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1427 · 3 months

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something to prove

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV. The night your boyfriend breaks up with you, you decide you have something to prove.

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30’s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), idk there’s something else that happens but idk how to tag it (premature ejaculation???), preTWD!Daryl.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: this is a two part story, possibly three? This started out as a step-dad!daryl idea but I reworked it because not everyone’s as big of a pervert as I am. If anyone wants step-dad imagines (au or otherwise for Daryl, or Negan) lmk. 🥵😈

17+ mdni

\\part 2\\

masterlist

“Who are you?” You ask, to the man standing in your house. Well, your moms house, certainly wasn’t his house. He looked like one of your moms friends from the bar.

“Shit, who are you?” He looks at you, more confused than you are. Scared almost.

“Mona’s kid?” You explain, who else would you be?

“Oh, shit. Didn’t know Mona had a kid. She just left you here?” You look at him like he’s still a stranger standing in your living room.

“I’m 20.” You watch as he sighs a little in relief.

“Right…. I’m Daryl. Uh. Her and my brother took a ride down to the city. Didn’t wanna go, she said I could hang here.”

“Of course she did,” you say to yourself with a sigh.

Daryl watches you as you run to the kitchen and grab a snack and run back toward the stairs, “Well. I’ll be in my room.”

“Wait! Uh.. where’s the remote?”

You sigh, with a smile this time, and step backward down the first step. You walk past him and dig your hand into the recliner that’s facing directly in front of the TV, pulling the remote from its hiding spot. As you walk back toward the stairs you put it to his stomach, and he takes it with both hands. “Thanks” you hear him say, and then you’re gone. Running up the stairs to lock yourself in your room.

✨🚬

Daryl and Merle came over a lot after that. You didn’t see too much of them, when you’re mom had company you knew it was best to stay locked in your room. Not like you’d want to be around her company anyway.

Daryl seemed different than Merle. Everytime you did venture out of your room for a snack, or to leave the house to go see your boyfriend, and you had to interact with things outside of your room, Daryl never spoke. Honestly, it seemed to you like he didn’t even want to be there.

And every time your mom and Merle go down to the city, Daryl stays back and watches TV and smokes cigarettes in the living room. Never does anything else.

You start developing a crush. And you know it’s insane because he’s so much older than you, but you can’t help it. You never thought you’d see someone older like that, but to be fair he didn’t look it. He definitely wasn’t as old as your mom. Probably mid 30’s? Probably. You couldn’t ask. And there was something about him. Brooding, quiet, but… safe. He never bothered you, never looked at you too long like most of your moms friends did. He seemed.. sweet.

You start praying they’ll come over, and then you pray that your mom and Merle will leave. Sometimes they’re only gone for half an hour, sometimes they’re gone all night. No matter how long they’re gone, though, you always go down and see Daryl.

You never really talk to him more than a few passing words, even when it becomes a more common occurrence.

Obviously you try to look as good as you can when you do go down there to walk in front of him. You stand awkwardly by the kitchen island, pretending to watch tv, trying to say something. Usually you can’t come up with anything.

You find yourself wearing more and more revealing clothing, trying to get him to look, but you never catch him looking. And, honestly? It frustrates you to no end.

Why won’t he look?

It’s starting to make you a little crazy, multiple times you’d had to stop yourself from coming down in just a towel.

And then your boyfriend breaks up with you. Probably better off, but the night that it happens you lose it. You’re not heartbroken necessarily, but you are pissed. And you feel like you have something to prove. And all of it bubbles up into something you normally would never see yourself doing.

You come downstairs this time in only an oversized teeshirt. No underwear. Its dark, all the lights off, it is 2am, but for some reason you weren’t expecting it. It should make what you have planned even easier. Less awkward.

Instead of going to the kitchen you walk right up to Daryl and put your hand out for the remote. “I wanna watch TV.”

He looks up at you. Finally. And he hands you the remote. “Alrigh’.”

You change the channel to something else, doesn’t matter what as long as it’s not what he was watching. You settle on an old movie, looked just boring enough. You lay down on your stomach in front of where Daryl sat in the armchair, your teeshirt riding just barely up your ass, just enough for Daryl to be distracted by it. To notice it. To ask himself if you weren’t wearing any underwear.

You hear him take a deep breath from behind you and it makes you smile. Finally.

And you stay like that for a while, absentmindedly looking at the TV, not really watching it. Daryl’s watching you through half lidded eyes. Before you’d come downstairs Daryl was a good five minutes from falling asleep in that arm-chair. But now? His heart hammering in his chest, he has to control his breathing in the quiet living room, to not tip you off that you were affecting him so much. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, or if you were even doing it on purpose. But you’re 20, right? Surely… he figures you have to know.

But if you know what you’re doing, than you’re expecting some kind of reaction, and Daryl… can’t. He can’t move. He can hardly think straight. Looking at your bare legs, the little peak of your ass just barely revealing itself from under the fabric. And then you shift your hips and the tee-shirt falls away even more.

It takes everything in him to keep his breathing steady.

“Are you looking?” Your voice cuts through the silent room, making no attempt to turn back and look at him.

“No.” Daryl says, quickly. His brain scrambling over the new information that you definitely, absolutely, undeniably knew what you were doing.

You smile to yourself, the choked sound of his voice told you everything you needed to know. You can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. The tightness in his chest.

You never thought you’d be as into it as you were getting. Him seeing you like this was burning up your core. Slowly at first and then seemingly all at once. You put your head to the floor in a small moment of defeat over your own body, feeling yourself start to drip down your leg. You wonder if he can see it too. If the light of the TV is reflecting off the little strings of your arousal, coating the inside of your thighs, starting to drip down onto the carpet. A small groan escapes your lips as you raise your hips up off the carpet, keeping your shoulders and the rest of your body down to the ground.

You want to show him what he’s doing to you. You want him to see the mess he’d made. So there you are, your ass now completely in the air, only a few feet from where he’s sitting behind you, “Are you looking now?”

This time Daryl doesn’t respond. Because he can’t. His fingers are whiteknuckled on the arm-rests. And he was losing the ability to control his breathing. He was losing control of the ability to even think about breathing. To think at all.

You don’t mind that he didn’t answer, you knew. His ragged breathing spurred you further. You reach down underneath your body, through your legs, and try to spread yourself open for him with two delicate fingers. Your middle finger slipping through your folds, too slick to hold up to friction. Your hand wipes some of it down your thigh, so you can continue what you’re trying to do.

And you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, making a smile bloom on your face. A sick, cocky smile.

You spread yourself for him, before taking two fingers to your clit and drawing small circles around it. You hiss, your hips spasming at the too sensitive feeling of pressure directly on your nerve bundle, but you keep going.

Plunging two fingers deep inside of you, selfishly. This one wasn’t for Daryl, although he liked it. You needed the delicious feeling of something inside of you. Your fingers hook in you, desperately curling over and over again as you mercilessly assault your own g-spot.

The noises coming out of you could send Daryl into a coma. Not just the half-coherent babbles and deep definitely-came-from-your-chest groans. No, the sound of your slick hand squelching against your cunt so perfectly.

You go back and forth like this, between your clit and your walls, until you feel your orgasm start to bubble over. The dull throb of ecstasy climbing into every limb. You almost forget Daryl’s watching as you put your fingers back inside you, three this time, and ride your own hand until your body is shaking, expletives falling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

You lay there, on the floor in a heap, teaching yourself to breathe again. Until you glance back at Daryl. With one hand covering his mouth his expression is unreadable, but his other hand gripping the arm rest tells you everything. And the hard cock pressing up against the zipper of his pants tells even more.

You’re almost embarrassed, but not quite. Standing up from the spot you’d laid down to ‘watch TV’ you silently walk over to him and wipe your hand off on his shirt. Pressing your fingers hard against his chest through the fabric, eliciting a barely audible moan from him.

He watches you walk away, listening as your bare feet pad up the steps and into your room. It takes him all of three seconds to free his cock from his jeans. Pumping himself furiously, unceremoniously, with his face buried in the spot of his shirt where you’d wiped your juices on him.

The smell of you, the taste of you, so fresh and right there. He laps at the spot until it’s soaked with his saliva. He comes in a strangled mess, trying to be quiet, hot white ropes painting his jeans.

After it’s over he curses himself. He leaves before Merle and your mom get back, to go home and change. Wondering to himself what the hell just happened.

✨🚬

For a week you avoid him. He and Merle come over twice, but you stay in your room the whole time. A little too embarrassed to face him so soon after what you’d done. You didn’t regret it, or feel bad, but your normal personality had returned. With nothing more to prove to yourself, or your stupid ex boyfriend. Not bold enough to masturbate in front of older men. Apparently not even bold enough to show your face in front of him.

You wake up one night in a sweat, having another dream about Daryl. In this one he’d had you bent over the kitchen table. Fuck it’s hot in here, you go to open the window but what you really need is water.

You start to make your way downstairs, only to see Daryl. In the faint glow of the television, eyes wide as he meets yours. “Oh. Hi.” You manage to say, awkwardly standing on the last step before nodding at his lack of response, looking down trying to hide your blush.

You walk to the kitchen silently, getting some water for yourself. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable, you wanted to be clever. To be coy and cute and everything you were the other night, but the whole thing is making you so nervous you can’t think straight. You just want to get back upstairs before you say something stupid. Before you embarrass yourself by not being that person.

You down a cup of water quickly and toss it into the sink before heading back for your room.

You’re passing in front of the TV when Daryl asks you, “Do you want the remote?”

One simple question, your head spins. You knew what he meant. What he was really saying. ‘Do it again’.

You look over at him, remote on his knee, and you nod. Walking over to him, you pick up the remote from where it sat, but you let your fingers graze all the way up his leg, over the tight bulge in his pants. “Christ.” He says, through gritted teeth.

You smile, that same cocky smile, and take your position down on the ground in front of him. You take your time, at first you really are watching TV. Letting Daryl ache for it. Letting him question if you understood what he’d meant.

He’d been wondering when he was going to see you next, if you’d do it again. If you’d do more. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was definitely the hottest thing a girl had ever done for him. Not like he had all that much experience with women, but he had some. None of it quite like that. Nothing that was so burned into his memory that if he closed his eyes he could still taste you. Still hear those explicit noises coming off your body.

He needed more. He needed to watch you again.

He waits, with baited breath, for you to touch yourself. It feels like it’s taking forever. There’s something about you just down there in front of him, though. It feels like he’s almost able to get off on just that.

Eventually you spread your legs a little bit at a time. Raising your hips again, you play with yourself in front of him like you did before, taking more time. Teasing him.

You slide the top half of your body, flush with the ground, over to the side a little so you can look back at him. Fuck. He’s just staring. Mouth open, eyes half closed, fingers holding a cigarette that he occasionally drags. Just watching. Never taking his eyes off of you. Occasionally he looks back up to your face, all contorted in pleasure, but for the most part he can’t take his eyes off of what your fingers are doing. The light shimmering over every wet part of you.

You sit up for just a second to bring the teeshirt off your body and throwing it to the side. Resuming your position, now completely naked. Vulnerable. You look at him with another smile, his expression is pained.

Daryl’s trying so hard to keep himself in control. To not touch himself until you’re out of the room, that would be too much, right? He’s convinced himself that there’s no way he can pull his cock out in front of you. He’s so much older, even if you’re 20. Even if you’re in front of him, doing this. Pretty, delicate, messy pussy spread out for him. Begging for him. He can’t. He’s got to control himself. Plus, it’s too embarrassing. You’re so confident and languid with your movements, he’s sure if you saw him like the strangled mess he was the other night that you’d run out of the room immediatly.

He’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter to you. Of course you want him, and of course you’d let him slither right in behind you and claim any hole he wanted. You would love to see him lose control and touch himself, even if it was something you’d never seen a man do before. Of course you would. But the feeling of his eyes burned into you is so exquisite on its own.

Daryl’s losing his fucking mind, though. You’re doing it all different than last time. Slower, hotter. Grabbing at your tits with your other hand. Fuck. His head is dizzy, he feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out. And then you start riding your hand again. But not like last time, last time your fingers were hooked into you so tight that Daryl silently begged for you to just fuck yoursef with your fingers instead. He wanted to watch your lips spread out and over them. Wanted to watch you fill and empty your cunt with your two fingers over and over, and now that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Daryl’s chewing on his thumb, anything to keep his hands away from himself. Every time you pump your fingers inside he feels his hardened length spasm. So tight into his pants, the friction actually starts to feel good.

You add another finger, and then another. It’s too much for Daryl, who was again silently begging you to do that too. To stretch that little pussy even more for him. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, his vision goes white. Daryl’s cock spasms violently, cum coating the inside of his pants. His thumb is bleeding from where he’d bit down on it, and he’s never been more fucking embarrassed in his life. Never been more surprised, confused, turned on.

He watches as you ride out your high, following with your own earth shattering orgasm only a few moments later. He looks down to you to see if you had any idea of what had happened, but you don’t.

You have no idea he just came in his pants without even touching himself. Just from watching you.

pt 2

a/n : thanks to @norman-fucking-reedus for helping me with some ideassss for this 💕🤘🏻

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader

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intoxicated-chan · 4 months

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❜𝐓𝐢𝐥 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

Summary ➳ Daryl never liked it when the neighborhood cop Shane came around. You, oblivious to Shane’s attempts to flirt with you and don’t see the fuming Daryl.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “You” by Ari Abdul. Those who are waiting for the first chapter of JUDAS, it’s almost done. I’m just finishing the final touches before it’s uploaded. This is also very rushed, I’m sorry.

Word Count ➳ 900

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, MODERN AU/NO OUTBREAK, DUB-CON, SHANE, jealous Daryl, sexual content, p-in-v, protected sex, phone sex, hair pulling, pet names (baby, darlin’), overstimulation, little dacryphilia…

“Goddammit Daryl!” You clutched the sheets under you as Daryl pulled your head back by your hair. “S-Slow down!” You cried out.

Daryl seemed to ignore your plea, his eyes remained on your ass and how it jiggled by each hard thrust. He continuously slammed into your g-spot, doing so without mercy.

You had no idea what’s gotten into him, he was perfectly fine this morning…

But Daryl knew what was wrong, he was angry, maybe at you but most of his anger was focused on that shitty cop.

Shane Walsh.

Daryl never believed Shane’s bullshit excuses whenever he came around your neighborhood. It was like he knew when Daryl was around, he knew of his record and his brother’s which is why he always stood back and remained silent.

Daryl was out on your driveway working on your beat-up car. He used his arm to wipe away the layer of sweat on his forehead. You had brought out a glass of ice-cold water for him, you went back inside to retrieve a rag as he asked.

“Dixon!”

Daryl froze at that voice, he cursed Shane under his breath. He turned his head slightly, enough to get a view of Shane who exited his car and walked up to him.

“(Y/n) home?” He asked, his hands on his belt as a shit-eating grin was plastered on his face.

“Busy.” He grunted in response, going back to your car.

“Mind if check?” He took a couple of steps towards your door before Daryl stood in his way.

“I’ll get ‘er.” He didn’t bother taking a second glance at him because he knew Shane had won… Yet fucking again.

You had come down the stairs, a couple of rags in hand. “I didn’t think one would be enough-“

“Cop ‘ere.” He told you, taking the rags. “Lookin’ for ya.”

“Shane? Again?” You lifted an eyebrow and peered through your window to see Shane standing there, giving you a wave. “What’s he here for?”

“The hell should I know.”

You made your way outside, seeing Shane leaning up against his patrol car. “Hey, Shane, what brings you here?”

“Just checkin’ in, makin’ sure you’re alright. Y’know, keepin’ the neighborhood safe.” Shane’s eyes lingered down your neck, he fixed his posture, getting himself a better look at your cleavage.

“Well, everythin’ is fine here. Nothin’ to report.” You let out an awkward chuckle, fixing your shirt.

Back in the house, Daryl stayed by the window, jaw clenched as his hands formed into fists.

Shane leaned in, way too close for comfort. “You free tonight?”

“I- What?” It took you a couple of seconds before his words sunk in. “No, no. I’ll be here… with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Shane mocked. “Hard to believe a redneck like Daryl Dixon could be your boyfriend.”

“You don’t know shit, Shane. Find some other woman to ask out.” You sighed, growing frustrated.

Shane pulled out his pen and notepad, writing something. “It’s only a matter of time before he disappoints you. Call me when he’s gone or you want somethin’ better.” Ripping the paper, took your hand, and pushed into it.

Shane Walsh had crossed a line…

Daryl remembered snatching the number out of your hands and nearly ran out of the house just to punch him. You dragged him back to the room just to get him to call him.

“D-Daryl!” You mewled, shutting your eyes as you felt your hot tears slip.

“That’s it, baby, say my name.” He growled. He didn’t stop, even when you tightened around his cock, another orgasm coming down on you.

He released his hold on your hair, letting your head fall onto the pillow. He picked up his phone and began to dial the number. He left it by your head and on speaker.

“C’mon baby, let ‘im hear you.” He turned you over onto your back and shoved a pillow under your hips, letting him go deeper inside of you.

It felt like you were screaming, you couldn’t focus anymore. Not on Daryl, not on the sound of the headboard slamming into the wall… It’s a surprise that nobody had called to complain.

“Keep ya eyes on me darlin’.” He said, his hands coming to your wrists to keep them from covering your face when you tried to. “Look at me.” He demanded.

You opened your eyes to meet his blue ones, he licked his lips as his eyes were clouded.

Your nails dug into your hands. “Daryl! Daryl! Daryl!” You chanted his name over and over again, your legs coming around his hips to pull him closer.

That’s when you felt the pit again. “Daryl-!”

“C’mon, cum ‘round my cock. Let ‘im know who’s makin’ you feel like this, scream like this.” Daryl let out one final grunt as he came.

Your eyes shut instinctively as your back arched from the bed. Everything became white noise as you were sure you screamed louder than you could, waves and ripples.

Daryl slummed over your body, too tired to push him off or say anything.

He picked up the phone and smirked when he saw the call’s duration, he could hear panting on the other side. He hung up the phone and tossed it across the room, hearing it hit something.

“Stay with me darlin’.” Daryl sneered at your fucked out face. “I ain’t gonna be done with ya for a long time.”

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ichorai · 1 year

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sorry ; daryl dixon.

track three of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; daryl dixon x doctor!reader (gender neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; you were on your knees, and daryl was too. he wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

words ; 7.9k

themes ; heavy angst, mild action, doctor au

warnings / includes ; death and violence, negan at his worst, vulgar language, guns/weapons, descriptions of injury/blood, mentions of maggie's pregnancy, negan goes on long ass monologues, poor rick is going Through it, the walking dead s6-7 spoilers (fic starts right at the season six finale), mild sexual dialogue from negan

main masterlist.

Maggie hummed with discontent when you pressed a cold, damp cloth to her forehead. There was a pallid color to her skin, and her temperature was beginning to rise, despite her violent shivers beneath the blanket. The inconsistent, rocking motions of the RV weren’t doing her any favors, either.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Hilltop real soon,” you said, feeling mildly guilty that you couldn’t help her more, despite being a doctor yourself. Alexandria was completely out of medical supplies and this was urgent—if Maggie didn’t get help soon… you’d never be able to forgive yourself if something bad were to happen to her or the baby. “Hang on for me, okay?”

The brunette slanted her lips in a tired smile, eyelids heavy.

Rick knelt down beside you, speaking in a low, comforting tone. “We’re gonna get there. Once we get the medicine from Hilltop, Y/N will fix you right up.”

A small sigh fell from her pale, trembling lips. A thin film of tears warbled over her eyes. She was terrified.

“Oh, Maggie,” you murmured, gently pulling away the short strands of hair sticking to her face.

“How do you know?” muttered your friend, gaze trained on the ex-cop.

“Everything we’ve done… we've done it together. We got here together and we’re still here. Things have happened, but it’s always worked out for us, ‘cause it’s always been all of us. That’s how I know. As long as it’s all of us helpin’ you, we can do it.”

A hot tear meandered down Maggie’s cheek. You nodded gratefully at Rick—he’d always had a way with words that you’d never really gotten a grasp of.

The next hour passed by slowly. You switched between cooling her head, and helping her drink some water, sometimes just holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be fine. To take her mind off the pain, she’d asked you to tell her about how you and Daryl met, all those years ago long before the dead began to walk.

“I’m glad Daryl’s not here right now, because he always tells the story differently than I do. Well, how I remember it, he and his dick brother used to come to a small convenience store near their trailer park. That’s where I worked. I was around… nineteen at the time? Almost twenty. I was just working a couple jobs on the side to pay off my growing student debt. Daryl was twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Merle tried to cozy up to me—and I didn’t have any of that. I told him to fuck right off. And later that night, just as I was to close up, Daryl came by and apologized on his brother’s behalf. He was real sweet, so I—”

“What the bitch?” barked Abraham from the driver’s seat, effectively cutting your story short and rolling the RV to a grueling halt.

“What?” asked Rick, standing up to look out the window. You followed suit, eyes widening upon the sight.

More than half a dozen Saviors blocking the road with three of their cars—and all of them holding large guns. A lump formed in your throat, and you cast your worried gaze to Rick.

“We goin’ through?” asked Abraham, jaw set.

Rick gnashed his jaw together in thought. “No,” he said. “We’ll talk to them. C’mon. Y/N, you stay here, watch over Maggie.”

Teeth worrying into your bottom lip, you nodded, stepping to the side to let the rest of them file out of the RV, their own loaded guns at the ready.

From inside, you couldn’t hear what the Saviors were saying, but from the smug expression of the one in the center with a hideous pornstache, you knew it couldn’t be anything pleasant for your group.

Three minutes later, they came back in, all looking a bit disgruntled. Rick, most of all.

“What’s going on?” you asked Carl, placing a hand on his forearm.

The young man that you were so fond of grimaced, shaking his head and lowering his voice to a whisper so that Maggie couldn’t overhear. “They won’t let us through. Want half our stuff.”

Your breath hitched. At this rate, you didn’t know how long Maggie could last without the proper care and medicine. And Alexandria was running low on supplies as it is—taking away half of everything would put the community in a pretty dire situation.

“Alright, thanks kid,” you told him, trying your absolute best not to cry from frustration, your nose burning with the effort.

The truck began to pull further away from the Saviors, until they were only but little dots against the horizon.

“Logrun Road’s a straight shot,” said Eugene, repeatedly tapping his finger against the map spread out across the RV’s pull-out table.

Next to you, Sasha shook her head. “We want visibility.”

You pursed your lips, craning your neck to scan the small, faded texts of the map. “Can we go down Shelton?”

Eugene hummed in agreement, drawling out in his thick Southern accent, “Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain—no bum rush from the bogeymen. We’d see ‘em from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third but we��d get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens.”

Both you and Sasha stared at him blankly.

“You’re being serious, right?” asked Sasha.

“As coronary thrombosis,” replied the man across from you, stony-faced. Besides, Eugene was never one to joke around.

Sasha rounded her gaze to you expectantly, waiting for you to explain in normal terms. “He’s serious,” you said. “It’s a longer route, but it’ll be well-sheltered and hopefully keep us hidden from the Saviors. I’ll try to keep Maggie steady until then.”

The two nodded at you, and you pushed away from the table, heading further back into the RV where Maggie and Rick were. She was pale and clammy, but still had enough energy to talk to you, so you took that as a good sign.

Not even ten minutes later, while you were taking measurements of her blood pressure and body temperature, the vehicle came to another rumbling halt.

“Bitch nuts,” cursed Abraham, loudly for both you and Rick to hear.

The Saviors were blocking the road. Again.

You could feel panic seize about your chest, constricting your lungs. The situation wasn’t looking good for Maggie, not one bit—but you couldn’t give up hope. Not now, when she needed you the most. You blew out a shaky breath, absentmindedly wishing Daryl was here with you to give you some comfort of mind.

“We making our stand?” asked Sasha, staring out of the window, where more than a dozen saviors were lined up.

Carl, ever the fiery one, spat out, “Yeah. We end this.”

The blue of his father’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No. Not now. It’s too dangerous for Maggie. They’ve been waiting—they’re ready. We ain’t. With one of us behind the wheel, and Y/N with Maggie, that’d be five on sixteen. We’re gonna play it our way. How we want it.”

Reluctant, Carl nodded.

Slowly, the RV started backing away. Three successive, warning gunshots were fired into the air. You could feel a sick, twisted rage curl up within your stomach.

If Maggie died on your watch—her blood would be on the hands of the Saviors.

You fumbled for another map pinned up on the cork board, eyes roaming over the roads, desperate for another available route. Could they possibly have you surrounded? No—the woods were vast, and the roads were winding—there were so many paths left to take to Hilltop. The Saviors simply wouldn’t have the numbers to stop you.

Wouldn’t they?

The RV came to another stop. This time, there were no Saviors blocking the road, but instead, a line of chained-up walkers. Not wanting to risk damaging the RV by driving through them, the rest of the group filed out to check if the coast was clear. You told Maggie you’d be right back, before hopping out of the RV, lingering by the doorway to narrow your gaze at the restrained walkers.

“That’s Michonne’s,” breathed out Carl, his single eye widening. A lock of her hair was stapled against the center walker’s forehead.

Horror, as black as tar itself, seeped into your chest when you glanced over to the next snarling form, just to see two of Daryl’s arrows embedded into its decaying stomach. Daryl always retrieved his arrows. Which meant… something had happened to him.

“That’s Daryl’s,” you said, loud enough for Rick to hear. “Oh, no, Rick… they did this on purpose. They knew we were coming this way—!”

Just as Rick was about to cleave his axe into the walker’s skull, ricocheting gunfire crackled into the ground, making the dried leaves flutter up with the sudden force, plumes of dust and smoke flying with each bullet.

“Get back to the RV! Go!” yelled Rick. You scrambled up the steps and ran to a concerned Maggie, trembling as you carefully hovered over her, in case any bullets pierced through the walls and accidentally hit her. Carl and Sasha began shooting blindly into the woods, having not a clue where all the shots were coming from. Rick surged forward and thrust his axe down onto one of the walker’s rotting arms, effectively leaving a gap open for the RV to drive through.

The rest of the group rushed inside, and Abraham practically threw himself into the driver’s seat to get the RV moving.

The shots died away after a few minutes. With shallow, inconsistent breaths, you slid off of Maggie, slumping down beside her. She croaked out a question, but it fell upon deaf ears, ringing with static and white noise. A warm tear fell from your burning eyes, and you quickly brushed it away with the back of your palm.

Something happened to Daryl. And it was killing you that you couldn’t help him. That you didn’t even know where he was.

You looked out the window through a watery film of tears, watching the yellow-green fields pass by in a blur. A quick glance at the lowering sun told you that the group was going to lose daylight soon enough, as well.

A strange, creaking noise was coming from below the RV.

“What’s that sound?” said Sasha, worried.

“Undercarriage could’ve caught a bullet,” replied Eugene. “Could be transmission. Could be nothing.”

Agitated, Rick growled out, “They were firing at our feet. They blocked the road, but they weren’t trying to stop us.”

“They want us in this direction,” you murmured, making his wild gaze swivel to you. You gestured to the map. “Rick, they know we’re coming. They know we wanna go North.”

“Meadows would take us East a piece,” said Eugene, “but we can get back on track on Mayhew.”

It would take too long, you thought. Maggie doesn’t have the strength to carry on anymore.

Shaking her head, Sasha said, “We’re down to a third of a tank—we could top off at the next stop, but it’s risky. We can’t have any refills after that.”

A low moan fell from Maggie’s pale lips as a wave of pain washed over her, moving in and out of a hazy unconsciousness. You were quick to check her temperature, blanching at the fact that she was nearly scalding to the touch. You quickly placed the damp cloth to her skin again, trying your best to keep her temperature down.

“Rick, she’s burning up,” you told him, voice thick with worry.

It was then that the RV came to another stop.

This time, there were more saviors—around three dozen, maybe even four.

“Go back,” said Rick, eyes wide and stress evidently painted across his strained features.

Abraham squared his jaw. “We have nowhere to go back to.”

With a shaky breath, you stroked Maggie’s head, your heart shattering into millions of pieces. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” you said, a sob bubbling in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—I wish I could do something, I’m sorry.”

Disoriented and not having heard a word of your apologetic babbling, Maggie croaked out, “Are we there yet?”

More tears slipped down your cheeks. Rick was by your side, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on Maggie’s arm. You stifled your sobs with your palm, and Rick replied in your stead.

“Yeah, Maggie. We’re—we’re getting there.”

The woman’s eyelids fluttered lethargically. “Were there… I heard shots.”

Rick’s expression softened. “Yeah, the Saviors—they’re gone now. We’re gonna get you there.”

A ghost of a smile tilted the corner of Maggie’s lips up. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay,” you told her, sniffling. “The baby’s going to be okay. This isn’t the end.”

“There’s more,” agreed Rick. “There’s gonna be more, I promise.”

A beat of silence.

“I believe in you, Rick,” she hoarsely said. Maggie’s gaze slowly moved from Rick to you. “In both of you.”

Maggie was asleep again. You made sure to give her plenty of water and what was left of the antibiotics you had saved—but that was the very last bit of supply you had. There was little else you could do for her other than getting her to Hilltop for the proper medicine and treatment she needed.

“So what’s the play?” asked Abraham. “They’ve cut us off every turn we made.”

“She needs medicine,” said Rick, desperation lacing each word. “She’ll die without it.”

“We only have two plausible routes North from here. They’ve cornered us,” Sasha whispered, gaze trained on the map.

Hopelessness laid uneasy on all of your shoulders.

“They’re probably waiting for us right now,” said Aaron.

Eugene gritted his teeth. “So, they’re ahead of us. Heck, probably even behind us. But they’re not waiting on us, per se—they’re waitin’ on this rust bucket. They don’t know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon.”

“We need to leave now if we want Maggie to make it to Hilltop,” you said, voice trembling with a myriad of guilt, anger, and frustration. “We carry Maggie, and we go on foot. Through the woods. They can’t block us there.”

Eugene took the RV in hopes of tricking the Saviors. Everybody else in the group set off into the woods, taking turns carrying Maggie on the makeshift stretcher, bundled under two layers of blankets. The sun had long set, and the whispering winds were cold this time of year.

“Just let me walk it,” she rasped, voice scratchy and throat dry.

“No,” you were quick to reply. “You’re in no condition to walk right now, Maggie. It’s only a few more miles. Just rest up a bit more, okay?”

Though she didn’t look happy, Maggie didn’t protest any further, letting her tired eyes slip shut once more.

After a couple more minutes, Aaron stepped in to carry one end of the stretcher for you, telling you that you also needed to rest your arms for a second. With a grateful nod, you reluctantly let go, falling into stride with Carl.

“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his hand brushing yours, his nonverbal way of saying that he was here for you if you needed him. “I’m sure Daryl and Michonne are fine. They’re fighters. Maggie’s going to be fine, too.”

You sent him a fond, but tired smile. “Yeah, I hope so, kiddo,” you told him, cuffing his shoulder affectionately. The thought of Daryl out there, probably worried sick for you as well, made your stomach twist into knots. “I really hope so.”

It was at that moment, a shrill whistle sounded out from the darkness of the forest. The group halted in their tracks. One by one, more whistles were added to the ear-splitting melody. It sounded like there were dozens, if not a hundred voices surrounding you.

“Go!” yelled Rick. “Go!”

The rest of you broke out in a sprint, and you grabbed Carl’s hand, winding around tree trunks and hopping over overgrown roots, ignoring the stinging scrapes of twisting branches against your face.

The whistling only continued, growing louder, louder, louder—

Until you came face to face with the source itself.

Car lights suddenly flashed open, momentarily blinding you. You drew Carl closer to you, instinctively protecting him, but it was no use. They had your group surrounded. Saviors, hundreds of them, gathered around you with leering expressions. All of them were clutching guns.

Raw fear curled around your lungs when you saw Eugene on his knees not too far from you, tears dripping down his face.

Rick looked destroyed. Devastated.

You were shaking so hard that your knees began to buckle beneath you.

Finally, the whistling began to dwindle away.

From the crowd, stepped out a familiar face—the man with a hideous pornstache that stopped the RV on the initial route.

“Good,” he called out. He swept his arms out in a faux inviting gesture. “You made it. Welcome to where you’re going—because you ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til we’re done with you. We’ll take your weapons.”

When he pointed a gun straight at Maggie, you immediately did as he said, pulling out the pistol wedged in your belt. There was a knife inside your boot, but you weren’t too keen on giving that up yet. You tossed your pistol on the ground just as Abraham threw down his rifle. The rest of the group followed suit.

Trembling, Rick spat out, “We can talk about this—”

“We’re done talking,” interrupted Pornstache. “Okay. Get her down, and let’s get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”

“She can’t,” you snarled, stepping in front of Maggie protectively. “She’s sick, she can’t—”

“Oh, she’ll be far worse than just sick if you don’t get her on her knees,” the man easily rebutted, eyes roaming over your protective form.

Lips trembling, you turned around, and with Abraham on her other side, you helped Maggie limp off the stretcher and gently set her down on her knees. Your eyes glistened and warbled with unshed tears. Maggie could only shake her head, as if telling you that it wasn’t your fault.

Terrified, Rick glanced around at the rest of the group. He’d failed you. All of you.

“Gonna need you on your knees, sweetheart,” said Pornstache, slowly dragging the end of his gun up your cheek with a salacious grin.

With a withering glare, you sank down beside Maggie, Rick on your left side, breathing haggard and lips quaking. Sasha and Abraham followed suit. Carl was the last, fists clenched by his sides.

“Dwight!” whistled Pornstache. “Chop chop! Bring out the others!”

A blonde man with half of his face horribly marred by what looked to be a severe burn injury, stepped forward, yanking open the back of a truck.

And, to your horror, he dragged out your boyfriend, covered in blood—blood that you could only pray wasn’t his, even though you knew deep down that that was only wishful thinking. Following Daryl was Michonne, Rosita, and Glenn, equally distraught.

Daryl caught your eye for a brief second, pure terror within his irises. He looked over you to make sure that you were alright, and you did the same with him, a tear slipping down your cheek.

I love you, you mouthed to him. He dipped his head once in understanding, before forcing his gaze away, not wanting to give the Saviors anymore reason to torture either of you.

“Maggie…?” Glenn painfully rasped once he caught sight of his wife in such a state. He tried to make his way to her, but the Saviors grabbed his arms and forced him down, guns digging harshly into his back.

“Alright!” exclaimed Pornstache. “We got a full boat! Let’s meet the man, eh?”

He knocked twice on the door to the RV you were in not even an hour ago.

The door slowly swung open, squeaking on its hinges.

And out strode a tall man clad in a leather jacket, a bat covered in barbed wire hanging off his shoulder. He took his sweet time making his way towards the group, feet languidly dragging along the gravelly dirt, and a smirk accentuating his smug expression.

“Pissing our pants yet?” he drawled, voice tapering into a light chuckle as he stepped out into the light, smiling down at your group on your knees. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close. Mm, yeah—it’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Now which one of you pricks is the leader?”

Pornstache pointed at Rick. “It’s this one here.”

The man with the bat grinned wider, before stepping right in front of Rick, who craned his neck to glare up at him. “Hi there. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killin’ my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people… you killed more of my people. Not cool, man. Not cool. You have… no fuckin’ idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Mmh, yeah. You are so gonna regret crossin’ me in a few minutes. Yes, you are.” A dangerous, wolfish grin flashed across Negan’s face. “You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what—you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you may very well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes—pay attention.”

He lowered his bat off his shoulder and slotted the barbed end right below Rick’s chin. You held in your breath, your entire body wracking with tremors. Though you knew you needed to stop, you couldn’t help but chance glances at Daryl every so often, your concern for him rapidly growing. Some of that was his blood, it had to be—his eyes were sunken with exhaust and his chest, the very chest you would fall asleep on every night, was rising and falling unevenly, making you believe he was hurt, but you just couldn’t see what was hurting him.

“Give me your shit… or I will kill you. See? Simple as that.” Negan pulled the bat away from Rick, and began walking around the group as he spoke. “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow. But swallow it, you most certainly will! You ruled the roost. You built something, Rick. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged—more pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. If that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door… you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us? And we will knock it down. You understand?”

Rick swallowed heavily. Narrowing his keen eyes, Negan cupped his ear and leaned down closer to the kneeling man.

“What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were going to get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. I just wanna make that clear from the get go. I want you to work for me—and you can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growin’ a garden. But you killed my people—a whole damn lot of ‘em! More than I’m comfortable with, honestly. And for that… for that you’re gonna pay.”

Your hands curled into fists on your knees. You knew what was coming. And you’d be damned if you were going to let it happen.

“So, now… I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” Negan inhaled sharply, as if he enjoyed prolonging the torture. He bent down once more, showing off the barbed bat. “This right here—this is Lucille. And she is awesome. All this… all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor!”

Negan stopped in front of Abraham, who straightened and glared defiantly at the smirking man. In thought, Negan subconsciously rubbed his bearded jaw with one hand at the sight of Abraham’s own mustache. “Huh. I gotta shave this shit.”

On he strolled, before halting in front of Carl. “You had one of our guns. Hm. You got a lot of our guns.” Carl only scowled at the man. “Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little.”

Chuckling, Negan moved on.

You could feel one of your eyes twitch when you saw his shoes stop right in front of you. His bat was beneath your chin in an instant, forcing you to look up. The sharp metal on the bat painfully scratched against your jaw, and fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“My, my, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? What’s your name, darlin’?”

Hatred simmered within your chest, but you forced your expression to remain indifferent.

You quietly told him your name, wincing when his bat dug deeper into your neck and he ordered you to say it louder. You repeated yourself, voice cracking. A single tear meandered down your cheek and slid down your chin, dripping onto Lucille.

Negan hummed, nodding in satisfaction. “Now that’s what I want to see, folks! A little emotion around here—Y/N’s got the gist of it!”

“Kill me,” you gritted out, making the rest of the group’s eyes widen. You could feel Rick’s stare burning holes straight through you, but you refused to meet his gaze, staring straight up at Negan. “You can kill me. Just don’t hurt them. Let them go. Maggie, on my right, she’s real sick and she needs medicine—if she doesn’t get the proper treatment soon, she’ll… she’ll…”

The man in front of you barked out an amused laugh. “She’ll what?”

“She’ll die,” you snarled. “So kill me. Get it over with—and let them go.”

And for a split second, you let your eyes return to Daryl, one last time. He wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that Negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

But it was all futile. He noticed anyway.

He followed your gaze over to Daryl, lowering his bat to gesture between the two of you.

“Ah… you two are a thing, ain’t ya? Damn. And here I thought you were available for takin’, sugar.” Negan tossed his head back and chuckled with mild disappointment. “God, look at you bein’ all heroic, offering yourself up for the chopping block! No, no, darlin’, this ain’t a game of who gets to be a martyr and save their friends. You don’t decide what’s happening here. I do. You think I don’t know you’re the doctor of the group? My people have been reporting to me—they know you’ve been the one taking care of Little Miss Sickly over there. No… you’re far too valuable for me to kill. We need more people like you, darlin’. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bash in your pretty little face, now, would I?”

With a hum, Negan stepped away from you, fixing his gaze upon Maggie.

“Jesus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now—!”

“NO!” screamed Glenn, scrambling onto his feet and lunging at Negan. Before he could even begin to make contact, Dwight grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threateningly shoving Daryl’s crossbow into his face.

Maggie cried out—both from a fresh wave of pain seeping through her bones, and from the sight of her husband being dragged back to his spot like a ragdoll.

Huffing out a sigh, Negan grunted out, “Nope. Nope, nope, get him back in line.”

Glenn screamed, choking back a sob. “No… don’t. Don’t!”

Negan could only smile. “Alright, alright, listen. Don’t any of you do that again—I will shut that shit down, no exceptions! First one’s free—it’s an emotional moment. I get it. Mmh. Sucks, don’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit.”

Rick trembled violently beside you. Tilting his head, Negan glanced between him and Carl, realization dawning upon him when he noticed the physical similarities between the two.

“This is your kid, right? Ohoho, that is definitely your kid!”

“JUST STOP THIS!” yelled Rick, so sudden that it made you flinch.

Equivalent in volume, Negan bellowed back, “HEY! Do not make me kill your little future serial killer! Don’t make it easy on me! I gotta pick somebody—everybody’s at the table waitin’ for me to order, hm?”

The man whistled out a shrill tune, one that sent a shiver dance down your spine.

“I simply cannot decide. But I got an idea.” With that, he pointed the bat at Rick. “Eenie.”

He moved to you, before narrowing his eyes, and skipped over to Maggie. “Meenie.”

Abraham. “Minie.”

Michonne. “Mo.”

Glenn. “Catch.”

Daryl. “A tiger.”

Rosita. “By.”

Eugene. “His toe.”

Sasha. “If.”

Aaron. “He hollers.”

Carl. “Let him go.”

And so on he went.

My mother told me to pick the very best one. And you… are… it.

Your heart dropped when the end of his bat stopped in front of Abraham.

No. No… no… no…

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start! You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doin’ that!”

And with that, he swung the bat back and brought it clean down on Abraham’s head.

Screams erupted from around you. You could feel your vision blur over with your tears, and you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to see such a gruesome sight, curling in on yourself as you listened to the repeated, sickening squelch of Negan’s bat repeatedly hitting your dear friend. Negan gloated and laughed and jeered. You cried and sobbed and flinched with every strike.

His blood—Abraham’s blood—splattered on your face. You could feel it.

Warm, moist, and thick. Dripping down your cheek.

“You guys… look at my dirty girl!” proclaimed Negan, jutting out the bloody bat for all to witness. The monster of a man tilted his head at Rosita, whose eyes were horrified and bloodshot, dripping with fat tears. “Sweetheart… lay your eyes on this!”

When Rosita began to cry harder, Negan hummed. “Oh, damn. Were you… were you guys together? That sucks. If you were, you should know—there was a reason for all this. Red—and damn if that isn’t a good name for him—he just took one, or six, or seven for the team! So take… a damn… look.”

Rosita refused to move her gaze from Abraham’s mutilated corpse.

And, much to your horror, Daryl growled out as he surged forward on his feet, landing a clean punch against Negan’s jaw. You screamed out his name when three Saviors grabbed him and beat him back onto the ground, pinning him tightly against the gravel. A sob wracked through your frame and you could feel your stomach twist into itself. Daryl was still struggling against them, clutching his side as he panted out.

“No!” yelled Negan, clearly furious. “Oh, no. That—is a big no-no. The whole thing—not one fucking bit of that shit flies here!”

Terror clutched at your palpitating heart when Negan shoved Lucille right up into Daryl’s face, smearing Abraham’s blood all over him.

Dwight strode up and pointed Daryl’s own crossbow against the back of your boyfriend’s head. A sob fell from your lips. You couldn’t watch this—you just couldn’t.

“Daryl,” you cried out, hiccupping through your words. “Negan… no. No, please, don’t! I’ll do anything, please! Not him. Please, not him!”

Amused at your pleading, Negan casted a sidelong glance to you, before grabbing at Daryl’s hair and pulling him upright. “See what you did there, Buckaroo? You got your little partner all upset! Look, they’re crying their eyes out, worried for you.” Negan got back up on his feet. “Get him back in line,” he barked, though his eyes were trained on you.

And in two quick strides, he was back in front of you, gripping your face tightly between his gloved hand. “Look at you, darlin’, all covered in blood. Would it be weird if I say it makes my dick hard as fuck?” You scowled, trying your best to pull your face away from his uncomfortably rough grip. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart—your boyfriend here didn’t listen to me earlier. I said the first one was free, didn’t I? And what does that mean? Second one’s got a price, hm? I said I’d shut that shit down—no exceptions. I don’t know what kind of lyin’ assholes y’all have been dealing with… but I’m a man of my word. First impressions are important! I need you all to know me. Know that I’m not joking around with this shit. Now, if you weren’t a doctor and you weren’t so fuckin’ hot—I would’ve bashed your head to pieces without battin’ an eye! But, lookie here, I’m faced with another dilemma. I need to kill another one of you to get my point across.”

A wail bubbled up in your throat and you began to claw at Negan’s fingers now painfully squeezing your jaw. “No… please, please… don’t, please—!”

“And I want you, darlin’, to pick which one of your little friends I kill.”

“No!” you spat, breathing shallow and panicked. “Me—just kill me, Negan—you don’t have to hurt anyone else, please, please, let them go, you—”

Getting irritated with you, Negan shook your face until you stopped blubbering. “You’re not listenin’ to me. Pick. Someone. Not you, and not your little boyfriend. I want him to live with the fact that one of his friends died because of him. Pick someone. Anyone, sweetheart. You’ll be doin’ em a favor, honestly. They get to save the rest of you from a miserable death! Now, doesn’t that sound appealing?”

A beat of silence. Negan stared you down, and you glared right back.

“Eat my shit,” you snarled out.

Narrowing his eyes, Negan finally relinquished his hold on you. You gasped for breath, chest heaving, stabilizing yourself with your hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you’re feisty! Might have to keep you around after this—holy fuckin’ shit. Mmh, alright… fine, then. Since you won’t pick—I’ll just have to kill your precious patient’s boyfriend, hm?”

Before any of you could react, Negan spun on his heel and arced his bat through the air, right onto Glenn’s head. Again, and again, and again.

A piercing scream echoed across the forest. Maggie’s scream.

Your mouth dropped open as a silent cry scratched down the sides of your throat.

Glenn was still alive, somehow, after all those bashes. Blood caked his entire skull and part of his head was caved in—to your nauseating horror, one of his eyes had come out of its socket.

“Buddy, you still there?” exclaimed Negan in astonishment, bending down to inspect his handiwork. “I just don’t know… seems to me like you’re tryin’ to say something! But you just took a hell of a hit! I just cracked your skull so hard, your eyeball popped right out! And it is gross as shit!”

After all that, Glenn managed to slur out, “Maggie… I’ll find you.”

Sobs rang throughout the clearing. The rest of the group cried tears for Glenn—without him, all of you would’ve been dead three times over.

“Awh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys,” said Negan. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I did say… no exceptions!”

With that, he brought down his bat again. Over, and over, and over.

Maggie cried so hard her voice started to give out.

Daryl, your beloved Daryl, flinched with every stroke of the bat, his eyes red and puffy with tears. You could see it already—the guilt behind his gaze. He thought it was his fault Glenn was killed.

You shut your eyes again.

“Lucille is thirsty! She’s a vampire bat!” proudly declared Negan, as he swung one final hit on Glenn’s long-dead body. “What? Was the joke that bad? Tough crowd, huh?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” whispered Rick once Negan was done. Rick had blood splattered all over his face, as well. Abraham’s blood. Glenn’s blood.

Negan squatted down beside him, tilting his head. His bat was dangerously close to you. “What? I didn’t quite catch that, Rick. You’re gonna have to speak up.”

Squaring his jaw, Rick drew in a sharp inhale. “Not today… not tomorrow… but I’m gonna kill you.”

Negan sucked at his teeth. “Jesus,” he softly said. “Simon. What did he have? A knife?”

Pornstache raised his brows. “He had a hatchet. An axe.”

Snorting, Negan shook his head. “Simon’s my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without ‘em? A whole lot of work. You have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh… or did I…”

The man waved the bloodied bat in front of Rick’s face, taunting him.

“Sure, yeah. Give me his axe.” Pornstache handed Negan the small weapon and Negan smugly slid it into his belt. Suddenly, Negan grabbed the back of Rick’s jacket and yanked him up, practically dragging him by the scruff towards the RV. Your breath hitched, wanting to stop him, but all the guns trained on the backs of your friends made you freeze. All you could do was lower your head and stave away your raucous sobs.

“I’ll be right back, folks! Maybe Rick will be with me! And if not… well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we? I mean… the ones that are left!”

They were gone for hours.

During those hours, part of you wanted to go to Maggie, comfort her, check if both she and the baby were alright. No doubt she was in a tremendous amount of both emotional and physical pain. The other part of you wanted to go to Daryl, curl up in the safety of his arms and cry into his chest.

But you couldn’t do either. Not with the Saviors pointing the barrels of their rifles to the back of your skulls.

The sun was already beginning to rise, tinting the sky a sweet, soft shade of blue. A stark juxtaposition to the dark red blood steadily drying on the rocky ground.

When Rick got back, Negan ruthlessly threw him down in front of the group. He looked exhausted. More than that—he looked dead inside. The light behind his eyes was gone.

“Do you know what that little trip was about?” asked Negan.

Rick looked around wildly, as if making sure that everyone else was alright.

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” Negan hissed.

Begrudgingly, Rick bowed his head. “Okay… okay.”

Negan wolfishly grinned, though there was a dark glimmer to his irises that you misliked. “That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you’re still lookin’ at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that’s not gonna work!” Once again, Negan squatted down beside Rick, that smug expression still plastered across the man’s coarse features. “So… do I give you another chance?”

After a moment’s pause, Rick hacked out, “Yeah. Yes.”

Satisfied, Negan clapped Rick on the back, before getting back up onto his feet. “Alright! Here it is, the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone’s last crap day… or just another crap day. Get some more guns to the back of their heads. Level with their noses, so if you have to fire… it’ll be a real fuckin’ mess.”

You could feel cold metal graze the very top of your temple.

“Kid, come here,” said Negan, making your heart plummet to your stomach. Rick’s expression shifted to one of pure dread.

Carl didn’t move.

“Kid… now.”

With cautious movements, Carl stood up in front of the taller man.

“You a southpaw?” asked Negan while he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of its loops.

“Am I a what?”

“A lefty,” clarified Negan.

Carl scowled. “No.”

“Good,” retorted Negan, before grabbing Carl’s left arm and tying the belt around his bicep. “That hurt?”

Gritting his teeth, Carl bit out a negative.

“It should. It’s supposed to.” Negan smirked, knocking Carl’s cowboy hat off his head. “Alright, get down on the ground next to daddy, kid. Spread them wings!”

Slowly, Carl lowered himself down beside Rick, his cheek pressed flat against the dusty gravel.

“Simon, you got a pen?”

Pornstache nodded, brandishing a marker from his pocket and tossing it over to Negan. The man uncapped the black pen with his teeth, flashing you a wink and spitting out the cap somewhere to the side. He kneeled down by Carl to draw a straight line just below the junction of his elbow.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “This is gonna be as cold as a warlock’s dick, as if he were hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across your forearm! Gives you a little leverage, don’t it?”

Stammering, Rick muttered out, “Please… please don’t. Please don’t.”

Negan tilted his head, lightly chuckling. “Me? Oh, I ain’t doin’ shit. Rick… I want you to take your axe and cut your son’s left arm off—right on that line! Now, I know you gotta process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though—I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then your kid dies. Then the people back home die. Then you… eventually. I’d keep you breathing for a few years just so you could stew on it!”

“You… you don’t have to do this,” pleaded Michonne. It was the first time she’d spoken since she got out of the truck. Seeing Carl splayed out in front of her, practically her son, made something inside her snap. “We understand. We get it, we—”

“You might understand! I’m not so sure Rick here does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice. You remember those, right? Nothin’ messy. I want a clean, forty-five degree cut. Give us somethin’ to fold over. You got Y/N right there to fix him up nice and good. The kid’ll be just fine. Probably.”

Rick was just about losing his mind, rocking back and forth, murmuring incoherently beneath his breath. Sweat dripped down his bloodied face, his hair, mixing with the salty tears leaking from his crazed eyes.

“Rick. This needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Before I crush the little fella’s skull myself.”

Swallowing down his sobs, Rick choked, “It can—it can… it can be me. It can be me. Wh… you… you could do it to me. I c-can go with—with you.”

Negan smiled at his desperation. “No. This is the only way. Pick up the axe, Rick. Not making a decision is a big decision, let me tell you that. You really wanna see all these people die? Because you will—if you don’t PICK UP THE FUCKING AXE!”

Rick began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, my God,” said Negan, pulling at his face wearily. “You gonna make me count? Okay, Rick—you win. I’ll start counting. Three!”

“PLEASE!” screamed Rick. “IT CAN BE ME. PLEASE!”

“Two!” Negan kneeled down and slapped a sobbing Rick across the face, before grabbing his cheeks, not unlike he did with you hours before. “This is it, Rick. Make a decision. One!”

With a gut wrenching scream, Rick’s trembling fingers curled around the handle of his axe.

“Dad…” whispered Carl. A tear slipped down your cheek as the events unfolded in front of you. “Just do it.”

Rick cocked his arm back, seconds away from bringing it down to cleave Carl’s hand off.

But Negan grabbed Rick’s wrist at the very last second, stopping him.

The man smirked, pleased with himself. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Frantically, Rick nodded his head.

“SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO! You answer to me. You provide for me!”

“I’ll provide for you!” cried Rick.

“You belong to me! Right?” hollered Negan.

Hiccuping a sob, Rick bobbed his head. “Right.”

“Now that… that is the look I wanted to see.” Negan grabbed Rick’s axe from him and stepped away. “We did it. All of us, together. Even the dead guys on the ground! Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure! Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake… that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you before… that is over now.”

Negan clapped his hands together, sighing out in relief.

And strangely, you were slightly relieved, as well. Maybe he was done. He wasn’t going to kill any more of you. This was all over for now.

Right?

“Dwight,” said Negan. “Load him up.”

To your shock, Negan pointed Lucille straight at Daryl.

“See, he’s got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know,” Negan told Rick. “I like him. He’s mine now. You still wanna try something? Not today, not tomorrow? I will cut pieces off of… what’s his name?”

“Daryl,” said Pornstache.

“Wow. That actually sounds just about right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep! Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.”

“No…” you croaked out, when Dwight grabbed your boyfriend and dragged him back to the truck as if he were a wild animal, crossbow pointed at his chest. Maggie sobbed from beside you. “No, Daryl… please, no, don’t—please don’t take him from me!” you cried. “Please, I need him… Daryl!”

Negan smiled down at you. “Mmh. Alrighty, then. I’ll take you, too. Come on.”

A gasp lodged in your throat when he suddenly grabbed your arm and yanked you upwards.

“No, wait, I’m the only doctor they have, they need—Maggie needs m—!”

“I don’t give a rat’s flying blue ass,” growled Negan, shoving you in the direction of the truck, where Daryl watched you with wide, scared eyes. You craned your neck around to look at Rick and Maggie and the rest of the group—your family—one last time, unsure of when, if ever, you’d see them again. “You’re mine now. Got a whole lot of shit you can do for me, that’s for sure, darlin’. Load ‘em up!”

One of the Saviors pushed you into the truck just as Negan yelled out, “Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry shits! I’ll leave you a truck. Keep it—use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then… ta-fuckin’-ta.”

You collapsed straight into Daryl once you were inside, thundering sobs spilling from your lungs. He wrapped his burly arms around you, smelling of dirt and blood and motor oil. No words needed to be said. No words could be said.

The both of you had lost so much today.

And now… you’d lost your freedom, as well.

Daryl began crying into your shoulder, and you could only hold him all the tighter.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon oneshot #twd angst #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon drabbles #negan smith x reader #negan x reader #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon ff #daryl dixon fanfic

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dixons-sunshine · 1 month

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Soooo headcannons would be absolutely amazing (tbh i'm obsessed with this story-)

Only if your up for it of course, just letting you know that I am interested (and I'm sure i'm not alone) bc you asked :)

Thank you for writing! Your work is amazing!

(I've also lost many drafts that didn't save and it's always so so sad)

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU Headcannons |Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Word count: 840.

A/n: Ask and you shall receive! I have so many personal headcannons and I'm so excited to share it with you all. Maybe I'll incorporate some of these into oneshots one day. Who knows? But I'm really in the mood for Young!Daryl these days, so send in some requests for him if y'all wanna see more!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

★ Your ages aren't specified, but I headcannon that y'all are 17-almost 18 in this au.

★ As mentioned in Through The Good Times And The Bad, you moved to the trailer park when you were twelve. However, Daryl definitely didn't approach you first. You had to go up to him and start talking to him.

★ You were exploring the woods behind the trailer park when you stumbled upon a river. There you met Daryl, and since he was the only kid there who was your age, you wanted to strike up a friendship, although it was difficult.

★ I also feel like Daryl definitely didn't talk during the first few weeks when you went up to him. With Merle and his father constantly ruining his self-esteem, he was sure that you would recognise what a screw up he was and head for the hills.

★ However, when a month passed with you showing up at the river and keeping him company, he found himself looking forward to seeing you, and with that knowledge, he slowly started warming up to you.

★ The first time he ever spoke a word to you was when you accidentally slipped on a wet rock and fell into the river. He snorted a laugh at your predicament, and couldn't resist the urge to tease you.

★ “Careful. Heard the rocks in the river ain't exactly dry.”

★ You had laughed at him and splashed some water at him, and that was the start of your friendship.

★ Although you quickly became close friends, it took almost two years for him to start opening up about his father.

★ His father's beatings had started to become way worse and he started leaving more visible marks, resulting in questioning glances from you, though you never pressed for answers. That made him feel comfortable enough to gradually start opening up to you.

★ By the time you were both 15, you knew all about his father, Daryl's past with his mother committing suicide and his asshole of a brother.

★ This is definitely the "she fell first, he fell harder" trope.

★ You had started crushing on him when you were 14. However, Daryl only started acknowledging his own feelings for you when he was 16 and you had saved up to get him a gift for his birthday.

★ His feelings had smacked him right in the face, and the rest is history.

★ Moving away from you and Daryl for now, it's pretty clear that your mom is yours and Daryl's number one shipper.

★ She knows about Daryl's abuse, but not to the extent that you do. She only knows the "basics", so to speak.

★ She's offered to talk to social services for him, but Daryl had refused, so she offered for him to stay over whenever he needed to.

★ She totally already sees Daryl as her son-in-law. She knows for a fact that you and Daryl are meant to be together, even if you're only teenagers.

★ This might only be me, but I headcannon that your mom in this was a teen mom—she got pregnant during her senior year in highschool.

★ She's implied to be a single mom, so the dad split when he found out she was pregnant.

★ She lived with her parents to raise you until you were 6. Her parents eventually kicked the two of you out and you've been in and out of multiple crappy apartments before settling on the trailer park.

★ She's the type of mom who tries to give you the freedom you desire while still being strict. Hence the "if anything happens, be sure to use protection" jokes. She knows she can't stop you from doing that, but she can ensure that you don't make her mistakes.

★ She definitely "secretly" buys condoms for you and Daryl.

★ During the first few months of your relationship, she noticed that the box remained untouched. Knowing Daryl's shyness, she knew that it wasn't because you and him were having unprotected sex. The two of you weren't like that.

★ When she noticed after a couple of months that there was finally one gone, she couldn't help the teasing she bestowed on you when Daryl went home.

★ She has met his father a number of times. The man has hit on her more times than one, completely unaware that she knew his son. However, since she was aware of the abuse, she's told him to "fuck off" every time.

—

I have so many more! If y'all want a part two, let me know!

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#shopping spree hangout dreams #young!daryl dixon #young!daryl #young daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

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lazyneonrabbitt · 6 months

Text

Here you will find the full list of my works for Daryl Dixon and other characters portrayed by Norman Reedus. [Main masterlist]

Requests are OPEN

⬇️ Masterlist under the cut! ⬇️ [My Ao3]

★ indicates smut, 18+ content.

Series

Paintings & Picture frames [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7]

No apocalypse AU. Daryl and reader are studying at the same college and are assigned orientation project parters. [ONGOING, HIATUS]

Wings [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]

Judith plays matchmaker by stealing your jacket and making it match Daryl’s

Oneshots

Records of forgotten times

Digging through old music brings back sad memories, but also happy talks of the future.

Sinful ★

Father Daryl enjoys some private moments with the not-really nun.

Ruppel

You're chilling on the couch watching your favorite show. Daryl joins you because he wants to learn about your interests.

Shielded (Fantasy AU)

Everyone openly shows and uses their powers, except for Daryl. Until you get hurt.

Bad ideas ★

During a laundry round while home alone you find some ..'used' items of Daryl's to fuck yourself with and now have to work through the concequences.

Girlfriend

Daryl is in a sucky relationship but doesn't see it at first. Reader helps him see and later shows him how a good partnership works.

Hunters Ink

One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.

Creep (modern AU)

Finding an apartment in this new town was easy, but now you needed a job.

Daisy chains

Daryl gets separated after the prison attack. He comes across a home for him and his kid to hole up in. Your home.

Beef

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?"

Rough times

Requested: Hi! Would you be willing to maybe do a one shot with Daryl x reader in a pre established relationship but the reader is pregnant with a child that doesn't belong to him and she isn't proud of? (non-con if you're comfortable with that) Some angst about the reader being worried he won't love her once he finds out 👀

The fun has just begun

Two men snatch you away for some fun. Before they even get anywhere you and Daryl have turned the tables and have some fun of your own. CW: Torture

Forest Guardian

You plan a week long vacation to a luxury cabin. Luxury is nowhere near what you find.

Not your usual undead (Vampire AU)

Which undead do you choose? The ones outside, or the one in front of you?

Drabbles

Period cramp relief

Photographer Daryl

Different kinds of sex w/ Daryl

You needed Daryl for something

"Hey buddy, what are you doing here?"

"Carol gave me some cookies to share!"

Rick and Daryl go out on a run

Old man Daryl

Showing Daryl how beautiful he is ★

Worshipping Daryl's worn body

🐺Were!Daryl 🦊Were!Reader

🐺Series🐺

Shared interests [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] ★

Grimes!reader. Your father shares information about the man he considers his brother in support of your interests. Those interests take a different turn than he expected..

🐺Multichapters🐺

🐺Monsters among us [Pt.1] [Pt.2]

Your water breaks in the middle of nowhere but you find the prison in time for them to help you. There you meet the man of your nightmares. CW: childbirth

🐺🦊Feral for you [Pt.1] [Pt.2★]

Request. Daryl develops a crush on a soft and sweet lady, afraid to ask you out and ruin your sweetness, only to learn later on your have a feral side as well,

🐺Oneshots🐺

🐺 His girls (xOFCs)

Alexandria's new residents find a dog. And his very handsome owner.

🐺Full moon meetings

You get stuck in the woods, surrounded by walkers and are saved by ..something.

🐺Night shifts

During a night shift with Rick he sends you to investigate movement in the woods, knowing it would end with two of his group members coming home together.

🐺Dog person ★

You’re Dog’s new favorite human and Daryl gets jealous. Lucky for him you’re also good with his dog-side.

🐺Creature Feature ★

After overhearing your spilled dirty little secret of old world fantasies, Daryl suddenly feels like he does have a chance to get you into bed with him.

🐺Unexpected

This can be read as a continuation of Dog Person. Reader is pregnant with Daryl’s pups and has to hide it from the community until they can leave for Daryl’s cabin. CW: childbirth

🐺Roses for the ones left behind

Daryl gets taken and leaves a pregnant reader, not knowing her child and partner aren’t human. CW: childbirth

🐺New comforts ★ alt. ending ★

No one needed to know that sex between the two of you was for human Daryl only. Alt.: Rick now knows.

🐺Witch hunt

Thanks to an emotional slip-up you almost risk your home in Alexandria.

🐺Arrows & Rags

You help a wounded creature who leads you back to its den, where you find the one person you thought you had lost in the walker attack.

🐺Why didn't you tell me?

You follow Daryl into the woods on the one night he asked you to stay away.

🐺🦊The softer the skin, the sharper the teeth

Request. WereDaryl and Glen find a she wolf (in human form) out and talk to her about coming to the prison. She and Daryl are mates

🐺 Shame

Your most private moments are shared with the intent to drive you away. And it amost worked.

🐺 Not a monster

Request. Beauty and the Beast inspired fic. Set during Alexandria times.

🐺 Domesticated

Request. Cuddling in bed, like mundane little moments in their relationship

🐺 Bath time

Daryl's distaste for showers rubbed off on his children.

🐺 Forbidden ★

Strickt parents and werewolves don't mix, so you run.

🐺🦊 Found

Daryl finds a young girl and takes her home. He adopts her and learns she's a wolf too.

🐺 Savior ★

You show a little too much interest in Negan's new prisoner so he uses you as a test subject. CW: Non-con, forced impreg

🐺King of the cage

In the apocalypse, entertainment is hard to come by. Until you hear of underground groups fighting with anything nonhuman.. CW: Descriptive violence and murder.

🐺King and his Queen ★

[KING series pt.2] After Daryl's match he gets treated like royalty by his loving partner.

🐺Instincts

Daryl finds a woman with her newborn pup, taking them into the group. Slowly their bond grows stronger.

🐺Rules of Nature

Daryl gets hurt on a simple hunting trip and reader patches him up.

🐺Get rid of it

You and Daryl never fought, until you did. Daryl relives old traumas while you stay at Hilltop.

🐺Drabbles🐺

🦊 Daryl was out on a hunt > Daryl liked being around her > Daryl has never been so proud

🐺 Daryl hated full moon these days.

🐺 You, Carol and Daryl go out on a run.

🐺 "Man, 's colder than a witch's tit."

🐺 You and Daryl had a great life.

🐺 Daryl came home early today.

🐺 Daryl saves you

🐺 You were all sitting around the bonfire

🐺 Daryl came home from a run. (xOFCs)

The adventures of Daryl the werewolf and his witch girlfriend.

Inked Sigils. ★

Fate brought you together. Spells finally brought you family

Bored ★

You tagged along with your boyfriend who ‘just needed a minute’, but you were so bored..

Momma's boy ★

You find your boyfriend all alone and desperate in your apartment, so you help him out. Again.

Warm & fuzzy

You just love him. It doesn’t matter what the others think

Much fun indeed ★

A summary of what being with the biker has thought you over time.

Coming soon??

Double Stuffed ★ Daryl/Scud/reader

It's your birthday so you get to have twice the fun!

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topazy · 14 days

Text

A different tomorrow

Tomorrow's promise au

Pairing: Shane Walsh x oc, Daryl Dixon x oc

Warnings: Swearing

Daryl’s pov 2.11

Sitting back on the porch floor, Daryl swings one leg over the other while carefully peeling the apple in his hand with his knife, making sure not to nip his skin in the process. Unlike Atlanta, the smell of decay wasn’t as strong at Greene’s farm; instead, his nostrils were filled with what he could only describe as a ‘spring’ smell.

“You gonna quit that?” Daryl asks, making no effort to hide the irritation in his voice.

Rick finally stops pacing and leans against the fencing. He grips onto it so tightly that his knuckles start to turn white. He was stressed, but when wasn’t he? Daryl was enjoying his solitude until Rick stormed out of the farm house, riled up. The former sheriff always seemed to be involved in some kind of shit, and after seeing Sophia come out of the barn, Daryl was done. He had put any faith he had into finding that little girl, only to find out she was dead all along. It changed something inside him.

Shaking his head, Daryl takes another part of the apple between his teeth and stares out into the fields again, which were now covered by a golden glow as the sun started to set. He looks back over to Rick, who is resting his head in his hands, and contemplates saying something, but the slamming of a car captures his attention.

“Lily, what's wrong?"

Lily storms up the steps onto the porch and roughly shoves her brother in the chest, saying, “You're an asshole.”

Hearing the aggression in her voice, Daryl tosses the fruit onto the ground and gets to his feet. He’s taken aback by the visible pain on her face; she looks broken. He scoffs at seeing Shane walking up towards the porch; whenever Lily was distressed, Shane was never far behind.

“You promised me, you promised.” Seeing Lily shove at Rick again, Daryl wraps one arm around her waist and lifts her back with ease. “Let go of me, Daryl!”

He didn’t care if she kicked and screamed; Daryl wasn’t letting go of Lily until he was sure she wouldn’t harm herself further. “Go easy before you hurt yourself; you don't want to bust up your arm again.”

Her strength while trying to get out of his grasp surprised him; she was like a wild animal trying to get out of a trap. He was trying so hard not to care about either of the Grimes; he had already become too attached, but he couldn’t deny they were good people. Rick was always risking his life for others, and Lily… she just wanted to keep Jace safe. A mother who was happiest playing with her baby.

When he feels Lily calming in his arms, Daryl loosens his hold on her. She walks over to Rick, tears brimming in her eyes. “The one fucking thing I've ever asked of you, and you couldn't even do that.”

“Lil-”

Struggling to hold it together, she ignores her brother and goes into the house. “I've no idea what shitstorm is going on, but I'd let her cool down.”

“If you've got something you want to say, man, now is the time.” Shane snaps, sending him a death glare. “You think—”

“Whatever,” Daryl shrugs him off. “I ain’t got time for this soap opera bullshit.”

#the walking dead #Daryl Dixon/oc #daryl dixon fanfic #a different tomorrow #tomorrow’s promise au #Daryl Dixon pov #the walking dead rewrite #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon/you #daryl dixon x you #Daryl Dixon x oc #Shane Walsh x oc #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon

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minervadashwood · 1 year

Text

Daryl Dixon x gn!Reader (plus size) - Soulmate AU

Careful

Summary: You have a soulmate you've never met. When their injuries stop appearing on your body, you worry that they're dead. As the apocalypse starts, you're convinced of it. How very wrong you are.

Note: This story is a one-shot AU of the Scars and Stitches (Tumblr | AO3) universe. I think it can be read as a standalone, but if you want to read the whole series first, go right ahead. There is one specific event referenced in the chapter "Safe" (Tumblr | AO3). You can check that single chapter if you’re curious. Huge thanks to @livingdeadblondequeen for giving me this idea of soulmates who experience each others’ injuries and pain. This story contains: angst, scars, blood, a secretive Daryl Dixon, and a happy ending. Word count: 3.3K

Masterlist | Taglist

The first scar happened when you were only four. One day, you were playing outside, just after a summer storm, making mud pies with your little brother. There, up to your wrists in wet, squelchy mud, sudden scrapes appeared on your hands, your knees, and your left cheek. Your brother screamed for your mother, and he started weeping uncontrollably. “Y/N’s dying!” he said, over and over. But you weren’t. Each of your scrapes, including the slashing wound on your forehead that bled profusely, were treated at the kitchen sink. You bawled through it all, but back then your mother was gentle. She soothed you with kind words, a soft touch, and endless patience.

More injuries came after that. Your nose was broken in the third grade, your wrist in the fourth. Not a month went by when you didn’t get bruised or banged up. Your mom went back to work, taking the nightshift with your dad at the local coal refinery. You were racking up doctor’s bills right and left, and the insurance was better with both of them working.

When you were twelve, your mom sat you down one Friday night--morning for her--and told you about the birds and the bees, including soulmates. She explained that the reason you got hurt so much was because out in the world somewhere, your soulmate was getting hurt, too. You cried, worrying about the person who was injured so often.

After that, your own troubles started. Your parents took up drinking, and your cozy little trailer became a nightmarish prison. The first time your mother slapped you, you sent a silent apology to your soulmate. They’d been hurt so much already, and here you were making it worse.

At fourteen, a fight with your mother, who wielded a broken lamp, left you bleeding from a gash in your oblique. Your younger brother got in the family car, barely able to see over the steering wheel, and drove you to the doctor’s office to get you patched up. You had a jagged scar from that, and so must your soulmate. Every night you prayed to that distant person, telling them that you loved them and that you were sorry. Not for anything specific, but just because both your lives seemed to be filled with pain.

But the worst scars came when you were fifteen. You were in English class--your favorite--when your back erupted into a sharp, bruising pain that made every other injury feel like tiny scratch. You wailed, right in the middle of class, falling out of your desk chair and writhing face down on the floor. You jerked as more and more pain hit you, the force of it shaking you right to your bones. Then the bleeding started. Huge cuts formed under your shirt, soaking the garment in seconds. Your teacher ordered all the students out of the room, and she called the nurse on the intercom. You were in a fog of pain and tears, and soon too weak for even that. You woke up in the hospital, laying facedown on a gurney, your little brother at your side.

More came later, bruises on your face from what you eventually realized were fistfights, once a sprained ankle. Another broken nose. Then a third. But as you grew up, left home, and got your library degree on a state scholarship, the hurts came less and less.

You half wondered, through most of your twenties, if your mate hadn’t simply died from all their hard living. But deep down, you still felt a connection to them. Whether that was false hope or something else, you weren’t sure.

Now, you are somewhere in Georgia, staring down miles of abandoned cars. Your arm is in a sling because one of your companions put you in a wrist lock two nights ago. You have two friends here. A stressed out cop and a surly redneck. The latter keeps a close eye on you. He knows about your scars and about your mate, whom you are certain is dead.

After Shane hurt you, somehow Daryl found you. Tipsy from the liquor he’d been drinking, he took one look at you and demanded an explanation. After you showed him your arm, he wrapped it with an elastic bandage and fashioned you a sling from a pillowcase. The whole time, you sat there and cried your eyes out. You went on and on about your lost soulmate, all the pain they’d been through--all the pain you’d been through. Daryl listened, silently, his expression sometimes tense and sometimes soft. He is a man of few words, to say the least.

(You never noticed that since that night he started favoring his left arm, and that he usually sleeveless hunter took to wearing long-sleeve flannel.)

Daryl catches your attention as the group begins to split up to search the nearby cars. “‘M goin’ up ahead to get some gas wi’ T-Dog.”

“Okay,” you say. “I guess I’ll look for clothes and medicine. Maybe find something that will actually fit me.”

“Will ya try ta stay close ta the RV?”

You nod with a half smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’m one handed at the moment, and not looking to be a hero.” Daryl leaves you with a nod, and you watch him walk away from you; his broad shoulders seem large enough to carry the weight of the world. Maybe they do.

Rick approaches you a few minutes later, convinced that Daryl is the one who hurt you. You fall back on the lies you and your brother would spin after your parents had too much to drink. Lori demanded your silence, and you want to keep your promise.

“It didn’t happen to me,” you explain, “I have a soulmate. I thought they were dead, but hey, guess what? Miracles do happen.” The end of the world apparently has made you snarky. You give Rick the short version--not the weeping monologue Daryl suffered through.

“Maybe you’ll find them,” Rick says, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly.

Getting back to your task, you somehow find a suitcase with plus size clothing. Most of it is in floral prints or with obnoxiously bedazzled phrases like “hot stuff” and “super cute” spread across the front. The other options include garish Hawaiian prints and stretched out polos. You aren’t picky. If something might fit, you grab it.

You have a good-sized bundle when Daryl suddenly grabs you and pulls you to the ground. In doing so, he has saved your life, again. Under a jeep, you huddle with him, holding your breath as he glances around and grips a long knife in his hand. The walkers pass you by, miraculously, and Daryl helps you to your feet. Just as he did after the CDC exploded, he holds you close, his arms wrap tightly around your thick middle as he whispers in your ear.

“Ya did real good. It’s gonna be alrigh’.” A moment passes before he loosens his arms and lets you go.

You wonder what he must think of you. Some helpless person who cried and moaned over a bruised wrist. Someone who needs constant looking after because they can’t protect themselves in this world.

Not all of your group fared as well as you and Daryl. In fact, he has disappeared into the forest. You sit with T-Dog, stitching up his arm and digging through long-lost Merle’s stash for antibiotics.

Later, as if you’re some child to be handled, Daryl demands that Glenn take you to the farm, ostensibly to take care of T-Dog. But you know better. You’re in the way and virtually helpless. Daryl doesn’t want you underfoot while he continues the search for Sophia. You can’t blame him.

At the farm, your scant first aid knowledge isn’t much good when there’s an actual physician around. You are partially relieved. Carl has much better chances without you getting in the way.

Carol, practically a walking zombie--no, not that kind--only frets and cries. Normally, Lori would comfort her, but Lori has her own troubles. You help organize the camp, before it gets too dark, pitching tents and making up beds for Daryl, Shane, and Carol. After, you sit with Carol, and she tells you stories of Sophia, some that break your heart and some that make you smile. Her tirades against Rick bubble up in between the tales. You let her talk; it’s not like Rick’s around to hear, anyway.

Night has fallen long before you hear the now-familiar sound of Daryl’s motorcycle. He talks with Carol, and the woman cries and pounds her fists against his chest. The sight affects you so much that you feel pressure on your heart, the repetitive pulsing almost making your ribs ache. You watch as she cries herself out, and Daryl’s head hangs low. Unable to bear the sight, you leave to get some food and water for him.

Carol escapes into her tent, and as she leaves, you bring the food to Daryl. You sit next to him while he eats in silence.

You want to hug him again, like you did in his truck, like you did on the highway, but it’s clear his mind is elsewhere.

“Thanks fer the grub,” he mumbles, standing up.

“Sure, no problem. Did you get enough to eat? Drink?”

He nods, biting his thumbnail and looking at the ground.

You know he’s exhausted, but there is something boyish and lost in the way he stands and the drooping of his shoulders. All at once, he reminds you of home, of family. Indeed, a wave of familiarity overtakes you, as if you have known Daryl all your life.

Ignoring the voices of your better angels, you reach up and gently draw his hand from his mouth to hold it in yours.

He lets out a long sigh and runs his thumb over your knuckles. “We got someone keepin’ watch?”

You stare at your joined hands in the moonlight, at Daryl’s thick, calloused thumb moving over your skin. His touch grounds you, somehow. Nothing is okay right now, but with Daryl next to you, this chaos feels almost bearable.

“Dale on the RV, T-Dog in the camp,” you answer. “We set up a tent for you. You need some rest.”

He nods.

Still holding his hand, you lead him to a small copse of trees, where his tent sits, apart from the others. You know that Daryl likes his privacy.

On the way, you tell him about Carl, about Otis and Shane heading out in the morning. You tell him about Hershel, too, warning Daryl that the man is protective and opinionated. You finish just as you reach his tent, and you reluctantly let go of Daryl’s hand.

(You don’t notice how he clenches and unclenches his fist, or how he puts his other hand on that wrist, trying to dull the pain there.)

“Ya got a place to get some shut-eye?” he asks, his voice raspy and soft.

“With Carol. Don’t want to leave her alone overnight.”

He grunts, giving you a small nod. Resisting every urge to hug him, you turn and walk back to Carol’s tent. Sleep comes fast, but Carol’s cries wake you up in the night, over and over. Each time you try to comfort her until eventually she falls asleep again.

The next day, in the late afternoon, the heat has taken its toll on you, so you find respite in a shaded part of camp, drinking from a bottle of water. The grass, soft and tempting, practically invites you to take a nap. Even without Daryl or Rick close by, you are relatively safe, so you give in.

When you wake up, Dale’s face is directly above yours. His hat askew, his brow covered in droplets of sweat, Dale’s mouth is moving, but you blink in and out of consciousness. Another concussion, you think, that would make three, now.

Forcing yourself to focus, to stay alert, you try to sit up, but Dale holds you down, his lips moving even faster now. A shadow moves above. It’s T-Dog with bandages and a bottle of tequila. His voice becomes a muffled sound, then all at once, you hear Dale saying your name, over and over, telling you to stay still. T-Dog shouts for Andrea, but she is nowhere to be seen.

“Wha--”

“Save your strength,” Dale tells you. “We’re just trying to stop the bleeding before we get you inside.”

The throbbing in your head gives way to a white-hot burning in your belly. You hurt from the inside out, as if something has clawed its way through you and left agony in its wake.

A soft touch wipes a cloth across your brow. The blood on it catches your eye. The throbbing in your head must be bleeding.

“Was it a bullet?” Carol’s voice asks. She cradles your head on her lap. “They must have fallen and hit their head, too.”

“Can’t be. We would’ve heard somethin’,” T-Dog replies.

Aches, bruising and intense, bloom all over you, like smatterings of hammer blows on your joints, torso, and legs. A whimper passes your lips, but the others don’t seem to notice these fresh bumps. You start praying, like you did all those years ago, telling your soulmate that you love them, to be strong, to get themselves to safety.

Consciousness comes and goes, at one point your shoulders are caught in a bruising grip, but no one is actually touching you there. Quickly, after that, new agony rips through your open wound, making you scream and moan on the ground.

Dale’s hands are shaky, you feel the trembling at your wound. All at once the three of them turn you on your side. You can’t help the piercing scream that erupts from your mouth.

“Whatever it was, there’s an exit wound,” Dale says. “Didn’t see that at first.”

A pair of hands press against your belly and another at your back.

The new pain has you on the verge of fainting until the disembodied voice of Andrea shouts, “WALKER!”

“Shit!” T-Dog exclaims.

All of a sudden, he lifts you. The world whizzes by, a steak of green in your peripheral and a wisp of clouds overhead.

Something slices across your temple, a quick burst of pain that fades in the wake of your torso being shaken and jostled as you are carried across uneven ground.

You can’t keep your eyes open. The voices around you are silenced and your vision goes dark. Again.

“That’s two more rounds of antibiotics, Rick. Your people can’t seem to stop getting hurt.”

“I understand that, Hershel. A few of us will go out in the morning and look for what you need. For now, I need to know if they’re going to be alright.”

“They’ll need some time to recover, but, yes, they’ll be fine. Eventually. Now, I need to check on my own family.”

You hear a door slam shut, and force open your eyes. “Rick?”

The room is dark except for the light from a lantern near the table. In a chair next to you sits the deputy.

“You gave us quite the scare today,” he tells you.

“What happened?” You try sitting up, but think better of it when you realize you are shirtless under the covers. You have more scars than words to explain them.

“Daryl was tracking Sophia, fell off his horse, and down a ravine.”

You clutch the covers to your chest. “Is he okay? How bad is it?” You tremble in the bed, sick with worry.

Rick smiles and says,, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You turn to see Daryl laying next to you, his head wrapped in gauze. Distantly a door opens and closes: Rick making a quick exit.

Daryl’s eyes are watery as he speaks. “Didn’ ‘spect ya ta find out like this.”

He takes your hand and places it on your forehead. Instead of hair, your fingertips trace over gauze. You realize it's wrapped around your forehead, just like it is his.

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest, sounding in your ears like the hastened beat of a bass drum.

Next to you, Daryl slowly pulls the covers down to his waist. He has a tank top on, but it does not cover the bandage on his stomach. The white gauze has been placed on the same part of his belly that caused you incredible pain before you blacked out.

“All I thought ‘bout out there was gettin’ back to ya. Jus’ thinkin’ of ya hurt as bad as me. I had to pull the arrow out to stop the bleedin’. I know it hurt like hell.” He lays on his side, but under the covers, his hand finds the soft flesh of your stomach and rests there. “‘M so sorry. Fer this, fer everythin’. If I knew before--” his voice cracks, but he keeps talking. “If I knew ya was ou’ ‘ere, gettin’ hurt ‘cause of me, I woulda been more careful all them years. I knew I didn’ deserve ya the moment ya told me all them times ya prayed to your soulmate, worried ‘bout him, ‘bout me.”

You take his hand and use it to pull him closer. His rough fingertips find their way to your upper back and hold you gently.

“I don’ deserve a soulmate, let alone someone like you,” he whispers. “Look what I done to ya. All yer life you been hurtin’. ‘Cause of me.”

Tears fall from your eyes. You cup his face, stroking your thumb on the apple of his cheek. The scruff from his beard pricks your skin, but the discomfort is welcome. “You’re real and here. That’s all that matters to me. You weren’t the one to carve up my back or break my nose. The world did that, to both of us.”

You move closer to him and cradle his neck until your noses almost touch. “I’ve been dreaming of you all my life, Daryl, scars and all. Your life--our lives are told on our bodies. Every scar a story of the time before we met. I want to write a new one. Together.”

He stares at you in the orange lantern light, and a few tears fall down his cheeks. Heart in your throat, you stay silent, watching him watch you. You lose yourself in his eyes, the soft way he gazes at you, unblinking and searching.

“I wanna kiss ya,” he mumbles. “I jus’ want ya to feel somethin’ good from me, an’ not all this pain.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

Daryl’s hand snakes up your back until it cradles the base of your head. The world goes silent the moment his lips touch yours. The taste of him sets off fireworks in your soul, as if part of you was not truly alive until this moment. You kiss him back, all those years of praying and crying over him coalescing so that you can forge this new path, together.

Some time later, you break apart, lips wet and swollen from endless, slow kisses, kisses trying to make up for decades spent apart.

“Was tha’ alrigh’?” Daryl asks, biting his bottom lip.

You smile for what feels like the first time in your life. “Not sure. We better do it again. Just in case.”

The end. Thank you for reading!

==Taglist==

@livingdeadblondequeen @phoenixblack89 @green-eyedladywrites @in-this-minute @takeabreathdeath @ravendixon @gypsytraveler86-blog @xojdmasf @daisy107 @angelrenee239 @sleepyamaya @no-tresspassing @carol @taintedxkisses @bl4ckt00thgr1n @glitch0o0 @micheleamidalajedi @lonelywolfheart @jad3djay @catholicraisin @harringtonstudios @brittney69 @littlelovebug98 @aureolinb

#mdop #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #minerva writes #scars and stitches #dd/xm #nonbinary reader #enby reader #gender neutral reader #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon x gender neutral reader

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nicole-timey-wimey-stuff · 18 days

Text

Somewhere only we know

Part 2

Young Daryl Dixon x fem reader

Synopsis- No outbreak and modern ish day AU (set in 2007-2010 era) Reader moves to the Georgia mountains, to live with her dad for her final year of school, as her mum is going travelling with her new husband. She meets a shy redneck boy with a tragic background, who immediately captures her heart.

Warnings - mentions of abuse, tragic upbringings, mentions of injury, feelings, friends to lovers, judgemental town people, readers dad is a sweetheart, Daryl and reader start falling in love, soft smut so 18+ only, Merle is a dick, cuss words, Daryl and reader navigating high school together, my awful writing, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Word count - 5.4K

_______________________________________

Saturday morning had come faster than you had anticipated, granted it was only eight hours of sleep that separated you from asking Daryl to meet. But still it had felt like no hours had passed at all. You were so excited to see him again this morning but so anxious too, why are you thinking of this as if you’re going on a date, you’re not. This is two almost friends meeting up for a coffee and a walk, you needed to calm down!

Sighing at yourself for your ridiculous inner monologue, you pulled yourself together and got dressed before you were officially running late. Pulling on your ripped jeans and a nirvana hoodie you grabbed your phone and sent Daryl a quick message “Now leaving mine, I’ll see you soon”.

Grabbing your keys you raced to the door shouting “I’m now off out to meet Daryl dad, I’ll be back before dinner”, “ Alright honey bee, make sure to message me if plans change” he responds. “Will do, bye dad”, with that you rushed out to your new but ‘old’ car. You felt incredibly lucky your dad bought you a little run around to get you about. It made things a lot easier to have your own car, it meant your dad didn’t have to drop you to school everyday, and it was the first time you’d owned your own vehicle.

Just as you were starting the engine your phone pinged “Hey, I’m already er, wat coffee do ya drink?” He’s there already? Are you late? Checking the dash 9:45am no your not late yet, he’s just early “Wow your early! I usually have a cappuccino one sugar, I’ll be there in ten!” You smile feeling almost giddy, he must have been looking forward to seeing you too, then you scald yourself for thinking that, he’s just being nice.

Arriving at the lake you spot him sitting on a bench watching the water, cutting off the engine you swallow a nervous gulp as you exit the car. You have no clue why your stomach is swirling with butterflies, it isn’t the first day the two of you have spent time together. You must really be starting to like this boy you think, as you gently pace your way over to him.

Turning to you as he hears you approach, a large grin crosses his face and you determine yeah your really starting to like this boy. “Hey Daryl” you smile, “Hey” he replies handing you your coffee, “Oh thank you, you didn’t have too!” You gushed, “It’s no problem, think of it as a thank ya fer yestarday” he responds with a shrug. You smile at him taking the coffee and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, watching as his face turns beet red.

Not wanting to embarrass him further you say “Shall we take a walk then?” Motioning with your hand. “Yer sure” he mumbles still blushing from your quick peck.

Walking along side the water your talk about everything that comes to mind, you realise you can well and truly be yourself around Daryl, and it’s a really refreshing feeling. As your barrel out a story of your eccentric mother he just watches you with a small smile, “So she literally just takes her shoes off and dances in the puddle, right after being told to move on! She never listens to anyone telling her what to do, it was always super embarrassing as a kid, but now I kinda admire her for it” you laugh.

He retells a story of his brother nearly dying because he was so drunk, and Daryl saving his ass, only for Merle to rip into Daryl for not saving the booze. “Wow your brother sounds like a right pain, I’d of been thankful to have my life in tact” you affirm, “Yer you’d hav thought he’d of been happy I saved his ass, but nah, he was more worried about the beers” he agrees laughing with you.

You were both so submerged in your conversation, you didn’t notice the lady from the shop walking along with her husband. Nor did you see the judgemental looks on their faces, as the lady walked towards you, urgency in her footsteps. “Well hi there sweetie, I thought I warned you about getting involved with this boy” she jabbed voice still sickly sweet. You blanked in that moment, just stared at her in disbelief that she had the audacity to come over to you both, let alone say these harsh things.

“Excuse me” you stammer, still in absolute shock.

“I said I told you this boy was nothing but trouble honey, you don’t want to be tarnished in this town before you even start your life here, do you?” She presses.

You turn to look at Daryl and the sight broke your heart, he was looking down towards his feet, brown hair shielding his face while he kicks the dust with his feet. He looks so broken, so sad, but also like he’s used to this and that upsets you even more. Without think you took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together, and much to your surprise he let you, even if he stared at you in confusion.

“Who I choose to be involved with is none of your business, and to be frank you don’t know Daryl, you’ve never taken the time to get to know him as a person, and if we are judging people on their families here, then I hope your kids aren’t as judgemental, condescending and rude as you, otherwise we will have problems when I start school Monday” and with that you walk off pulling Daryl with you, leaving the couple stood there with their mouths agape, not quite believing the way you stood up to their bullying.

Once you were a safe distance away you turned your attention to Daryl again “You ok?” You ask timidly, hoping you haven’t crossed a line he didn’t want crossed. “Yer, uhhh no ones ever stood up for me like tha before……. Thanks” he stammers, looking at your in earnest. You smile warmly at him, “Of course, if you let me I’ll always be here to stand up for you” you reply. He just gives you a small smile before looking at the ground again, cheeks and ears once more turning pink. He can’t quite believe the effect you have on him, he’s never felt like this before about anyone. No ones ever really been there for him in his life, not even Merle. This is a new territory for him and he doesn’t really know how to deal with it, but he knows the last thing he wants to do is push you away. So he gives a slight smile and looks at the ground, while giving your hand a small squeeze.

For the rest of the walk you don’t let go of his hand, moreover he doesn’t try to let go either, and you both can’t help the butterflies that stir up a storm in your stomachs, smiles never leave your faces while there’s what feels like static energy pulling you both together.

_______________________________________

When you arrive home that afternoon you heard your dad on the phone, he sounded incredibly frustrated. “Did she cuss at you?” He asks.

“No so from what your telling me is, she stood up for herself and her friend, as she didn’t instigate the conversation, you did. She didn’t cuss at you, she didn’t use physical force, and you want me to punish my daughter for not letting you bully her? Well in that case you can forget it, in fact I’m proud of her for standing up for herself!” Then he hangs up with a deep sigh, before noticing you standing there watching the scene unfold.

“You’re not mad at me?” You ask, “No honey bee, I’m not mad at you, I’m actually rather proud of you for having the courage to do what’s right! I’m just frustrated at the situation, I don’t want things to be hard for you down here, it’s a small town and gossip spreads like the plague” he explains calmer than you’d expect he would. “I understand dad, but she just stormed over to me and started, I froze to begin with, I didn’t know what to say I’ve never seen anyone have the audacity to do that before. In Arizona people just keep to themselves, no one cares what others are doing, it’s a big adjustment for me.” You mumble.

“I know honey, I know” he sighs pulling you in for a comforting side hug, “I am proud of you though, your kindness always shines. And Daryl is a sweet boy, he helps out at the garage so I’ve met him a few times, he’s always shy but he’s a nice lad, always super helpful” your dad mentions. “Yeah he told me today he has an apprenticeship there, and he will be working there full time once he finishes school” you comment. “He’s a great guy dad, and I don’t know why everyone feels like they can be so cruel” you frown. He gets enough cruelty at home without the rest of the town making his life even more difficult.

“I know honey bee, why don’t you go get cleaned up and we can cook some dinner together?” Your dad offers, “Yeah ok that sounds good” you reply before heading upstairs for a shower.

The rest of the evening goes by without any more issues, but you can’t help replaying the scene that happened today in your head, you still felt so angry that anyone could treat someone like that, as if he wasn’t a human being with feelings too. Although with the new feelings swirling in you for Daryl, you think you’re starting to take it more personal than you would have before.

_______________________________________

Monday comes about in a blink of an eye, your first day of school and your currently sat at the principals desk listening to your introductory talk. She hands you a welcome pack and a timetable. “This should be everything you need, if you have any issues or questions feel free to pop back in and ask, I’ll be on hand all this whole week.” She kindly offers, “Your dad mentioned you’ve already become friends with mr Dixon, so I’ve put you in the same form class, as I thought it may help you settle in if you have a friend, I know he could definitely benefit from it too” she explains with a warm smile, and you think to yourself ok not everyone in this towns so bad after all, it will be nice to have someone else on your side.

Entering your new form room you notice Daryl sat at the back of the class, head down looking at the sheet he’s currently doodling on, he hasn’t noticed you yet so you take the time to watch him for a moment, admiring the way he is so adorably absorbed in what he’s doing.

The teacher breaks your train of thought by introducing you to the class “Morning everyone, this here is y/n y/l/n, she has just moved here from Arizona, I’m sure that you will offer her a warm welcome and any help she needs finding her feet” he asserted. “Hello y/n” the class says in unison, and all you can think is how humiliating this is, your eyes meet Daryl's brilliant blues and it grounds you, for a moment you don’t feel so unbelievably uncomfortable. He gives you an encouraging smile, so you look at the teacher for instruction. “I hear you already have a friend here so if you’d like to take a seat with him that’s fine with me” he motions in whisper, so only you can hear him as the rest of the class go back to chattering to their classmates.

You nod, before heading to the back of the class plopping yourself down next to Daryl “Hey” you beam happy to see him again, two days has felt a little too long and you’re both generally happy to see each other. “Yer sure ya want ta be seen with me?” He asks voice full of worry, “I’m incredibly sure, your my favourite person in this town, well other than my dad of course” you admit, turning red again he gives you a small grin and a gentle nod before looking at his sketch pad once more. You don’t miss the classes eyes on you both, or their hushed whispers to one another as they watch you and Daryl interact.

As he looks up catching their judgemental stares, you take his hand in yours under the desk giving it a comforting squeeze, a silent way of saying ignore them, don’t worry I’m here for you. With that you both get on with the rest of the lesson, hands intwined under the table.

Your first month of school passed by in a blur, you’ve made a few other friends along the way, a kind girl called Ali short for Alison, who was a math whiz and just as shy as you and Daryl were. You introduced Daryl to her and the rest of the group, with little encouragement they seem to slowly accept him into their little friendship clan. The others in the group were nice too, a boy called Matt who was a computer nerd, he was so clever that you struggled to keep up with what he was saying, another boy called Greg who played the drums and dungeons and dragons, also loving the game you suggested that everyone here start a campaign. This began a cascade of planning evening meet ups, and creating a whole fantasy world you can turn into a great game.

The last in the group was a loud boisterous girl called Gemma, she was as energetic as a puppy on speed. But she also seemed kind, honest (sometimes brutally so) and fun, although you were sure she only hung in this group because she was so obviously in love with Greg.

This new circle of friends seemed to be the cast outs, so they were the perfect group for you and Daryl to make friends with. They weren’t judgemental, they didn’t bully others and they were good people.

Today you were all sat around your ‘regular’ lunch table, with Greg going over his plans for the D&D campaign, asking Daryl for his opinions, and if he could draw some art for it. This made your heart swell, because Daryl actually agreed to do it! It was so nice to see him open up to others.

“So if you could draw this creature here, oh! And maybe a dragon, bright fire in orange and yellows?” Greg animatedly asks Daryl, “Yer I can do tha” Daryl agrees, you smile holding his hand under the lunch table, you begin drawing small circles on his palm with your finger. It had become normal for you both now, holding hands. No one ever mentions it although Ali sometimes smiles noticing you both interlock your fingers, a knowing look on her face, watching you both quietly she can tell feelings are surfacing between you two, even if you haven’t noticed yet yourselves.

You and Daryl had only grown closer, he came for dinner a few times a week now. Your dad was always happy to have him over, he fully supported your friendship, but even he could see the shift between the two of you, he could see the way you looked at Daryl, and the way Daryl gazed at you like you hung the moon in the sky. He was unsure for a while, but then decided Daryl was a much kinder boy for you to be with than a jock or one of the judgemental assholes who lived in this town. He genuinely liked Daryl, and hoped that having him over more often lessoned the abuse he could receive if he was at home.

Still listening to Greg ramble on you felt your phone buzz in your pocket ‘Hey Honey bee, just out shopping so I wanted to know if Daryl's over for dinner tonight? Xx”

“Hey Dar, my dad wants to know if you’d like to come over for dinner tonight?” You ask him, effectively muting Greg’s rambling. “Uh yer sure, got no where else ta be” he drawls, “Great I’ll let him know” you grin. You loved it when he came over for dinner it meant there’s a whole evening where you’re not worrying about his safety at home, plus you also love spending extra time with him. Whether it’s laughing with your dad, bubble wars when you wash up, or helping him with homework, it was just great being with him.

“Yeah dad he’d love too, thanks :) xx”

Buzz

“Ok great, I was thinking we could make homemade pizza together? Could be fun? Xx”

“That sounds great! Yeah let’s do that! Xx”

Buzz

“Great! Xx”

You smile, you’re incredibly lucky to have a dad like yours! He was so kind and understanding, you wished Daryl had a role model like that too.

_______________________________________

That evening you and Daryl walk into your home excited to see everything your dads laid out, the large kitchen island is covered in all sorts of pizza toppings and he’d already made up the dough, rolling it out into pizza shaped circles and placing them on the wooden platters ready for customising.

“Wow dad! You’ve outdone yourself! This looks amazing!” You express, “Glad you like it, I’ve alresdy started up the outdoor pizza oven, thought we could do the wood smoked type? Oh hey Daryl you good?” You dad asks “Yer, thanks I’m good” Daryl nods. “Good, so what do you kids think?” Your dad offers, “Yeah sounds good dad!” You affirm, dropping your bags and washing your hands ready to make pizza.

The evening was great fun, you all laughed so much, the kitchen ended up looking like a bomb had hit. But the pizza was amazing, and you all had a great time making the mess!

Later on sat in the car outside Daryl’s run down little home he sighed, “I really dun wanna go home” he admits, you turn your body to look at him, running your hand down his face and stroking his cheek, you bring his gaze to yours. “If anything happens, or you need me at all you just call me and I’ll be back here in a flash ok?” You stressed. God did you hate dropping him back off home to this place, your dad has offered your sofa several times and even the spare bedroom tonight, but Daryl always refused, scared it would cause more trouble with his father than if he just went home.

Looking up at you he nods “Yer I know” giving you a tight lipped smile he slowly exits the car. You watch him into the house waiting a minute to make sure you hear no yelling, before turning the car around and heading home yourself.

You lie awake for ages that night worrying, so this is what love feels like you think to yourself. Worry that claws itself into your gut, causing such an unsettling feeling you almost feel nauseous. You accepted a while ago now that you loved Daryl, you were still trying to distinguish though how you were going to deal with it, and what it all means. Eventually by 3am exhaustion seeps in and sleep takes over.

_______________________________________

Walking into class the next morning you frown to yourself noticing Daryl wasn’t sat in his usual spot, you walk over and take your seat in the chair next to his. Looking around you see Greg’s sympathetic gaze on yours, then noticing other peoples knowing stares your stomach sinks. You think back to that day you ran into him at the meadow, he had skipped school that day because his father had beaten him so bad he couldn’t face it.

Bile rose up your throat, all you can think bout is Daryl. You can’t pay attention to a single thing your teacher is saying, you can’t focus on your work or the diagram you’re meant to be studying. Your stomach is sinking further and further, your chest is constricting and your heart racing.

Placing your hand over your heart as you try to ground yourself, trying to breath through the panic and focus on the lesson that’s happening in front of you, but you just can’t. Sweat starts beading on your forehead as the panic keeps rising “Miss y/l/n are you alright?” Your teacher asks, concern written on his features, you must look rough if he’d noticed.

“No I'm not feeling so good, I think I should maybe go home” you answer, your voice coming out more strained than you intended. “Of course, you head on home I’ll let the office know” he replies, “Thank you sir” you nod, jumping up and gathering your things moving to exit the class quickly, but not before hearing one of the jocks shout out “It’s because her boyfriend isn’t here! And we all know what that means, his old mans beating him a new one” he laughs, your eyes fill with tears as you look at the teacher, he gives you a sympathetic gaze before urging you to go, “Detention for you Mr Owens, meet me at the end of class please” he asserts.

Racing out of the school building you jump into your car throwing your bag onto the passenger seat, your whole body shaking as you turn on the engine. Backing out of the parking lot and onto the main road. You bomb it towards Daryl's house, not even a thought in your head that you should probably let your dad know for not only your safety but Daryl's too. But all you can think of is how you need to get to him right now.

Pulling up outside his house you jump out of the car, bumping into someone. You flinch jumping back, looking up you take in the stranger recognising him from the shop, you realise it’s Merle, Daryl's older brother.

“Woah sweetheart, wats yer hurry” he drawls eyeing you up and down in the most uncomfortable way. “Where’s Daryl!” You demand, trying to keep your voice steady as your body betrays you, still shaking like a leaf.

A knowing smirk crosses his face and it causes your heart to palpate, “I see, n’ wat wud ya wan’ wit ma brother hmm?” He asks, “He wasn’t in school today, and I need to see him! And if you cared about your brother at all you’d tell me where he is...... right now!” You demand, your voice still stuttering but assertive, you don’t know where this new found strength and determination has come from.

Realisation seems to hit his features, “He weren’t in school?” He asks, “No he didn’t show up today, so I need to know where he is!” You answer, Merle sighs realising that means their old man had probably beaten him, he was drunk off his face when Merle arrived an hour ago, rambling and throwing things around the house. He was hoping Daryl had gone to school before the inevitable happened. “Well he ain’t home sweetheart” Merle states.

Looking at you again he could tell you clearly cared about his brother, watching worry cross your face, so he admitted to you that their dad was currently very drunk and angry, in his rage he’d probably lashed out at Daryl, who had probably run into the forest. “I dun know where he goes, when he runs out there, but maybe ya do?” Merle offers. Yeah you do, you know exactly where he goes, that secret meadow, the one only the two of you know about. Where you’d had your first real conversation, where you tended to his wounds that day after their egotistical father hurt him, and where you meet most weekends now, talking and drawing out shapes in the clouds.

You nod to Merle “I know where he is” before he can answer you jump back into the car, driving it up the back forest roads.

Pulling down a empty lane, you run out the car sprinting down the familiar tracks and through the trees, trying not to trip up over tree roots and stones as you hastily glide through the forest.

Coming to the familiar clearing you cross through into the meadow, letting out a huge breath in relief as you see him sitting there, surrounded by the flowers and reeds of green as he mindlessly picks at them. “Dar” you call jogging over to him, he doesn’t look up but doesn’t flinch at the sound of your voice either. You bring yourself over and sit down carefully next to him. “You weren’t in school, I was so worried I went to your’s but you weren’t there” “Wait!” He interrupts your worried yabbering, eyes jumping to yours in shock “Ya went to ma house? Wah wer ya thinkin! Ma dad he could hav hurt ya!” He shouts his voice full of concern, “Hey it’s fine Merle spoke to me outside, said you weren’t there. So I worked out where you were from there, and don’t worry I didn’t tell him about this place” you affirm.

He nods, looking at you still. You notice then the black and blue around his face, his eye is already turning purple, his cheeks are both bruised and there’s a large cut on one of them. His eyes are red and teary and he’s chewing his bottom lip, your face must have given you away because his hand finds yours “I’m alrigh’” he promises “jus culdn’ come ta school like this”. Your hand finds the part of his cheek that’s not bruised, you cup it gently, tears now filling your eyes. “You’re not ok Dar, you can’t keep going on like this” you reply, “It’s not as if I hav a choice!” He argues, “No one but you care, no one does anything to stop it, it’s as if the whole town thinks I deserve it, fuck maybe I do” he yells, tears now flowing down his cheeks again.

You shake your head no “No Daryl you don’t deserve this, not even a tiny bit. I can’t even comprehend how much you deserve Dar, because you deserve the world! There isn’t anyone better than you, gosh I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, see the way you shine. To me you're everything, so please just please don’t talk about yourself like that” you gush, desperate to make him see how special he really is. He stares at you in wonder, thinking what in the world he’s done in this world to deserve you, because truth be told you’re everything to him too. You are the first thing he thinks about in the morning and the last thought that crosses his mind at night, he knows your scent and touch by memory now, both being his biggest comforts.

Gazing at you he admits how he truly feels about you, blurting out “I love her y/n”. Then he panics what if you don’t feel the same way, he’d loose you, he can’t loose you now you’re all he’s got in this world. But your response silences his self deprecation,

“I love you too Daryl, I love you soo much” you admit.

He grabs you pullling you into his lap, his mouth frantically finding yours, it’s all teeth to start with but pretty quickly you find a gentle rhythm. Your mouths slotting together, while your hands hold desperately onto one another. You move you left hand to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, while he grips your waist tighter almost as if he’s scared you’ll drift away.

Your tongue swipes at his bottom lip seeking entrance, which he grants his tongue moving against yours, its clumsy and messy but its new, to you it’s perfect. You lock your legs behind his back, effectively pulling yourself closer to him, your chest smooshing up against his own. The action causes you to grind down against him, causing a stuttered moan to leave his lips. The sound ignites a tingling in your core and you moan back against his lips, grinding down again trying to coach that sound from him again. Your action rewards you and he moans again, his hands slide up your sides under your T-shirt, thumbs slowly tracing the underside of your breasts. He’s almost testing the waters to see if you’d ask him to stop, you don’t. You grab both his hands in your own and move them to grope your breasts fully, moaning when his thumbs stroke your nipples, causing them to harden under his touch.

You arch your back grinding against him again, shifting slightly to find a position where the friction rubs your clit just right, you let out a gasp when you find the right spot, before moving your hips more frantically, head falling onto his shoulder as you pant against him. “Fuck Dar you feel so good” you whimper, he whines and you feel his head nodding against your own. One of his hands falls from your breast to your hip, helping you grind against him harder, and both your moans pick up as you chase your releases.

Daryl’s whimpers grow more desperate and you can tell he’s close, you quicken your movements rolling your hips even harder as the familiar tightening in your core starts building, “Baby I’m gunna cum” you gasp, “Shit me too” Daryl groans, you rest your forehead against his before white hot pleasure consumes you, hips stuttering against his own as you both ride out your highs.

You let out a breathy laugh as you come down, nuzzling your face into his neck. “That was unexpected” you admit. “Yer” he replies, but you catch something in his tone looking up at him you frown “What’s wrong?” You ask gently, stroking your hand down the side of his face. Daryl swallows harshly before mumbling “Ya don’t regret it do ya? I didn’ mean for it ta go tha far, I got lost in it, lost in feeling ya against me”,

“Hey baby look at me” you coax letting his blue eyes meet yours “Daryl I could never regret you, never” you affirm, “Ok” he nods, “Does tha mean yah mine now?” He asks eyes hopeful “Daryl from the second I met you, I was yours” you admit, kissing him once more you feel him smile against your lips. Pulling away slightly he shyly mumbles “I’ve always been yours”.

After cleaning yourselves up the best you can you lay in the meadow, your head on his chest fingers interlocked together. Enjoying the peacefulness the forest gives, until you feel the incessant buzzing coming from your phone, pulling it out of your pocket you notice it’s your dad. “Hey dad, I know I know I’m sorry but Daryl he needed me, we are at the meadow. Yeah he’s safe now, we both are, but dad he’s beat up pretty bad. He can’t go back there today” you express down the phone, Daryl’s watching you hum and nod along to the conversation, “Ok thanks dad, we will make our way home, see you soon” you hang up the phone and turn to Daryl “Wha’s happening?” He asks worry crossing his face, “You’re staying at ours tonight, in the spare room, we will take it from there” you convey, “Yer ok” he agrees.

Standing up you offer your hand to him, “Come on then, let’s get back to mine, we will sort something”. He nods at you, “I love yer” you smile at him lacing your fingers with his “I love you too”.

#young daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #young Daryl Dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl

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twigg96 · 14 days

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Ride Em' Cowboy

Chapter 1: Being Family is a Promise

Pairing: Bull Rider! Daryl X Male! EMT! Reader

Era: Rodeo AU (A Walker Free AU)

Pronouns: He/Him/You

Warnings: Swearing, Merle Dixon, Merle being Merle, Peer Pressure, Bar Scene, Smoking, Blood, light violence, slow burn

Chapter Summery: Daryl is just trying to live his life. But he has obligations that can't be ignored. Obligations to the farm he works on to keep food on the table. Obligations to friends to keep a good repour in the town. Obligations to his last remaining family member to keep him safe from his own self destructive ass.

Cigarette smoke swirled and made the air thick in the little po-dunk bar Merle frequented every single night. Daryl as the younger brother used the excuse that he had to accompany Merle... not just for the free smokes and booze Merle's friends inevitably bestowed upon him seeing him without a beer already firmly in his hand, but... to make sure Merle make it home in one piece alive and well whether he liked it or not. His brother was a bad driver even while sober.

Saddling up to the bar Daryl nursed his fourth beer of the night. Some shitty lager or Lite beer he didn't know the name of that one of Merle's shady biker friends shoved in his hands. "When you ever gonna learn?" The owner of the bar hummed shaking her head. Soft brown eyes conflicted with starlight grey hair. Staring up at the woman through his tipsy haze Daryl clicked his tongue, pulling a pack of Pall Mall Reds out of his breast pocket patting them against the bar's counter top. "Learn wha'?" He slurred, his eyes falling to his hands, flicking open the carton top of his cigarettes. Pulling one out by it's orange filter by his teeth, he wasn't surprised when a clean glass slammed against the counter in front of him. Following pale skin up to her face Daryl stared blankly back at the woman. "Followin' the likes of him around is only gonna drag ya down, pookie." Carol hummed her eyes skating past Daryl's shoulder to a table where Merle was bent over whispering in some pretty little young blonde's ear.

"Dumb sum' bitch..." Daryl huffed, throwing his arm back in his seat. "Bastard jest don't know when ta fuckin' stop." He hissed shoving the carton back in his pocket. Fishing the lighter from another pocket he ignored the forlorn way the owner stared at him. "Maybe... jest remember it ain't always your job ta clean up his messes." She hummed. Turning his glare onto Carol he huffed. "Yeah... and if it ain't then who's fuckin' job is it then?" He growled throwing himself back in his seat.

Taking a long drag from his cigarette he let the smoke linger and burn in his throat and lungs. Turning his glare to the wall full of posters behind Carol, Daryl huffed. Though he could hardly focus long enough on any of them to read the finer print with details and other nesciences, he could read the big bold titles that were meant to catch the eye of any passer by.

Fishing Contest at the Docks!! Bring the kids!!

One said in various fonts and bright bold letters that screamed it was meant for middle aged men and their wives. Daryl huffed rolling his eyes glancing down the bar to his right eyeing a blonde number who was trying almost desperately through her drunken stupor to snap a clear photograph of the poster with her cellphone. He assumed just by looking at her she was a deadbeat single mother. The large fake ass gold hoop earrings. The botched boob job and second hand knockoff designer clothing... Desperate to reconnect with her teenage kids in this last ditch attempt to keep some relevance in their life before they all ran off in their own ways... it was derepressing just to think about.

MISSING DOG: BUSTER WILL PAY REWARD

This poster in particular caught Daryl's attention with the bold capital letters screaming at him. The photo of the dog under the words looked sad, its black eyes wide and tearful, ears back as it looked up at whoever took the picture. Daryl hoped that where ever it ended up the dog ended up safer and happier than it looked there... He also wondered as he lifted his beer to his lips, if Buster was the name of the dog or the man paying the reward for the dog... It wouldn't do much good to go out yelling for the name of your bank when you need a loan would it? So why would he go out screaming some random man's name when he wasn't positive it wasn't the dog's? To top it off, one run over of the poster showed there wasn't a phone number for this person... nor an address... so what? This Buster just wanted to brag that his dog was missing? Or maybe it was a dog family desperately looking for their missing Buster. Now Daryl was really fucking confused...

Finishing his beer in one go to help clear his head he sighed. The damned wall looked like the classified section of the damned newspaper.

Roommate Needed!

Ah yes... strangers in the home were always a fantastic idea. Fucking idiot was going to end up on 60 seconds...

Rodeo This Saturday!

Did Daryl look like a god damned clown? He only tolerated the ranch he worked at for the free food and reduced rent while living on property with Merle. He wasn't about to spend his free time around more animals than he had to.

Greene's Farm Half Price! Tomatoes Carrots Lettuce Peppers - Banana, Jalapeno, Ghost, and Bell Onions Whole Ducks Whole Chickens Eggs - Unsorted! by the dozen + More!

Now that... that Daryl could get behind. The Greene's Farm was a small family owned farm in town. They took care of their own. He appreciated that. Maybe he'd swing down later in the week to restock their fridge. It was looking a little bare.

Glass shattering against the wall Daryl was fixated on pulled him out of his thoughts. Whipping around he had to admit. He wasn't completely surprised to see the heavy set man with a bald head glaring daggers at his older brother. A large arm wrapped tightly around the tiny blonde Merle had just been flirting with. The man's handlebar mustache flared out with every breath he took. Dressed in clothing that was much too expensive for the likes of the hole in the wall bar Daryl cocked his brow wondering what a man like that was ever doing in a town like this in the first place.

"Listen here ya fuckin' no good shit stain." The man growled pointing directly at Merle's chest. "I don't ever wanna see ya near my Lou ever again ya hear! Or I'll paint yer fuckin' brains all over the god damned walls!" He hissed. A reasonable request if anyone asked Daryl. Didn't matter if she were his wife or his daughter... based off the age gap alone he surely hoped it was the latter.

"Now hold on and give me a minute." Merle mused, placing his hands down on the table splaying his fingers wide. A shit eating grin plastering his face. "I didn't even kiss her."

Oh fuck.

The man's face twisted from anger and confusion to rage. "You tryin' ta prove somethin' with that?! I don't give a damn if ya kissed her! Keep yer fuckin' mits off her!" The man screamed turning beat red.

Pushing off his seat Daryl moved to stand behind his brother. Whether it was to pull his ass out of danger or fight alongside him... he wasn't sure yet. But he knew his place and he knew it well.

Merle hummed his grin turning devilish with Daryl by his side. "Well... how about a friendly wager then?" He mused. Fucking asshole.

The man opened his mouth to speak but Merle's hand shot up to interrupt. "My best man against yers... this Saturday."

The fuck did he just say? Eyebrows shooting up way past his hairline Daryl could have cold cocked Merle in the back of the head had the situation been less perilous.

But the man straightened up. Seemingly taking the bet into consideration. At a glance he didn't seem like the type to gamble especially in fights... then again Daryl couldn't exactly judge in other's vices.

"Now hold on I don't even know yer name." The man said skeptically. Good on him.

But the eldest Dixon was cunning. He hadn't gotten out of five separate charges for grand larceny and fraud for nothing. Standing up straight he met the man's eyes. "You mean you ain't never heard of little old me?" He asked. "Name's Merle Dixon." A beat passed where Daryl was positive the man had soused Merle out. He would kick his ass and this charade would end. But instead... he nodded. "Jaxon Porter. You got a team in this weekend's rodeo?" Jaxon asked earnestly.

You've gotta be shi-

Daryl's thoughts were interrupted as Merle nodded reaching behind himself. Patting Daryl's shoulder hard enough to make him stumble forward the younger huffed staring hard and direct to the floor. "Sure do. Matter o' fact. Mah little brotha' is our cowboy in this year's roughstock events. Ain't that right Daryl?" Merle hummed turning a hard threatening glance his way.

Swallowing hard Daryl shuffled his feet. He hated this. He didn't exactly have plans. But he knew how fucking dangerous it all was. He fucked around cleaning enough of the bull's hooves back a the ranch to know how temperamental they were in a stall. On their back? With nothing but a rope? Never having been dehorned? Nah fuck that.

But Merle stared expectantly. The man in white expensive clothing with way too many rings on his hands was eyeing him up like a prized pig. He honestly doubted he even looked the part of a real cowboy.

But then Merle laughed rubbing his back in a way Daryl resented. "Don't worry bout him none. He's the quiet type." He mused to the rich prick. To his surprise the bastard nodded rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Makes sense. Most are." Are what?!

Shaking his head Jaxson looked down at... Lou who nodded excitedly back before meeting Merle's eyes with a gleeful expectant glint tainting her own that Daryl had seen over and over in every five dollar whore Merle brought home.

"Alright... deal. Your boy against mine. If he can out ride 'em you get ta see Lou again..." he sighed. Merle nodded smirking victoriously. "Until then-" He extended his hand toward the girl taking her hand in his raising it to his lips. But before he could even get close Jaxon's hand moved to his waist band where a pistol would be.

Stepping back Merle gripped the back of Daryl's shirt dragging him to the door with him. "AND... that's my queue baby! See you both Saturday!"

It was silent outside of the bar. Only the sound of the crickets singing and the cicadas screaming echoed through the parking lot as both Daryl and Merle stumbled to their cancer riddled truck. Struggling for domain of the driver's seat, Daryl pulled the keys from his pocket dangling them high for Merle to see. From the hard cracked leather seat he watched as Merle threw his usual temper tantrum. Bitching and complain through the glass of the truck he kicked a few rocks in the bar's parking lot before taking a piss beside the truck to mark his territory.

As Merle climbed into his side of the truck Daryl couldn't help himself... not that he wanted to anyhow. Cocking back he punched Merle square in the fucking nose just as the dick got the door closed so that the back of his head smaked off the glass window pane on his door. Watching for a moment as Merle groaned as held his face, blood flowing freely from between his fingers onto his lap, Daryl pulled a used MacWondles napkin out from the cupholder and shoved it in Merle's face.

"The fuck was tha' for?!" Merle growled with tears springing to the corners of his eyes holding the useless napkin up to his face that instantly turned to mush in his hands from the sheer amount of blood that soaked up in it. Pulling out of the lot Daryl stayed silent. Focused on the road and not swerving all over it both in his anger and drunken haze.

"Well?!" Merle hissed once more, winding the window down to toss the soaked paper out the window and pull his wifebeater off to use as a rag,

"Know damned well what ya did..." Daryl murmured. Staring like Daryl had just grown a second head Merle waved his free arm around exaggeratedly. "Obviously fuckin' not dip shit!" Merle screamed his voice sounding congested and nasally as he pinched his nose shut.

Pulling to a stop at the only stop sign in town Daryl turned and glared at Merle. His full attention on his brother he took in everything he desperately tried to find something redeeming in his brother... in that moment it was damned near impossible. It was a good thing he had been with him this long to know what his thick and thin looked like.

"You know I never rode a bull before." He murmured softly, his shoulders dropping and face falling.

Merle smirked a warm chuckle swelled from his chest. "Well hell baby brother." He hummed, relaxing in his seat. "Didn't have ta hit me just cause ya were scared... I'm sure learning ta ride a bull is jest as easy as riding a bike... you'll see. It'll be easy as pie. And trust me, there will be a hefty lump sum in for ya too if you win."

Daryl doubted that. He doubted that he'd ever make it out into the ring without being caught as a sham. Christ... who were they fooling?

Pulling away from the stop sign towards the trailer they both shared Daryl couldn't shake the nagging gnawing dread that ate into his stomach. But... Family came first. Right?

**Author's Note:

Hi guys!! This is the first Chapter fic I've ever posted to Tumblr made for Tumblr!! I would really really appreciate some feed back to know how I'm doing! I am so excited to share this WIP with you as it progresses!

Thank you all so much!!

#rodeo au #chapter 1 #daryl dixon x male reader #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #five naked cowboys in the shower at RAM RANCH

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oldshrewsburyian · 7 months

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John Thornton and Margaret Hale in any university setting anywhere in the world that appeals to you. Please and thank you.

I love this idea so much that I have written a sketched-out campus novel AU for it. Additional details:

To find some equivalent for Thornton's sessions with Mr. Hale: Margaret runs into Thornton at the feminist book club on campus and she is livid; how dare he not be entirely terrible?

She's indignant with him for telling a grad student off (for their own good, as it turns out, due to legal liabilities)

Margaret's brother is a digital nomad

I don't want Thornton involved with scab labor, of course, but I think there might be an interesting conflict between in-person and online degree-granting

Dixon runs the coffee shop

#north and south #au prompts

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cultofdixon · 1 year

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Stubborn Beau

Daryl Dixon • He/Him Pronouns • AU: Ranch Owner x Ranch Hand — You are looking for work and find an ad in the paper for Dixon Ranch needing another farm hand to help run things. Your friend, the local sheriff, tells you that ranch has a track record…but your optimistic self is taking the risk • ANGST/SFW• TW: Nightmares / Scars / Injuries / Domestic Abuse Mentioned / Alcohol & Drug Consumption

Requested by: Anon

“You’ve got to be shitting me” The eldest dixon yells loud enough for his baby brother on the porch to hear. But his attention was on the cigarette between his fingers and the open field before him.

The angry footsteps echoed loud enough for him to hear and put out the cig on the wooden arm rest before turning to the eldest holding the paper.

“The fuck is this?”

“An ad. Thought you knew that”

“Don’t be smart with me, boy. Why is there an ad for a fuckin’ farm hand to work at our ranch?”

“Need help. You ain’t doin’ nothin’. I ain’t doing it by myself no more”

“What if this attracts the fuckin’ sheriff again?! Making him search the house and the barn. Hell even—-“

“Keep on ramblin’. I ain’t listening to yer bullshit” The youngest rose from his seat putting his black cowboy hat back on. “Move yer supply to the shed in the back. The help won’t go there and will be told not to go there unless lookin’ for trouble. But that’s all the shit yea get” he glares at his brother even when the rage pouring out of him was astronomical. “Everything else is under my name so it’s my rules. Keep your gang shit after hours on the ranch. Ain’t dealin’ with y’all no more”

“Wow. Look who finally grew a pair” he spits on the porch. “Fine by me. But you stick out of my business”

“Deal”

“You’re lyin’ or tryin’ to get me to react” One of the sheriffs of the town was trying to enjoy his beer when one of his closest friends admitted to wanting to take up a job with the Dixons.

“Why would I lie to you? I need the work…” the man groans across his friend at the table. “Leaving the city was the best decision of my life. But it’s about time I get off your couch and do something”

“I don’t think Lori or Carl mind having yea around, Y/N. A job would help but again it doesn’t have to be with these brothers! You were tryin’ to build a business for Christ’s sake!”

“Alright but I was raised on the farm. The same farm a certain Rick Grimes came and visited their school yard friend to chase the sheep back in their pen.” Y/N circled his finger around the rim of his glass. “It’ll be fine. And if shit happens. I know exactly who to go to”

Rick chugged down the rest of his whiskey with a sigh to follow after. “I’ll get behind that. But the second shit happens. I’m getting yea out of there”

“Deal” Y/N cheered Rick’s empty glass before downing the last of his.

The next morning, Y/N was dropped off by a friend of a friend with a wagon to carry his belongings. A quick thank you followed by a hat tip later and the fresh meat on Dixon Ranch started making his way toward the main house.

No one is here? Y/N thought as he sets his trunk suitcase down on the porch along with his pack before investigating further.

It was slightly difficult not to go into the house unannounced because Y/N’s first suspicion was the ranch owner was murdered. He couldn’t help it due to personal experiences… but that thought was quickly barked away and his attention drew to the noise coming from the happy Belgian Shepherd that made his way straight toward the stranger to investigating. More so sniff him until he became familiar and comfortable.

“Hey there and who might you be?” Y/N smiles kneeling to the dog and petting him behind the ears.

“Dog!” The man who Y/N can only assume and be right to be Daryl Dixon, the one he talked to about the offer on the landline rode in on a beautiful Morgan horse.

“You uh. Named your dog, Dog?” Y/N questions as Daryl hopped off his horse holding the reins giving him a deadpan look. “Is your horse, Horse?”

The scowl that appeared on his face shortly after the failed joke made Y/N regret speaking in the first place. He jiggles the reigns in his line of sight to give him the idea to take them and so he did before being lead toward the barn.

“It’s Winger.”

“That’s uh…” Y/N stops suddenly when Daryl did turning to face him when he spoke. “It’s a nice name” he smiles warmly watching the man relax his shoulders giving no response. Which he’ll take as a win.

The ranch was a couple acre and Y/N couldn’t wait to see it all for himself but what currently amazed him was how big the barn was. He noticed the few nameplates on the stables and saw one named Chupacabra but no Chupacabra.

“Is that horse a mustang? Or an Arabian? Regardless it’s a black coat…or I don’t know. Never seen a Chupacabra”

“Yea talk a lot” Daryl interrupts his train of thought making him shut up, only for him to sigh. “Sorry. But yeah. He’s a mustang and a fucking bitch. No wonder my brother likes’em”

“Has he seen a Chupacabra?” Y/N questions tying Winger to the post by his stall seeing Daryl grab a spare saddle. Giving him the idea that they will be riding around the ranch so that Y/N can look around.

“Nah. I named him.” He replies while using his foot to open the stall he was entering that held the other breed Y/N stated, an Arabian. “But he doesn’t like anybody but Merle. And speaking of the son of a bitch, I inherited this ranch…you listen to me. Never him”

“Got it.” Y/N nods with a smile which felt a bit intoxicating in a strange way to Daryl as he stared at the man after getting the saddle on.

Daryl tugged on the lead after attaching it to the halter bringing the Arabian over to the stepping block thinking Y/N never got on a horse before. But was quickly proven wrong when he completely ignored the block and swung his leg over settling on the saddle.

“Yea rode before?”

“Yeah? You haven’t really asked me anything to get to know me so…you wouldn’t know until proven”

“Alright smartass” Daryl chuckles giving Y/N a glimpse of a small smile gracing his lips. “Let’s get goin’. Then you’ll get tomorrow’s chores and settle in for the night” he got on his horse after untying the lead.

“Sounds like a plan Mr. Dixon”

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Right…right” Y/N watches him leave first giving him enough time to groan out of embarrassment. “I just need to shut up”

The ride throughout the ranch was extraordinary. Y/N hasn’t been on the open land in such a long time that every part of him missed it. The pieces of land where his livestock roamed freely, the lake a couple yards out within the forest, the well taken-care of crop fields…and so much more…that Y/N was surprised that he took care of it all by himself, and even more.

“Here” Daryl opens the door to the room Y/N will be staying in. “‘M upstairs if anythin’” he watches him set his suitcase and pack on his bed before checking everything out. “Be up at 0600, chore list will be in the main room”

“Where will you be?”

“Tending to my own shit. You’re focusin’ mainly around the barn given you just got here. Dog’ll be around in case of anything”

“Trust the Dog to supervise?” Y/N says in a playful manner but Daryl always wore the same neutral look that nobody could really read.

“Is that really a question?”

“Guess not…I’ll uh. See yea tomorrow then”

“Mm” He nods closing the door behind him as he set off to take care of something before turning in for the night.

As the night progresses for the youngest Dixon, he made his way to the shed in the back unlocking it with the spare. Knowing the other one hangs around his brother’s neck. Daryl pushes the door open finding the stolen drugs and whiskey crates taking up 3/4ths of the shed leaving only a small portion for actual necessities.

“Where’s that stupid fucking box” Daryl grumbles to himself searching from “his side” and eventually finding what he was looking for. It was a shoe box and when he opened it, it held mementos…

Old matches, playing cards, a prized ribbon or two, but more important to him were the pictures.

Daryl sets the box down after pulling out the few photos he had in such. Family portrait…why do I even keep this fake thing He frowns setting down the picture of his family when he and Merle were kids. Stupid fat pig He scoffs at the first prized ribbon he got for the biggest big in their farm at the time.

You… The last photo in Daryl’s hand was with another boy, during their teen years as he sort of still looked about the same. Just bigger with more scars and stubbornness. As for the other boy…You’ve changed, except for the same bandana you used to wear around your neck…is

now hanging from your back pocket. Daryl frowns watching Y/N tend to the chickens that were following him and the food he was carrying in the buckets on either side. He sets the buckets down a second shooing the chickens away from them to take out said bandana to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Do yea always stare at the help like that?” God, does he ever shut up?

“Fuck off Merle” Daryl pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Touchy touchy. He don’t even got an ass to look at. Like the one on your lady friend” Merle grins thinking about such, only for Daryl to shove him to stop. “What! It’s been a fucking month and you watch his every move! You don’t watch the volunteers like such. Get a grip” he scoffs heading back inside the house to get ready for whatever business he has to attend to soon.

But he was right. He’s going to make a fool of himself if he doesn’t get a grip on himself.

It’s just upsetting.

________

The youngest Dixon picked up the pace running away from his yelling father.

“Don’t yea think you can out run me boy!” Mr. Dixon yells off the top of his lungs holding his belt in his dominant hand.

A young boy was tending to his nightly chores of getting the goats back in their pen along with getting his father’s horse in the stables.

As he gently tugs on the leads to bring his father’s horse into the stables, he heard crying. He opens the stall that the horse occupied and found the youngest Dixon crying in the corner of such.

“Dad! Dad I need—-“ the boy stops yelling on his way to the house finding another yelling individual.

“You know something L/N! You’ve gotta”

“How the fuck should I know where yea son is at? Just cuz we’re neighboring ranches don’t mean I know where—“ His dad sees his son shaking his head not to say a word about what he knows. “Hell. Mr. Dixon, yea ever think you’re a little rough with your kids? Maybe Daryl ran off to avoid—“

“The fuck are you assuming L/N” Mr. Dixon suddenly grabbed the man’s collar forcing him toward him. “Don’t tell me how to teach my kids consequences. Mind yer business!” He snaps letting go of him and leaving the ranch.

L/N sighs looking at his son with worry but knew to trust him.

After some time, Daryl flinched to the stall opening finding the boy and his father who carried a first aid kit.

“Why yea helping me?”

“My dad was abusive too, kid. Nobody deserves to be in that situation” L/N states finishing the wraps on Daryl’s right arm. “Made me wanna be a good father”

“Yer son is lucky” Daryl frowns looking over to the absent-minded kid.

“Guess so. Y/N’s a good kid. Hopefully, that goodness sticks with’em”

________

It did

“Daryl? Hey!”

“Shit. Sorry.” He snapped back into reality seeing Y/N’s signature smile on his face that he grew even fonder of. “What’s going on?”

“Glenn’s here. And with a lady friend” Y/N smirks going to grab the crate of eggs they’ve been collecting that they trade with Greene farm.

Glenn directs their wagon more toward the farm house as he got off to talk to Daryl while Y/N approaches the wagon where the young lady patiently waits.

“Farmer’s daughter ey?” Daryl smirks only for Glenn to elbow him to shut up while his face flushed. “How is the old man anyway?”

“Taking in strays. Forgot his name but their family keeps growing that way”

“Mm. He’s always been kind like that.” Daryl kept a half smile present while reading what they’ll be given in the next exchange. “So how long have yea been—-“

“You fancy your farm hand?” Glenn smirks watching his friend crush the paper in hand out of a sudden reaction. “Ha! Knew it! That was a goddamn guess but I got it right! Should’ve made a bet on it”

“A goddamn bet?”

“Yes! I’ve told Maggie about yea and Y/N countless times before she decided to hang on my route with me. Should’ve made a bet. Cuz she even thinks there’s somethin’”

“You are trouble, Rhee.” Daryl sighs not denying his accusations watching Maggie laugh at Y/N’s words as he felt his entire focus lock onto his smile. Fuck.

“Thanks for the carrots, Maggie. These will definitely help us get started on the next crop”

“You should stop by Greene farm sometime. Put a face to the name of the one that’s softenin’ Daryl Dixon”

“Softening? I don’t believe that one bit. He’s always been a tough cookie” Y/N leans on the crate of carrots still sitting in the wagon as both conversations weren’t ending any time soon.

“Always?” Maggie smiles edging on for more form her new friend as he sealed his mouth with an invisible key. “Oh come on! We’re friends now! I gotta know all the juicy details!!” She laughs shaking Y/N in his place making him laugh.

“Nah! Not today”

“Well hopefully I’ll get to know more at the barn party my daddy is hosting” Maggie smiles hoping for a confirmation right then and there that they’ll be attending but this is the first Y/N was hearing of such.

“I’ll be there. Don’t know about the other”

“How long have yea been here?”

“Why?”

“Getting to know more. Just answer the question!”

“A few months. But I’ve been raised in this town…” Y/N leans against the wagon with Maggie. “Lil bit of a backstory, Greene Farm used to be L/N Ranch until my dad died”

“Holy shit!” Her realization caught everyone’s attention but the conversation kept to themselves. “But wait…when he was tellin’ me the story on our move…your mother passed at childbirth and your father was uh.”

“Murdered? Yeah, that never leaves the headlines for a while. But yeah, what yer getting at is I owned the ranch after…I just. All my good memories there left with me when I thought I could have a fresh start in the big city. Instead…I missed a whole lot back here” Y/N frowns glancing over to Glenn and Daryl watching them talk to one another, only for Daryl to gain the suspicion of eyes on him.

In a second, it was just them staring at the other and a sudden wave of worry washed over Daryl when Y/N’s happy display faded.

“Don’t yea got more stops to make before yea can finally be alone with your lady?”

“Shit! Right right” Glenn pats Daryl on the shoulder before heading back toward the wagon indicating they’re about to leave.

Y/N quickly grabbed the crate and right as he was about to step away, Maggie pulled him into a hug. He stumbled a bit to the action before relaxing.

“You don’t gotta go if it’s too much…but again, it would be nice to have a friend there” Maggie gave him one last smile as she takes Glenn’s hand in helping her back onto the seat beside him.

“See yea in another two weeks!” Glenn yells as Maggie whispers to him quickly about the barn party. “Oh! Or this weekend! Bye!”

The two watch them head off for the rest of Glenn’s route, guess it was time to continue with the rest of their day. Or more specifically, Daryl thinking way too much about Y/N’s atmosphere changing.

“Heavy?”

“Nah. I’ll go ahead and prepare this for planting tomorrow…” Y/N gave Daryl a sad smile on his way to the shed by the barn.

The man wasn’t having it.

As the night crawls in, Y/N found himself finally returning back to the house after finishing chores and handling a bit of the mental drain life brought from remembering the past. But to his surprise, there was a pleasant smell filling the house as he approaches the kitchen finding Daryl making dinner. They usually eat at different times, not together.

“Did yea get hit in the head or something?”

“No? Why yea think that?” Daryl puts the lid back on the pot to preserve the heat in the stew he’s making.

“Just surprised is all…” Y/N took a seat at the table after wiping his hands off with his bandana. “Smells good”

“You’ll like it” Daryl chimes in one last time to the small conversation, checking the stew one last time before getting bowls.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch him for the duration of his time waiting. He was enjoying the rare sight of the man cooking for him.

Daryl wasn’t first to finishing his dinner this time, or scarfing it down before his brother could take it from him like when they were younger. He watched as Y/N not only enjoy his dinner but take down three bowls of the stuff.

“Fucker, you must’ve been starving” Daryl grins at the display as he continues to eat his portion watching Y/N finally stop devouring the bowl to take a breather.

“I didn’t eat since breakfast, lost track of time when fixin’ the fence” He sighs happily now that he’s full.

“Could’ve come and help yea after dealin’ with Merle if yea came back”

“What’s his issue anyway? Like. Nah I know the crazy shit he’s done. Who doesn’t in this town but he’s never around and his horse looks malnourished when he’s in his stall”

“Gotta get him to keep Chup here for a couple days. Don’t trust him with any of the others though if he did leave him” He finishes up his bowl expecting Y/N to leave after finishing his third but he stayed with his head resting in his hand invested in what he’s gotta say. “Maybe could knock his ass out and tie him up in his room to have Chupacabra rest”

“Merle looks like a bitter. I ain’t helpin’ with that if we did do that” Y/N laughs. “‘Sides. Wouldn’t his gang realize he’s been gone too long”

Daryl suddenly bites down on his spoon feeling the shiver run down his spine. He takes the utensil out of his mouth staring down at his hands. “How yea know that?”

“He looks the part, besides…his actions have been in the paper and the man is on a wanted picture”

“And yet yea still came to work here months back…”

“I didn’t come here for Merle” Y/N knew how he phrased it, and kept it to Daryl’s imagination what he meant by that as he went to clean his dishes. “So uh. You have a record player?”

The awkwardness left the room when Y/N emerged from his room with a record in hand after retrieving such. Daryl sat on the couch in the living room pointing toward the record player and watching him get everything set up.

As the music slowly starts to fill the room, Y/N couldn’t help the light tapping of his foot enjoying the music instantly. Daryl watches him unwind from his stressful day as he started to dance a bit more.

The stubborn man on the couch didn’t realize until Y/N shot a playful smile his way when his foot started to tap along to the beat out of instinct.

“Care for a dance, cowboy?” Y/N smiles extending his hand toward Daryl.

Who was glued to the wall for most of the barn party and has been watching Y/N enjoy himself in the company of other lively people. But he found himself drawing close to Daryl the closer the song reached its end. He held his hand out for Dixon to happily take and the excitement build inside of him when he was about to take the offer. Then the song became a much slower one causing Daryl to retreat back and Y/N knew he wasn’t much of a slow dance guy.

“Don’t stress about it. But yea owe me a dance, Dixon” Y/N smiles, turning to the voice calling his name. “Be right back”

The things you do to me Daryl kept his attention on Y/N always, watching him talk to Hershel and his younger daughter Beth who was holding the family barn cat. Please just look at me a second more he sighs hearing his heart pounding in his ears when Y/N gestured his way in a manner of having to go back.

But his thoughts were interrupted…

“Dixon. Can’t believe you’re here” The infamous Shane Walsh, one of the other officers in town and the one with a track record of being a home wrecker. “Who managed to get yea here? Carol? She hasn’t been home in a while”

“I wonder…maybe cuz yea didn’t find her daughter after promising her that you will. Then yea got drunk after failure and started hurting a lot of people” Daryl glares at the man, crossing his arms. “No one wants to be around you”

“Jeez. Ain’t ever gonna let that go?” Shane scoffs. “Someone’s gotta be dumb to hang ‘round yea.” He left on that note right as Y/N came by with a box under his left arm and a glass in his right hand. He watches Shane leave, confused a bit and given Daryl’s annoyed expression he can tell it was because of him.

“You alright, D?”

Daryl tried his best to shake it off but couldn’t find any words that weren’t going to come off harshly toward Y/N by mistake. Y/N handed the glass toward Daryl as he took it hesitantly.

“Finish that and let’s head out alright? I’m gettin’ pretty wiped”

“Yea serious?”

“Yeah…Come on” Y/N tugged on his arm gently to urge him in the exit locking arms with him when Daryl straightened up beside him.

Soon the two were riding back to the ranch when Daryl whistles for Y/N’s attention leading them down a different path that lead more into the mountains. The thinner the trail got the more anxious Y/N became when riding up behind Daryl.

“Daryl I—“

“Keep yer eyes on me. Watch where I’m goin’. Don’t think about it”

“O-Okay. This better be worth it, D”

“It will be”

They were getting closer as the moonlight reached where they were. Daryl picked up the pace a little to get Winger more in the open space he was aiming toward. He got off his horse and tied the lead to a tree before trotting over to help direct Y/N’s Arabian by the lead once Y/N had let go. Daryl gave Y/N space to get off his horse and take care of it.

Y/N approaches the edge of the look out spot that Daryl brought the two to. He looks out seeing the whole picture. Their town. The ranches. The minimal light that emerges from it all.

“So. You remember me huh” Y/N smiles crossing his arms keeping his attention forward.

“Who could forget L/N’s kid? The same kid that tipped my old man’s favorite cow”

“That son of a bitch hurt my favorite person. Had to fuck with him until he kicked the bucket”

“Dark talking about my old man like that. But go right ahead” Daryl chuckles standing beside Y/N enjoying the view with him. “Why didn’t you say who you were the second you arrived?”

“Part of me thought you had forgotten about me, another thought you uh. Wouldn’t have been exactly happy if I tried to go back to how things were”

“Who could ever forget about you” Daryl frowns staring at his boots. “And yeah. I wasn’t. I played along until I got fed up. I missed yea.”

“‘M right here” Y/N nudged his hand gently, watching him instantly take it into his.

“Yea left me, Y/N”

“I was broken. I didn’t know what to do and where to go.” Y/N sighs, on the brink of tears as he squeezes Daryl’s hand. “You needed the light in your life after all the darkness, and at that time I…burned out”

________

“Yea sold it. Yea really sold it” the twenty-year-old Daryl Dixon suddenly broke out in a sprint toward the train station after seeing the locks on the gate to L/N Ranch.

Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his face as he gripped harder onto the handle of his suitcase waiting for the train to arrive.

Right as the train came to a stop, Y/N was about to step on when he felt someone grab the back of his coat pulling him back.

“Please. Don’t leave me here” Daryl begs as Y/N froze for a second turning toward his friend…best friend…partner. “Please. I can’t. I can’t lose yea too”

“I…I need space from that place D. I…I really don’t wanna be there when all I see is my dad getting fucking killed by one of your dad’s gang members…” Y/N frowns hearing the whistle coming from the conductor as the tears came on faster. “I love you, Daryl. If I stay, your bitch of a dad might hurt yea just because of you and I.”

“Leavin’ me won’t make a difference…” Daryl frowns clenching his fists. “We’ll leave that ranch. Get yours back, start a new—-“

“Daryl…Please” Y/N felt the weight grow heavy on his shoulders watching his partner slowly break before him. “Let me go”

Before Daryl could get another word in, Y/N grabbed his vest bringing him into him. Pressing his lips firmly against his one last time and when he parted, he hopped on the train and left.

________

“Yea left me behind…” Daryl felt that same pain return for a second as he took off his hat with his free hand to feel the night breeze flow to ease some of the pain. “But yea came back”

“To you…to this life…hell, I’d like to make up for lost time without needin’ to worry about anything” Y/N wanted to say more but Daryl had enough of the waiting and letting fear pull him back.

The man let go of everything he was holding to grab on the suspenders his partner was wearing to pull him in and bring his lips firmly against his. There was no protest from the other party as his hands found purchase on each side of Daryl’s torso, keeping the kiss going.

The night continued as the two found themselves sitting on the edge of the cliff watching few lights go out in the town. Keeping close to one another as the cold air blew through. Y/N leaned into Daryl’s embrace feeling his protective hold on him, enjoying it all.

“Wanna hear something dumb?”

“Nothin’ yea say was ever dumb”

“You think we’d find each other in another life?” Y/N turns to look up at Daryl seeing his annoyance grow which made him laugh. “See. Dumb question”

“Me in whatever the next life is. Would be a dead man without yea”

“True…”

“Hey!” His voice startled the marksman and the deer he’s been tracking with the archer now approaching him. “We gotta start heading back before nightfall”

“Or what? Rick’s gonna think the best hunters aren’t gonna survive the forest we know like the back of our hands?” The marksman laughs wrapping his hunting rifle around his shoulders.

“Nah.” The archer brought himself closer and wrapped his arm around the marksman’s waist pulling him close. “I want some alone time with yea before the stupid dinner you agreed to”

“Im sorry for wanting to have a family dinner with our friends before the runs to the city in the morning” He smiles holding onto the other’s vest. “But yes. I agree to havin’ alone time with my husband”

“Good. Now let’s go, Y/N.” He smirks kissing him quickly before parting and heading toward his motorcycle.

“Can I drive, Dar?”

“Fuck no! Come on!”

We’ll always be together in every life.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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