#Daryl Dixon x woc!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solitaryearthperson · 11 months

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They’re okay

Summary: Instead of being greeted by the reader, Daryl is only greeted with silence.

(The reader is 18+ and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably black.)

“(Y/N),” Daryl yelled your name, as he came through the door. Shit, he thought, feeling a corner of the crossbow digging into his back. He quickly deposited it onto the floor then closed the door behind him.

Walking into the foyer he looked around and frowned at the silence of the house, not having been used to it in a long time.

“(Y/N)!” he yelled again, waiting to hear the scurry of your feet hurrying to greet him with a hug and a kiss, but was sadly disappointed again.

The hell are they, he wondered, walking into the kitchen. He was about to open a cabinet and fix him a plate of food, when he noticed the mess on top of the counter and stopped, what he saw almost making his heart stop. A cutting board with chopped bell peppers, garlic, and almost finished chopped onions was sitting on the counter and next to it was a knife. He knew his (Y/N), and he knew they were a bit of a neat freak and would never leave a mess like this on the counter, usually scolding him for doing something similar. Taking a small step closer to the counter, he squinted his eyes at the blade of the knife, hoping that what he was seeing wasn't there, that he was mistaken, but he was indeed right. On the knife was blood.

“No,” he muttered to himself, feeling his chest beginning to tighten at the possibility of what that blood meant. They could be alright, he mentally told himself, placing his hand on his chest, rubbing where his heart was, hoping the action would comfort him. There's nothing wrong with them. I just have to find them. Against his control, images of lost lives began flashing through his mind. Carol’s daughter, Sofia, as a walker. Merle as a walker. Beth’s dead body. The images kept appearing behind his eyes like a projector and he could feel the tightening in his chest getting worse with each one.

“(Y/N),” he yelled again. Still no answer. He then thought of someone else, someone who he knew would answer him without hesitation. “Dog!” Surprisingly there was no answer to that either.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he mumbled, hurrying out of the kitchen and going to the front door, picking up his crossbow from the floor. He was slinging it back on his back and ready to open the door, when he heard something that made the tightening in his chest loosen instantly.

“Daryl!”

“(Y/N),” he yelled back, throwing the crossbow back on the floor, before hurrying to where he heard their voice. “(Y/N)! Dog!”

A loud bark answered him back, and he followed the sound, quickening his pace to find them both in the backyard, the backdoor slightly ajar.

“Daryl, hey! When’d you get back,” (Y/N) asked. “Me and Dog didn’t hear you.”

Dog quickly greeted him with a wide smile and wagging tail, jumping on him with glee. Catching him, Daryl scratched the excited dog behind his ears and rubbed down his back, happy to feel its fur beneath his fingers and see the animal happy and healthy.

They’re okay, he told himself, looking at (Y/N). He didn’t see any serious injuries on their body, no limping, and no wincing. Running his eyes down their body, his eyes caught the sight of a bandage wrapped around their right hand, with a little blood seeping through.

“Yer hand,” Daryl nodded towards it.

"Oh," they looked down, noticing their blood through the bandage. "The smell of the onions were so strong that my eyes were starting to water and I accidentally cut my hand."

"Why were ya out here?" He let go of Dog and walked over to them, gently taking their hand in his.

"The smell was so strong," (Y/N) repeated, "I went outside to get away from it."

They're okay, he repeated, feeling a weight being lifted off of his chest. The bloody images of fallen friends and family were no longer appearing to him. The only thing he saw now was his love and his dog both safe and sound.

"Daryl-"

Daryl cut them off pulling them to his body and wrapping his arms tightly around their body, nestling his head into the side of their neck, breathing in their scent.

"Daryl, are you okay?" (Y/N) asked, their voice muffled by his shoulder.

They’re okay. Everybody's alive. Everybody's okay. He breathed in their scent one more time before answering, "I'm fine." His mind at ease once more in the arms of his love.

#The Walking Dead #TWD #The Walking Dead imagine #TWD imagine #The Walking Dead x reader #TWD x reader #The Walking Dead x black!reader #TWD x black!reader #Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon imagine #Daryl Dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon x black!reader #Daryl Dixon x poc!reader #Daryl Dixon x woc!reader #Daryl Dixon x G/N #Daryl Dixon x Y/N

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fantasylandloser · 4 months

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Cupid

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x woc!reader

Summary: idfk Daryl + apocalypse + love

Warnings: canon typical violence, injury to reader, lots of hurt comfort, angst, nno specific plot

A/N: I just started watching twd and everybodys so attractive and traumatized, I don't know what to do with myself. Anyway enjoy, or don't.

******

When you first met Daryl, you very quickly learned to be cautious of him and his brother. The color of your skin caused unnecessary distress to the eldest brother, and he made sure everyone else was aware of this problem if he was in the mood.

You were tactful about avoiding him for the most part. Until Merle was missing. You weren’t particularly sad about it. You surely wouldn’t miss him, then you began to notice Daryl without worrying his brother was behind him.

He was quiet, withdrawn, helpful, kind in his own way. He was many things, maybe even a good man. The first time you found yourself around him on purpose, you’d been spooked. You ran to the first person you saw, which was Daryl and he pushed you behind him. You hardly realized the way you gripped onto him when he held up his bow an arrow to shoot the walker. Your heart was beating so loudly that when he told you ‘it’s dead now’ you barely heard him. And you didn’t get to thank him before Carol pulled you away.

The next day Daryl found ten perfectly carved wooden arrows outside his tent. He knew it was you. He never told you thank you though, he didn’t know how.

The next time he goes through a bunch of arrows again he finds more outside his tent, probably twenty, they’re perfect, each of them. He hates them. He doesn’t understand them. Which is why you find them thrown back at your feet, when he finds you at the creek washing clothes.

“I can carve my own arrows.” You look taken back slightly, but nod nonetheless.

“I’m aware.” You say trying your best to appear unruffled, but you were also well aware others were watching the two of you.

“You don’t need to be wastin’ your time makin’ these.” He nods to them. Then looks away from you when he sees your look of disappointment.

“I understand. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Your reply is so soft he barely hears you, and he knows he’s a dick by how gutted you sound , but he can’t bring himself to pick the arrows back up so he just walks away.

You stay away from him again after that. Only near him when the group is all together, never making eye contact or standing too close.

*****

The next memorable interaction between Daryl and you is when Andrea shoots him. It was the most reckless thing you’d ever seen in your opinion, and you didn’t have a problem telling her so, much to the shock of the rest of the camp. You couldn’t help being so mad though, you’d finally found safety on the farm and you were a little upset to have it compromised. No other reason.

Someone must have told him when he woke up because when you pass by his tent for the tenth time in an hour, he calls you in. It’s awkward considering how little the two of you have spoken. He doesn’t ask you for anything, even though you offer plenty. He just reaches into his back pocket, hands you a sharp knife with an impeccable blade, tells you that he found it while he was in the woods and figured you’d have use for it.

He asks you to show him the technique you used when you carved his arrows. His way of apologizing you think. You tell him there wasn't a technique, but you let him watch you carve one and he realizes you’re so into it you don't recognize the method to your own madness, you’re just using it to cope, to create.

After that day he lets you carve his arrows, sometimes sitting with you while you do it. The two of you didn’t do much talking but you both appreciated the company.

******

“Raise your arm more.” Daryl tells you. You huff slightly not annoyed, just frustrated.

“It’s heavy.” You complain.

“You made it.” He counters, squatting beside you.

“Not for me.” You murmur. He sighs and takes the crossbow from you. Something you made mostly of wood and spare parts you found around the camp. It was really badass in Daryl’s opinions but for whatever girly reason you were embarrassed.

He had found it when he was looking for you, put away the best you could in your tent, but still it caught his eye. He wasn’t snooping, as you said he was.

Daryl can’t help but admire it, but that’s all he does. He won’t accept it as a gift, not something you put so much work into, so he offered to teach you how to use it instead. You regretted saying yes to that as your shoulder ached.

“Just somethin’ you gotta learn how to do now.” Is all he can offer, you only sigh while stretching your arms once more before taking the crossbow back from him.

“Hold up” You still, but you keep your arm lifted. You let him move the strands of curly hair out your face, some of them falling back to exactly where they were.

‘Alright now you can actually see the target.” You scoff, seeing how pleased he is with himself, but can’t help the amused smile that lights up your face.

“I hate you.” You say, with no bite behind it, but you can actually see the target now. You don’t hit it on the first ten tries, but when you finally do, you smile in triumph, pleased with yourself. You allow yourself that joy for a few seconds, you’ve forgotten Daryl at this point. Because you reload without so much as looking back at him and continue on until the sun is no longer in the sky. For a reason unknown to Daryl, this blooms a feeling of pride in his chest.

******

Sometimes you found yourself watching Daryl's arms. It wasn’t something you did purposefully, he’d be showing something to you and your eyes would just wander. It was a stupid habit that only caused you more trouble than you needed.

“Are you listenin’ to me?” No you were not.

“No.” Your cheeks heat up at your admission, your eyes finally making their way back up to his. “I’m sorry.” You catch the amused glint in his eyes and you know you were caught.

“It’s alright, we'll pick back up-” Daryl’s name is called before he can finish speaking. Shane and Rick nod him over and he gives you a quick look before walking over. They leave to make a run an hour later.

Everytime Daryl leaves you watch for him, waiting for him to get back. You wish you didn’t, but you couldn’t do anything else with him gone, too scared, too nervous. That’s how you end up in such a stupid accident. Falling off the roof of the RV had to be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done, and stupid. You probably would have been able to just get up and dust yourself off with a few scratches and possibly some sore muscles if you hadn’t landed right on an arrow you’d carved while you waited.

You don’t cry out surprisingly, it’s probably shock. You’re barely aware of your surroundings as Dale and Andrea come from inside and rush you towards the house. You let them push you into the room and lay you on the bed, you let Hershel look at it, but the second he mentions pulling it out you panic, defensively covering it with your hands.

Carol is on the porch waiting for them to get back and they see the panic in her face before she has the chance to say anything. And Daryl sees that you aren’t on top of the RV like you usually are when he’s gone and he starts sprinting towards the house, the others are a close second behind him.

“No please.” You’re not crying still, but you’re panicked, blocking Hershel from getting to you.

“I just want to help you, but you gotta calm down.” Hershel tells you. You let out a series of no’s while you get out of bed. When Daryl finally makes it to the room and sees the situation, he feels a bit of relief. He’s sure you’re in pain and he hates that, but it’s better you be in pain than dead.

“How the hell did this happen?” Daryl asks, when you hear his voice, your head snaps towards him and you call for him.

There's a series of voices answering his question, but he ignores them all when Hershel says “She’s delirious, I need you to hold her down.”

“You gotta lay back down, sweetheart.” Daryl tells you, he walks to you slowly trying not to spook you, He’s never seen you so terrified and he knows the pain must be too much when you're malnourished and sleep deprived and he knows you give most of your rations to Lori.

“I don’t want them to take it out.” He knows you barely know what you’re saying. But he thinks you’re calming down some as your eyes grow wet. You clutch your side as the pain finally catches up with your senses.

“Just lay down and let me look at it.” If you weren’t so out of your mind in pain you’d realize that he was lying, but you were. You agree lying back down. Once you do he attempts to lift your shirt, but it’s stuck to the arrow that hasn’t been pulled out.

He sighs, his arm going around the top of your chest signaling Rick to grab your legs. “Baby, you’re gonna have to let him pull it out.” He sees your panic swell again but grabs your hand before you can do anything.

“Just breathe, okay.” When Hershel starts to go to work on your wound, you face Daryl’s chest as you quietly cry. “I know, I know.” He soothes. Daryl realizes that he doesn’t think he’s seen you cry often since all of this has started and it makes his chest ache a little.

When everything calms down after you pass out from the pain, and Hershel stitches up your wound Daryl finds himself sitting there still with his hand in yours. He doesn’t leave your side until your eyes open.

*****

Daryl gently touches your hair while you tell him about your life before infection. Your head is in his lap and he doesn’t even remember climbing into the bed with you. He allows himself the intimacy, says to himself that it’s to comfort you and not at all for him.

He doesn’t know when he started to feel so comfortable with you, but he thinks you have a way about you that would make any man break down his walls. It scares him. He hates it. He thinks you’re cupid, shooting him with arrows, making him love you.

“Were you with anyone before all this started?” You ask. He only shakes his head. You hum softly, your hands fidgeting with the hand of his that isn’t in your hair. After a while of silence Daryl realizes you fell back asleep, but he can’t bring himself to leave you just yet.

You’d lost so much blood in the day prior, more blood than he thought was survivable, but Hershel said you were fine. He couldn’t shake this feeling though, he just wanted you to be fine, he didn’t want to be scared.

When the herd came for the house Daryl felt panic constrict his throat in a new way. Chaos ensued as he looked for you. When he finally found you, you were holding your own with a group of walkers, he would have found the time to be proud if it weren’t for the way his heart was beating.

By the time you make it to his motorcycle, you killed nearly a dozen with his help. “Hurry the hell up.” He rushes, even though you’re hurrying to the best of your ability.

****

“Where is she?” Daryl asks as he walks through the prison, he doesn’t get an answer but he doesn’t need one as your head pops out at the sound of his voice.

He sees the betrayal in your eyes as you look at him, still he gets closer, just wanting to be near you. He starts to say your name, maybe to apologize, you’re not sure, and you don’t care. You shove him away from you. He comes back.

“You left.” Your voice betrays you, as it quivers. “We needed you here.”

“He’s my brother.” He tries to explain,

“And what are we?” Your voice rises, and it’s the first time you’ve ever yelled at him. It startles him slightly. “Are we not family?” You ask. “What am I?” Daryl clearly doesn’t have an answer for you.

“Baby-” He calls when you turn away, ignoring Merle’s presence as you did before. “Give her space.” Carol tells him. “She’ll come around.”

“What the hell did I miss, little brother?” Merle asks, only to be ignored.

When you finally come back from wherever you run off to, you don’t make a sound if Daryl or Merle speak to you. It’s like how it was before Merle left the first cam, except worse in so many ways.

Daryl just wants you to understand, he doesn’t know how you don’t. He wants to tell you it wasn’t personal, but the words don’t seem right. He works to find the right ones but it’s no matter, they’re aren’t any.

You’re holding baby ass kicker when he finally gets a moment with you. Everything that happens is usually so public to the group now that you have to stick together, so he knows that everyone knows what you mean to him. It’s unnerving.

“M’sorry.” You pause your actions momentarily before going back to tending to the baby. When you don’t so much as acknowledge him, he goes where you and ass kicker are before getting on his knees willing you to look at him.

“You gotta talk to me, alright? Even if you just want to yell or scream or hit me, give me somethin’” He pleads, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. You exhale a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I pushed you earlier. Wasn’t right.” Daryl almost scoffs because of course you’re apologizing.

“Deserved it.” He whispers to you, still on his knees in front of you, waiting for your eyes to land on him. You shake your head in disagreement.

“If you leave again, or something happens…” You pause and Daryl wants to tell you nothing will happen and he won’t leave you but he can’t promise that to be true. “I want you to know that I love you,” You whisper. “It’s all I could think about since you left. How I should have told you- how I might never see you again.” When you finally look at him you see his tears, you know he’s hurting.

“I’m not trying to make this harder for you, I just wanted you to know.” He nods, holding his face in your lap, trying to gather his emotions. With the hand that’s not holding the baby you stroke his hair gently, allowing him to cry.

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon angst #fantasylandloserfic

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solitaryearthperson · 6 months

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Clueless

Summary: Daryl is clueless to the reader's crush on him.

(The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably black/person of color.)

(Y/EC) = Your Eye Color

While Carol continued to pull out more vegetables from her garden, she couldn't help the amused grin that grew on her face as she looked over towards (Y/N)'s house and watched Daryl and (Y/N) talk to each other. He was working hard, on his knees, fixing their motorcycle, while they were kneeling next to him, talking to him about their day. The sight of the two reminded her of two lovesick kids. Except one kid was helplessly in love while the other was absolutely clueless.

"Hey Carol," Rosita greeted Carol, interrupting her watching. Leaving her home, she came walking over to the garden, gently rocking Coco in her arms, and softly cooing to the baby. "What's up with you?"

"Daryl," Carol replied, nodding her towards (Y/N)'s house.

"He's over there again," Rosita asked, surprised to see the quiet archer meeting and talking to someone other than Carol so much. "He's been visiting them a lot."

"Yep. Apparently their bike's messing up again."

"Again," Rosita replied, her brows raised in doubt. "That's like the fifth time this month, right?"

Carol nodded her head in silence as she pulled a carrot out of the ground and placed it in the basket next to her, already knowing the question that Rosita was probably going to say next. She had thought of it as well when hearing about (Y/N)'s supposed bike troubles.

"Don't they have a garage full of tools and shit?"

"Yep."

"And didn't they come here on that bike?"

Not exactly brand new to Alexandria, (Y/N) had found the peaceful community only a few months back. Showing up in dirty, rugged clothing, Rick and the others quickly cleaned them up and helped find them a home to stay in and a way to contribute to the community.

"Yep," Carol replied again, looking back over to the two and watching as they both began laughing at something, their bodies so close, their shoulders were almost touching.

"He's completely clueless, isn't he?"

"Pretty much."

Completely clueless, Carol sighed, picking up her now full basket and nodding her head towards her door, inviting Rosita and Coco inside.

"What was wrong this time," Carol asked him, as soon as he walked through the door. Hearing her voice, but not seeing her, he followed where it came from and found her at the counter making sandwiches, Rosita already sitting in a chair close to it and Coco sitting on the countertop, held up by her mother.

"Uh, their engine was making a weird noise and the throttle was messed up." He sat down in a chair next to Rosita and quickly snatched up an already finished sandwich, biting into it hungrily.

"Mm-hmm," Carol hummed, her grin growing at the sight of the archer's cheeks beginning to turn red at the topic of you.

Rosita noticed as well, but chose to hide it, instead continuing to play with Coco.

"What was the problem last time with their bike," Carol asked, her voice giving away some of her amusement at him.

Daryl noticed the change in her voice and furrowed his brows, deciding to ignore it for now and answer her question.

"Their brakes were actin' up," he answered, finishing his sandwich and picking up another one.

"Mm-hmm," Rosita hummed next to him, nodding her head.

At her hum, Daryl looked toward her and found a small grin appearing on her face, similar to Carol's grin. Tha hell they're up to, He wondered, frowning at them. "What," he asked.

"What what," Rosita, asked, her voice full of amusement and her grin growing into a smile.

"Whatcha smiling for," he asked, moving his eyes to both of them.

Placing the knife in her hand on the counter, Carol let out a sigh and told him "You don't think it's weird that they keep having these bike problems?"

He knew it was weird every time he heard a new problem appear, but didn't really care that much, just as long as he could go to their house, speak to them, eat with them, and just be in their presence.

"Yeah, so," he replied, nodding his head, squinting his eyes at them both in suspicion.

"How come they only want you," Rosita asked, pointing at him, to get the point across to him, "to help fix their bike? No one else here."

Letting out a sigh, he finished his sandwich, picked up another then left to go to his room, not wanting to hear anymore of what Rosita and Carol were telling him. He knew what they were getting at, but he had a hard time believing it.

Why me, he wondered. There were plenty of other people who could be there for them. Why the redneck archer who barely talks to anyone? Laying his head down, and biting into his second sandwich, he let his thoughts of (Y/N) run through his head, trying to ignore the blush that came to his face at each memory of them standing close to each other, faces almost touching, sharing food together, laughing at each other's jokes.

Shit, he realized. What Carol and Rosita said were now stuck in his head, and he knew that he'd have to confront (Y/N) about it. He wouldn't be able to be around them without asking. Just to prove them wrong.

You had just gotten through picking out the outfit you were going to wear for Daryl, hoping to see his usual shy blush appear on his face, when you heard three loud knocks on your front door.

Huh, he's early, you thought. Usually you were the one who went to him with another request to fix your bike, and it was never this early. You knew sometimes he would leave early in the morning to see if he could catch something quick from outside the gates and didn't want to bother him before he left. Not that you watched him that much to pick up his daily schedule.

I didn't even get to make any food for him, you thought as you walked to the door, and opened it.

Like every other day, he stood on the other side of the door in his usual dark clothing, with his hair almost reaching past his big, broad shoulders in shaggy (probably unwashed) tresses. Even though he always looked like this, it still made you nervous and you had to take a breath before opening your mouth and hoped not to embarrass yourself.

"Hey Daryl," you greeted him, feeling your heart beat faster in his presence. "You're here early. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, lowering his head in his usual shy manner. Just fucking do it, he told himself, lifting his head back up and looked at your face, his heart beating faster as he met your (Y/EC) gaze. "Can I come inside?"

"Yeah, sure." You stepped to the side and let him walk in and pass you. He's been here enough times to know your home as if he lived here himself and went straight to your garage.

Curious you followed after him, wondering what it was that he wanted to talk to you about. Yesterday he had fixed the throttle and the engine, and you hadn't gotten the chance to make up another excuse to get him over.

Entering the garage, you found him walking around the motorcycle, his head tilting slightly and bending his knees a little to get a closer look at each part of it.

Maybe he's making sure everything's alright, you guessed. "Daryl," you called his name.

He didn't answer you, but he stopped walking and turned to you, his blue eyes intense.

"Is everything okay," you asked.

"Um,..." he started lowering his head again, trying to keep you from seeing the blush that he was sure was growing on his cheeks. "You been lying 'bout yer bike?"

Shit, you thought. He figured it out. Should I lie? Tell the truth? "Um, what're you talking about?"

He squinted his eyes at you in that familiar way that let you know that he knew you were pretending before answering. "You know what I'm talking 'bout."

"Daryl, I-"

"You been messing with yer bike, so I could come here. Right?"

You opened your mouth to say something but you couldn't find the right words to say that would make up for the time of his you've wasted, having him work on the bike that you messed up on purpose.

Looking at you trying to speak but can't, he couldn't believe it. He wasn't exactly mad about you for lying, but more surprised that you would go through that trouble to get him to your place.

"Why?"

"Um... I like you and I didn't know how to tell you or talk to you." You hoped he would understand and not find you crazy. "I wasn't sure how to approach you and I noticed you always working on your bike and I thought maybe a perfect way to get to talk to you was if mine was broken, but it wasn't, so I-" you stopped rambling, noticing his silence, and saw that he was looking at you with an unreadable expression. "Daryl?"

"You did it cuz you like me," he asked, making sure he was hearing you right.

"Yeah, basically," you said, hoping you didn't ruin your friendship and what could be a potential relationship with him. "Are you mad?"

He instantly shook his head and that made the weight that had begun to weigh upon your chest disappear.

"But don't mess up yer bike no more. Okay?" He told you with a smile that was rare to see from him unless you were close to him.

"Okay."

You didn't know what to say and was about to go back inside and offer him food as a form of apology, but he had a better idea instead.

"I'm 'bout to go hunting real quick. You wanna come?" He tried to ignore the racing of his heart and waited for your answer, hoping you would accept his invitation.

"Um, I don't know how to skin or gut."

"I'll teach you," he quickly said, hoping he didn't sound desperate.

You tried to hold back the wide smile that wanted to appear on your face and said, "Sure."

Carol had just taken down one of the sheets that was hanging on the line, folding it and putting it in her basket, when she heard the familiar loud rumble of Daryl's motorcycle, and she looked up to see him driving toward the gates. She was about to go back and pull another sheet down, when she noticed riding on the back of the bike was you, and you had your arms wrapped around his waist, and a proud grin grew on her face at the sight, happy that her friend was no longer clueless.

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