. You were one of the only people that Glenn trusted to go with him. Mainly because you had lived in the city before everything had ‘gone to shit’ - before the bombs. So you knew it well, and you could have his back. 

When Carl accidentally kicked the ball past you, you rushed to get it, and you became slightly hesitant when you saw that it had landed at the feet of Daryl Dixon. He was in deep concentration, gutting and cleaning one of the many squirrels that he had recently caught, his fingers stained red with blood. You had never seen animal butchery in person before, and it did make you slightly squeamish. You had only spoken to him a handful of times, most of those conversations less than four words each, and he was one of the only people in the camp that you were still slightly weary of. 

His generally stoic nature and his brother - his mouthy, racist, sexist asshole of a brother - didn’t exactly make him approachable or friendly. Though you weren’t exactly sure if Daryl agreed with everything that his brother did and said, or if he just stood by the man because he was family. You still took caution, approaching him like you would approach a supposedly tame bear. Very carefully. 

“Sorry,” You quickly apologized for possibly disturbing him as you rushed to grab the ball, and he spared you only a harsh sideways glance as you picked it up. 

“Ain’t nothin’.” He shrugged, his words coming out as they always did, in a quiet grunt. 

Feeling an awkward lull come over you as his intrusive gaze continued to stare you down, you felt more words form in your mouth and spew out your lips before you could stop them. 

“I was just playing kickball with the kids,” You quickly explained, gesturing to the small grassy area about ten feet behind you where Carl and Sophia were standing, waiting for you. 

Daryl’s eyes strayed curiously there, clearly listening, and you continued. 

“I got them this ball when I went on that run with Glenn. And some other things, too. Coloring books, stickers, fake tattoos. Sophia insisted that I needed one,” You chuckled awkwardly, sticking out your hand to show Daryl the glittery blue tattoo of a butterfly that Sophia had put on you. 

He grunted, nodding in reply. 

You weren’t expecting him to speak any further, and it surprised you when he did. 

“‘s good.” He mumbled. “Makes ‘em happy.” 

In the back of his mind, he considered adding on some sentiment about ‘kids being kids’, getting to have fun during such a dark time - but he stopped short. He didn’t want to annoy you with the conversation that you were clearly only partaking in out of social nicety. Politeness that a world falling apart no longer needed. 

You nodded, flashing him a smile. “Yeah.” 

“Come on! Bring the ball back!” Carl shouted, distracting you from the interaction, causing you to walk away without another word. 

Daryl watched you playing with the kids for a few moments - laughing and running around with them, somehow so carefree in a world that was determined to fall apart. He wondered if you had always been like this, or if being around kids just brought that out in you. He wasn’t sure which reason made you better in his eyes - and he certainly wasn’t sure why he thought about it for so long. 

Why he thought about you for so long. 

He had to shake himself back to reality and go back to cleaning his kills. 

…

“Daryl!” 

You called out his name as you jogged up toward the stables, and he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to catch up with him. 

“Daryl, hey.” You greeted him with a small smile. “Rick told me you’d be up here.” 

He grunted in reply. “Yeah. ‘m gonna take a horse out. Make better ground t’ look for the girl.” 

Your stomach clenched at him mentioning Sophia. 

The group was supposed to be headed out towards Fort Benning - supposed to be finding refuge at the hopefully safe military base. Instead, you were all setting up camp at the very reluctant Hershel Greene’s farm, not straying too far from where you had lost one of your own in the hopes of finding her. 

But that was why you had come to talk to Daryl in the first place. 

Sophia had become like a sister to you in the few short months that you had known her. And though everyone else kept telling you it was deeply unlikely, you were hopeful that she was alive - that she would be found. And you did believe that Daryl would be the one to find her. 

“How’s the trail?” You asked. “Do you think you know which way she headed? You - you can be honest with me.” 

You hesitated on the last part. But you did want his honesty more than anything. You knew that he was never one to sugar-coat things. Even if you hadn’t told him that, he would give you the truth. 

“Trail’s a little muddy.” He said, doling out that honesty. “‘m gon follow the river. It’s her biggest landmark out there, so she’ll probably be somewhere round it.” 

You smiled at him. And then, you remembered - 

“I brought you something.” You noted, reaching for the back pocket of your jeans. 

Daryl watched with quiet curiosity as you pulled out a piece of paper - when you showed it to him, he quickly realized that it was a half-used set of stickers. 

“These are some of the stickers that I got for Sophia,” You explained. “My mom always used to tell me that cardinals are good luck.” 

You peeled off a sticker of a bright red bird with a pointed head and a black pattern that resembled an eye mask - as much of a nature man as he was, Daryl was never one for bird watching. He didn’t care about identifying certain species of birds unless he could shoot and eat them. But he quickly reasoned that this must be the cardinal that you spoke of. 

“Give me your bow.” You said, shoving the rest of the sticker sheet into your back pocket again and holding out your hand expectantly. 

“I don’t need no luck.” He replied, voice full of snark. 

In a sense, he thought it was… sweet. You were trying to share some of that brightness with him that the kids got every single day. But he didn’t need you marking up his crossbow with a dumb little sticker. Especially because once Sophia was found, you wouldn’t give a shit to talk to him or be around him any more. 

“Just give it.” You replied - equally snarky, equally stubborn. 

Daryl sighed and tugged his bow’s strap over his head, presenting it to you. You placed the sticker on the bow’s handle, in one of the places where it wasn’t as worn down from him holding it. 

“There,” You said, giving it back to him with a smile. “Now you’re all set.” 

It was more for you than it was for him - a token of good faith and protection. The idea that you could do something to bring Sophia home when you felt so powerless. 

Daryl let out a harsh sound - somewhere between a laugh and a sarcastic snort as he walked away. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” You replied brightly, edging into a sarcasm of your own. 

He resisted the urge to flip you off, believing that you were too sensitive to take it as a joke. 

You watched him off for a while, seeing him disappear into the stables before you left to do your own chores. As you scrubbed at laundry, you sent a prayer to every god you could think of that your new little sister would be found alive. 

… 

Daryl felt like a dumbass. 

When Daryl was laying on the harsh, rocky ground after the horse had thrown him, with one of his own arrows digging into his side - he wanted to laugh at the fact that you had supposedly ‘blessed’ his bow with ‘good luck’. He had owned and used the bow for years previous, and not once had he ever been injured by it. You had it in your hands for all five seconds, and now - he had been thrown off a horse and shot by the damn thing. It was the definition of irony. 

While he laid on the ground, struggling for breath, bleeding from his wound, drifting in and out of consciousness - he spotted a flash of bright red above him. 

He managed to pry his eyes open long enough to properly focus on it, and - 

It was your damn bird. 

A bright red cardinal had landed in one of the trees above him, staring down at him in a seemingly taunting manner. 

‘My mom always used to tell me that cardinals are good luck.’ 

“Good… good luck… my ass.” Daryl huffed out, still spiteful even if he was exhausted and losing blood. Even if no one else was around to hear this verbal jab. 

His head lulled to the side, and before his eyes could drift closed as he truly succumbed to the blood loss, he spotted something else - a bright floral fabric, and some strings of yarn that definitely didn’t belong in the muddy creek bed. Once again, he forced himself to focus on it, pushing through the heaviness that threatened to overtake him. He realized in a heart-jolting moment that he had seen the object before. 

It was Sophia’s doll. 

He turned back to where the bird was still sitting on that branch above him. 

“Any… any chance you can lead me to the girl?” 

Perhaps it was the dizziness of his injury talking, but he could have sworn that the bird tiled its head at him - as though quizzically asking: ‘what girl?’

It was the spite that kept him conscious, the idea that he would get to laugh in your face when he got back and tell you how unlucky your ‘blessing’ had been. But it was his desire to find Sophia and bring her home that truly got him up on his feet again. 

… 

Your bird didn’t lead him to Sophia, but it did get him back to the farm before he completely collapsed from his injury - even if he was greeted by a bullet from Andrea, believing he was a Walker. 

Because of that bullet sharply colliding with his head, he didn’t remember to tell you about that bird finding him laying in the creek bed until much later. It didn’t come back to mind until the group had truly settled into the prison, after welcoming in the people from Woodbury when the ‘war’ with the Governor was seemingly over. He only thought about it that night when the two of you were up late on watch because he had seen another cardinal on one of his runs that day, and he was telling you how much the damn bird had annoyed him. 

Daryl wasn’t someone who believed in luck, but he knew that the story would entertain you nonetheless. And it did. 

In fact, it entertained you so much that it caused you to plant a confident hand on his shoulder and lean in for a kiss - sealing your mouth against his, trapping any noises of surprise in his throat as he stood frozen, pinned against the guard rail. 

He only truly had time to take in what had happened - to process that sweet, perfect kiss after you had chirped a ‘goodnight’ to him and left. You mentioned something about going on a morning run with Glenn and Sasha to scope out a place with more supplies, but his ears were still beating with blood and he barely heard you. 

He had to get used to it then - being yours. But he found that even though the hand-holding and the hugging could be a bit embarrassing at times - he liked it. He liked having someone taking care of him as much as he tried to take care of others. And though it was something he had desperately tried to deny because of your stubbornness and your sharp tongue - he liked you. He was beginning to love you in that dangerous way that was going to get him hurt. 

But he would deny that. And he would do anything to stop that from happening. 

And that was one of the most dangerous parts about it. 

… 

It wasn’t just you that he was willing to die in order to protect. Daryl had gotten dangerously attached to life at the prison. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he had a home. Family, friends. As soon as Hershel told them about the veterinary college, about a place where there might be medicine to combat this strange flu that had suddenly struck his home and the people in it - he knew he had to get a group together. 

Before he went outside to get the car ready, and make sure he had all the equipment inside it, he stopped by your cell. It would be rude not to say goodbye. 

His stomach dropped when he heard coughing. 

“Y/N-” He spoke your name in that alarming tone, concern so ripe in the single word as he pulled aside the curtain you had hung across your door for privacy. 

You cut him off before he could say anymore. 

“I know.” You said, your voice annoyed and slightly strained from the illness clearly running through your body. “I need to go into Cellblock A for quarantine. I’m - I’m on my way there now. I’m just gathering up some stuff. My sketchbook and some novels. I’m guessing it’ll be boring as shit in there,” 

Daryl nodded, and moved to step into your cell, wanting to place his hand on your forehead to check you for a fever. He wanted to know how bad it was - how much time he had to get back with the medicine. 

“Don’t come any closer.” You said abruptly, raising your hand to keep him back. “I don’t - don’t wanna get you sick too.” 

Hesitantly, he stayed where he was. 

He knew that you were right, and he knew that it was weak of him - but he found himself craving the affection that he previously found annoying. He had been hoping that you would hug him before he left. 

“‘m goin’ on a run.” He said. “Hershel told us ‘bout this old veterinary college - he said there’s medicine that could help.” 

“Medicine for dogs?” You heaved out a laugh, strained and full of crud in your lungs, collapsing to sit on the edge of your bunk. 

Daryl shrugged. 

“Apparently it’s the same as medicine for people.” Then, after a moment of you staring at him with uncertainty, he added on: “He gave us a list.” He assured you, patting his breast pocket, where that list was currently sitting. 

You nodded. Naturally, you trusted Daryl. You had to, after everything you had been through together. 

Then, you turned to the bag that you had been packing up and took out a sketchbook that looked familiar to Daryl - one that he often saw you doodling in. You flicked through a few of the pages and then ripped one out, presenting it to him with an extended arm. You covered your mouth and nose with your shirt, seemingly for the assurance that you wouldn’t breathe on him so that he could come and fetch this from you. 

He took one step closer and grabbed the paper, and you coughed into your shirt as he stepped back and inspected the drawing. He wasn’t surprised to see that it was a beautifully drawn sketch of a cardinal - shaded red with what he guessed were smudges of lipstick. He was almost sure that you had picked it up at one of the houses the group had stayed in during the long winter after they had to abandon the Greene farm. 

“For - for luck.” You told him between more coughs, letting your shirt down to smile at him. 

He knew by now not to attempt rejecting the symbol. He wouldn’t say that he believed in it - but he believed in you. And he wanted to have you with him. So he folded it up and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt, right next to the list that Hershel had given him. 

“You’re a fool.” He griped, half-winded, only half meaning it. 

You smiled brightly at him, your face clearly tired from feeling so ill. 

“You love me.” You replied with utter certainty. 

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to point out that this was a growing problem. That it would pull his focus during the run for the medicine - that he would be distracted thinking about getting home and getting that medicine to you. 

“Now go on and get,” He told you, motioning toward Cellblock A. 

You gathered your things and got up, making a wide berth around Daryl as you walked down the stairs. 

“And I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about you bein’ heroic neither.” He called after you, shouting at your back. “You’re gonna go in there n get your ass t’ bed, ya hear me?” 

You knew it was his way of caring - wanting you to rest when you were sick. 

You turned back and gave him a big smile and blew him a kiss - something he often remarked upon as being ‘childish’. He hated that it caused a flutter in his stomach, and he couldn’t help that his form of affection in return was to flip you off. You loved it just as much. 

… 

That was the last time you spoke to him before the prison fell. But it wasn’t the last time that he spoke to you. 

When he got back, you were unconscious - you had to be bagged by Hershel to help you breathe, and the medicine helped you survive. Just barely. Daryl held your hand and begged you to live, and eventually he had to be distracted away from your unconscious body by Maggie so that he wouldn’t simply sit there the whole time and mourn. She reminded him that they all had jobs to do, and he made a few rounds of the prison, busying himself with chores to help everyone else get by so that he wouldn’t drive himself insane at your bedside. 

And that’s what he had been doing when the Governor rolled up with a thousand pound tank and shot their walls down. 

He knew that his love for you would come back to bite him in the ass one day. 

…

Daryl got out with Beth. 

He almost couldn’t stand her bright, big eyes staring at him, waiting for answers - her chirpy little voice, prodding at him, demanding that they ‘follow the trail’, telling him that they needed to go look for everyone else. Telling him that he was a tracker, that he could find them. As if it was his damn responsibility just because he had the skills to get it done. 

It was all too reminiscent of you, telling him that he could find Sophia. That it was a ‘when’, not an ‘if’. All too hopeful, all too damn certain. 

Perhaps that was what got him off his ass and doing what he did best - reading the dirt. 

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, staring at the girl curiously as she went to one of the bushes and rushed to pick berries from branches. Had she not gotten enough to eat that morning? 

“They’ll be hungry when we find them.” Beth told him confidently. 

Of course. That undefeatable streak of optimism. 

Daryl knew that blueberries weren’t your favorite - but he should have something to give you. He would be too busy tracking the footprints to properly hunt for squirrels or rabbits and clean them for you. So, he found himself pulling a large bandana from his back pocket and offering it to Beth - something to hold the berries in to keep them safe as an offering for you. 

“Here.” He grunted at her. 

Beth smiled at him. 

It was one of the last smiles she gave him for a long time. 

When they came across those bodies splayed out beside the tracks - any sense of hope was crushed inside of him. The picture you had gifted him was heavy inside his breast pocket, and he hated that tears threatened his eyes - even if he carefully looked them over to confirm it, and he knew that none of those bodies belonged to you. There was no trace of you there. 

It was just a cold reminder that even if the others had gotten out of the prison, they could be dead. They likely were dead. 

The days started to blur into each other, and Daryl couldn’t get you off his mind. 

One hazy evening, as he and Beth both stared into the fire with dead looks on their faces, he took the drawing out of his pocket and unfolded it. 

For good luck. 

He didn’t believe in luck - because it didn’t exist. The world was fucked. Nobody was lucky. You and your good luck were dead. 

He tossed the drawing into the fire, ready to burn it up along with anything he had ever felt for you. Only a moment later, when the corner of it had barely caught, just barely turning black, Beth snatched it out. She stomped on it with her boot, successfully saving it. 

“Don’t do that.” She hissed at him. 

Daryl snatched it from her, and crumbled it up, tossing it aside. He let out a harsh grunt, but refused to look at her. 

“That was from Y/N, wasn’t it?” She posed. 

He could feel her imposing stare as she waited for an answer. 

He didn’t give her one. 

Just because they had an unspoken agreement to help keep each other alive didn’t mean that he had to participate in stupid conversations with her. 

“You can’t burn up the past. You can’t burn your love for people just because you think they’re dead.” Beth sighed, tired and defiant. “You can’t burn up memories. We’re gonna find them. Y/N, and Maggie, and Michonne, and - and everyone. We’re all gonna be together again.” 

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah. Cause that’s gon’ happen.” 

Beth rolled her eyes, but didn’t speak any further on the subject. 

After she had fallen asleep - when the fire was dull, Daryl picked up the crumbled ball and smoothed it out again. The charred corner hadn’t even touched your bird. He felt like a fool doing it, just as much of a fool as he accused you of being, but he folded it neatly - well, as neatly as he could. And then put it back into his breast pocket again. 

But that was the thing - Daryl wished that he could. He wished he could burn up those memories. He wished that Beth was wrong. 

He wished that you would stop haunting him. Then he wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore. 

… 

When Daryl sat up in camp that night with his back to the trunk of a tree, he did not intend to fall asleep. He honestly did not think he was capable of doing so - even with the exhaustion so deep in his bones, he was used to going without sleep. He was used to trudging on much like the Walkers shambling around them - upright, puffing shallow breaths, but barely there, barely conscious. These days, he felt as though sleep was a luxury. 

As the fire died down, Beth turned over with her back to him, curling an elbow under her head, the only thing separating her from the dirt. She no longer bothered with the mockering of grunting out ‘night’ as an acknowledgement that she was trying to go to sleep (because she stopped saying ‘goodnight’, long ago, even at the prison, because those were few and far between). 

Daryl supposed that he was staying up to keep watch. They did have the cans and spare car parts scattered around on lines to make noise if any stray Walkers wandered near their camp. He knew that he slept light, and this would be more than enough noise to wake him if he did fall asleep. 

With his eyes locked on her back, he wondered if Beth slept at all these days, or if she simply laid down to fake it. Maybe so that she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore, even for a few hours. Sometimes, he would notice the grip on her knife beside her head go a bit laxer, and believe that this was a true sign that she had actually managed to drift into unconsciousness. Still, even if she wasn’t sleeping, he should keep watch. 

Daryl hadn’t intended to fall asleep. 

Daryl’s consciousness was jolted suddenly - his entire existence shaken by the feeling of someone - something grabbing his legs. When he looked down, he saw the blur of a snarling Walker crawling up his body. He panicked, his heart thudding hard inside his chest. Naturally, he reached for his crossbow beside him - grabbing, hands shaking, grasping at air. 

It was gone. It wasn’t there. What the hell? 

One of the cold hands grabbed his shirt, forcing him to look back down the length of his own body at the beast. When its head snapped up toward him, he was filled with a colder kind of shock. 

It was you. 

Though your once beautiful features had been tainted with rot, yellowing teeth, and your laughter filled eyes had turned sour and rotted like putrid eggs - he absolutely recognized that this was you. 

He sucked more gasping breaths, and reached for the knife on his belt, but - that was gone too. 

Then, somehow - you let out a dark, harrowing laugh. A laugh that shook everything he was, that somehow managed to echo through the trees and rattled the ground underneath him. An utter mockery of his entire existence. 

“This is all your fault, Daryl.” You spewed, your rotting mouth spilling out horrible, black blood. “You did this to me!” 

Then, in an utterly horrifying moment, you reached down and tore into him - your weak, dead hands easily ripping into his abdomen, and before his very eyes, you ripped out his guts so that you could consume him like a perfect, bloody feast. Just as you had in life, you dined on parts of him that he would never get back, stole his life force with no consideration as to how he would ever get it back. 

You didn’t care how he would survive without you. 

Daryl awoke with a start - the sound of the cans clanking at the edge of their small campsite forcing him back to reality with a harsh jolt. 

His fingers wrapped around his crossbow where it was seated between his knees within seconds. Before his sleep-sticky eyes were even fully open, he had the loaded end pointed at the source of the sound - a tired, messy-haired Beth, who was wandering back into camp with her hands full of something. 

“Told you not to go wonderin’ off.” Daryl barked at her easily, hating how his heart thumped in his chest with residual ‘fight or flight’ instincts, even though he knew that she was of no true threat to him - still partially spooked from the horrible dream that he would never tell anybody about, ever. 

He slumped back against the tree, keeping a careful eye on her as she came back to her place beside him, already spouting her surly argument against him. 

“I saw some berry bushes over there.” She whined quietly. “Daddy taught me what’s safe and-” 

“Don’t matter.” Daryl grunted in return, hating that he felt a sensitive pang inside of him at the mention of Hershel. “I told you: don’t go nowhere without me.” 

Beth let out a sharp sigh. “You’re such an asshole.” 

He was. 

Nonetheless, she silently slid some of the berries his way, carefully contained on the bandana that he had given her before for such berry-picking purposes - and nonetheless, he ate them. 

Later that day, when he was prowling the woods with Beth at his back, hoping to score something a bit more substantial for dinner - his eyes landed on the faded splotch of the cardinal sticker that you had put on his crossbow during his time spent looking for Sophia. His thumb traced it idly, and he knew that Beth was dying to ask about it, but held back. 

He knew then that he would never be able to escape your ghost. 

… 

Daryl wished that he could burn up the memories. He wished that you would get the hell out of his head. That if you were dead, every last trace of you would just die. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he had seen you - back in A block, after he had brought back the medicine. 

… 

He thought it was a victory - getting the meds back to the prison. He thought that it was simple. If he got to the veterinary college, got the meds that they needed, got the run group back in one piece - he thought it would be a win. He knew you. You were a fighter. You would hold on long enough for him to get back. He had to do all the guesswork. He had to keep everyone going on the road. 

If anything, he knew that you would be doing the exact opposite of what he had told you - you would be up and about, shuffling through the makeshift ward, feeding the people the hope that you grew and doled out so well. That was your job. He just had to do his. 

Maybe it was that stupid, foolish hope infecting him like the illness had infected you - but he truly thought that getting the medication and getting back would be the only complicated part. 

“Hey, Doc, how we doin’ in here?” Daryl asked, stepping to lean against the mouth of the cell that you had taken up temporary residence in.  

Of course, he was calling Hershel ‘doc’ with a joking air. The man loved to tell everyone now that he wasn’t actually a doctor - but few actually listened. They trusted his experience and the way he spoke with wise authority more than anything. 

Hershel used a stethoscope to listen to your lungs, and then looked up at Daryl, his face firm and unreadable. Daryl didn’t like it - but he was still being strung along like a fish on a hook by that foolish, bitter hope. 

“Y/N is doing a lot better than before.” He said, placing a gentle hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. “The meds have helped to take down the fever.” 

Daryl nodded. “Tha’s good.” 

Hershel gave him a serious look. “I like you a lot, Daryl. So I don’t intend to lie to you.” 

Daryl’s stomach clenched up - grabbed by a fist of nerves. 

You were alive. You were breathing - Daryl confirmed this, locking his eyes on the gentle up and down puff of your chest. What else could possibly be wrong? 

“Our friend here is showing remarkable signs of improvement, as is everyone who received the medication that you brought back. You have done a mighty service to these people, Daryl.”

Daryl knew this wasn’t simple praise for the work he had done. This was the sunshine before the storm - it was an omen. He could feel the ‘but’ coming before Hershel spoke it. 

“But,” 

Of course. There it was. 

“-I have to warn you.” Hershel sighed. “We had to perform CPR on Y/N for an extended period of time.” 

Daryl’s eyes cast over your face, fixated on your peaceful, unconscious form. His ears became fuzzy, filled with blood, and he could hardly focus on more of the older man’s words as he explained your condition. Explained how you had been deprived of oxygen for a few minutes - how you were at risk of brain death, and Hershel had no way of knowing what the state of your brain activity was without the proper equipment. If your brain wasn’t active enough, you would never wake up again. 

All they could do now was to sit and wait for you to wake up. If you were going to wake up at all. 

Hershel left Daryl alone with you, and he perched himself on the edge of your bed, his ass shuffled in tightly by the edge of your hip, struggling to find purchase on the edge of the small bunk. It was much like you had done to him after he had been haphazardly shot by Andrea. He took your hand in his, his eyes still focused on your unconscious face - at least you looked peaceful. 

With a large knot forming in his throat, he attempted to speak. 

Even though he was unsure if you could hear him - he couldn’t contain what he had to say. 

“You’re an asshole.” He mumbled out. Part of him was expecting to get a reaction out of you. To mock you into waking up. “I went through all that damn trouble to get those meds, and you gone n croaked on me while I was gone?” 

Your face didn’t even flinch. 

You were so damn still. 

For the first time since he had met you - not laughing, not smiling, not loudly voicing your chirpy, hopeful sentiments. So still. 

“Nah, that’s bullshit.” He growled out, his voice growing louder as his frustration grew inside of him - as he became more determined to wake you. “You’re gonna wake up. Wake up!” He shouted, his words echoing painfully off the walls. 

In the next cell over, Maggie heard this and became distracted from dabbing a wet cloth against Glenn’s forehead. He was still drifting in and out of consciousness, still too sick to fully take this in. But it caused Maggie to strain her ears, listening in on what happened next. 

“You’re gonna wake up. You’re gonna-” 

Daryl was startled when he found himself choking on his own words. He sucked in a sharp breath, and despite his best efforts, a sob rattled his chest, and a hot tear rolled down his face. 

“Why do I gotta to everythin’ around here? You set me off into the woods lookin’ for Sophia like it was my damn job. Make everythin’ my damn responsibility. I had to teach you everythin’. I had to teach you how to start a damn fire - what kind of simple asshole doesn’t know that?” 

He swallowed thickly. 

Truly, he wasn’t angry at you. 

It all came down to one thing. 

“Come on. Come - o-on. You know I can’t do this on my own.” He choked out, his face shrinking into a sob. “I can’t do this on my own.” 

He turned more toward you, laying himself down gently so that his face was pressed into your chest. He turned his head - laying his ear against your chest, listening carefully for your heart beat. It was there - thumping along steadily. 

Hershel had warned him that your breathing wasn’t the problem. Brain damage would keep you from waking up because your nervous system wouldn’t be active again. 

If you didn’t wake up, would you still turn into one of them? 

According to what Jenner had told them at the CDC, maybe not. 

Maybe you just be like this forever - stuck somewhere in the middle. Some hollow thing for Daryl to scream at that would never answer back. 

“You gotta wake up.” Daryl choked out. Knowing that only you would hear, he gathered up the bravery to speak out his next words. “I - I love you.” 

In the next cell over - Maggie heard all of it. She was holding Glenn’s hand, wondering what she would do if she were in Daryl’s shoes. She now had muddy tears in her eyes, listening to Daryl plead to you to wake up. Hearing Daryl - someone who had been so stony and tough in her eyes before - cry for the first time - it hit her hard. 

So it got her up; she kissed Glenn’s hand and told him that she would be back later, and he mumbled something incoherent back. 

“Daryl.” 

Maggie felt guilty when he jumped up - clearly alarmed by her presence at the opening of the cell, breaking his bubble of alone time with you. He began to frantically wipe at his face, obviously afraid to be vulnerable in front of her by showing his tears. After all that they had been through together - he still wasn’t willing to show this weakness in front of her. 

He only grunted in acknowledgment of her, staring hard at the floor instead of looking up at her. 

“These people need water. And they could probably use a good meal after all this.” Maggie told him. “I know you wanna stay with Y/N right now, but - come on, we all got jobs to do.” 

Daryl nodded. “Right. You’re right.” 

They did have jobs to do. But of course, the main reason she reminded him of the chores was to distract him. To keep him from going insane at your bedside, waiting for you to wake up. 

And that was the last he had seen of you before the Governor blasted a hole in A Block with the tank. 

…

When Daryl and Beth got to the moonshine shack, it truly came to a head. 

Daryl didn’t want to play the stupid game - he just wanted to drink in peace. He wanted to get shitfaced and hopefully pass out, actually. He wanted to have a good, booze-induced heavy sleep so that he could spend one night not plagued with spotty sleep and nightmares of your death - seeing your face painted in his mind as a nightmarish, growling dead thing. One night where he didn’t stay awake and stare at the back of Beth’s sleeping head because he couldn’t bear to close his own eyes. 

He didn’t want to play the game, but he did anyway. 

It got out of hand. 

Instead of trying to calm down, he rode the wave, leaning into the only existence he thought he knew - he turned back into the sputtering, bitter asshole that had once protected him so well. The hard shell that had kept him from getting his feelings hurt when the world had been cruel to him before. When Beth stabbed the Walker in the head, ending his game, he grew all too worried that she had figured him out - that she would try to get him to talk about his feelings. 

“What the hell did you do that for?” Daryl howled. “We was havin’ fun!” 

He knew it wasn’t true. Nothing about this was fun. 

“No, you were being a jackass!” Beth easily corrected him. 

She was far too much like you. Too direct. Never one to dance around the point instead of saying exactly what she meant. 

“If anyone found my dad-” 

Daryl was eager to cut off her additional reasoning, not wanting to think about it - he couldn’t add the mental image of a turned, dead-alive Hershel to his nightmare rotation as well. 

“Don’t!” He barked back, making her swallow up her words. “That ain’t remotely the same!” 

He had to convince himself of that fact. This random Walker pinned to a tree wasn’t family. At least - it wasn’t the same because it wasn’t his family. 

Beth gave him a tight-jawed look, staring him down with those large, knowing eyes. In that moment, he could hear your voice in his head, telling him exactly what she wanted to say. 

‘It’s someone’s family, Daryl. That Walker used to be someone. He used to belong to someone - he used to be important to someone. You need to consider that.’ 

Instead, Beth countered with something a bit more broad. 

“Killing them is not supposed to be fun.” 

She scolded him like a child, and he felt intensely small in that moment. He hated it. 

“What do you want from me, girl?” He warbled out, barely able to find his voice. 

He barely had anything left to give. 

He was a shit protector - as he had proven, unable to stop the prison walls from collapsing on top of you. Unable to hunt down the Governor - unable to keep him from rolling up to the gates with a fucking tank and blowing your house down. 

He was a terrible tracker - unable to find any of the people they had lost from the prison. He couldn’t provide anything for Beth that she couldn’t get for herself. She was more than capable. She was likely only with him now to stop him from going off into the woods and laying down to die. It was likely out of some mental obligation towards you, because she fully believed that you were still alive. 

He didn’t have anything left to give. 

After a moment of Daryl waiting with baited breath, she gave an answer. 

“I want you to stop acting like you don’t give a crap about anythin’.” She announced firmly. 

That would be difficult for him. Because currently, that was the only way he was surviving. He gave way too much of a crap about everything - and turning it all off was the only way he got through. 

“Like nothing we went through matters.” She added on. “Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It’s bullshit!” 

It was bullshit. 

“Is that what you think?” Daryl countered sourly. 

He cared too much about all of them. It all mattered too much. 

If he turned that switch back on - if he let himself care again - it would break him. 

“That’s what I know.” She whispered tightly near his face, all hot drunken breath. 

“You don’t know nothin’.” He spat back bitterly, absolutely assured of this fact. 

“I know you look at me and you just see another dead person.” Beth dueled on, determined to make her own point. “I’m not Michonne, I’m not Carl, I’m not Maggie, I’m not Glenn…. I’m not Y/N.” 

She knew that mentioning your name was sensitive, but she did it anyway, as if hoping to evoke some positive emotion out of Daryl. As if hoping to wake him from his dreary hopelessness. She hoped that mentioning you among the list of people that she still concretely believed to be alive would shake him, make him believe it too. 

She noticed that Daryl refused to make eye contact when she said it. 

When he didn’t say anything about it, she continued on. 

“I survived, and you don’t get it, cause I’m not like you or them - but, I made it.” 

She spoke passionately, determined about the point. If she had made it - someone who used to be so soft, someone who still needed to be protected - then why hadn’t everyone else made it? 

“And you don’t get to treat me like crap just because you’re afraid.” 

Somehow, among all that, one singular point stood out to Daryl. 

“I ain’t afraid of nothin’.” He grumbled back. 

To him, it was a horrid accusation. 

He had already lost everything that was important to him - what could fear possibly do to him now? 

Fear was the stupid, idiotic thing that had held him back in the first place. It had kept him from going after the Governor alongside Michonne. It had kept him tethered to the prison, stuck to your side watching you to make sure that you were safe. And look what it had gotten him. 

Nothing but ruin. Nothing but ashes. 

Beth looked contemplative for a moment, and Daryl hoped that she would finally just shut up. But then, like an unstoppable, sickly bile - the words came spilling from her lips. 

“I remember.” She announced. Before he could wonder what she was talking about, she continued on. “Back when you first came to the farm. The way you were - out combing the woods like a madman, looking for a little girl that wasn’t even yours. You never gave up hope, not once.” 

Daryl swallowed down his own words. 

He wasn’t some damn fool. He wouldn’t even begin to call it hope. He called it the truth - a little girl lost in the woods shouldn’t be hard to find. Like he had told Andrea at the time - it was the backwoods of Georgia, not the mountains of Tibet. It wasn’t the way that everyone else made it out to be. 

“Maggie told me that you cried when Y/N wouldn’t wake up.” 

Beth added on - to Daryl it felt like a mockery, a clever prodding at his vulnerability. But to her, it was just another observation. 

“That’s why you’re not out there, followin’ the trail. That’s why you’re not even botherin’ to look. You would spend months out there tryna find Y/N if you actually thought-” 

“Shut it.” Daryl grunted, cutting off her words. 

“You are afraid, Daryl.” Beth told him - and chills went through him as he realized that she had seen right through him. But like a prey animal staring down a predator, he kept stiff eye contact, trying his hardest not to let her know that he was weak. “You’re afraid of findin’ nothin’. And now you’re actin’ like it’s my damn fault.” 

When he didn’t speak up to make any apologies for this, she snidely added on:

“God forbid you ever let anybody get too close, right?” 

“Too close, huh?” Daryl reared back dully, gearing up for another fierce charge in the argument as things got all too personal. “You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends - you can’t even shed a tear. Your whole family’s gone, all you can do is go out lookin’ for hooch like some dumb college bitch!” 

He knew that he was being unjustly cruel to her - that on some level, he was taking it out on her just because he could. 

But he couldn’t let her talk anymore about him and his fucking feelings. Especially not about how he acted around you. God forbid that big precious four letter word came up. He needed to pull the knife out of himself and turn it around onto her. 

“Screw you! You don’t get it.” She easily snapped back. 

“No, you don’t get it!” He roared out, quickly growing tired of the seemingly pointless back and forth. “Everyone we know’s dead!” 

Beth looked icy shocked by the statement, but quickly argued against it. 

“You don’t know that!” She screeched bitterly at him. 

“Might as well be!” He yelled back. “Cause you ain’t never gonna see ‘em again!” 

Finally, they had come around to his entire reasoning - the whole fact as to why he had so faithfully given up. Even if they weren’t dead, he believed that he might as well operate on the assumption that they were. 

Of course - Beth was operating on the opposite mindset. Killing time, getting by, surviving until she believed that she would inevitably be reunited with her sister, and the other members of their newfound family. 

Beth let out a whimper as the truth of it hit her - as she fought past it. Battling internally as a small voice in the back of her mind said: ‘he might be right’. 

“Rick…” Daryl hesitated to list more people. Even now, he hesitated to say your name. “You ain’t never gonna see Maggie again!” 

It was a bitter personal attack, but he was putting on that hard outer shell - hoping to get Beth to become just as cold as he was. If she gave up, then she would leave him alone. She would stop trying to inject that stupid, putrid ‘hope’ into him. 

But of course, that infallible hope could not be stomped out of her. No matter what. 

“Daryl, just stop!” She begged quietly, and then - she reached out for him. Attempting to give him some comforting touch. 

The last time he had been touched by someone was when he had held your hand without you even knowing, staring at your unconscious face, waiting for you to wake up. Aside from that - a gentle pat on the shoulder from Hershel, assuring him that everything would be okay. 

But both you and Hershel were dead now. 

Daryl’s touch was a disease that he would not let Beth catch. 

He whipped away from her quickly, and turned to face the dead Walker that was still pinned to the tree. 

He used to belong to someone. 

That was how Daryl felt now. Used up and dead. Nothing but a past tense in someone else’s life. 

“The Governor rolled right up to our gates.” Daryl’s throat clenched tightly around the words. He could barely speak about it, but it was true. “Maybe if I… I wouldn’t’ve stopped lookin’. Maybe it’s cause I gave up? That’s on me!” 

He was supposed to keep you safe. He was supposed to keep everyone safe. 

He had failed. 

“Daryl-” Beth choked out, trying again - but she didn’t have anything to follow up. She couldn’t find anything to combat this particular chasm of self blame. 

“Your dad… maybe I coulda done somethin’.” He choked on a sob, and tears clouded his eyes now. 

It was his attempt at an apology. But he hadn’t even begun to forgive himself yet - so why the hell would Beth forgive him? 

Hershel’s death had been his fault. Your death had been his fault. 

The others… even if they were alive, their home was destroyed and now they were vulnerable to a cruel world. And it was all Daryl’s fault. 

Daryl finally broke down in sobs, and he didn’t have enough energy to fight off the touch when Beth leaned into him, hugging him from behind. 

He couldn’t muster up any more breath to better apologize to her for all he had done, but he hoped that it was implied. 

… 

Things were a bit more smoothed over later that night, when Beth was drunker and Daryl had sobered up some. 

“Is it always like this?” Beth sighed, staring out at the grass with a delighted smile. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she meant. She was clutching a half-filled jar of the moonshine like it was precious, her eyes glassy - obviously no longer fearful of going blind because of the stuff. 

“You’re lucky.” Daryl remarked. “You’re a happy drunk.” 

Beth let out another contented sigh, and then after a moment, and another sip of the moonshine (which she was taking down without hesitation now), she spoke up again. 

“You’re wrong.” She told him calmly, seeming very confident in this fact. 

Daryl was tired of talking, but too curious not to reply. 

“Bout what?” He asked. 

“They’re not dead.” She told him. “They’re out there somewhere. All of them. And we’re gonna find them.” 

Daryl wanted to believe her. Some tiny part of him wanted to embrace this as truth. But at this point - it felt too much like fiction. Without his family standing in front of him, pure proof that they were alive and well - he couldn’t let himself partake in that paper thin hope. He couldn’t let himself get high on the hope only to come crashing down from that high in the worst way. He couldn’t let himself be hurt again. 

He only grunted in reply, staring at the worn floorboards of the porch, hoping the conversation would naturally frazzle out. 

Of course, Beth didn’t let that happen. 

“Come on,” She said in a nagging tone. “You don’t really believe that Y/N is dead, do you?” 

Daryl wasn’t sure what he believed. 

Before this, before the dead had risen up and walked the earth, he had spent his whole life focusing on truth. Concrete truth. 

For as long as he had been alive, that truth had been hopeless. His father had beaten him, his brother was an asshole, what little he knew of his mother was a drunken slur ultimately engulfed in flames. He had fended for himself most of his life. He never knew hope or optimism. He never spoke of luck or brightness or tipping the odds in his favor. 

Not until he met you. 

You laughed so genuinely; you sang the praises of looking on the bright side and blessing people with good luck. And he found that at times - he started to believe you. 

But having the Governor roll right up to their gates and blow apart their home wasn’t exactly conducive with everything you had been preaching. Having you sick and likely dead under a pile of concrete, unconscious and crushed without even knowing it wasn’t exactly in line with the ‘good luck’ that you supposedly had. 

Even if you didn’t know it, you had been feeding Daryl lies the whole time. And those lies had ruined him. 

Daryl couldn’t hold out hope that you or anybody else that he had known and loved from the prison were alive. 

“Don’t know.” Daryl grunted in reply. He kept his answer vague, not wanting to stir up another argument with Beth. 

“Yes, you do know.” Beth chuckled lightly in reply. 

Still ever the optimist. Still so damn certain. 

Daryl grunted again. Even if he didn’t agree with her, he wanted the day to end calmly, at the very least. 

“Can I see it again?” Beth asked, suddenly changing the subject. 

Again, this was a confusing little whip for Daryl - something that clearly only made sense to Beth in her own drunken mind. 

“What?” Daryl replied. 

“The picture.” Beth answered. “The one you tried to burn.” 

Daryl felt a pinch of guilt surge over him at the thought. Oddly enough, this was the one time he would be willing to admit that Beth was right - you can’t burn up memories. He was still glad to have a token of you with him, even if he would never get to see you again. 

“It was Y/N, wasn’t it? That drew it.” Beth added on, her words slurring slightly. She lifted the mason jar of booze to her lips again and Daryl was tempted to snatch it away from her. Something in the back of his mind reminded him that he wasn’t her chaperone - she was an adult, and if she wanted to get drunk enough to have a nasty hangover, then that was her choice to make. 

Instead, he found his hand drifting to his breast pocket and reaching to take the picture out. He presented it to Beth, who put down her drink to unfold it. She stared at the picture fondly under the brightness of the moonlight, tracing a finger over the slightly faded details. 

“You know… my daddy used to tell me that a cardinal is like an angel.” Beth said, recognizing the bird from her father’s teachings on the farm. “Someone - someone you loved who passed away, watching over you from heaven.” 

Daryl found this to be a nice thought. He could imagine Hershel’s voice in his head, saying something like this while pointing to the bird among the trees. 

“Y/N said they was good luck.” Daryl replied. 

It was the first time in a long time that he had gathered the courage to actually speak about you aloud, and he found a painful tugging in his chest because of it. 

Beth shrugged. “Same thing.” 

It was this thought that kept Daryl going for a long time. The idea that even if you were dead, you were watching over him somehow. He sure as hell didn’t believe that someone like Merle would be an angel - but you, you definitely were. And even if it was a waste of your eternal life, you would be determined to watch over Daryl - to make sure that he was safe, well-guided. 

You would make sure that he was lucky. 

That thought alone carried him through the long journey to D.C. 

It was something that lingered in his mind as the group hunkered down in a random barn - as he spotted something carved into one of the wooden beams holding the place up. Even though it wasn’t colored, he could have sworn that the long tail and pointed head of the silhouette indicated that the carving was meant to be cardinal. Of course. 

Who knows who had stayed in the barn before them - if it had been left there by a weary traveler, or even put there by someone who had used the barn before the Turn. But Daryl could have sworn that you - your ghost, your angelic hand - had led him to this very spot. 

It was a thought that gave him strength as he held the doors up - helped to keep them from caving in while the storm raged outside. 

Your luck, and your damn bird - you would keep him safe. 

When they reached Alexandria, and they were forced to give up their weapons - Daryl spotted your bird perched on the fence. Bright red, with its pointy head cocked sideways at him. All too knowing, staring at him like it wanted to say something. Just like it had been when he had fallen off the cliff out in the woods when he had been looking for Sophia. 

Oddly enough, it made him feel safe giving up his crossbow - perching his precious weapon on top of the fully loaded cart before the awkward, bespeckled woman wheeled it away. 

Rick was still weary of this new place after everything that had happened at Terminus, and Daryl understood. He followed Rick’s lead. Especially because he couldn’t tell Rick that he had a good feeling about this place because he saw a damn bird. Even if he was feeling such foolish things, he knew that he couldn’t speak them aloud. 

(He couldn’t speak them aloud to anybody but you. And well…) 

But even if it was just in spirit, he felt you there. He knew that it was the home you had chosen for them. 

So Daryl entered the strangely clean suburban home that Aaron had picked out for them and tried to imagine himself truly living there. He tried to think of Alexandria as his new home now. Because he knew that it’s what you would have wanted for him.  

… 

You were tired.  

You had just gotten back from a three day long hunting trip - three whole days out in the woods, killing small game while tracking a deer in order to shoot it and haul it home. 

For a while now, home had been a town called Alexandria. 

Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘home’. 

Alexandria was a great place to live, sure - but to you, home was a certain redneck bowman who often stank of cigarettes and dirt and had to be reminded to wash his hands before eating a meal. Home was the gentle grunt he gave you in response to a variety of questions, the scratch of his beard on your skin as he kissed you. 

You couldn’t think about him for too long - because you would get homesick. 

Since the prison had fallen, since you had escaped nothing more than debris and a crowd of Walkers - you had been moving from place to place, drifting. A lot of the time, you used the skills that Daryl had taught you during your time together in order to survive. 

When you found Alexandria, it felt like a dream. 

At first, you questioned why a shiny gee-golly boy in a blue rain jacket was trying so hard to ‘recruit’ you. You had to feel naturally suspicious of him and his stack of polaroids. But then you remembered what Daryl had said about bringing people back to the prison - bringing new people in wasn’t just about pity. There was strength in numbers. It became very clear to you very quickly that Alexandria needed fighters - they were bringing people as a tactic. 

You leaned into it. You proved to them what a good asset you were. You doubled down on using everything that Daryl had taught you in order to earn your place in the closed off community. 

You hunted and brought back game for the people there to eat, you used the skills Daryl had taught you to maintain the cars for runs and even fix-up ones that had been previously out of commission. You were widely liked by the members of the community, and Deanna often called on you for advice about dealing with Walkers. You had been on a few runs with their crews, but you preferred to stay close to town, to keep an eye on things. 

The hunt you had recently taken - three long days out in the woods. That had been for you. Something you had learned with Daryl was that hunting could be intensely peaceful. Maybe it was because it was time you spent with him - time when the two of you didn’t need words, just soaked in each other’s presence. Maybe you missed that too dearly. But you needed it to be just you and the trees, the focus on the craft that he had taught you. 

No closed-off bottle town politics. No smiling and nodding and pretending to care when the others complained about asinine things like the water from their showers going cold too quickly. Complained about being bored. To you, boredom was a blessing these days. 

No men sniffing around you, firing off increasingly poor attempts at flirting, believing that you were single even though you couldn’t tell them otherwise. It was difficult to explain to anyone in town that your heart belonged to someone that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Someone that you didn’t have the room to believe was dead. 

So after spending a few days in the woods, enjoying the peace alone, and bagging a deer and a few rabbits in the process, you came home. And currently you were in the shower, cleaning up - it was a blessing to even have a shower, to have perfectly functioning running water. A three day hunt could create a hell of a stink. 

Stepping under a stream of hot water after three long days out in the woods was one of the most satisfying feelings you could have ever conceptualized. The bottom of the tub quickly became muddy with a combination of blood from where you had cleaned the deer, and the general dirt you had gathered on your skin from the hunting trip. You let the heat of the water relax your tired muscles, and tried your hardest not to let your mind wander back to something you couldn’t have. 

When you got out of the shower, you felt wonderfully refreshed. You were still bone tired, and part of you did want to rush home and crash right into bed. But you had other things to do first. You had to check-in with Deanna, and go by the school before you could even think about going to bed. 

Olivia - ever kind and thinking ahead - had set out a change of clothes for you. She had seen you run upstairs to the bathroom covered up to your elbows in blood after you had asked her to stash the deer meat in the pantry’s freezer. 

You got dressed, and then went down to the pantry looking to make sure that she had taken the deer meat out of the plastic container that you had stored it in and put it into some plastic freezer bags to store it properly. She was squeamish around blood or raw meat - she had thrown up the one time that you had tried to teach her how to gut a rabbit, but you were hoping to wean her off those fears. 

Olivia was a nice girl. You knew that eventually, she would need to get her hands dirty in order to survive. It was a miracle that she had gone this long without doing so. When she told you that she still carried around a cellphone in her pocket - one that had long been dead and useless - you got stuck somewhere between paralytic shock and maniacal laughter. 

But it was just a mark of how untouched Alexandria was. How much they needed someone like you. 

“Olivia?” You called out gently when you hit the bottom stair. 

“In here!” She called back. She was in the armory rather than in the pantry - likely counting bullets to redo her inventory in order to avoid touching the bloody deer meat. 

You rolled your eyes at the thought of it and walked into the room, which was lined floor to ceiling with guns, the entire town’s supply. You were also casually pushing back against Deanna’s rule that nobody should be allowed to carry within town, but she had yet to truly hear you out on it. Your eyes fell upon a large cart that Olivia had parked in the middle, one that wasn’t usually there. It was filled to the brim with a variety of weapons. 

“What’s this?” You asked. 

“A new group came in yesterday, while you were gone.” She informed you, staring at the notebook she had in her hands - the one containing her inventory. “Deanna wanted me to make a list of their weapons. Well - the weapons they surrendered. I wouldn’t doubt if one of them is still hiding a knife in their shoe or something. They seem uber shifty and paranoid.” 

She said this with a dreary chuckle - the kind of nervous laughter that told you she was feeling weary of these people. 

A strange feeling came over you. A haze - tingling, from your head to your toes. A feeling almost as if you were about to faint - while at the same time, intense adrenaline was pumping through your whole body. You took a more careful look at the weapons gathered on the cart. 

A sword. One with the distinctive white leather sheath. A gun that you easily recognized as a Colt Python. A military knife with a knuckle guard… and perched right on top - a crossbow. The sight of which almost made your heart stop. 

“Maybe you could help me with this?” Olivia asked, motioning her pen toward the cart. “You know I don’t know the names of guns and stuff.” 

Clearly, she was trying to get out of bagging the deer meat - but that dropped off your priority list as you tried harder and harder to keep your hopes from swallowing you alive. 

“Sure.” You replied, knowing that it sounded terribly strained in your throat - joy and tears battling terribly inside of you. 

You gathered your breath, and forced your concrete legs to move. You stepped toward the cart, and timidly stroked a finger across one of the bolts that was strapped to the top of the crossbow. 

After a moment, you finally gathered the courage to ask the question. 

“So - can you tell me more about the group?” You asked, your throat clenching around the words, so damn dry all of a sudden. “Did you happen to catch any of their names?” 

“Come on,” Olivia sighed. “You know I’m no good with names.” 

Of course. 

The one time when you needed her to be paying attention, she hadn’t been. Where the hell was Aaron when you needed him? 

You could have been wrong. This could be nothing. It could be a coincidence. 

You wouldn’t let yourself get your hopes up - not until you knew. 

“Well - what were they like?” You asked. 

Olivia picked up one of the guns, inspecting it before she wrote down something in her notebook. It took her a moment too long to answer. You became dizzy with agitation, unconsciously holding your breath while you waited for something. Some proof. Something. 

“They were… strange.” She shrugged. “They reminded me of you when you first came here. But… you can tell they’ve been outside for longer.” 

That didn’t answer your question. So you moved on to another one. 

“How many of them was there?” You asked. 

“Maybe a dozen, I guess.” She answered easily. “It’s the biggest group Deanna has ever allowed in. I don’t know why, though. Aaron seems to really like them, but I didn’t get to talk to him much before he went home.” 

She wrote down something else, and then she continued - seemingly not noticing the way you were staring at her with an intense glare, hanging on her every word. 

You needed to know. 

“There was kids with them. A baby, and a young boy. A teenager, maybe? He was wearing this brown cowboy hat, that looked like a sheriff’s hat, kind of? I guess he got it off some cop.” 

‘My dad says that I get to wear the hat because I’m in the club.’ Carl’s small voice excitedly announced to you, pushing the too-big hat up over his eyes as it sagged down from how fast he had run toward you. 

‘What club?’ You countered curiously. 

‘People who have been shot and survived.’ 

‘Woah… okay. You probably shouldn’t go around saying that to people.’ You chuckled in return, trying to play off the casual morbidity. Knowing that ‘and survived’ was the important part. ‘Cool hat, though, kid.’ 

‘Thanks!’ 

As the memory from Hershel’s farm played over again in your mind - you remained frozen. Your voice was caught in your throat, seized by tears and shock - but all you could do was stand there as Olivia continued talking. 

“And their leader is this really grumpy guy. He kept… staring at me. His eyes were so cold… it was almost creepy. I could hardly see his face past his beard.” 

‘And, uh, I got this for you.’ Michonne chuckled, extending her arm out toward Rick, trying her hardest to gift him the electric shaver. ‘Your face is losing the war.’ 

The words evoked another memory from you - Michonne making jokes about Rick’s beard being overgrown, trying to get him to trim it down. Now, you couldn’t picture him without one when you tried to remember him. 

“Here, take this.” Olivia picked up the crossbow and put it in your hands. “Can you help me with the rest of these guns? I don’t know how to unload them. I need to take inventory of the ammo.” 

Your eyes were fixated on the crossbow in your hands - you ran your thumb over it. 

You had almost forgotten about it. 

Trying so hard to push down the memories, to forget - it had almost slipped your mind. The marking you had left on Daryl’s crossbow that made it so uniquely yours. The blessing of good luck you had marked him with when you had sent him to look for Sophia. 

The cardinal sticker that you had put on his bow. It was faded now, but it sure as hell was the one you had put there. 

In the back of your mind, you could still hear Daryl’s snarky voice snarling about how he didn’t need luck - but it had gotten him this far, hadn’t it? 

All at once, your nervous system shook, your body prickling up fiercely with goosebumps as the realization truly hit you. 

Daryl was here. 

Daryl was right here in Alexandria. 

He was alive. He was within arm’s reach. 

He was home. 

“Daryl.” You mumbled quietly, your voice still choking on it - it was a name you hadn’t spoken in so long. 

“What?” Olivia asked, turning around to look at you, clearly confused. 

“Daryl.” You spoke it louder. 

You looked to the door, and before you could take a moment to explain or even put down the bow - your legs were carrying you with a great urgency. 

He was close by - you were going to find him. 

“Daryl!” 

You screamed out this time, your voice echoing through the streets of Alexandria. Random people going about their day stared at you, but you didn’t care. You continued sprinting down the street, looking for that familiar face that you knew had to be close by. 

“Daryl! Rick! Michonne!” 

You screamed out the names of the people you knew would be with thim, and then your mind became fixated on him - on seeing his face again, on hearing him call you an asshole with a smile. Fueled only by joy, you pushed past your previous tiredness, determined to find him. Your cheeks began to hurt before you knew you were smiling and your legs pumped harder as you ran. 

“Daryl! Daryl!” 

You weren’t even sure where you were going, but you knew he would come to you - he would be there soon. 

You ended up at one of the last houses on the lot, rounding the corner when you finally spotted him. 

It was something you had pictured in your mind a thousand times. 

One of the quaint porches of Alexandria - so clean, so white, so picturesque - finally dirtied up by his presence. Olivia made you gut your kills in the back because she didn’t want it to disturb people, but Daryl didn’t know the rules, or just didn’t care. His hands were already covered in the blood of the possum that he was skinning - careful, meticulous, doing it right. His gaze focused downward in pure concentration - much like he had been on the day you had first properly spoken to him. 

Dressed in all black and still dirtied from the road - he was a sight for sore eyes. 

And he caused you to pull in a sharp, shattered breath as you began to cry outright now. Hot tears of relief, joy, love streaming down your face as you laid eyes on him for the first time in so long. 

His head snapped up at the sound of it, and his eyes widened beyond the splintering bangs that hung beyond his brows - hair longer than the last time you had seen him. His hands froze their movements, still hanging onto the half-skinned possum. You gripped tightly onto the crossbow, holding onto it tightly like an anchor, drifting at sea. 

You knew that look - his jaw gaped, his eyes swimming with intense emotion - shock, most of all. He was frozen. 

He was looking at you as though you were a ghost. 

In Daryl’s eyes, you might as well be. 

The last time he had seen you - you were dead. Or dying. 

It was all the same to him. 

He genuinely couldn’t believe that you were standing right there in front of him - alive, clean, beautiful as ever, holding his crossbow. It was like a dream. 

“I think I have something that belongs to you.” 

Hearing your voice again - it was oddly startlingly. You motioned toward the crossbow - his crossbow, that you were holding for some reason. 

His entire body was filled with concrete - he was frozen. 

“Daryl, is that possum so much more interesting than me, or are you gonna come on over here and give me a damn hug?” 

Yes.

That was what finally got him up - he tossed the possum aside because it would never be more important than you, and he rushed off the porch, rushing toward you. You dropped his crossbow in the grass and when he pounced on you, his arms encircling you for the first time in such a long time - you finally felt like you were home. He squeezed you in a bone-crushing way, and you squeezed him right back - feeling a strange kind of comfort from the smell of sweat and dirt and cigarette smoke coming off him. 

It was so Daryl. It was so real. 

You heard gentle sobs in your ear and you realized that he was crying too, so overwhelmed by the emotions of seeing you again and not too proud to hide his tears now. You didn’t notice and didn’t care that he was getting blood all over your clean shirt, gripping you so tightly with his possum-skinning hands. It was just another assurance that all of this was real and not another stupid daydream. 

“Goddammit.” He croaked out, his face shoved so tightly in the crook of your neck, soaking your skin with his tears. “I thought - I thought I lost you.” 

Pressed so close to his chest, you saw the yellowing corner of the paper sticking out of his breast pocket. You couldn’t help but to raise your fingers to fish it out of his pocket. 

“Why would you ever think that?” You sniffled weakly in return. “You had this for good luck.” You teased him lightly, pulling away slightly to wave the folded piece of paper in front of his face - both of you knowing exactly what it was. 

He let out a weak laugh in response. 

“You’re still a damn fool.” 

That was all he managed to reply before he put both hands on either side of your face and pulled you in for a kiss. It was unlike any other time he had kissed you before. This wasn’t chaste - it wasn’t a simple kiss signifying that he cared about you, that he was trying, but affection simply wasn’t his thing. 

This was gravity. 

This was passion, this was love. This was this kiss of a man who had nearly ended himself because he had realized in horror that his entire world had hinged on you. And now that he had you back, he wasn’t going to waste a single second treading around feelings, hung up on simple things like the fear of affection. This was a kiss from someone who needed to show you that you were his whole world, and now that he had you back, he would move mountains just to see you smile. 

It was a kiss that easily had you moaning into his mouth, made you dizzier than you already were, stole breath from your already weak lungs. 

He held you tight to his lips and he poured every single ounce of emotion into that kiss - telling you how sorry he was for all the time he had wasted, telling you how much he had missed you, and most importantly - telling you how much he loved you. 

“Daryl, please tell me that you’ve showered by-” 

The stunning moment was sorely interrupted by another voice, one you distinctly recognized as Carol. She opened the front door behind you and stuck her head out, ready to scold Daryl - but she promptly cut off her own words when she saw you. You pulled away from his lips at the sound of her voice and whipped around toward her, and instantly a smile cracked your face, broad and unbroken. 

She was staring at you with utter shock. 

“Carol.” You said her name warmly, greeting her as an old friend. 

You couldn’t help it - you jumped forward and embraced her in a hug. It was only then that she loosened from the shock and let her own arms fall around you, hugging you back, and she was able to speak again. 

“Y/N.” She said your name quietly in return. “What - what are you doing here?” 

“Um… returning Daryl’s crossbow.” You chuckled, motioning to the bow that you had dropped with numb arms before you had ascended the steps, rushing toward him. “But you know… I think I have something for you too.” 

Naturally, Carol looked confused - and you chose to show her what you meant rather than to explain. 

… 

You brought Carol and Daryl to a house in the complex that functioned as the school. They didn’t know that yet - and you asked them to wait outside as you rushed inside and boisterously disrupted the beginning of the afternoon class. 

The teacher began telling you off, but you didn’t care. 

Daryl and Carol were theorizing about what you were doing, half ready to go in after you when you stepped out the door with someone in tow. 

“What’s so important? We’re supposed to start reading King Lear today and I can’t miss-” 

Both of them looked up at the mousy voice and instantly recognized the streak of sandy blonde hair - a bit lighter now from exposure to the sun, topped on someone a bit taller than they remembered. 

“Sophia?” Carol gaped. 

A daughter she had said goodbye to in her mind, someone that she couldn’t keep hoping was alive. Somehow once again, standing right there in front of her, fully alive and well. Once again - all thanks to you. 

“Mom?” 

Sophia broke out of your grasp and ran from the door into her mother’s arms, and Carol quickly embraced the girl who was almost as tall as her now. Carol was unable to hold back her tears and you knew that it was a swelling of perfect emotion as they hugged each other so tightly. Daryl petted a gentle hand over Sophia’s hair as he looked at you fondly. 

You couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. 

Carol used a hand behind Sophia’s back to wipe some of her own tears from her cheeks, still not letting the girl go as she looked at you with a wet smile forming tightly across her face. 

“I should have known she’d be with you.” Carol choked out - her way of thanking you for taking care of her daughter. Clearly scolding herself for not keeping the faith alive that Sophia would be okay. 

“We’re BFFs.” You said, unable to hold back a smile. “Of course we’re gonna stick together.” 

… 

You thought back to the day you had first taken on the title of Sophia’s BFF. 

The two of you had been close since the group at the quarry had first formed. It was unfortunate, but Ed reminded you of your own father, and you found yourself gravitating toward Sophia because of that. A natural instinct kicking in that made you want to take care of her because you understood what she was going through. You knew that Carol had to take care of herself, had to keep her own head above water, and she said that she was always appreciative of your help. 

You knew that Sophia appreciated having you around, being treated with gentle caring and a certain kind of maturity that she needed from an older sibling that she didn’t have. You didn’t always treat her like a child - you talked to her like a person who needed to be listened to, who had her own feelings that needed to be heard. 

Especially after Ed’s death - when she was feeling conflicted about the partial relief of being freed from her father’s abuse but oddly missing him at that same time. You were more than happy to listen to her and give her honest advice. 

When she fled into the woods off the highway that day, Daryl had to physically hold you back to keep you from running into the tail end of the herd yourself. It would have been stupid for you to blindly run after her, especially considering that, at that point, you didn’t carry a knife or any other weapons on you regularly. You would have been running after Sophia with nothing but your bare hands and your best intentions. 

It would have ended up with you both dead, and in the end, you thanked Daryl for holding you back. 

Which was why you trusted Daryl greatly to find her. You trusted his skills and his abilities, and especially his judgment. And you silently cursed Andrea for almost shooting his head off and putting him out of commission in that search. Especially considering the fact that Shane and even Rick were clearly losing hope in ever finding Sophia alive, and it was clear that they were ready to call off any search efforts. They were ready to abandon the Greene farm and leave her out there to die. 

So after Daryl’s wounds had been treated, when he was resting in his tent, you decided that it was high time to get the search back on. Of course, you had to wait for Andrea to leave, after she had apologized to him and left him with one of Dale’s crappy books as entertainment - something you knew wouldn’t help him much, because he was far too much of a hands-on busy body to sit around and read. 

But you didn’t dwell too much on thinking about that. Instead, you stepped into the tent next without being invited, determined to get his advice so that you could pick up the search for Sophia where he had left off. 

Daryl’s eyes snapped open where he had been lightly dozing off and he glared at you - it wasn’t malice or true anger, instead, simply light annoyance. 

“Can’t get five minutes of damn peace ‘round here.” He grumbled out as you invited yourself fully into the tent and without speaking a word to him, came right in and sat down on the edge of his cot. 

He instinctively scooted away from you. He could have said that it was because you had aggravated soreness in his injured side where he was still stitched up. But truthfully, it was because he wasn’t used to having you (or anyone) this close. Though he also couldn’t deny that the simple warmth of your body - the gentle heat of your ass pressed up against his thigh from you having to sit so close on the small cot - it was nice. 

But he couldn’t think too much about that right now. 

You obviously weren’t as caught up on the simple act of closeness. You weren’t as mindful of being this close to another person. You were someone who thought nothing of hugs and other simple forms of affection - something that you did regularly with people you considered friends, like Glenn and Lori and Dale. 

Instead of thinking at all about how close you were sitting to Daryl, you dropped your bag at your feet and began rooting around inside of it, looking for something. A moment later, you pulled out a map, which you held in one hand and shoved tightly in Daryl’s face. 

“Show me where you found Sophia’s doll.” You ordered stiffly. 

Daryl grunted at you, chewing on one of his nails for a moment before he replied. 

“What good is that gon do?” He asked. 

You didn’t know how to track or follow a trail. You weren’t the outdoors type. If he sent you off looking for her, he’d probably have to go off into the woods looking for you next. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. 

“Maggie is saddling one of the horses for me right now.” You explained. “You know that Shane has already given up, and Rick is about to.” 

You cleared your throat, trying to hide the quiver of potential tears. 

Daryl knew it wasn’t the kind of grief that everyone else held when talking about Sophia - you weren’t afraid that she was already dead and you would be combing the woods looking for a Walker to put down. You weren’t looking for closure. You were more terrified at the aspect of Shane and Rick giving up when someone you viewed as a little sister was still out there. You were afraid that she might be abandoned when she was still alive and had a chance to be rescued. 

“You’re not goin’ out there by yourself.” Daryl declared firmly. 

Predictably, he then tried to sit up - as if he would somehow accompany you in his severely injured state. But he didn’t make it very far off the cot before he let out a sharp wince of pain. Something he tried his hardest to conceal out of an ingrained toughness, so you knew that his pain had to be a lot worse than he was leading on. He fell back down instinctively and gripped a hand to his side, taking in sharp breaths as he tried to ignore the pain. 

“Well, you’re not going with me.” You griped sarcastically, motioning toward his injury. 

“Screw you.” Daryl replied, tossing up a middle finger - frustrated by his circumstances more than anything else. 

“Look, I’m gonna go whether you tell me where to pick up the trail or not.” You announced, firm and finite in your conviction. 

Of course. Stubborn. 

Daryl glared at you again. 

“And I’m not gonna drag your ass around with me,” You added on. “I just wanna know where you would search because before you got hurt, you were the best man for the job.” 

Daryl wanted to hate the snide, back-handed compliment - he wanted to hate your stubbornness and your inability to take ‘no’ for an answer. But he knew that you were going to keep to your word. You were going to do this with or without his help, and his help would be invaluable to someone like you. 

So, for some stupid reason, he folded to your will. 

(It would become a pattern so utterly predictable throughout your relationship. You were so direct and so stubborn that you learned how to play him like a fiddle.) 

“Gimme that damn map.” He grumbled out, finally folding to your infallible will. 

“Here, I have a pen. You can mark it down for me.” You announced brightly, giving him a chirpy smile as you got your own way. 

You reached back down to your bag, looking for the aforementioned pen, and Daryl bit his tongue. The fact that you even needed a marking on the map to remember what he was going to point out to you was a huge red flag for him - a sign of just how naive you were when it came to the woods, tracking, finding someone lost out there. 

He was already mentally preparing himself to go looking for you later. (He just hoped that this would be a good thing - that even if you got lost yourself, you would take some supplies to Sophia and help her survive a bit longer until he could get both of you back home.) 

He took the red pen that you handed to him and stiffly held the map, trying to ignore the gentle waft of floral soap coming off you as you leaned more into his personal space. More and more into his personal space, clearly trying to better pay attention to what he was showing you as he pointed to the landmarks on the piece of paper. 

“Found the doll down ‘round here.” He said, marking a small red X on the map. “I figured that she mighta dropped it when she was crossing the creek up somewhere here, and it washed downstream.” 

“Oh, okay.” You said. “So you think she’s on this side of the water?” You asked, pointing to a heading of your own. 

“Prolly.” Daryl nodded. “She gotta be close by the water cause it’s her only real landmark. You better stay close by the creek, got it? I don’t need to go in those damn woods lookin’ for your ass too if ya get lost.” 

“I’m not gonna get lost.” You sighed, snatching the map from him. 

“Make sure you don’t spend the whole time on the horse.” 

He added on, determined to give you good advice if you were determined to go out there. In the back of his mind, he was surprised that you knew how to ride a horse, but he didn’t bother to bring it up. Instead, he continued speaking about the topic at hand. 

“She’s little. It means she could be hidin’ somewhere down low. Caves, ditches, even down in the bushes. She could be passed out somewhere from the heat and you might not see her if you’re perched up high on that damn horse the whole time.” 

You nodded, soaking up all the information, determined to take advice from someone you knew was better versed in things like this than you were. 

“Anything else?” 

Daryl looked thoughtful for a moment. 

Then he reached off to the side for his own bag, holding in another pained wince as he stretched out his injured flesh. He batted away your hands as you went to help him, and his hands came back with a large knife - his hunting knife, sheathed in the cover that he often wore on his belt. You had never seen him without it, and you were surprised when he extended it out toward you - clearly wanting you to take the knife, even if only temporarily. 

“Daryl, that’s yours, I can’t-” 

“Shut up and take it.” He growled quietly. “This is gonna be better to you out there than any gun. And not just cause you’re a piss poor shot.” 

You rolled your eyes at the paper thin insult, but still hesitated to reach for the knife. 

“The woods are damn quiet, and if you run into a Walker, you gon need somethin’ quiet to take ‘em down.” He explained. And then, with a fair amount of cheek, he added on: “Come on. It’s for good luck.” 

You let out a sharp nasal sound that could have been mistaken for a laugh, and then you reached out and grabbed the knife, tucking the holster onto your belt. 

“Maybe I don’t need luck.” You stated, getting up and making your way toward the mouth of the tent. “If I run into a bunch of Walkers, I could just make a necklace out of ears. That would be very fashionable.” 

You winked at Daryl, and he flipped you off - though you knew he didn’t mean anything harsh by it, seeing as it was paired with a small smile that he was unable to hold back at your comment. 

“Asshole.” He mumbled under his breath. 

“I heard that!” 

(For some reason, this made him smile harder.) 

… 

Despite what Daryl believed, you were comfortable in the woods. 

You had spent a lot of your childhood camping - he likely would have called it ‘glamping’ (if he knew what that word was). Your family spent a lot of weekends in an RV, driving off to remote areas to go fishing or so that your father could go hunting. You spent a lot of time off in some cabin deep in the woods with no TV reception, playing around in the trees with a stick, making mud pies for fun. 

You knew the reason that you seemed so naive in Daryl’s eyes was because you spent all those childhood experiences very hands-off. Your father was a wicked control freak of a man who never let you touch anything, despite how many times you voiced wanting to learn. 

He insisted that your family have ‘happy’ family outings - he insisted that you get your ass in the boat while he was fishing, he insisted that you eat the game that he shot while out hunting, he insisted that you get out in nature because it was what he had done as a child. But he would never let you touch a fishing rod, he would never let you hold a gun to hunt or set a snare. He always told you it was because you were ‘too stupid’ and you would inevitably mess things up. 

So before Daryl had started teaching you the basics, you didn’t know how to read a map, you didn’t know how to start a fire, and you had been learning how to fix vehicles only because of Dale. Your mother was the one who insisted that you learn how to ride a horse because it was something she had learned during her childhood. (It had spawned a wicked argument between your parents that you didn’t want to think about.) 

But nonetheless, you felt comfortable by yourself in the quiet of the woods. It was a quiet you had come to enjoy throughout your childhood. 

It was why your ears immediately picked up on something - a particular noise - standing out from that quiet. The gentle thrashing of cicadas, the quiet bustle of leaves in the breeze, but then, something else. Crying. Distinctly - the sound of someone crying. 

You hopped off the horse that Maggie had given you and tied the saddle to a nearby tree, taking Daryl’s advice to get off and having a look on foot. 

And sure enough - you soon came to a small cliff, at the base of which there was a small rocky indenture that could have been considered a small cave. It was something that you might have passed by when perched so high on the horse. 

When you crouched down and got even lower on your hands and knees- 

“Sophia?” 

You almost couldn’t believe your luck. You had been riding for less than an hour, and fuck - there she was. 

She was curled up with her back to you, likely crying out of upset from being separated from her mother for so long, being scared and alone. Even covered in dirt - you recognized that blue tee shirt that she had been wearing when she had run off. And it’s not like there would be some other little girl hiding out in these woods. 

“Sophia.” You called her name a little firmer, in case she hadn’t heard you, or she was fatigued from the whole ordeal and needed a little extra jolt to awaken her attention toward you. It was then that her head turned and she gazed at you with two large teary eyes. 

“Y/N?” She hiccuped sorrowfully. “Wh-where’s my mom?” 

“Your mom is waiting for you,” You grinned at her, extending your arms out to invite her toward you - and she began crawling out to meet you. “Everybody set up camp at a farm just off the highway so we could look for you.” 

“I thought you were gonna leave me.” She sobbed, sitting upright and jumping into your arms - you couldn’t help but embrace her in a tight hug. 

Relief flooded your system, and though you knew that she was scared, hungry, and definitely dehydrated by now, you couldn’t be happier to have her in your arms - alive. To know that Carol would feel the same relief in such a short time. 

“Nobody was gonna leave you.” You assured her. 

You hated that it was a partial lie. But of course you weren’t going to tell her about Shane’s pessimism and Rick’s liability to fall for the ramblings of his best friend. They would all feel foolish when you rode back with her on the horse. And you would be happy to prove them wrong. 

Then, something else came to mind. 

“Are you hurt?” You asked, pulling away from the hug to inspect her. A secondary terror spiked your system. If she had been bitten - you didn’t know that you would be up to the task of ‘doing what needed to be done’ as Daryl had put it. 

“My ankle.” She said, motioning to her foot. Upon further examination, it was swollen so tightly that it looked more than painful, cartoonishly bulged over the edge of her shoe. The sight of it made you wince. “I fell down.” 

“Okay, well - one of the people at the farm is a doctor. So he’ll be able to fix you right up.” You smiled at her. “But you didn’t get scratched or - you didn’t get touched by any of the Walkers?” You asked, wanting to be sure. 

“I hid from them.” She assured you. “I was running away, and - and I got lost, and I couldn’t find my way back, and that’s when it got dark, and-” She broke into more sobs, and you reached out to hug her again. 

“It’s okay.” You assured her. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take you to your mom now.” 

“Look out!” Sophia screamed this in your ear suddenly, pointing a finger to something behind your back. 

Your heart thumped in your chest, panicked, and then, with an instinct you didn’t even know you had, you reached to the handle of the knife - Daryl’s knife on your belt. You pushed Sophia away, whipping around in order to jab the knife toward the danger. 

The first time you hit the Walker somewhere in the middle of its torso, and the second time you locked onto two disgusting yellow eyes - and you jabbed the knife right between them. Within seconds, all the movement in the Walker went limp, and it fell to the ground - and you let out a huff (not even fully knowing that you had been holding your breath) as you pulled the bloody knife out of its skull. 

“I got it.” You said, feeling victorious as you looked over your shoulder toward Sophia - who was shell-shocked and very tearful once again. “Let’s just… get on the horse and go back to the house, okay?” 

“There’s a horse?” 

You gave Sophia your canteen and she drank the entirety of the water during the ride back, and by the time the sun was setting, you were emerging from the trees with her sitting on the front of the saddle. 

On top of the RV, Dale and Andrea were having a dispute about who was supposed to be on watch. One especially heated after the debacle of Andrea accidentally shooting Daryl in the head. 

“Just give me - give me those! Give me those!” Andrea snapped, taking the binoculars from Dale. 

The man acquiesced to her fierce will, and he nodded, putting his hands up in surrender as he walked toward the edge of the RV to descend the ladder. 

Andrea put the binoculars to her face and looked out upon the fields, and what she saw shocked her more than the bloodied Daryl that she had mistaken as a lone Walker. 

“Oh my god.” Andrea gasped. 

“What?” Dale whipped back around, obviously thinking that something was wrong. “What? What?!” 

Andrea took down the binoculars and turned to Dale with a look of pure shock. 

“It’s Sophia.” 

… 

A short time later, everyone was gathered in the living room, an odd air of dread and tension having fallen over the group. It seemed that nobody else shared your joyous relief, as they were all anxious to hear it from Hershel’s mouth that Sophia was going to be fine. It was a case of waiting for the other shoe to drop, of course. 

It wasn’t long before Hershel came out of the downstairs bedroom to grace everyone with the news. 

“How’s she doin’?” Lori asked, practically trampling the man before he even had a chance to close the door behind himself. “Is she gonna be okay?” 

“Well - the girl is quite dehydrated after the adventure she’s been on,” He said, pressing that word, using it quite liberally. “But - after some IV fluids and rest, I don’t see any reason why she won’t make a full recovery.” 

Lori burst into tears. The previously silent room became a muddle of relieved sighs, delighted chatter, and more tears - and the joy you had somehow been suppressing exploded inside of you tenfold. As you looked around at everyone hugging and celebrating, you realized that there was just one person missing from the scene. 

The man who had made it possible to find her in the first place. 

You knew that Daryl should be resting because of his injuries - but what he should be doing, and what he usually did weren’t two things that often coincided. You wandered out the front door while everyone was distracted by the exchange of hugs and the general relief of the whole situation, and you weren’t surprised to find Daryl sitting in front of his tent, poking at a low-flamed fire with a long stick. 

You were slightly surprised to see him sitting up - but if you weren’t mistaken, his shirt was licked with blood on the side where his stitches would be underneath. So he was aggravating the wound and simply ignoring the consequences. Very predictable for him. 

“Hey.” You greeted him casually as you walked up. 

He didn’t bother to take his eyes off the flames, and after a quiet moment, he quietly spoke. 

“She okay?” He croaked out - his typical meditative speech. No more words than he needed. You liked that about him. 

“She’s great.” You answered. “You were right. She’s gonna eat a good meal and sleep in a warm bed tonight, and she’s gonna wake up next to her mother. She is gonna be more than fine.” 

If you weren’t mistaken, the small flinch at the side of his mouth - something that could have been taken for a tic in his cheek muscle - it was a genuine smile at the idea of Sophia actually being okay. A smile at something actually turning out well for the group. 

“And it’s all thanks to you.” You added on, taking the opportunity to give him genuine praise where it was due.  

Daryl shook his head. “Nah.” 

“Come on.” You sighed, crossing your arms. “You pointed to a place on the map, I went there, I found her. That’s all you.” 

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re just lucky.” 

You knew he was being snarky, but you couldn’t help leaning into it. 

“I am.” You grinned at him. 

He sighed harshly, shaking his head. He resisted the urge to argue, not wanting to ruin the general air of happiness at Sophia coming home alive. 

“But the knife did help.” You had to admit it - he had been right about forcing you to take it. You took it off your belt and extended it out back toward him, and he hesitated for a moment, perhaps wanting you to keep it for your own protection - and then he took it back. 

“Told ya it would.” He grumbled quietly. 

Before you could form some clever reply, you heard the front door of the house open once again, and you were surprised when Carol came marching toward you. You thought for certain that she would be attached to Sophia’s side after such an ordeal, but soon enough, she was sweeping you into a tearful hug. 

“Thank you.” She wept into your shoulder. “Thank you, thank you so much. You found my daughter - you brought her home.” 

“Oh. I…” You weren’t really sure how to respond. “It wasn’t all me. Daryl told me where to look. He was the one who followed the trail.” 

Again - you had to give him the credit where it was due. 

“Of course.” Carol nodded, pulling away from squeezing you and moving toward Daryl. 

He jumped up from his camping chair so fast that he knocked it over, nearly tripping over himself in an effort to escape her thankful affection. A tense silence fell over the three of you as he gripped at his side, and he stared her down with wide eyes like a deer caught in a hunter’s cross-hairs. 

“I got stitches.” He mumbled out, clearly looking for an excuse as to why he couldn’t be hugged in the same way. 

“Okay.” Carol replied meekly. “I still want to thank you for everything that you’ve done for my daughter.” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. “Welcome.” 

…

Even if Daryl didn’t know it then, helping to bring Sophia home truly cemented his place in the group. If it wasn’t a truth in everyone’s eyes, it was you whispering it to them, hammering home the fact that he was more than worthy - not as some kind of politician, but because you truly believed in him. 

And while you spent time rooting for him, he became an iron clad wall behind you. He continued teaching you every single skill he could, imparting all of his knowledge. And while you had insisted on returning his knife to him, he realized that a bothersome nuisance was that you didn’t have a good knife of your own. 

And he needed to make sure that you got one. 

Things were always subtle with him. He never went out of his way to make it seem like he was intentionally being nice to you or giving you a gift. He always made it seem like it was a coincidence - a side effect of whatever else was happening at the time. If the two of you went hunting together, he was teaching you because it was practical, because he had to. 

If he picked a flower out of the ground and tucked it behind your ear, it was because he claimed you smelled bad and it would dampen ‘the stank comin’ off you’ - not because it was meant to be any kind of affectionate gesture. If he made sure that you got a little bit extra on your plate that night, it was because he didn’t like the particular kind of game he had picked up, or because he was giving you ‘the worst parts’. Not because he was trying to make sure that you ate more in order to stay healthy and keep from going hungry. 

So when he gifted you a hunting knife of your own, it was entirely by mistake, of course. 

You didn’t know that he had been on the lookout for one with the intention of giving it to you for weeks. He wanted you to be able to protect yourself, and to be able to gut and skin your own kills properly now that you were learning to hunt. And in order to do that, you needed a good knife of your own. 

It just so happened that he found the perfect one while the two of you were out on a formula run for Little Asskicker. The kid was only a few days old and had lungs like a professional opera singer, wailing loud enough to shake the prison walls every few hours, and she was going through enough formula to fill up a mac truck. At least, that’s what it seemed like. 

The stuff that Maggie and Daryl had gotten just after she had been born had only lasted about a week. So now, you were out with Daryl once again, raiding a small rest stop that the two of you had seen nearby while out on a hunt. 

So far, the trip had been pretty successful. 

After struggling to get through the heavily padlocked and gated front door, Daryl boosted you through a higher up back window - which left you impressed by his strength and slightly afraid to fall on the other side (and then grossed out by the state of the bathroom that you ended up in). You got the gate up from the inside and found the keys to the padlocks on the dead owner (sitting in his office chair with a bullet in his head beside a very typical scrawl on the wall about hopelessness that you tried to ignore). And soon, Daryl unlocked the chains and then the two of you were in. 

Turns out that the security had been a deterrent for other people, and the place was relatively untouched. The two of you made off like bandits. Medicine, bandages, canned food, bottled water, juice, and of course - plenty of baby formula. Daryl even found a spare car battery that would work for one of the vehicles, and a half full can of gas. 

You were celebrating your haul with a handful of jellybeans each, smiling to each other, when Daryl noticed something. The molding corpse of the owner, now nothing but dried out skin husking against the bones with tattered old clothes rotting on top - had a very nice leather knife holster on his belt. 

Some things really do withstand the test of time. 

He necked down the rest of his candy, and as he chewed, he stepped into the office and you cringed as he reached for the dead man. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

“Thas a nice knife.” He mumbled in return, causing an awful crunching sound as he peeled the holster off the corpse. 

You had to admire him - where everyone else saw decay, he saw possibilities. 

He took the knife out of the holster and admired it for a moment, and sure enough - it was a damn nice bowie knife. It would need to be sharpened, but things like this last a lifetime. It would be perfect for you. He took out his bandana and wiped it off a bit, getting off any of the decay or dead skin that the previous owner had gotten on it, and then, he turned to you. 

“Here.” He said, holding it out to you. “You need one.” 

You did have a knife on you - a small pocket knife that Maggie had lent you for the trip out. Though you knew it was a nice gesture in Daryl’s mind, you were slightly hesitant to take something that had come off a corpse. 

“No, I don’t-” You huffed, trying to deny it. 

Next, Daryl did something that entirely shocked you, causing any protests to easily die off in your throat. 

He stepped forward, crowding into your personal space with his tall, looming presence - hot, sweaty skin lurking on every inch of him, warm breath that lingered partially with cigarettes and the sugar he had just consumed becoming absolutely apparent under your nose. And then, he lifted up the edge of your shirt, causing sharp tingles all through your body when his knuckles brushed across the bare skin of your hip as he forcefully slatted the holster onto the edge of your pants. 

His eyes were sharply locked on your hip, refusing to look at you, busying himself with securing it and then straightening the fabric of your shirt behind it so that you would have easy access to it in case you needed it. But your gaze was hard locked on the side of his face, only inches from yours. And you knew that he could feel how thick the air had gotten between the two of you. That he hadn’t missed the tiny gasp you had let out the second his skin had brushed against yours. 

“Daryl-” You said his name quietly, a whispered prayer, and before you could wander any further into dangerous territory, he easily cut you off. 

“There.” He grunted out, stepping back, breaking off the tedious moment. “Now you got one.” 

Before things could swim any further into that murky territory, he moved back to the bags the two of you had packed full of supplies, forcefully busying himself with taking them out to secure onto his bike. 

That moment left you thinking about his hands for hours after, days after - and you still thought about that moment occasionally when you used the knife. 

Strangely enough, you didn’t work up the courage to kiss him for the first time until much later, still lingering with the belief that he might reject you, even after that heated moment. 

…

It wasn’t long before news got around to the rest of the group that you and Sophia were in Alexandria, alive and well. You were greeted with many tight hugs, excited chattering, and you were introduced to the new people who had helped the group along the way and seemed to have cemented themselves into the family now. 

Quickly the idea came about that everyone should gather for a big family dinner - much like the one that was held to celebrate Sophia coming out of the woods alive and well. 

Even though it was something that had peeved you earlier, ultimately you were glad that Olivia hadn’t put the deer meat in the freezer, because it meant that you were able to treat everyone to something fresh. On top of that, when you had first arrived in Alexandria, Aiden had gifted you a few bottles of wine with some cheeky line about ‘sharing’ them with you whenever you wanted, and they had been gathering dust in a cabinet somewhere - so you could think of no better occasion to open them. Soon, you were all sitting in the living room of the house that Rick and company had been sleeping in - sleeping bags and blankets cleaned up in favor of a jumble of mismatched tables and chairs thrown together to make a long dining table that would fit the entire group. 

Surrounding the table was the whole group - Rick, Michonne, and Carl who was holding sweet little Judith on his knee (someone you had been so excited to see again). Beth and her new friend Noah (who were not-so-subtly holding hands underneath the table). Maggie and Glenn (who had hugged you so tight upon seeing you and refused to let go for nearly a full minute), their new friends Abraham, Rosita, Tara, and Eugene. Sasha, Bob (who looked happier than ever somehow) and Tyreese. 

And to round out the table, Carol sitting close by to Sophia with an arm wrapped lovingly around her daughter. Daryl was sitting next to you with a hand so shamelessly on your thigh - something that he never would have done before that you absolutely loved. As you looked around, all you saw was family - even in the people you didn’t fully know yet. You knew from Glenn and Beth’s words that the new people were nothing but good - and that was more than good enough for you. 

Radiating through you was nothing but pure joy. You truly didn’t know how things could get any better than this. 

“Well, I would like to propose a toast to our host,” Abraham said, rising up out of his seat and raising the plastic cup that he had filled with wine toward you. 

“Technically, Rick is our host,” You reminded him, nodding toward the man who looked so odd when he was clean shaven. It felt so strange to see his naked face. 

“Hey, this has only been my house for a day.” Rick replied with a shrug. “You can take full credit for giving us the best damn welcome wagon ever. This is a pretty fine spread you managed to put together on such short notice.” 

“Well, in my book, anybody who brings such good grub and such prime booze is the host,” Abraham argued lightly, giving a grin. “Plus, you were crawling around in the woods and shot down this buck so we could eat it. That deserves a thanks.” 

“Well, you’re welcome.” You shrugged in return. 

Everyone else raised their glasses in a slightly disorganized chorus of ‘thanks’, and Abraham accepted this and sat back down. You felt almost too humble and too embarrassed to accept it. You didn’t think that providing food for your family was all too big of a deal. 

“Dude, I’m just happy to be eating something that’s not from a can.” Tara added on with a grin. 

“I’m just happy that we’re all together again,” Bob replied with a smile. 

“Cheesy.” Sasha scolded him lovingly, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, I’m not the only one deserving of thanks.” You shrugged, feeling a need to deflect some of that embarrassment. “Daryl taught me how to hunt.” You explained, giving him a pat on the thigh to affirm the credit in his direction. “I wouldn’t even know how to hold a knife properly if it wasn’t for him.” 

Carol smirked. “That’s always your story, isn’t it?” She mocked you gently. “‘Daryl showed me the map.’ ‘Daryl taught me how to build a fire without matches.’ ‘Daryl taught me how to hotwire a car.’” She said, performing a mocking imitation of your voice. 

Sophia let out a gentle laugh at this, having heard this plenty of times from you while on the road together. 

This time, you could see Daryl shrinking back into his seat slightly with embarrassment, his eyes purposefully fixated on his empty plate instead of looking at anybody else around the table. 

“Well, it’s true.” You replied. 

… 

You thought back to a time shortly after you and Sophia had escaped the prison alive. You had tried looking for the others, and found nothing but the stalled prison bus, surrounded by corpses. The two of you were tired, broken down, starving - luckily, you and Daryl kept some hunting supplies outside the fence for when the two of you went hunting, including the spare crossbow that he had fixed up to teach you with. 

So you had managed to snag a few squirrels and gut them just as night fell, and you started a fire with the flint and steel with minimal difficulty as he had taught you. 

“Daryl taught you all this stuff, huh?” Sophia wondered aloud as she watched you put the flayed squirrels, now skewered onto sticks, over the fire to be cooked. 

“Yeah.” You confirmed gently. “I’m certainly glad he did.” 

You didn’t let yourself wonder where Daryl was, if he was okay. You couldn’t imagine that someone like him would be easily taken down by Walkers, not with how you had seen him handle himself. Anybody could be blown apart by a thousand pound tank or smashed by falling concrete, even if they were as skilled and vigilant as him. 

But you refused to let yourself think about it. You refused to worry about going back to pick over ashes just to have some confirmation - because there wouldn’t be any. You had to believe he was alive, or not even think about him at all. 

You had to take care of Sophia. 

A rattle in the leaves behind you caught your attention, and you grabbed your crossbow without any hesitation. You whipped around and pointed it toward the source of the sound, and soon found yourself staring down a random man. He didn’t hesitate to walk closer to your makeshift campsite, clearly unafraid of you even with your weapon raised. 

He was obviously someone who had been outside a long time - his clothes dirty and tattered, his teeth rotting as he gave you a filthy smile. 

“What do we have here? Hmm?” He greeted you in an oddly calm way - perhaps his attempt at mocking kindness. 

A general sense of unease caused all of your hair to stand on end. 

“Sophia,” You called her name gently, getting her attention, and in a moment, she was at your back, standing behind you while you stayed guarded. 

“Y/N-” She said your name quietly, grasping at the back of your shirt. 

“It’s okay.” You assured her, keeping the man locked in your sights as he came to fully stand in the light of the fire that you had made. 

“Oh, it is okay.” The man chuckled. “I assure you that I don’t mean any harm.” 

He gave another filthy smile - not just dirty by the color of his teeth, but something deeply unsettling that made your stomach twist with disgust. 

“I’m only looking for a kind person to share the night with. Perhaps I can share the warmth of your fire, and we can make friends.” 

He peered around you then, and eyed Sophia heavily with a look that made you all too certain your next move. 

You pulled the trigger on your bow and shot him, the arrow landing perfectly in the hollow of his neck - he sputtered on his own blood for a moment, and then fell to the ground. You felt regretful that Sophia had to witness it, but you knew that sadly, during her time at the prison, she had seen similar or even worse things. 

Once you were sure that he was dead, you walked over to his corpse and pulled out the arrow, and stabbed him in the temple with it to make sure that he stayed down. And then, almost hearing Daryl’s voice in your ear telling you what to do next, you began looking over his corpse for anything useful. His backpack held a few cans of food, and the knife on his belt wasn’t too bad. You gave it to Sophia and reminded her to tuck her shirt behind it as her mother had instructed. 

After you dragged the body far enough away so that it wouldn’t be an eyesore, the two of you enjoyed some canned spinach alongside the squirrels for dinner. 

…

“He knows a lot of very practical stuff and I’m lucky that he’s taught me so much.” You added on, not even realizing how much praise dripped through your voice as you spoke about Daryl. “It’s a huge reason that me and Sophia survived out there for so long. I was able to get us food and fix vehicles for us to get along because of what Daryl taught me. Back at the beginning of all this, I would have been so helpless and… probably dead if I had gotten stranded out there by myself.” 

You felt Daryl’s eyes on you, thoughtfully fixed on the side of your face, and he gently squeezed your thigh. It warmed him to the core to know that he had given you a gift - that he had kept you and Sophia alive with the proxy of his knowledge and skills, even if he couldn’t be there to protect you and provide for you himself. In a way, he had kept you fed and safe all that time. 

It was so sweet that you felt a devilish temptation curling up in you. 

“And you know, him being cute is just a bonus.” You added on with a grin - knowing that it would tickle him with embarrassment that you had loudly, affectionately announced this in front of the group. 

And it worked. 

“Aw, shove it.” Daryl scoffed, reaching up to shove your shoulder. 

But you didn’t get very far away, didn’t get to fall off your chair completely before he took the hand off your thigh and wrapped that arm around your neck, pulling you close and smothering your cheek in a few beard-scratchy kisses, making you cringe and smile all at the same time. 

This was a brand new, openly affectionate side of Daryl that you had never seen before. He had missed you for so long and he certainly wasn’t wasting making up for lost time. 

Fuck, you really loved him. 

“You know, Dixon, I never woulda guessed that you off all people would be saddled up.” Andraham commented. 

“Yeah, you never mentioned Y/N before,” Rosita added on, clearly curious as to why Daryl had never mentioned you. 

Beth gave Daryl a very knowing look as he reached for his glass of wine and finished it off, and Daryl felt lucky when someone else spoke up before he could. 

“We all saw it coming. Him getting ‘saddled up’, that is.” Michonne added on with a smile. “Carl owes me a Baby Ruth, though.” 

“The over-under was two years,” Carl hissed quietly in reply. 

Rick glared at them, and any further discussion about this bet was silenced. 

“You never told us how you got out.” Glenn piped up, suddenly curious about this. “The prison was utter chaos, if I had known that someone else was alive in A-Block, I would have-” 

“It’s not your fault.” You pressed. “It’s actually a really crazy story.” 

“Well please - do tell.” Sasha said. 

… 

Chaos. Noise. 

Being woken from the deepest unconsciousness of your life, still coughing up ugly yellow mucus and nearly having large chunks of the concrete ceiling fall on top of you due to an apparent explosion - definitely not one of your best days. Your vision was a clumpy haze due to the sickness you were still battling and you had to forcefully, bloodily rip out the IV that Hershel had put in you in order to try and navigate through it all. You climbed over the fallen bits of the building, stumbling around with a dizzy, weak body to climb down what was left of the stairs and partially falling down to the ground floor. 

“He - hell - o?!” Your efforts to call out for help were damped by coughing and the general chaos around you - the sounds of more explosions and a hail of gunfire that you could barely form panic over because your head was pounding and you still felt so fucking ill. 

You needed to find Daryl. You needed to find somebody. 

The prison bus. That was the plan if things ever went wrong. 

You moved toward the exit and found that the main hallway was blocked by more debris, but a splintering path that you knew led toward the library wasn’t. Even in your hazy state, you remembered the fact that Carol had a very large trunk in the library filled with emergency supplies. Water, dry rations, and knives that she had been teaching the kids with. Even if you couldn’t get to the bus, you could get those supplies and get out on foot. The others would likely be camping somewhere along the highway when the bus eventually ran out of gas, so you could catch up to them - eventually. 

It was the best plan you could come up with on such short notice, so you stumbled your way toward the library, and as soon as you opened the door - another explosion rocked the building, causing one of the tall, unsecured bookshelves to come tumbling down on top of you. You ended up flat on your back with the large shelf crushing you, leaving you as perfect bait for Walkers that were likely being lured by all that noise outside. 

Though you were already weak from illness, you did try to move your arms - and you found out that only one of them wasn’t completely pinned down by the shelf. It was a completely futile effort to try and lift the thing off yourself. Between the weight on top of your lungs and the way the illness had weakened your system - you soon passed out. 

When you drifted back into consciousness, the noise had greatly lessened. There was the faint growling of Walkers - cordoned off unintentionally in some other area of the prison - but there were no more explosions, and no more gun fire. 

The first thing that caught your eye was something bright red. You focused your eyes to focus, and you quickly realized that it was a picture of a red cardinal. A hand-drawn sketch on the front of a book titled ‘Birds of North America’ that was on one of the other shelves. It was tipped perfectly into the line of your vision, as if meant for you to see. 

Before you could futilely try to lift the shelf off yourself again, you heard a voice. 

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” 

You quickly recognized who it was. 

“So-Sophia?” You called back, barking out another cough that strained your words. Luckily, she heard you. 

You were soon greeted by the sight of her legs rushing toward you. Though you had no clue how such a waifish girl would ever be able to lift the bookcase off you, you were at least relieved that you were no longer alone. 

“What happened?” She asked, kneeling down to speak to you. 

“Stupid thing fell on me.” You wheezed quietly. “I came in here looking for your mom’s stash. I’m guessing you had the same idea?” 

“Yeah.” She confirmed. “Can you get this thing off you?” 

“Yeah. I was just having a leisurely lie down underneath a bookshelf.” 

Sophia rolled her eyes at your sarcasm. 

“Guess I’ll just leave you here then.” She remarked, battling back with her own sarcasm, clearly having no intentions of doing so. 

“Well you might have to… I have no clue how you’re gonna lift this thing off me.” You admitted quietly, hating how defeated you sounded. 

“I think I have an idea.” 

You were curious what she meant, and you couldn’t quite see what she was doing as she stepped out of your eyeline and made some noise, shuffling around to grab something. Then she came back with a long wooden beam - a shelf she had broken off of one of the other fallen bookcases. She stacked up a few of the books, making a hinging point, and then stuck the beam underneath the bookcase and somehow - using all her bodyweight, she was able to push it off you for long enough for you to crawl out from underneath it. 

“Thanks, kid.” You smiled at her as you sucked in greedy breaths. 

“Glenn taught me that.” She smiled back. “He said it’s basic physics.” 

“I’ll remember to thank him when I see him.” You said. 

… 

Sitting at the dinner table, you then turned to Glenn. 

“That reminds me,” You said. “Thanks for that.” 

Glenn chuckled. “Happy to help.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ve just one question,” Rick piped up. “Why did you have a stash of weapons in the library, Carol?” 

Carol took a long sip of wine, pointedly avoiding the question. 

“Oh shit, he never found out about storytime, did he?” Carl chuckled, obviously directing this question toward Carol. 

“Storytime?” Rick echoed, eyeing his son heavily, clearly confused. 

You cut them off, not wanting to get Carol in trouble for her proactive teaching a bit too late. 

“Okay, let’s all just be happy that we’re together and that we’ve had a nice meal.” You said. “I’m not doing dishes. You guys have fun with that. Come on, Daryl, I’ve got somethin’ to show you.” You made your exit, getting up from the table and hoping he would follow - which he did, making way to push out his chair. 

“Is it your bare ass?” Abraham joked, clearly at least a bit drunk. 

“Abraham!” Rosita chastised him with a gentle smack. 

“What? I think it’s cute that Dixon’s all shacked up.” He replied with a chuckle. 

“You’re lucky he doesn’t punch your lights out for that one.” Tara remarked. 

“Nah, you’re safer with Y/N around.” Maggie commented. “He gets all soft when he’s around Y/N. It is cute.” 

“Oh, if you think this is cute just wait til I tell you about what they were like back at the prison.” Michonne added on. “He used to bring Y/N dead squirrels like a cat dropping dead mice at someone’s doorstep. I have no clue how such an odd form of flirting actually worked.” 

“Well, some people like dead squirrels, some people like toothpaste.” Rick replied. 

And that was the last of the conversation you heard before you closed the front door behind you, going off down the street with Daryl in tow to show him your place. 

When you took him up the porch of another manicured house and opened the door, he quietly croaked out: 

“This ‘ur place?” 

“Yeah.” 

You told him, shoving your boots off, not wanting to get dirt on the clean rugs inside. Daryl felt a bit strange taking his shoes off - knowing that his overly worn socks had holes in them, but still, he followed suit. He knew you wouldn’t judge him for something as petty as his socks having holes in them, after all. 

“This is where me and Sophia have been living. But there’s always room for one more. If you’re done snuggling up next to Rick on the living room floor,” You couldn’t let another opportune joke escape you, and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

“Asshole.” He gently scoffed. 

Though the two of you had never slept in the same bed together before. And he couldn’t help but to love the idea of being curled up next to you at night. He found that he also loved the idea of waking up next to you every morning - especially after going for so long without seeing your face. You walked up the stairs and he couldn’t help but to follow you, and he was surprised when you didn’t lead him to bed - but instead, went to the back of a hallway, and pulled down a latch. 

This unleashed some stairs that led to the attic, leading the two of you up even higher. He found himself shamelessly admiring the view of your ass as he followed you up the stairs, and when he emerged into the dark attic (only lit by a few strokes of moonlight coming in through the small window) - he was surprised by what he saw. He had to crouch down on his hands and knees to be comfortable, and he quickly adjusted to sit down on his ass as you had. 

It appeared that you had built a watchtower of sorts up here. 

There was a telescope set up in the small window, and off to one side, there was a cork board with a hand-drawn map of the surrounding area, a few notebooks sitting in the corner that you likely wrote down observances in. Posted on the cork board - there were names of all the residences in town, and you had written down certain traits beside each of them. Along with a hand drawn map of the town itself and names on the houses, indicating where everyone lived. 

“So you’re gettin’ paranoid?” Daryl joked. 

“No.” You scoffed. “Besides, you should know that a healthy level of paranoia is necessary these days.” 

It was in that moment that it truly hit Daryl - you had taught him to be hopeful, even if he hadn’t fully known it at the time. And he had taught you to be less naive, to be firmer in order to survive. The two of you were only alive, only able to have the privilege of being in each other’s presence now because you had accepted those pieces of the other person that kept you alive. 

“Ain’t that right.” He replied. “Why did you wanna show me?” 

You shrugged. “I thought you might like it.” 

Daryl couldn’t hold back his grin - one of the most genuine smiles you had ever seen come from him. He did like it. He liked that he had made a little fighter out of you. But at the same time, nothing had snubbed out the perfect spark that he had fallen in love with. Your smile, your laughter, the brightness in your eyes - somehow, it was all still the same. It made him love you even more somehow. 

“I guess I also wanted to thank you.” You added on. “I meant what I said before. You taught me so much - I would have been clueless without you. I would have starved to death and been blind, and lost and stupid without everything that you taught me.” You declared passionately. “You kept me fed and sheltered and warm, and I don’t know how much I could thank you for that.” 

Daryl began to get choked up, and he hated that for the second time that day, more tears swelled in his eyes. 

He knew that in a different way, you had kept him fed, sheltered, and warm too. You had kept his soul from dying out in those woods - you had kept his spirit fed on the idea of hope that he never would have conceived as something real before he had met you.

He couldn’t bring himself to put it into words. So instead, he found himself reaching out toward you. He put a firm hand under your jaw and guided you toward him; you easily fell limp to the touch and let yourself be guided toward his mouth once again. 

This was much less of a surprise than the earlier kiss. This was much warmer, like sinking into the hot shower had been earlier that day. Only this was much, much better. You let out a gentle moan as you let yourself feel it, simply enjoying the tingling sensation throughout your body, gripping into the lapels of his vest, crawling forward to sit in his lap as your mouth embraced his. 

After a moment, you pulled away. There was only one thing on your mind, one incomplete thread that you had been thinking about since you had lost him at the prison. 

“I love you too.” 

Daryl grunted in reply and pulled your mouth back to his. 

For once in his life, he didn’t feel like a fool for letting himself hope. 

That night, Daryl went to sleep in your bed. 

For the first time in far too long, he got to wake up knowing that you were alive and well - he had the privilege of being greeted by the sound of your even, calm breaths. You slept on his chest long after he awoke, and he let you. He was greedy and starved for your touch, soaking in the feeling of your warmth half on top of him, nosing over the top of your head to enjoy your natural scent mixed lightly with the smell of soap. 

As the sun rose over the walls of Alexandria, Daryl noticed a streak of red flash by and land on the roof of a house beside yours. Through the window, he saw it there perfectly - the red cardinal that you had gifted him with for luck, the symbol that had guided him all the way here, all the way back to you.  

He couldn’t help it, then - he grinned to himself. 

The next day, he found one of those picture frames that Aaron had gifted the group with that they largely had no use for, and he put your picture of the bird, still singed on one edge, inside of it. 

A while later, when the two of you were out on a run and he had a bit of time on his hands as you fell asleep - he edged a stick n poke tattoo into the skin of his forearm, outlining the bird as best he could with his very little artistic talent. When you saw it, you giggled - and he assured you that it was because he liked the look of it, most definitely not for luck. 

He didn’t need ‘luck’ anymore - not when he had you.

...

A/N: This is a stand-alone oneshot, and there will not be a follow up or a 'Part 2'. I have always intended for this to be a stand-alone story, so please do not ask for a follow up or a sequel in the comments. If you are going to comment, please comment about the material that has already been written. If you want to see more TWD fics from me, I have some posted on AO3 (which is linked in my pinned) but I don't currently have any of my other TWD fics posted on Tumblr. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this!

nothing else matters

rockstar!daryl x leadguitarist!reader (rivals to lovers)

first part.

summary: you’re the lead guitarist in a band, and daryl dixon is the biggest singer of your generation. you were born to be rivals, but but you’re made to love each other.

warnings: rockstar!daryl x leadguitarist!reader, m!reader, rivals to lovers, abuse of drugs and alcohol, sassy!daryl, rock & roll, rough kiss.

words count: 2K+.

based on my headcanons and this ask. (thanks bro you’ve given me an incredible idea)

very proud of this work, i hope you all like it.

There’s a reason why the sun leaves the sky every night. Light isn’t meant for the darkness.

Daryl was smoking a cigarette, leaning against his motorcycle. The smoke filled his lungs and drifted out through his nose. His sharp eyes seemed to take in everything and yet focus on nothing.

Your world, on the other hand, was upside down. Nerves made your fingers tingle. You had a guitar slung over your back and a bottle of rum in your hand. Your heart was pounding so hard that you almost told it to calm down, or you’d both be stuck on the edge of success. Today was your first day with your new band.

When you got to the venue door, it was locked. You knocked a few times with your knuckles. Nothing. Not a sound inside. Frustrated, you turned around and saw a guy leaning on a bike, puffing on a cigarette. The smoke clung to his lips, and your body tensed. He brushed his hair out of his face and gave you a lazy, half-asleep look.

“They open in ‘bout an hour,” he murmured in a raspy voice. Suddenly, you heard something more—the tune that wouldn’t stop playing in your head. The one you couldn’t help but hum, even unconsciously. Whether you were showering or cooking, those lyrics and that addictive melody followed you everywhere.

That guy was Daryl Dixon. The lead singer of Arrows, the city’s hottest new band.

Your first instinct was to show your admiration, but you took a deep breath instead. You were in the same game now and had to make your own space. You took a swig from the bottle to get into character.

“So, what you doin’ here, then?” you asked, your voice a little rough from the strong alcohol. Daryl’s eyes flicked over you from head to toe and back up again. “You lookin’ to grab a seat at the bar?”

You laughed, but he didn’t. He just ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his mouth dry from the smoke.

“I’m playin’ tonight,” he said bluntly, cheeks hollowing as he took a deep drag. He looked at your guitar and nodded at it with his ring-covered fingers. You could’ve sworn you saw one with a skull and another with some kind of monster. "Ya even know how to play that thing, or is it just for looks?"

An immature thought flashed through your mind, and you stuffed one hand into your pocket. You knew how to play it all right; you’d practiced a bunch of his songs.

“I’m pretty good,” you said, holding his gaze. Daryl nodded, but his eyes stayed blank. Not even a hint of curiosity. It was a void you could either float in or drown in.

“I’m playin’ tonight too,” you said, gripping the neck of the bottle as you looked at him. It was impossible to look away from this guy, no matter how hard you tried.

He tossed the cigarette to the ground and ran a hand through his beard. He was wearing a leather jacket you’d seen at his shows.

“When?” he asked, stepping closer, his presence so intense it made you tighten your grip on the bottle.

“Nine,” you answered, and a smirk crept onto Daryl’s lips, making your jaw clench.

He was just inches away when he tapped you twice on the shoulder.

“Well, looks like you’re my openin’ act,” he said, licking his lips before unlocking the door with a key you hadn’t noticed. Standing in the doorway, he gave you a cocky smile. “Don’t put ‘em to sleep; I don’t wanna have to wake ‘em up.”

Before you could respond, Daryl stepped inside and shut the door right in your face.

Asshole.

A few more years and you were quite a celebrity. You enjoyed doing concerts in cities you had only seen on TV before, and women were crazy about you. You couldn’t take two steps without being stopped for an autograph; you were the sensation of the moment. And it was just as well that you couldn’t sing, or the spotlight would have been all yours.

That night, you were in Chicago, backstage at a festival. You were practicing some chords on your guitar while Glenn (your best friend) was arguing with the sound guy for not paying attention to something. You were murmuring a Nirvana song until you saw the guys from Arrows approaching you. It had been many years since you last saw them.

The drummer of the band walked up to you and offered his hand. He told you he liked the way you played a particular chord.

Daryl was wearing a vest with wings on the back, sunglasses that covered his eyes, and he had the same rings on his fingers. You remembered what he had said to you the day you met, and you couldn’t help but move closer to him.

"Now we're headlining," you said, making him turn around and take off his glasses. His blue eyes burned you.

"Congrats," he said, looking into your eyes and then at your lips. It was so subtle you didn’t know if it was just in your head or if he really did it.

"Daryl!" the guitarist of his band called out to him, and he turned his back on you again. His indifference hit you like an arrow.

"I'm havin’ problems with my wife, man," he confessed loudly enough for everyone to hear. “She saw some pics of me with another girl, and she's freakin' out. I gotta get home and sort it out.”

You shared a laugh with your best friend, who had grown tired of tormenting the sound guy.

"Don’t fuck with me, man," Daryl said, clearly frustrated, as he fixed his clear gaze on him. "We gotta perform in front of over fifty thousand people."

Glenn took a few steps forward and approached Daryl, placing his hand on his shoulder. You didn’t understand why he did it until he opened his impertinent mouth.

“My guitarist can help y’all out,” he said with conviction, and you felt your blood rush to your face. You kept your cool, lifted your chin, and crossed your arms.

“Why would I do that?” you asked, feeling Daryl's gaze slide over your body—your tense neck, your muscular arms crossed against each other, and your makeup that only deepened your features.

Your best friend didn’t expect your answer; he knew you were always there to lend a hand. He frowned and let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“You know their songs,” he pitched, making your heart start to pound. Daryl was surprised by this revelation; he didn’t expect you to know his songs. He placed a cigarette between his lips and looked at you.

“Ya don’t gotta do it, it’s no big deal,” Daryl murmured without giving it much importance.

You clenched your teeth and nodded.

“I’ll do it,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “There’s a whole mess of folks waitin' on us.”

Daryl smiled, and you felt something deep in your heart. He was still your rival, but he burned you as much as a lover.

You let your bony fingers caress the strings of your guitar with expert technique as you played the opening chords of Metallica’s “Until It Sleeps.” Nothing else existed in this world but you and your instrument. You allowed the melody to seduce you and transport you to a new realm. You knew the lyrics so well that your lips moved almost instinctively. You lifted your smoky-eyed gaze and saw Daryl drinking a beer while watching you.

You continued playing, and Daryl took the opportunity to lose himself in the way your fingers moved, the grace with which you strummed the strings, and your feet keeping the beat. He found himself staring at the blackness that clouded your eyelids and the way you parted your lips every time the chorus came around.

He hated with all his soul that he couldn’t admit how amazing you were.

He hated with all his heart how you made it even more perfect.

He wanted to move closer to you and sing along.

He wanted so many things that he just stayed there, finishing his beer.

An up-and-coming band finished their set, and it was Arrows’ turn. You shot Glenn a death glare, and he just winked at you. You had no idea what that was about. You sighed and stepped onto the stage. The applause was so deafening it almost left you without hearing. Your anxiety turned into something almost surreal. Daryl kept his eyes locked on you and the guitar hanging from your shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked, and you nodded.

You were in sync with the band; you started right on cue and ended almost perfectly. Everyone supported you and trusted your technique, which made you shine on stage. But everything began to unravel when you heard his voice. His voice sank into your bones and made you feel so many things you couldn’t even name. You watched his hair, the way his body moved while he added his voice to your music, and your whole world seemed to tremble. Sometimes you had to play the strings harder just to remind yourself that you were there. Playing with him.

Daryl’s grayish eyes were locked on you during the solos. He parted his lips and smiled. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or genuinely impressed.

When you thought the show was over, you took a moment to look at the thousands of people. They were pumped up, going wild for Dixon. Everything was going just as you expected until Daryl signaled his bassist and started playing a song. You gripped your instrument and swallowed hard. That song wasn’t on the setlist you’d been given.

That song was your favorite, but you’d buried it in the “forced forgetfulness” drawer after what happened with Daryl at the bar.

The idiot had released it a few months after you met. The song was about a night with a girl in a nightclub. She’d done her eyes up with dark makeup and had a tough attitude. The lyrics described how her hands touched him like guitar strings and how she straddled him, moving as if she were the star of a movie. It was about a girl he wanted but couldn’t truly have, because after their one night together, he knew they both belonged to the same sky, but at different points.

Click.

You looked at your hands on the guitar and remembered your own face. You heard every lyric, how it described her shining. You thought you were dreaming until he gave you a look that made you forget how to breathe.

You’re such an idiot, Daryl Dixon.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded as you barged into Dixon’s dressing room. You had a few minutes before it was your band’s turn.

Daryl was checking himself out in the mirror, and you were right behind him. You were wound up, your heart racing, and you couldn’t believe what had just happened—even if half of it was probably just in your head. He was your rival; you’d spent half your careers making each other’s lives miserable, trying to one-up each other. It wasn’t fair that, when you finally shared the stage with him, he sang that song.

“What?” he asked calmly, fiddling with his rings.

“Uh…” You swallowed and hesitated. No, it didn’t make sense to say what you wanted. ““You sang a song without tellin’ me. Y’all should’ve—”

Daryl unbuttoned his vest because it was sweltering in the room. You noticed his chest and a new tattoo on his abdomen. He scratched the back of his neck with a fake hint of embarrassment and gave a small laugh.

“Yeah, we shoulda told ya ‘bout that song,” he said, moving closer to you as if drawn by some invisible force. “What’s the deal? You don’t like it? If it makes ya feel any better, you played it real good.”

His condescension got under your skin, and you closed the gap until you were almost touching. You were fuming and couldn’t figure out why. Maybe you were still mad because Glenn had pushed you onto that stage with him. His eyes locked onto yours, and he raised his chin, challenging you to keep eye contact. His body was close, almost naturally dominating. In this game, no one was going to win.

“Who’s the song about?” you whispered near his lips. “Who is she?”

You pressed your lips to his, lingering to steal his breath. He tasted like alcohol and weed. Daryl froze. Maybe you’d made a huge mistake. You cleared your throat, shook your head, and started for the door.

Before you could leave, Daryl pushed you against the wall. The shove was unexpected, rough, and bold. You locked eyes, and before you knew what was happening, his lips were on yours. The kiss was fierce and hungry. His hand, covered in metal, wrapped around your neck and you let out a moan. His tongue danced with yours, and you both nearly lost your breath.

All your heat gathered in one part of your body, and you pressed your hips against him, making sure he felt you.

“Since I’ve known ya, all my songs’ve been ‘bout you,” he admitted, pulling away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, still wet from you.

Your chest heaved as you looked at him.

Glenn knocked on the door and said it was almost time.

“I didn't like your song,” you confessed, holding his gaze.

Daryl turned around. You saw him laughing thanks to his reflection in the mirror.

“Maybe I’ll like it when you write about something real,” you said, making his mood shift completely.

He sat down on the couch, spreading his legs slightly, and you felt a rush of heat. He softly touched his thigh with his hand.

“Give me a reason then,” he murmured, drawing out the words.

“I’m sorry, but I have to keep being a star, Daryl Dixon,” you said firmly, walking away.

There’s a reason why there are stars in the sky. They’re meant for someone to look at in the dark.

holy hell, this was HAWT

Breaking Through

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl’s reckless behavior on a supply run nearly gets him killed, pushing you to remind him how to stay humble. Little did you know, his attitude was hiding something much deeper that only you could break through.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MOMMY KINK / SMUT / BODY WORSHIP / ORAL SEX / EDGING / TEASING / HURT / COMFORT / AFTERCARE / LANGUAGE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.799

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: LATE S5 & EARLY S6

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @mayday2007

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I truly hope I did your request justice! I also hope that the length of it is okay and that it met your expectations. And thank you so much for your patience!

MASTERLIST

You leaned against the porch, one of the few spots in Alexandria that didn’t make you want to rip your hair out. It all felt too damn clean sometimes, too fake even. Here, it was easy to forget how the world had gone to shit, but... Daryl? He never let himself forget. He was walking around by the gate, looking like an animal waiting for a fight, and you knew why...

Rick and a few others were getting ready for a run—another trip outside the safe walls to scavenge for supplies. But more than that, it was an excuse for Daryl to escape the suffocation of Alexandria. He’d rather be out there with the walkers than in here, playing pretend.

"Daryl," you called out, and he stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes narrowing like he was already preparing for a lecture from you.

"What?" He grunted, sounding as defensive as ever. He was always on alert these days, and it was only getting worse since you arrived in Alexandria.

"Listen," you started, stepping down from the porch and running toward him as he prepared to leave. "I know you hate this place, and I understand; I really do, but you need to keep your head on straight out there. You’re not just out there for yourself. You’ve got Rick, Glenn, and Michonne with you today. You fuck anything up; they could get hurt too. Please, just be careful."

He looked away, scuffing his boot against the ground like a stubborn child who didn’t want to hear what you were saying. "Ain’t no damn kid. Can handle myself," he growled back at you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. "You might be able to handle yourself, sure, and we all know that you are more than capable of doing that, but that doesn’t mean you can act reckless. You need to listen to Rick, do what he says, and stop acting like a damn brat. You keep pulling this shit, and one of these days, it’s gonna bite you in the ass. Literally."

Daryl clenched his jaw and scoffed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually argue with you. But then he just shook his head. "Yer done now?"

"No, Daryl, I’m not done," you snapped back, feeling your frustration grow and almost boil over. "I’m tired of watching you do this bullshit, okay? We’re all trying to make this work, and you’re out there acting like you’ve got a death wish. We’ve lost too many people already, and I’m not about to lose you or anyone else because you couldn’t keep your damn self in check."

For a second, you saw something like vulnerability, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He looked away again, like he was trying to block out your words, not wanting to listen to you.

"Just... think about what I said, okay?" You said, the tone in your voice softening slightly. You didn’t want to push him too hard, but you couldn’t just let this slide again all the time. "I’m not trying to piss you off, Daryl. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. We all need you to come back. I... I need you to come back."

He didn’t say anything; he just gave you a nod before finally turning away. But as you watched him walk toward Rick, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that something bad was going to happen on this run.

Rick was already waiting by the gate, his hands on his hips as he looked around Alexandria. He seemed to be tired, but when he saw you approaching as well, he gave you a small smile.

"Did you talk to him?" Rick asked, his voice whispering, so only you could hear.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at Daryl, who was busy playing around with his knife. "But you know how he is. Stubborn as hell."

Rick laughed a little, but there was no real humor in it. "Yeah. Isn't that the truth? Don’t worry, I'll keep an eye on him while we’re out there, alright? If he does something stupid..."

"You'll make sure he doesn’t," you interrupted, not needing him to finish the sentence.

"Alright. Got it. We’ll be back before you know it," Rick said, louder now and turning to the gate as it opened, and Glenn arrived with the car. "We’re heading out. Stay close, keep quiet, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. We get what we need, and we get back. That's it."

You watched as Daryl took his crossbow and walked with Rick and the others over to the truck. You were worried, sure, but you forced yourself to stay calm. This was Daryl Dixon, after all. He was tough, he was resourceful, and he’d been through far worse than this. But still, there was that uncomfortable feeling in the back of your mind, the one that told you things weren’t going to go smoothly today.

Rick took Daryl aside in the meantime. "Listen, Daryl. We stick to the plan, and we get back without any extra bullshit. You got that?"

Daryl glared at Rick but didn’t say anything. You knew that look; it was the one that said he was going to do what he wanted anyway.

With that, Rick and the others—Glenn and Michonne, in this case—headed out, leaving you in Alexandria with the rest of the group.

You turned away, heading back to the house, but your thoughts were still with Daryl. You just hoped he’d listen to you for once, or rather, Rick. Because if he didn’t, you weren’t sure you’d be able to forgive him—or yourself—if something went wrong.

The truck stopped at the side of a parking lot some time later. Abandoned cars were standing around all over the place, with their windows shattered and rotting corpses still sitting in some of them. It was a graveyard. Rick turned off the engine and looked over to the building, his face already showing that things were about to get rough.

"This place is full of walkers," Rick mumbled, looking around the area. "Okay… We get in, we get out. No fucking around. Got it?"

Everyone nodded, even Daryl, though the look in his eyes told a different story. Alexandria was killing him slowly, suffocating him with its safety and daily routine, and one could see he was just waiting to break free, to remind himself what it felt like to be out there again, in the real world, and not living in an illusion.

"Stick together," Rick continued, his eyes narrowing at Daryl like he could read his mind. "We’re hitting that grocery store, grabbing what we can, and getting the hell out. Nothing else, no bullshit."

Daryl grunted in response, his hand tightening around his crossbow. He wasn’t making any promises; that was clear enough, but at least he wasn’t outright showing it. That would have to be good enough. The four of them got out of the truck, their weapons ready, and slowly made their way toward the store. It looked like it had been raided a few times already, but Rick had heard from Aaron that a shipment had been left behind in the storage rooms—lots of canned food, water, and even medicine inside the small pharmacy of the store, locked up in the back, just waiting to be taken. Easy, if they played it safe.

Of course, playing it safe had not been Daryl’s way of doing it lately, not when his blood was boiling, and especially not since the prison, Terminus, and the other hell everyone went through. And especially not ever since Alexandria.

They went through the side entrance, which was once for the people that had worked there, the glass doors hanging off their hinges, and one could easily guess how most of the walkers got into the store in the first place, apart from those walkers that’ve died inside while scavenging. The inside of the store was pure chaos, with broken shelves, rotten food, and other empty products all across the floor. They moved quietly as Rick led the way, his Colt Python out and ready as always, Glenn close behind with his knife drawn, and Michonne with her sword, while Daryl was at the end, pointing his crossbow around as well. They soon made it to the back of the store, where the stockroom doors were, without drawing any attention so far.

"Alright," Rick whispered, motioning for the others to cover him. "Glenn and I will try to open the door. Michonne, watch our backs. Daryl, you—"

But before Rick could finish, Daryl was already moving. He didn’t like waiting, didn’t like standing around while others decided what to do, or having to wait for a plan. Without a word, he went off to the right, disappearing down one of the side aisles, his crossbow at the ready.

"Daryl!" Rick hissed, but there was no stopping him.

"Shit," Glenn grumbled in a bit of annoyance and panic, his eyes looking at Rick. "Where the hell is he going? What is he doing?"

Rick shook his head in frustration. "Just... just stay here," he ordered before walking after Daryl, cursing to himself with every step.

Daryl moved fast, his crossbow raised as he approached the loading dock at the back of the store from another side. He could hear the sounds of walkers moving behind the metal door, but this was exactly what he was looking for. He shoved the door open with a grunt, with the door making a noise that could be heard all throughout the whole store.

The walkers inside turned at the sound, and they immediately moved forward, their arms outstretched.

"C’mon, ya ugly bastards," Daryl mumbled, the first bolt killing the nearest walker in an instant. The walker fell to the ground, but the others kept coming.

He reloaded quickly, but just as he was about to fire again, a hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him off balance. He hadn’t noticed the few other walkers, hidden in an open employee restroom nearby, their fingers grabbing his vest with their teeth only inches away from his face.

"Fuck!" Daryl growled, kicking the walker in front of him back and grabbing his knife. But he soon stumbled, falling down to the floor with the two of them on top of him. The impact knocked the knife from his hands, letting it slide across the floor, just out of reach, as he struggled to push the walkers off.

Then, just as the walkers’ teeth were about to bite into his flesh, several gunshots could be heard. Daryl gasped for breath, shoving the dead off him as he got to his feet, his heart racing while he looked over at Rick standing in the doorway with his Colt Python.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Rick said, lowering the gun. "What the hell were you even thinking?"

Daryl wiped the blood from his face, glaring at Rick but not saying a single word. He didn’t need to—he knew he’d fucked up, and Rick certainly knew it too.

But Rick didn’t wait for an explanation. "We need to hurry. Get your damn ass back to the truck. Now!"

For now, Daryl didn’t argue. He grabbed his crossbow and knife, putting it over his shoulder as he moved past Rick and over to Glenn and Michonne. He could feel Rick’s eyes on his back, judging him, and it took everything in him not to lash out. But he knew Rick was right. He’d been reckless, and it had nearly cost him his life. Not only that, but the supply run failed with the other walkers in the front of the store now moving toward the storage room.

Once outside, Daryl couldn’t ignore the thought that he’d fucked up more than just the run. He’d broken the trust, not just with Rick but with you. And he knew he’d have to face the consequences when he got back.

The sun was starting to set when you saw Rick and the others coming through the gate. You’d been waiting, walking around Alexandria, trying to distract yourself. But the deal had been clear—Rick would bring Daryl back in one piece and tell you every detail. But the moment you caught sight of Rick, you knew something had gone wrong. It was written all over his face, as was the fact that they had no supplies with them.

"Rick," you called out, running over to him.

He looked up at you, nodding and narrowing his eyes. You hated that look. It meant bad news, and you were tired of bad news.

"What happened?" You demanded as he walked next to you. "Where’s Daryl?"

"He’s fine," Rick said, holding up a hand to calm you down, though it didn’t do shit for your nerves. "I don't know where he is right now. Jumped right out of the truck. Physically, he’s okay. But, hell, it was close. Too close. Again."

Your stomach dropped at his words. This was getting out of hand. "What do you mean, 'close'?"

Rick rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for a moment. "We were in that store Aaron told us about, wanting to get the supplies. Daryl decided to go off on his own, like he always does lately. Didn’t wait for us as a backup, just did his own thing. Not even telling us that there was an easier way and that he has seen it. Next thing I know, he’s nearly got two walkers biting into his damn neck."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You asked, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "I told him—hell, we both told him so many times—not to pull that lone wolf bullshit anymore! And he still did it? I can’t fucking believe it!"

Rick nodded. "Yeah. Same old Daryl, too stubborn for his own good. I got there in time, but if I hadn’t... well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now."

You sucked in a breath, trying to calm the rage inside you. But it was hard—damn hard—when you pictured Daryl almost getting himself killed because he couldn’t follow simple instructions. "What the hell is wrong with him, Rick? Why does he keep doing this shit? Is Alexandria that bad for him? I mean, yeah, we all aren’t used to this... illusion, but hell, we’re at least trying to make the best of it! All of us!"

Rick sighed, leaning against the porch railing once you both arrived at the house. "I don’t think it’s only about Alexandria, not entirely. But yeah, it’s too controlled, too... fake. So he goes out there, trying to prove he’s still... still who he was out there. But it’s not like none of us tries the exact same thing. We all do. Or did."

You shook your head in frustration. "I get it; I do. But we can’t keep going on like this. He’s going to get himself killed—or worse, get someone else hurt. I’m fucking done sitting around, hoping he’ll pull his head out of his damn ass!"

Rick looked at you with a small smile. "By now I was thinking the same thing on the way back. We’ve tried to talk sense into him, but he isn’t listening. He’s too stubborn."

"That’s it," you finally said. "I’m handling this. If he won’t listen to you, maybe he’ll finally listen to me. But one way or another, this shit stops today, I swear."

Rick’s eyebrows moved up in surprise before he nodded slowly. "You sure? I don’t think you should push him into a corner."

You smirked, but it was more due to annoyance than amusement. "Oh, I’m sure. He’s going to learn today that there’s more than one way to get his damn ass in line. Trust me, Rick. Otherwise… Otherwise, I just don’t know what to do anymore."

Rick laughed a little and shook his head. "Alright then. Just don’t go too hard on him. And you must remember that it takes time. With… all of this."

You waved him off, already halfway down the steps of the porch. "He’ll be fine, Rick."

As you headed toward the garage, where you knew Daryl was probably working on his bike, your mind was already racing with what you were going to say. This wasn’t just about Daryl acting like a reckless asshole—this was about keeping him and the others alive, keeping him from throwing away everything you’d fought so hard for in this new world, with the rest of the group.

The moment you stepped into the garage, he barely looked your way, too focused on tightening a bolt that didn’t even need any more tightening. But you weren’t about to let him ignore you, not after what Rick had told you.

"Daryl," you started, but he only grunted in response, and that was about it—just a damn grunt, like he couldn’t be bothered to reply with words. And it pissed you off how he could be so nonchalant after nearly getting himself killed.

"Look at me," you snapped, stepping closer to him. "I said... Look at me, Dixon."

He paused, his hand stilling on the wrench, before finally looking into your eyes with a scoff.

"You think you can just go off on your own and do whatever the fuck you want? Well, guess what, Daryl? You almost got your damn throat ripped out today. And for what? Because you couldn’t listen? Because you’re too stubborn to accept that you’re part of a community now, and not some lone wolf out there in the woods with a group he helps out every now and then?" You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ain’t like that," he mumbled, but it didn’t really sound like he was trying to defend himself.

"Bullshit!" You shot back, stepping even closer until you were right in his face, close enough to see the way his eyes widened slightly. "It’s exactly like that, and you know it. And for what? To prove something? To whom? You ain’t gotta prove anything to me, Daryl. And certainly not our group. But you do owe it to us to stop acting like a fucking idiot!"

He turned away from you, but you weren’t done yet. "This isn’t just about you anymore, Dixon. Every time you pull this shit, you put everyone at risk. Everyone! You get bit, we lose a member of this group. A member of our damn family! You die, and we all suffer! Do you even get that? Or are you that stuck with your own damn head up your ass that you can’t see that?"

"Ain’t need ya shittin’ on me," he growled, his voice quiet, but you caught something like guilt in it. "Can handle my ass."

"Clearly," you snapped at him with sarcasm. "Because you handled yourself so well today that Rick had to pull your ass out of a walker’s mouth. Real smooth, Daryl! Real fucking smooth!"

He flinched at that, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to face you. "Ain’t like I needed any damn help."

You didn’t back down, though. You were way past that. "And that’s the problem, Daryl. You think that you don’t need anyone. But guess what? You do. You need us, and we need you. So stop acting like an asshole and start thinking about what you’re doing to everyone else."

For a second, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he just looked at you—really looked at you—like he was trying to figure something out. "Why ya care s’ much?" He finally asked.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Because I give a shit, you damn idiot. Because I... care about you more than anyone else here even knows, and I’m not about to watch you throw your life away over some macho bullshit, or whatever you’re trying to act like. You think I want to lose you? You think any of us do?"

He stared at you. "Ain’t tryna make shit harder," he muttered, looking down at the ground, shrugging his shoulders. "Jus’... can’t stand it ‘ere sometimes. Ain’t me ‘round ‘ere."

"Who you are isn’t some reckless idiot who doesn’t give a damn about anyone else. Who you are is someone who’s saved more lives than you can count, someone who’s part of a family now. And yeah, maybe it’s different here and maybe it’s hard, but that doesn’t give you the right to check out whenever you feel like it, as if this community is a fucking hotel!"

He didn’t say anything; he just kept looking at you with those blue, searching eyes, like he was waiting for you to give him something—some kind of direction.

You took a deep breath. "Daryl, you need to stop this shit. You need to stop before you get yourself killed. And if you won’t listen to Rick, then you’ll damn well listen to me. Got it?"

"Yeah," he said, almost whispering. "Got it."

"Good," you said. "Because this stops now. You’re done running off, done putting yourself at risk for no damn reason. From now on, you listen, just like before. We’re all a big team, Daryl, and we still are despite everything. Understand?"

"Yeah… Do ya still lo—" He started but stopped himself from speaking any further. "Are ya mad?"

"What? No, I’m not mad," you answered, stepping back to leave, wanting to give him some space. "But I’m hurt and disappointed."

Daryl sat there for a long time after you left. He gritted his teeth, and his fists were clenched, but it wasn’t anger. It was guilt. Shame even. All he knew was that he’d fucked up.

"Stupid, stupid fuckin’ idiot," he mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair while he could still hear your voice in his head. "Fuckin’ piece o' shit. Can’t even keep yer damn head straight."

He felt like a fool, like a stubborn kid who’d just been put in his place. But it wasn’t just the anger that stuck with him—it was the look in your eyes, the pain and fear of what could’ve happened to him.

"Gotta make this right," he grumbled, now walking around the garage. "Ain’t gonna let her think I’m some reckless asshole who don’t care ‘bout nothin’." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She’s right… Been actin’ like a damn idiot. But… shit, need t’ prove I ain’t just some fuckup."

He knew you’d left him alone on purpose, letting him think about it, just like you’ve done several times before. But this time, he wasn’t going to sit here and wait for you to come back. He had a plan—a rather half-baked plan, but it was all he had. He needed to show you how much you meant to him and how much he needed you.

"Fuck, she’s gonna kill me," he sighed, shaking his head as he made his way out of the garage. And he knew exactly where and in what house he was going to find you.

You were already half asleep, lying on the floor on a mattress, when you felt someone being there—before you even opened your eyes. It was Daryl, of course, kneeling over you as he carefully pulled the sheets back.

"What the hell are you doing, Dixon?" You mumbled, still groggy. "Leave me alone."

He didn’t answer right away; he just pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another, moving down your arm, his lips barely touching your skin. It was slow on purpose, like he was trying to worship every inch of you to make up for all the stupid shit he’d done. And it was working, even if it pissed you off that he thought he could just... seduce his way out of this.

"Daryl," you warned, but your voice was weak due to the way his strong, big hands were now sliding down your sides to your waist.

"‘M sorry," he whispered, before he kissed the sensitive spot on your neck. "Fucked it up, I know that. But need ya to know... I ain’t a fool. I need ya, more than ya fuckin’ know."

You wanted to stay mad, to shove him away from you and tell him to get his shit together, but his touch—God, it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he was taking away your anger with every kiss and every touch of his hands. And when he put his head lower, kissing along your ribs after he pulled up your shirt, you felt almost frustrated.

"Daryl," you breathed out as a warning again, but he didn’t stop. He slid his hands further up your shirt, pulling it over your head as he kissed down your ribs, his fingers grabbing your body like he was trying to show you that he was still alive.

"Need ya," he mumbled against your skin, his voice sounding almost desperate. "Need ya t’ know I ain’t takin’ this for granted."

"Daryl, stop…" You started, but your words were cut off by a gasp as he found that spot just above your waist, his lips kissing you harder, and his teeth softly biting your skin. You felt a shiver run through you, and hell, you hated how much you wanted this, how much you wanted him to keep going.

"I’ll stop if ya want me to, I swear," he whispered, but he didn’t stop, not really. His hands slid down, undoing your pants and wanting to slide them down, which made you stop breathing for a moment.

You were looking at him, your eyes narrowing. "You think you can just—" You started, but then he shut you up—kissing you hard and long, cutting off your words. And fuck, if it didn’t make your whole body shiver with need.

"Can’t help it," he muttered against your lips, his voice a little shaky, like he was losing control. "Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, ‘bout how much I need ya."

"You think this makes up for what you did? For your reckless behavior?" You asked, shaking your head slightly.

"Nah," he admitted. "Gotta show ya somehow. Gotta show ya how much I fuckin’ care."

You grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from your pants, even though you were already aching for him. "You don’t get to touch me like that," you said. "Not until I say so."

He swallowed hard, his breath stopping as he nodded, his eyes wide. "Please," he whispered, looking up at you and waiting for permission.

"Please what?" You demanded, tightening your grip on his wrists. "You think you can just come in here and expect me to forgive you? After everything?"

"Nah," he stammered, his eyes looking down to the floor again. "But… I need ya. I need ya t’ see that I can make it right."

"You wanna make it right, Daryl?" You asked again. "Then you’re gonna do exactly what I say, like I said."

"Yeah," he answered, his body almost trembling with the need to make you forgive him. "I’ll do whatever ya want."

You let go of his wrists, letting them fall back to his sides. "Take off your clothes," you ordered, the tone in your voice leaving no room for argument.

He hesitated for just a second, but then he started to stand up and get out of his clothes, his hands shaking as he got out of his shirt, then his pants, and the rest, until he was standing there, naked and vulnerable before you.

"Now get back on your knees," you demanded, watching as his eyes widened.

He dropped to his knees, waiting for your next command. And fuck, if that didn’t send a rush of power straight through you.

You stood over him, your hand reaching out to grab his hair, pulling his head back so he was forced to look up at you. "Look at me."

And he did. He slowly looked up in shame.

"You don’t get to play the lone wolf out there," you continued, stepping closer, your hand grabbing his chin, moving his head up further. "Not anymore. You almost got yourself killed."

"I know," he muttered. "‘M sorry..."

He wanted—no, he needed—to show you how he felt about his mistakes, and he was ready to do it on his knees if that’s what you demanded.

You let go of him, letting him fall forward, as you lay back down onto the mattress. "Show me," you simply said.

And he did—God, he did... He kissed every inch of you, his lips moving lower, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you might disappear, and he held onto you like you were the only person able to keep him safe.

He didn’t need to be told twice—he knew what he had to do to make things right.

You leaned back on the mattress, spreading your legs just enough to invite him closer, and watched his hands shake a little as they slid up your thighs.

"Yes," he whispered quietly. He was trying to be tough, but you could see through it. The man was already lost in you, in the need to make you feel good to make up for his earlier bullshit.

No, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; the way he now nearly ripped off the rest of your clothes was almost urgent.

"Goddamn," he whispered, his eyes wide and hungry as he took in the sight of you. "So fuckin’ beautiful."

His hands were trembling as he reached for your bra, fumbling with it before finally getting it off. He slid it off your shoulders, throwing it over to your pants on the floor, his eyes never leaving your breasts.

Daryl’s mouth went dry as he leaned in, his lips stopping just above one nipple. "Can’t believe yer lettin’ me touch ya like this," he whispered, more to himself than to you. Then he closed his mouth around your nipple, his tongue moving over it, making you gasp.

He sucked and licked, using his teeth just a little, sliding them lightly against it, while his other hand was pinching and rolling the other.

"Fuck, Daryl," you groaned, your hands moving through his hair, holding him close as he worshiped your breasts like they were the most important things in the world. "Don’t stop."

He growled against your skin and kept going; he kept sucking, licking, and teasing until your nipples were swollen and hard, sensitive to every little touch.

He soon pulled back, a line of spit connecting his mouth to your nipple before it broke, and he greedily licked over it once more. His eyes were full with need, his breathing heavy as he looked up at you, like he was waiting for permission to keep going.

"You’re going to be a good boy and keep worshipping me?" You asked, your voice teasing and commanding him at the same time.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Please… Need t’…"

"Then do it," you ordered, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Daryl’s hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, moving along your hips before coming to a stop between your legs. His fingers brushed against your pussy, finding you already wet and wanting, and he let out a growl.

He started slowly, almost with hesitation, like he was worshipping at some holy altar. His lips brushed over the inside of your thighs, soft at first, but when you grabbed his hair again, he got the message. His mouth found your pussy the moment he ripped off your panties, and it was as if a switch flipped.

Daryl buried his face between your legs, his tongue working desperately, like he couldn’t get enough of you. You let out a moan, your hand tightening in his hair, guiding him but also keeping him under your control.

"Fuck, Daryl," you breathed out. "Just like that."

And he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. Every part of him was focused on you—on the taste of you, the way you trembled when he hit just the right spot. He was completely at your mercy, with the need to prove himself to make you proud.

You could feel him moan against you and how he was getting lost in it, in you. You knew he was desperate for more, desperate for any sign that he was doing good and that you’d forgive him. But you weren’t about to make it easy for him. Not yet, at least.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to get him away from you, and he looked up at you, his lips wet and parted, already missing the taste of you. "Please," he growled out, and you could see the need to do more, to have more of you.

"You keep listening to me. You understand?" You asked, caressing his head gently.

"Yeah," he stammered and nodded in return.

You pushed his head back down, with his tongue slipping inside your pussy almost immediately, like he was trying to eat out every bit of forgiveness he could get.

And fuck, did it feel good. The way he was eating out your pussy, every little move of his tongue, the way he sucked on your clit just hard enough to make you see stars—it was like he was made for this, made to worship you.

"Fuck, don’… don’ make me stop," he growled out in between. He was trembling now, hands still gripping your hips tightly, his eyes wide with something that seemed close to panic, like he couldn’t stand being away from you for even a second.

But you leaned down, grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at you. "You want to make this right? You wait until I’m ready."

He nodded quickly, swallowing hard, his eyes pleading without a word and barely holding it together. He was ready to do anything you asked, to wait as long as you wanted him to, just for a chance to taste you again.

"Good boy," you moaned, suddenly pulling him up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips. He kissed you like he was starved for it, holding on for dear life.

And you could feel how hard he was—the desperate twitching of his already leaking cock against your thigh—but you weren’t done teasing him yet. "You’re doing so good, Daryl. Go on now."

"Yes, mommy," he whimpered, the word coming out of his mouth before he could even stop it.

"What did you just call me?" You asked in shock and froze.

Daryl’s eyes widened in shock and panic. "Didn’t mean t’ say that," he said, his voice trembling. "I jus’—"

"Say it again," you commanded, cutting him off. "Say it."

He swallowed hard, his eyes looking around as if searching for an escape, but he knew he couldn’t hide from you. "Yes, mommy," he whispered quietly, a shiver running through him as he said the word again.

But you didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to the floor. "Good boy," you simply answered. "Go on…"

He didn’t hesitate, his hands following the curves of your body again, his lips following close behind. He kissed down your neck, in between your breasts, along your stomach as he moved lower, his hands soon enough sliding up your thighs and over your pussy.

"Shit," he mumbled, his eyes widening as he realized just how ready you were for him. "Yer so fuckin’ wet."

He didn’t say anything else, too focused on what he was doing. His fingers moved through your wet folds, teasing you until you were trembling with need, and he circled your clit with his thumb slowly on purpose, watching your face for every little reaction.

And one moan—that was all he needed. He leaned in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue sliding over your clit, licking and sucking it gently all over. He didn’t rush, didn’t hurry, and took his time.

"Fuck, Daryl," you moaned, your fingers gripping his hair, holding him in place as he devoured you. "That’s it… don’t stop."

He didn’t need to be told twice. He kept going, kept licking, sucking, and teasing until you were right on the edge and close to coming.

The control he was giving you made you feel powerful, and hell, if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever experienced.

"Please, mommy," he begged. "Lemme make ya cum now."

"Keep going," you commanded, feeling yourself getting closer due to his words. "Don’t stop. Oh, fuck…"

He obeyed, and when you finally came, you gasped and moaned, your body arching and trembling under the force of it. But as soon as you began to come down from your orgasm, you noticed how he started to get more aggressive, his hands gripping your hips harder. He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into yours as he moved back up.

"Wanna fuck ya," he growled almost primal, grabbing his cock and pushing it against your pussy.

But you shoved him back. "Not so fast," you said. "You’re going to do it my way."

He looked at you with frustration and desperation. "But… I need ya," he said, his voice cracking a little bit. "Please!"

You didn’t give in. Instead, you watched as he tried to hold himself back. "If you want more, you’re going to have to do it my way, Daryl. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Yeah, ‘kay," he murmured and nodded, his voice trembling.

"Not yet," you said, wrapping your hand around his shaft. The hardness of his cock was pulsing against your hand, and you enjoyed the power it gave you. "You’re going to wait a little longer."

Daryl’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the mattress as he tried to control himself. "Please," he begged, his voice raw and desperate. "Need it."

You only smiled, slowly stroking him, your movements maddeningly slow. "You want more?" You teased, leaning closer to him. "You want me to keep going? To make you cum already as well?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes! Please, mommy. Can’t take it no more!"

You took your time, each move up and down his shaft, making him moan and writhe.

"Fuck, don’ stop," he groaned. "Please, I can’t—"

"Hush now," you interrupted, squeezing his cock. "You’re going to wait until I say so. If you want to be a good boy, you’ll follow my instructions."

Daryl’s cock was coated in his pre-cum and throbbing in your hand, and every time you squeezed just a little harder, he would shiver, his voice breaking into pleas and whimpers.

"Please… ‘M so close," he whimpered. "Can’t hold back much longer."

You looked down at him, smirking, and then you jerked him faster and harder, bringing him right to the edge. His body was tense and almost painfully trying to hold off his orgasm.

"Daryl," you said softly, your hand driving him mad. "I want you to beg for it. Just a little bit more."

His pleas turned into desperate murmurs as he struggled with himself. "Please… Need t’… Jus’ let me... Oh fuck!"

With a final pump, you brought him right to the very edge again, feeling his cock throbbing against your palm. Then, just when you could see he was about to break, you pulled back, stopping altogether.

Daryl let out a whimper, his eyes desperate. "Fuck, please… Need it."

You leaned in close, kissing his neck. "Not yet. I want you to really feel it, to know how much you need me."

"Please," he begged again. "Please..."

"Tell me how much you need it," you smiled at him.

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Need it so bad, mommy, please... Need t’ cum for ya. Need ya..."

You gave him one final, hard stroke, and then you stopped again, making him groan and tremble over you, the muscles in his arms tensing up painfully hard. "Good boy," you whispered, finally giving him permission to slide into your pussy, just not all the way.

"No further," you said. "Just the tip. Hold it back."

He groaned, his hands gripping the sheets next to you on the mattress. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Lemme fuck ya..."

You ignored his pleas, your hand still pumping up and down his shaft. "Say it," you commanded. "Say you’re my good boy, Daryl."

"‘M yer good boy," he mumbled, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

Finally, when you could see the look on his face—the way he was practically begging to come—you leaned in. "You want it now?"

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, mommy..."

His cock was pulsing, the tip pressing into you just enough to make him groan but not enough to give him what he wanted.

You watched as a sudden tear rolled down his cheek—a single, small, and tiny drop. The sight of it—so rare for someone like Daryl—made you widen your eyes. You could see the complete surrender—the way he was completely at your mercy.

Without warning, you pushed against him, taking him all the way in, and made him cry out, his body shuddering as he filled you up and feeling your pussy stretch around his cock. The look of shock and ecstasy on his face was too much, even for you. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly, and his cock was pulsing inside you, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Fuck! Fuck…"

And the moment you took him in fully, he came hard inside of you with a loud groan, his body trying to push in as deep as possible as he reached his orgasm, while you held him close, feeling the last of his cum filling you up as he finished.

You soon lay there, your body still tingling, but Daryl, on the other hand, was a mess after he quickly pulled out of you. Now his walls were coming back up, and he was doing his best to act like he didn’t need a damn thing from you.

He was trying to play it cool, turning his face away, still shaking a little bit. "Jus’… gotta go," he mumbled, trying to shove you away. "Don’ need ya all up in m’ shit now."

"Oh, come on. You can’t be serious," you smirked, running a finger teasingly down his chest.

He glared at you, trying to push you away once more. "‘M fine. Jus’ leave me ‘lone," he grumbled.

"Look at you, all tough and cold again. But you were begging for it only a minute ago." You let your hand move over his skin, feeling his muscles twitch. "And now you’re just going to be an ass about it? Not a chance."

He froze as you touched him. "Shut up," he snapped. "Don’t need yer damn pity."

You rolled your eyes, leaning in close. "Pity? This isn’t pity, Daryl."

He tried to pull away again, but you held him close, your hands moving up to his chin. You tilted his head so he had no choice but to look at you.

"Seriously?" You said with a smile. "You’re going to act like a brat now? After everything?" You moved closer, teasing him with a kiss on his lips.

Daryl’s breath stopped for a second, and you felt him shudder under your touch. "Fuck off," he muttered, but it was sounding rather weak, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You laughed, cupping his chin more firmly. "Make me. Or... maybe you really are just a brat who needs to be put in his place all over again."

He shivered as he fought with himself. "No… Don’ need this," he mumbled, but it was clear he was losing the battle against himself. His voice was getting quieter, and he knew that he was failing miserably.

Then, you finally met his lips with yours. It was a slow, gentle kiss, with you wanting to give him reassurance. He moaned against them, the sound full of desperation.

When you pulled back, you saw how his eyes were wide, and he suddenly nuzzled up against you, his face buried in your neck, his body trembling as if he was trying to hold onto whatever was left of his defenses.

"‘M so sorry," he murmured against your skin, his voice breaking. "Didn’ mean t’... I jus’—"

You ran your fingers through his hair, cuddling him closer as he clung to you. "Quiet," you whispered, putting your lips against his forehead. "It’s okay."

He wrapped his arms around you, his grip a little rough as if he was afraid you might slip away. "I fucked up," he said. "Almos’ got m’self killed an’ hurt ya. ‘M so damn sorry."

You held him close, his body pressed against yours. "I know," you said softly. "But you’re still alive, Daryl."

But the moment of calm was ruined when Daryl’s body tensed up again, with him starting to sob violently.

"Shit," he choked out, tears rolling down his cheeks. "‘M such a fuckin’ asshole. Messed everythin’ up. Could’ve died an’—"

You shushed him, holding him even tighter, pressing kisses to his temples. You didn’t say much, letting your actions speak louder than any words even could.

He kept mumbling apologies, his sobs so intense that they shook his whole body. "Ain’t good ‘nough. ‘M worthless. Jus’ a useless piece o’ shit," he sobbed further, his voice cracking.

You gently cupped his face again, lifting it so you could look into his wet eyes. Slowly, you wiped the tears away with your thumbs, kissing his cheeks where the tears had been rolling down.

"Hush," you whispered softly. "You’re not a useless piece of shit. You’re not worthless. You made a mistake, but you’re here, and you’re alive. That’s what matters."

He needed to hear that you weren’t disappointed and that you still loved him despite everything.

Daryl looked up at you, his eyes all red and swollen, but his sobbing began to calm down. And as he finally started to relax, his grip on you softened, but he didn’t let go. He was still clinging to you, needing you to remind him that he was loved and that he was enough.

"Thanks," he whispered quietly. "For… everythin’."

You smiled to yourself, playing with his hair. "Anytime," you murmured, pressing another soft kiss to the top of his head.

You didn’t need to say anything more; your arms around him were enough to help him find his way back to feeling okay. The walls he’d built were finally down, and for now, he was just Daryl—raw and in need of someone to help him piece himself back together.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema