#the walking dead fluff

[wintfleur]

thinking about Daryl Dixon dating a book worm girly . . . they would meet on the Greene farm. She was a good friend of Hershel’s son Shawn, and stayed and lived with the family when the outbreak started. She would spend most of her time with Hershel and Beth or with her face in a book . . . she would like to be alone a lot, having her own spot on the farm away from the house where she could peacefully read and not have to worry about interacting with anyone, a spot that used to be her and Shawn’s . . . also a spot where Daryl decides to set up his own small camp away from everyone . . . well everyone but her. He would be hesitant at first to approach her when he gets back from another search for Sofia, seeing her leaning up against a tree with a thick book in her lap. He’d seen her around a few times in the short amount of time he’s been at the farm, only with Beth or Hershel. He’d ask her what she wants, assuming that she was waiting for him. She’d apologize, saying that she just wanted to be away from everyone, and surprising the both of them he said with a grunt she could stay as long as she didn’t touch his shit or start reading aloud. And for the first time he sees a small smile on her lips . . . but it was quickly covered when she lifted her book up from her lap.

Time-skip to after the farm falls and before they find the prison. They would become closer . . . well as close as two antisocial and closed off people could get. It was more like they found comfort in each other’s silent presence. She was so good at being quiet and finding her way around in the woods that she would often join daryl tracking/hunting. The first time daryl sees her smile since the farm is when he gives her a book he found in the trunk of an abandoned car. Since she couldn’t carry a bunch of books since they were traveling, every time she was done with a book he’d try and search for another to switch it with . . . would let her quietly mumble about the book she was reading when she couldn’t sleep and he was on watch. Would walk next to her as she walks n reads, making sure she wouldn’t trip.

When they make it to the prison, he’d bring her back multiple books whenever he goes out looking for supplies, and over time the small desk she had in her cell was cluttered with books . . . all from daryl. He would let her ramble about her books whenever they were on watch in the watch tower, him standing up and looking out while she comfortably sat on the floor with her book. He’d realize his feelings for her at the strange and unfamiliar feeling he felt in his chest as he watched her read a book to Carl and Beth who was holding Judith.

Time-skip to when they are now together, he would come back late from his shift at the look out tower in the prison and would check on her in there cell, expecting to see her sleeping since it was late . . . Instead she was curled up in her bed, technically now there bed, reading with a lit candle next to her. Not wanting to sleep without him by her side . . . and wanting to also finish another chapter. Whenever daryl would wake up from a nightmare she would quietly read to him, taking him out of his tortured mind and into the lovely world of her book. Whenever she was too focused on a book he’d surprise her with a kiss on her cheek or lips . . . completely stealing her attention. All she would have to do is bat her eyelashes and say please and daryl would fold . . . reading to her when she’s to tired to read herself, she feels so safe and warm when she’s in his arms as she listens to him read to her . . . he always kisses her forehead when he notices she fell asleep, tucking her bookmark a few pages back, knowing that she probably wouldn’t remember the last few pages he read to her.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( take this as my application to write for twd !!! I wrote this in 20 minutes at 1am, soo it’s probably not the best I just couldn’t sleep without getting this written down. Please let me know if I should continue writing for twd . . . I’m currently rewatching the show and my love for daryl just grows stronger !!! Again please let me know what you guys think, don’t be a silent reader <333 )

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#﹕─┈ roro’s writing thoughts #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fluff #the walking dead fluff #twd fluff #twd imagine #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x you #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x you #rick grimes

[moonxnite]

Im sorry this TOOK ME OUT

Ngl if i saw a walker with some nice ass clothes I’m definitely gonna steal like BYE IDC 😭✋🏼✋🏼

Credits: natalie on pinterest

#the walking dead #rick grimes #daryl dixon #the walking dead imagine #negan smith #twd #negan x reader #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead angst #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fluff #norman reedus #andrew lincoln

[writella]

Trinkets; The Gifts of Gold He Gave You

Synopsis: A detailed record of all the special objects Daryl has found for you while hunting, riding, supply gathering, and living in the various places he has in the new world. These objects often lead to sweet moments of kindness, joy, and understanding between the two of you, deepening your connection. Although they are things others might not think much of— they were simply small gestures or trinkets after all— you believed these memories and mementos to be gifts of gold; they would shine in your mind forever onward.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, mutual pining, kisses, lots of love and ♡ sweetness ♡ (true self indulgence at its finest), but there are also descriptions of trauma, abuse, and self-hate. Though other than that, it’s nothing else except Daryl being an endearing friend and future loverboy to you. This travels across the plot and setting of season 6-8, but it might not be a perfect fit. Lastly, even though these can be read anthologically, I did write them in a storyline as if there was an order in which Daryl gives or does these things with the reader as their relationship grows, so some past trinkets might be mentioned in the next story, but it truly isn’t too big of a deal; this is one you can have fun with! ♡

Author’s Note: My dearest reader, this one took much longer than I intended, but I think it’s because I put so much of my silly heart-filled imagination into it— truly one of my favorites to write thus far. I’m just so happy to give it to you. Feel free to read these all at once, one at a time, or pick the ones that best fit who you are. with love, writella . ♡ ⋆ ☽

Trinkets moodboard & visualizer here!

Trinket No. 1: The Ribbon ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ⟡.•

A Bow from a Bowman

Daryl was out on a hunt one morning when he found it. It’s like he was compelled to pick it up, he did it without even thinking. It was nothing, honestly: kind of silly really, and flimsy, slightly covered by grass blades— it was dirty and discarded. But there was something about it, something tender… it reminded him of you, even though in some ways still, he hardly knew you at all.

It had been over a month since Daryl came back home to Alexandria; just a month since you entered what was supposed to be your new home. But also a week or so long journey it had been to unexpectedly find you and bring you back.

He remembered it well: you were covered in dirt, tired and hungry, running for your life from the past group you were with. He was going to let you go and mind his business— you looked scared of him anyway when you crashed into him. But most importantly, he had just lost his crossbow, his bike, and maybe even a little bit of his dignity to Dwight who stole them. He didn’t feel like getting tricked again, especially since it takes a lot to trick him; he wasn’t letting that happen again. Especially not the day after. And most especially not for a seemingly young and innocent-looking girl like Dwight’s wife, Sherry or that kid they were with, Tina.

But then, he heard the yelling, the hollering, the men– they wanted you, and none of it was for the right reasons. Very wrong and scary reasons they were indeed, ones he would soon come to understand were things you’d never want to live out or discuss again. He understood that feeling, so he stayed. He hid behind a tree. He decided to help again. Who knows of your innocence, but what was definitely true was that you were a lost and lonely girl in the woods. He knew a thing or two about those unfortunately, those stories ended badly.

Sad enough, the hiding and helping— or attempting to— led him to become a prisoner with you and your ‘group.’ He barely got scraps of food, and every night was just another day of seeing your tears, your face in a permanent state of desolation and misery; staying ever silent even when you were yelled at— even when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do. You looked scared and small.

It was only when you all reached a hospital, one you burned to the ground just to get away from them, that Daryl saw the fight in you. You didn’t even ask for his help and he tried to save you, but in the end, you saved him. A silent soldier, you were. He returned the favor with the least he could do: he took you home.

And now there you both were. You sat by Rick’s fireplace. No one was home yet, and you had just put Judith down for the night. Daryl found you there on the floor with a book. He quietly sat near you. All you two said was hello.

And this was normal, actually– the being around each other, showing up unannounced, sitting beside each other– talking or not– or you, trying to help him with whatever work he was up to. He tried to fight it at first, but it became a regular thing. It’s what helped Daryl get to know you, and you to him.

You were equally as fierce as the fire you created not long ago, but just as gentle. Just as desiring to smile and create friendships. He knew that now. And he— he was just as rock solid and straightforward as the crossbow he once carried, but just delicate. Just as easily hurt and as quick to hide, yet so deeply desiring of loyalty and acceptance. You know that now too.

It’s still so soon, but you admired him, so deeply. You wanted to learn from him. You thought he was strong, and you wanted to be strong. All that anguish and pain and he came out a fighter, a leader.

Little did you know that is exactly what he thought of you. He went from seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night to becoming the kind and generous friend you were to almost everyone you met. Always offering to care for Judith, or allowing Carl to come to you to talk, or learning about guns and shooting with Rosita. And of course finding a way to go on supply runs, or learn to hunt, or fight walkers with Daryl as much as you could. As always, he pretended not to care that much, but he did. He couldn’t help it. He values his independence, but it was nice that there was someone who wanted to be around him so much. And he admired you for his own reasons as well: You’re someone who fills others up with lightness when such dark things have happened. He felt like that every time you two we’re together. He wanted to learn from you too.

As he sat there, thinking, he wondered if maybe that’s why he thought of you when he saw it. Maybe it was the brightness and softness of it, despite finding it on the ground, despite it being dirty. He cleaned it up, and it still shined, that’s like you but… he was still unsure. Maybe it truly was nothing, maybe it was stupid.

He looked to his side, watching your figure for a moment as he decided what to do. You were on your stomach, laying on the small rug that sat in front of the fire. You were continuing the chapter you were on, paying little attention to him. He only said ‘hey,’ after all. And you did wave back, you asked him how his day was, but all he gave you was a typical response, ‘fine,’ he had said. You thought maybe this visit wasn’t about talking so you left it. And all of this was typical anyway, for Daryl to come by Rick’s, or for you two to sit in peaceful silence, but then you started to see him fidget in his spot in your periphery, like he couldn’t decide how he wanted to sit, hands adjusting his jeans, moving things in his pocket.

“Do you wanna go to the porch?” You thought maybe he was reaching for a smoke. “I can put on the baby monitor…” He just shook his head at the suggestion.

You decide to move to the spot next to him, leaning your back against the wall. “Did something happen today?” Your voice was soft as you tilt your head, trying to reach his eyes.

“No,” he shook his head again, he was facing forward. “It’s just…”

“What?” You asked calmly.

He found it hard to speak, “Just- just brought something.” He reached into his pocket one last time, his hand in a fist as it made its way closer between the two of you until he started to release his fingers from his palm slowly.

It was a ribbon. A pearly light pink one. Just scattered in his hand. “It’s stupid,” he grumbled quietly, trying to shove it back down his pocket, but you stop him.

“Wait,” your hands gently cupping the other side of his and then you pick it up, letting him go. You wrap the ribbon around your finger and you tie it into a bow, examining it in your palm now. “This is for me?” Soft disbelief enchanted your voice. You made sure not to sound too excited or too surprised. You didn’t want to scare him, especially since he replied with:

“It's nothin’.” He was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It's so nice,” your voice continued in its understated tone despite your smile becoming uncontainable. You couldn’t help the way your lips were curling upward, it was even hurting your cheekbones to try to make your teeth shine through a little less— Daryl Dixon just gave you a gift. And it was a little pink thing at that. Perhaps miracles are real. “It's perfect,” you say, “I can wear it in my hair.”

“It's stupid.” He repeated, brushing you off, but you saw right through him. Daryl doesn’t do anything for no reason at all.

“It's not.” Your words are so kind as your interject, “You know, sometimes it's the smallest things that mean everything. They become our favorite things even.” Your lips pressed together, forming another smile as he meets your gaze, “Like your vest that needs to be patched up.”

“It's fine,” he almost sounded defensive. It made you laugh.

As messed up as it is, it truly was fine. It was his and he loved it; that made it so. And he didn’t only have the vest, he also had his cut-up button-downs, and those ties he laced on the bottom of his jeans— you knew those were probably because the pants available didn’t always fit all the time, but nonetheless— these were all things that made him and his clothing unique from the others. Even in the apocalypse, Daryl was one of the few that maintained a personal style. You couldn’t help but love it. He could, and often always was, the guy covered all in dirt and grim and blood but he still had something about his look that was simply just him.

You missed that. Having those personal touches, and now here Daryl was with this. The simplest thing, but he brought it for you. It was your special piece, your special something. It truly was perfect.

“C’mere,” Daryl gestured, taking the ribbon from your hand and moving your shoulders so your back faced him. He undid the bow and cuffed your hair, he actually almost yanked your head with the way he gathered the ponytail, honestly– he forgets his strength, but you said nothing. Only giggling slightly, but you were mostly quiet. You tried to keep it down, afraid he might stop if he thought you were making fun of him. You wanted to reel at the closeness for as long as you could. You couldn’t believe the fact that he was doing something so domestic— you almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to detangle some pieces with his fingers and then he tilted his head to the side to leave some shorter pieces out at the front. He didn’t know what he was doing and he probably was doing it badly, but he tried his best to be delicate. He’s never touched you like this before. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against your ear or your neck he relearned just how soft you are. And every feeling of his skin almost made you shiver; like when someone whispers in your ear, it always feels so sensitive, traveling down until you feel it everywhere. His touches felt like that. You always end up feeling his everywhere. He’s entrancing, filling you with hearts and stars.

Finally, he ties the ribbon into a bow right at the top of the ponytail he created. He’s done. He lets go. They shapes and colors fade. Everything is cold again.

But to him, everything looked warm and vibrant. Looking at you was a sight so sweet and so gentle among all this dark wreckage of the world— it was precisely how he saw you: the way the ribbon now laced around your hair looked like an angelic embrace.

You turn to him, “Thank you, Daryl.” Your smile is so sincere, so lovely, there might as well be a halo and hearts invisibly drawn all around you.

A moment passes as you continue to look at each other and your heart jumps. He’s still looking directly at you. There are moments that he looks away and you can’t help it, the bashfulness creeps up on you two, but he’s giving you all his attention; it feels great. You decide to take the chance, you can't help yourself, you hug him, you have to. It has been so long since someone gave you something. So long since someone thought of you so specifically and intimately.

He’s caught off guard, his hands don’t wrap around you until a few seconds later, but when they do, they are sure, and tight, more sure of it than you surprisingly.

You breathe him in, giggling again, “I’m surprised you smell this good.”

“Fuck you.” It makes you laugh just a bit louder, it’s the nicest ‘fuck you,’ you’ve ever heard. Its tone has a hint of sincerity in tandem with humor in just the same way you delivered your line. He shakes his head, “You’re silly.”

He lets you go and you turn away, but it’s only just a little. He watches how the ribbon lays right where he put it again, seeing the side of your face light up with your rosy smile as you sway your head. You’re trying to not make it obvious that you want to feel the wag of the bow and your hair back there so you do it slowly, it just feels so cool and so pretty. You liked it so much. You didn’t even know what it looked like yet, but it already made you feel more like yourself. Like a part of you that had left before this world began— it fit well like a missing piece finally snapping into place. It was your unique touch and he found it for you. He did it for you. Just for you.

For me, you repeated it in your mind, he found it just for me.

Trinket No. 2: The Lesson ō͡≡o˞̶ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Turnpikes, Gunshots, and Dreams

You had asked and asked for weeks with no let up. It made you start getting creative with your pleas: “You know, Daryl, we really should be teaching each other our skills,” you had insisted, sarcasm lining your voice. No one else in the group knew how to ride yet they were doing just fine, but you were incessant, “You never know what kind of situation we’ll be in where we might need it… I could die,” your hands raise as your voice does, “and your bike could be my only escape but I wouldn’t even know how to ride it!”

He would always just stare at you blankly, ignoring you, especially when you got dramatic like this right before you two were leaving. “Get on or stay,” he would say, “go help Rosita or somethin’.”

You’d grit your teeth and get on regardless.

But then one day, one lucky, lucky day for you— it was your earnest approach, and your silly smile, and sun-filled eyes that got the best of him as they looked up to meet his darker ones. “Please,” you said, stretching out the word, it was just as cheesy as your smile. He looked back at you from his front seat as you continued, “I just want to feel capable and- free… I don’t know,” but you did, you meant it and felt it from deep inside you. “To know I have the option I wanted to… I… I didn’t really have those before.”

He was still for a moment and then he nodded, restarting the ignition. You guessed that was another no until you started to ride past the walkers that lined the outer gate. “An hour,” he said, his eyes forward as the trees became a blur to both of you, “then we gotta get work done.” You wrapped your arms around him tightly, you only used to cup his waist or hold his shoulders, but you felt fearless today, head leaning against his back and neck, arms hugging around his torso. He finally said yes.

As time went by, you had gotten comfortable with completing your drills. You learned the controls, how to shift gears, how to waddle and power walk with the bike, operate the clutch, throttle, and lift your feet up, riding on a straight path all by yourself. Turns were still hard though, and the fact that Daryl always insisted you think about the worst-case scenario wasn’t the greatest either. He’d look you dead in the eye, his voice clear and unrestrained from his usual grovels as he said, “If a herd is comin’, or people are shooting, or if there’s something tryin’ to crash into you, you need to think about how you’re going down. Decide on what won’t fuck you up completely, then do it. ” He always got way too close to your face without realizing it in those moments, his finger almost crashing into your nose as he vigorously pointed to get the idea across.

“If something goes down, I’m not arguing,” you say. “You'll be in front.” You meant it, your voice was quiet, you understood.

But really, you didn’t: “If something go down, either of us should be able to do it.” He paused to make sure you got it this time, “That's the point.”

As if you didn’t already sense it, this was the first time you absolutely understood that Daryl was serious when he decided to do anything. Full commitment. Start to finish. You said you wanted to learn, that you wanted to be capable, then that’s exactly what he was going to teach you. You would take it seriously too.

Soon enough, Daryl allowed you to ride out of the gates of Alexandria first instead of switching off after you got a few miles out. You were getting better. So much so that today would be a different day, he explained. Daryl wanted you to ride to the Hilltop. This would be the longest distance you’ve ever rode. A whole 23 miles. But before you guys got there he would steer you in the direction of a turnpike: he wanted to practice speed, and most crucially for you, right and left turning.

His weapons and guns were strapped to his lower body, some on his thigh holster, and a machine gun over his back, all just in case, and his hold on your waist was fixed as you rode. It made you feel like a child and such a little teenager all in one with how excited you would get. Not only were you becoming skilled at riding a whole fucking motorcycle, but you were the one he was holding onto this time and it was the longest amount of time he was holding you at that.

As you reached the turnpike, he guided you around the semi-circular road. Continuing on, you saw a few walkers in the distance. He told you to speed up, there was enough space on the road and there were only four of them, they were far away anyway.

You looked back at your surroundings, other than those four, the road was pretty clear other than some broken down, discarded cars. This accidentally became a lesson on tight turns and swerving too.

Some of your turns were abrupt as you tried to go around the cars, it made you nervous. You knew it was okay not to be perfect, but it was still a little stressful to make mistakes when a master was watching behind you.

“Relax,” he’d tell you, sometimes putting his hands over yours on the handles and helping you out. “You got it.”

You went on and as the walkers approached closer, an idea arose. It was probably irresponsible, but you joked anyway, “Daryl,” you whisper-shouted with fake suspense, getting his attention. “We’re on a mission. Got to take those guys out before they get to Rick!”

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. He leaned in closer as you leaned forward, gaining speed. One arm wrapped around your hips in totality, hand placed firmly there as the other reached for his gun, extending his arm out as you two got closer to the walkers. You two turned to face them as Daryl pulled the trigger: one shot each, straight in the head, “Got ‘em.”

You gasp, your laughter sounding so wild and fun and unrestrained in a way it hasn’t been heard by either of you before. “Is it bad if I say I hope we find another one?!”

“No, that was fun,” he agrees understatedly, trying not to fully give in. You couldn’t even see his face, yet he was trying to hide a smile.

And you were too. It was all too much honestly. You were balancing riding and having Daryl right behind you, holding onto you, trusting you to do something he’s never let anyone else do before; and you just proved you both could probably kill it in a high stakes situation. Well, maybe not, this was very, very low stakes, but still, it made you believe. You decided to ride the high, quite literally as you kept going, shouting back: “Imagine us in battle?”

Oh, wait— your grin fades slightly, you immediately regretted it after you said it. The point of this life was to try to find a way to live, not always fighting to survive. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

The silence makes you feel like an idiot until Daryl speaks up, both hands now on your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, “If we were in battle,” he almost whispers into your ear, “we’d be their worst fuckin’ nightmare.”

You feel your smile practically reaching your ears. “We’re a team,” you say, the humor coming back to your face now, the shine in your teeth reflecting the sun as it always does. “A dream team.”

A dream… Maybe. You definitely were at least, but that is a thought he doesn’t let come to the forefront. He let it go. But it was true… something about you felt unreal to him. The way you wanted to be around him this much, so interested in the things he does; he still didn’t get it, it almost felt unbelievable. He wondered when it was going to stop. When he would wake up. He didn’t want to wake up. The thought grows, he can’t avoid it now: you are a dream. One he didn’t even know he wanted.

Trinket No. 3: Lucky Charms ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Flying Away With You

You gasp excitedly, “The Eiffel Tower!” You hold the bottom up to the light as he still holds the top. “Nice,” you say with bright eyes, “I found the Statue of Liberty in the mom’s jewelry box and a few others that weren’t on her charm bracelet.” You showed him the mother’s sterling silver and he showed you the daughter’s that he found. “I guess they were traveling family… or wanted to be.” You feel a heaviness behind your eyes after you say it.

You loved collecting these charms, but sometimes there was a sadness to it. Like you were collecting other people's tokens, little pieces of their personalities and their stories, keeping it as your own. It almost felt invasive. But it was something that you and Daryl did together. You liked that. Another thing that made you feel close to him… Maybe this was like keeping their memory alive? You may not have known them or know what happened to them, but you were giving something that they loved new life. The charms did make you happy, after all. Especially because it was Daryl that got you into it. But it was also you who got Daryl into it too.

You both can recall the first day it all started: He found it incredulous that you cared more about a little piece of jewelry you saw in the dirt rather than the bigger thing that was right by it: the deer Daryl just shot, the one that you two had been tracking for what felt like hours.

His face twisted up to you as he collected his bolt from the body, “We just caught a deer, and you’re lookin’ at that?”

“We just caught a deer for the first time in months and this was right by them… it’s literally good luck!” You held the gold sun charm to the actual light source it was designed after, “Look at us… Lucky charm, dream team, remember?” Your smile was just so wide after you said it, he let his slight irritation go. It was easy actually, he was always taken aback by that smile. It still wasn’t that long ago when he thought you weren’t the type to do so, like him most of the time. He had only seen you sad, but now, I’m Alexandria, you just glowed. Eyes and an essence as bright as the sun, and that smile, all teeth and just as pearly as the moon… The charm was perfect for you and it needed its match. Maybe a star too. He would find it.

He still remembers where he found those. He came across a silver crescent moon necklace discarded on the floor of a girl’s bedroom. It was simplistic, like one or those expensive necklaces that shouldn’t even be that expensive because of how small it was, but it was a perfect charm size, and it shined, there were no scratches. In the other girl’s room in the house, probably the younger sister, there was a charm bracelet on the desk. It was kind of childish and clunky, like one you could get in those supermarket toy vending machines. He took the first charm he touched and removed the clasp from it for your moon. It was hard to do it with his fingers on something so small and dainty but after a few tries, he managed.

As for the star, he found it on a walker in the woods. It was a little girl, it almost made him feel bad to do it because he knew you’d feel bad about it, but her and what looked like her mom and dad went straight for the two rabbits he just caught, ripping their skin, eating them. He shot them all in the head. The thud of their bodies to the ground only seconds apart. Oh well, were his thoughts, their fault for messing with his catch. After that is when he noticed the gold charm bracelet on the kid’s wrist. It was different from the one he saw last time in that other girl’s room, it wasn’t a fake toy, it was more refined. Maybe they were a well-off family.

There was a star was at the center. It’s all he wanted, but he thought you might want to see the others she had too— they were all nature themed, he kind of liked it— so he tried to take the bracelet off but it wasn’t working. The thing fit her wrist perfectly and the bracelet clasp was stuck so, in typical Daryl fashion… he just chopped the girl's hand off.

Kind of gross, and he would definitely have to keep the red off of everything now, but the star charm was gold, it would match the sun charm and the moon would stand out at the center, he assumed. He thought it could look nice… and beggars can’t be choosers in the apocalypse anyway. After he took the bracelet he discarded of the hand, tossing it to the ground like it was nothing. (He’d leave that part out if you asked for the story later). Now that he had the bracelet, you would also have a gold owl, a bunny, a bird, and if it couldn’t get any better, there was a deer charm too. That’s what was most important about the account anyway.

That night, Daryl crawled into your bedroom from the window while you were asleep. He placed the star and moon on top of your journal that was on your desk, and after that, he left. That was it. He just wanted to surprise you. He’d give you the rest later. You only realized he did it and how he did it when you closed your window that was slightly left open the next day. There were scuff marks on the window sill. They were from his shoes.

After that it became a game; a little side quest. Like how people would count red versus blue cars or shout ‘punch buggy,’ when they are out with their family. An activity that took you out of your boredom, or really, for you in the apocalypse, it was an activity that made you feel oddly sane again, since you always dealt with the insane everyday anyway.

That was what today was about. At least on the down low; at least after you found anything of value for the community; at least to you two. You guys had found what seemed to be a wealthy neighborhood a while ago, when you passed that turnpike. The houses there were so big there, but all you had was his bike at the time, nowhere to put supplies and you were expected at the Hilltop, you couldn’t stay and look around.

It had been a little while after that and you had a plan now, a few Alexandrians backing you up with cars. You two finished your portion of houses to sweep and now you were waiting on the others, sitting in one of the house porches. That’s why you both were showing each other your finds from this place and the others.

You continued to hold the Eiffel Tower charm in your hand, “Maybe we should go to Paris…” Your voice was wistfully, then a quietness lingered in the air, it made you laugh awkwardly, releasing the tension. Your suggestion was one of those silly things you say where you mean it, but you pretend it’s just a joke, knowing it won’t have any outcome. “All of us, I mean,” you do mean it, but at the same time you we’re just talking about him right now. “That would be nice.”

“What would I do in Paris?” He asks it while he fixes his weapons, you’re sitting back, looking at the trees. He thought it was a ridiculous idea. He’s never been anywhere. He hadn’t even been to Virginia or D.C. before this and there’s no way he could go anywhere else now.

“Well I guess we’re never going to know unless we find out… you can eat!” You laugh, “You do like eating.”

He snorts, “Who knows if there’s food left there.”

Pessimist. “Again— we’re never going to know unless we find out.”

“Have fun tryin’ to become a pilot,” his drawl comes out strong on that last word. “Or a plane.”

“I guess that’s the next charm we need to find, an airplane or a captain’s hat. I am a pilot… or I can pretend to be.” There’s that smile again, “I can do anything.”

“Bet you could.” He meant it.

You nod, your next words making you laugh at yourself, “I’m Barbie.”

“Better,” he mutters. You can barely hear it. You don’t know if it was real so you say nothing until—

“We’re going to travel the world some day, Daryl.” You say it so surely, breaking the moment of silence, “We’ll find a way.” As long as we’re together. As long as you want me.

That’s all you wanted, truly. Even if this world really couldn’t take you to Paris, or New York, or anywhere out of Virginia. All you wanted was him. All you wished and hoped for is that he wanted you… but did he? You still weren’t sure.

Trinket No. 4: The Flower and the Photograph 𓇢𓆸

Back Pocket Memory

You two were almost near Alexandria, only a few miles left to drive. “Do you think we can just sit down over there before heading back?”

Daryl continued driving, “Dangerous to leave a good van with supplies just put.”

You pointed to the clearing you were referring to ahead. The trees were sparse in that area, it might have been a meadow, but you didn’t know the difference. There was a little pond near the center. “Can we just drive the car a little bit closer? Just for a few minutes?” You look up at him, your eyes doing that little sunshine thing as it always does, “I just want to sit in the grass,” you say, putting your hand out the window, feeling the wind through your fingers, “the sky feels so nice today.”

He huffs, but does as you ask. “Get out,” he says, gesturing to you to walk over to the area you pointed at. “Pick your spot.” You run over and he follows. You have this wonder about you, it was almost childlike, but not childish, more— sweet, innocent perhaps.

You jump down to the ground and cross your legs on the grass, looking out at the pond. Daryl parks the car a little behind you and comes out to sit on the hood. His legs spread, knees almost to his chest, his elbows lay on there, arms extended.

You look at him, “You’re really not going to sit down?”

“If someone comes up behind us and steals our shit then that’s gonna be your fault.”

Fair. You gesture at him to move over and you sit to his side on top of the car.

As you settle, you close your eyes and you raise your face to the sky. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your closed eyelids. There was a majestic kind of wind that blew in the air today. It made everything look effortless, especially Daryl.

His ever-so disheveled hair had pieces flying on both sides, brushing some parts out of his face, and pushing others in. As always, it was just enough that they didn’t completely cover his eyes. How does that always happen? Thinking about it makes you giggle lightly as you look at him.

“What?” He asks, becoming a little self conscious.

You shake your head, your eyes looking at him kindly, hoping to ease his nerves. “You just look nice.” Your voice was silvery and sweet as you said it.

You get up and skip toward the pond, picking a flower and coming back to him. You sit down and try to put the tiniest white flower behind his ear.

“What’re you doin’?” He tries to swat it away, playfully hitting your other hand that tries to hold him in place and he takes the flower from your other hand. He successfully places it behind your ear instead. “Better,” he says.

As he looks at you, he notices light pieces of your hair frizzing up at the top from the wind, other pieces at the bottom still moving around slightly. It didn’t look bad, to him, your hair looks more like that invisible halo he sees when you’re around, and with that flower in your hair, you look like a true angel or maybe even a fairy with all the greenery surrounding you. You’re just lovely.

You give him a closed smile, your head falling to your knees. “Pretty day,” you sigh contentedly.

Pretty girl.

Handsome man.

Then a thought comes. Your smile turning to a grin.

“What?” He asks sharply. He knows the look you get when you’re up to something at this point.

You grab your backpack from your side, slowly bringing out the polaroid camera you found earlier today.

“No,” he pushes the side of your face, already detesting the idea.

“Daryl,” you whine.

He says it straight this time, “No.”

“But…” your eyes trail his face for a moment before continuing, “you just look… I don’t know. It’s like I said, you just look so- nice.” There’s other words you could use, but you don’t, not yet. “I just think it would be nice to have a nice picture. All we take pictures of is the houses and work. It’s boring and a waste.” You pause, “Daryl… Please?”

He rolls his eyes, grumbling, “You first.”

He’s glad no one was around when these moments happened. Someone might think you had him completely whipped. His brother definitely would think so if he was still around. Daryl was almost embarrassed of himself because of it. But you don’t ask for much. Other than the bike thing, you really didn’t. You trusted him and you were patient. You went along with his plans and you could sit for long car rides and periods of time in quietness if that’s what he wanted. You never pushed him to tell you his story. He only knew a part of yours circumstantially and he didn’t push you for more details after he brought you home, so you did the same. He could feel you wanted to ask more questions, but he also saw you stop yourself, move on, you were creative with your conversation topics: you asked him about what the best thing he hunted was, or what his favorite things were about your friends. You were so gentle with him. Maybe you could get him to do almost anything you wanted without you even knowing, but it was worth it for someone like you.

You look down shyly, “I’m not good at pictures,” you admit.

“You’ll look fine.” He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. You’re so alike, more than you know.

He tilted your jaw with his thumb. It was too quick for you to melt into it but the feeling lingered, it made you buzz with excitement and it was easy to smile after that. He looked through the viewfinder, seeing you do that pretty sunny smile, matching the yellow bud of the white flower. He clicked the button. Beautiful.

You snatch the camera instantly, “Your turn!” You were too eager but you didn’t care.

You take the flower from your hair and bring it toward him. He sucks his teeth, saying your name as he does so, “No!”

“Yes, Daryl!” You push it over his ear, but not before he pushes you knee, just to do it. He didn’t even know why he was fighting, he knew he was letting you have your way right now. “Look,” you sound like a school teacher, “very nice.”

You even out some of the frizzy parts at the top of his head, the light wind was still blowing through it, it was futile so you left it, he looked great anyway. A perfectly imperfect mess.

He crossed his arms over his knees and looked into your eyes. You held the camera to your face and snapped the shot. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him for a moment longer. If anyone else was here that could see those all to familiar hearts and stars around you and in your eyes, it was so hard to hide. “I’m keeping this,” you said, placing the polaroid delicately in your back pocket. He said nothing, he wasn’t going yo let you know he cared about a dumb picture. “Okay, thank you for indulging me,” you start, taking the flower from his ear, “let’s go home.”

Later that night, past one am, he came through your window again. But this time you saw. Your head was almost covered by the blankets, your eyes slightly open. He didn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he wanted to be quick.

You saw him go into your bookbag. It was hanging on your desk chair. He took the picture out. He wanted it. He wanted your picture. The one that matched yours of him. Maybe this was something. Maybe he did want you.

You closed your eyes quickly when he started to turn around, then watched as quietly as you could as he neared the window, starting to climb out but not before he placed the polaroid in his back pocket, just like you did. Now you both had a piece of each other, forever.

Trinket No. 5: The Music Player and the Wish on an Eyelash ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ♬♪

Never Fade Away

It’s official, in all the ways it possibly could be: Alexandria was truly your home. More time has passed: you live in a house, you have a job, you have family— it’s your friends. In some ways things are better than they have ever been… yet you still think about the night and the dark just as much as you used to. You tried to hide it, you wanted to be grateful and you were. But the things that used to happen to you, and the people that hurt you… they still lingered like ghosts when night came.

In the closed and guarded walls of your community, you hoped night could be a time and place that was peaceful. But thoughts of an attack, thoughts of losing your first real home, it left you apprehensive and paranoid of what could happen in your vulnerable state. And when you close your eyes, sometimes the past visits your dreams. It all felt inescapable.

It makes you so fearful that despite keeping your window’s curtain open, a battery-powered lantern resides practically glued to your nightstand— always on when the sun goes down. You knew it was a waste of a resource, but at least you kept it on low, at least when you woke up in the middle of the night, closer to morning really, you remembered to turn it off— the sun making its way back around soothed your nerves; it was always that initial getting-to-sleep part that made you need it anyway.

And of course, you’ve tried to calm yourself down at night using different methods to see what stuck: You do read— your neighbors were always kind enough to lend whatever books were in their houses— and you did daydream— letting your mind wander to happier, more wondrous places when you wanted to escape— and it did help sometimes, but on other nights, it wasn’t enough.

You miss watching tv in bed. There was something about the buzz of the box, and the voices of humor and romance and relatability that miraculously took you away, and helped you stop thinking, even allowed you to drift to sleep… it was a luxury you didn’t have anymore, and not only did you not have that luxury, you also had an overabundance of dead or deadly issues to worry about. It all haunted you.

You sat with your back against the headboard of the bed. You’ve yet to put on any night clothes. You had already read the next chapter of your book, and you would have read another, and possibly another after that, but tonight you knew it would have just kept you awake as something to do instead of worrying about sleep. You were tired though. That’s why you stopped, but you also weren’t ready for trying to catch sleep that wouldn’t come.

Part of you hoped Daryl would stop by, but he doesn’t always, and he probably won’t tonight. Some nights he’s out until the next day or the next week, who knows how far he went this time, you didn’t go with him and he left too quickly to ask. It had been a few days since you saw him last.

When he was here though, he did start to make it a habit of stopping by to see you, especially when it was time for Alexandrians to settle into their homes for the night. He stopped being so quiet through the window and only dropping things off. He would start coming through the door. It was just a light chat for a couple of minutes at first, then there were the times when he stayed an hour or two. He always sat on your floor, by the window, or by the door. You never understood why until you insisted he sit in your chair by the closet. It was only until a few more visits later you realized the chair's light color becoming just a bit visibly darker. It was soot and hard work and the air, he worked outside all day and usually visited before he called it a night. You made sure not to mention it, you just cleaned it yourself. No need for him to feel embarrassed.

Besides, you didn't mind, anytime he walked through your door or jumped in from your window, that was his chair, at least that’s what you called it in your head. You liked that. You liked that after he brought you home he didn’t move on and let you be. In his defense, you didn’t let him be either, but he could have always distanced himself if he wanted to, told you no, but he didn’t.

You two have gotten so close quite quickly. You both felt it and you didn’t know why, but at the same time, you did. It was something left unspoken, even in your mind, always on the side toward the back of your brain. That part knew you could fall in love with him, but why admit it to yourself if the other person might not feel the same? You were still feeling that way. Despite all the moments you’ve shared thus far. His silent nature was endearing at times, but it could also be a very confusing gripe of yours. There were moments when you knew exactly where his mind was, but there were other times when you simply did not. Especially when it came to you. Daryl always gave you just enough, and maybe tonight, it would be nothing at all.

At least that’s where your thoughts resided until you heard the creak of your door slowly pushing inward.

Daryl’s hand holds the doorknob, meeting your eyes as he steps in further. Your window casting just enough light on his face.

“Hi,” you meant to be clever, ask him if he knew how to knock, but only wistful, subdued surprise is all that came out in your one-word greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, it almost seemed like he was surprised too, you couldn’t tell it from his voice but from the way he cut the word short. “Didn’t know if you were awake.”

You laugh somberly, “You didn’t?”

“Didn’t see you in the window.”

His voice is low, your house is quiet, and people are asleep in the other rooms. You match his tone with your own quietness, “Right,” you say. The window did hit the bed end, not the top. But he knew you were a late sleeper. He even came and sat with you for longer the night before he left because you had told him about it— he knew, he had to, but you didn’t question it.

“Um,” he’s looking down, “Was just gonna leave somethin’.”

He starts to walk to your nightstand but you stop him, your hand reaching out, not touching him, but it’s just enough to pull him to your gaze. “You’re gonna leave without showing me?”

Daryl positions himself toward you and you sit up. Gingerly, he takes something small out of his front pocket, it was covered in one of his bandanas. He looks at it for a moment, almost unsure before placing it on the bed, right in front of your lap.

It was an MP3 player. One of those slim rectangular ones with a digital rectangular screen to match and a big circular button with the controls covering the bottom half. There were some small scratches in the screen corners and some dent marks in the back. The arrow buttons were starting to fade too, but he handed you some headphones out of his back pocket as you continued to examine it, it must have worked.

You look up at him, eyes wide, shining just a bit in the dark just like the little silver miracle that was in your hands. You remembered having one of these, the thought made your lips curl, a light open-mouthed smile forming as the nostalgia set in.

You move closer to the edge of the bed, the sky illuminating you more in your semi-darkened room. You place your hand on the other end of your bed, “Come,” you say as your tap the spot. He’s hesitant before he finally accepts the invitation, sitting down. You would have insisted anyway if he didn’t.

You flip the switch on the side then and the music starts instantly in your right ear where you set one of the earbuds in. You tried to put the left on him, but he shook his hand, “You listen.” You let him be for now, you were too excited to see what the previous owner was into.

The songs are scattered from different decades, but what you notice the most of as you skip through were various 90s and 2000s rock, pop-punk, pop, and the like. There was Nirvana, but also Fiona Apple to Blondie, and even Elvis. It was a little all over the place, really. This definitely had to be a teen’s in the early or late aughts. You thought maybe Carl would like this. There was even some stuff that you were sure had to have come out in 2010, right before the apocalypse began… Another kid who wouldn’t get to spend the rest of their teens, or young adulthood, or adult life like they were supposed to, like you were supposed to.

Having these thoughts while Aerosmith’s Fly Away From Here played was not helping, especially since it made you think of your lost family, and those from your found family that were gone now too, so you decided to skip, but the button seemed to fidget. You tried again, then again, even touching the screen. You accidentally made the shuffle icon come onto the bottom corner.

“Don’t like Aerosmith?” Daryl read it on the screen, but he also recalled the melody, even from just the soft buzz produced by the headphones, the volume was accidentally turned all the way up, you set it down.

You give him a light smile, “Aerosmith’s fine. Just have to be a little more careful with this, I guess.”

You continue to press forward to see what else is there until you shriek, color coming back to your face as you shake your head at the memory emerging as you listen. “Oh my god, my sibling used to love this song when we were younger.” It was Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend that was playing. “We used to put on the radio or look up the music videos on the tv and dance. They loved doing that…” Your voice was soft, both sweet yet desolate, “I knew all the popular songs and all their favorite songs whether I liked it or not.” You giggle, “I can lie this one is fun.”

You knew Daryl would probably scoff, but you lightly place the left earbud near his ear for a few seconds so he can hear what you’re talking about.

“Definitely a chick’s.”

“‘Chick’?” It was funny, and you did laugh, but you still decide to protest, “It’s just one song and…I don’t know, I think it’s a pretty eclectic mix of artists…” You continue to press forward as you ask, “Were there kids? Or- did there used to be?”

“Based on the rooms.” He nods, “Boy and a girl.”

“Hm,” you say curiously, flipping through the songs: the next one that played was by Linkin Park, then Alanis Morisette… you wondered if the kids shared it or shared interests. Suddenly, the player starts Lit’s My Own Worst Enemy. Your eyes are starlit as you gasp, “Oh, this one is so you.”

This time you fully push the headphone into his left ear, turning the volume all the way up as the first verse plays, his face is fixed, “This ain’t me.” There is silence as the music continues and he scorns, “You think I used to just get drunk all the time?”

“Daryl,” your laugh is light, “no.” It was a ridiculous thought and he should know it, but nonetheless, you console him, “Of course not.” Your hand reaches forward onto the bed, nearing where his own resided, but not touching. It saddened you to see Daryl always react like this to small things. He was never judgmental, but he was always so quick to believe others would judge him. “Maybe not that part,” you smile, slightly mischievous, “but- okay, this-” you sing-speak along lightly, remembering to stay quiet, “it’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy, cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me- that's you! That's literally you.”

He shakes his head, ‘Whatever,’ the gesture says with his grunt.

“No, you’re actually a little bit self-deprecating, I think. At least internally.” You continue, “Oh, and this part— I didn't mean to call you that- you see?” You say, humor still in your smile, “That part is you.”

Daryl gives you another small grunt indicating ‘no’ as he shakes his head again. “If I say something to someone, then I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I don’t.”

“Well, you also mean a lot of what you don’t say,” your eyes trail to the side. You knew that didn’t make sense, but it did to you. There was a part of you that was still in denial of your feelings or if there was a possibility he had any for you either. You’d never see him talk or treat anyone in a more than friendly way– or whatever Daryl’s version of friendly was. You wanted to protect yourself by not admitting you adored him, even to yourself, but really, you knew. And there was the way he kept giving you these things, these little moments: the ribbon, the picture, the charms… It made that smaller part of you that believed something was there, glow and warm inside your heart.

You look at him, there was a sorrow placed on both of your faces, but he just looks at his hand that is placed on the bed through his hair, the one that's so close to yours. “You really don’t think there is anything you don’t regret saying?” Another song passes, you didn’t recall it, but then the playlist shifts to something slower, it’s the Beatles. “I just think you keep a lot inside… It’s okay though. But it is just something I notice.”

Normally, a comment like this or something similar to it would sound trite and judgmental, there are a lot of things people don’t talk about now, but you say it with understanding, a little sad because you can’t help it, but your voice is kind, like gentle fingers through his hair, evening it out; a voice that shows you care, you see him and respect him even if you do want more. “It’s okay,” you whisper as Paul McCartney’s voice sings softly, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me.” It felt like he was speaking right to Daryl as he continued to look away from you.

It’s moments like this where he wants to say it all. The sad stories from his childhood that he has never been able to tell anyone before. Stories about his brother… the bad, yes, but even some of the good ones. He knows he could talk to Rick if he wanted, or Carol. His group was loyal to him as much as he was to them– he knew that, but they probably wouldn’t care to hear about Merle, it would probably make them angry to be reminded of all the bad things he’s done to them. He wouldn’t blame them. In many ways, and for more reasons then all of them, he will always be angry at his brother too. This is why he didn’t even like to let himself think about the past, but in other ways, it still sucked. It makes him feel alone, like talking about himself or his brother or the past was just a gateway to hurting himself and scaring others, scaring you.

You wipe him away from those thoughts even though you didn’t even hear them, your voice pulling him out of his trance, “Things are harder now, Daryl, but I think you’ve only gotten better.” There is still so much you don’t know, but nonetheless, it’s like you can read his mind.

“This is the only me you know.”

“And even then I don’t think you’re the man I met when you found me… We’re definitely not the same people.” Your hand is just inches from his fingertips now. “We all have things to improve on, even if we think we’ve already grown up. I think that’s a part of growing up actually… just realizing that you never do, or at least not entirely. You’re always going to continue to grow.” Your words linger in the air as the next song starts, it’s Paramore, it’s The Only Exception— something still laced with melancholia but it has a sweet gentleness to it. It's just like you. This is how you were trying to be with your words. “It’s better if you allow it though, or work toward it instead of against it, I think.” You laugh at yourself then, “But I'm far from perfect so I should really stop talking.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks, you’re hopeful the night’s light doesn’t show it too much.

He wishes he could tell you he thinks you’re perfect, or at least something close to it. At least for him. You truly were like an angel. Maybe Radiohead is on this too.

The chorus continues to play, leading to the song’s ending and his jaw tightens. It’s annoying that you were right, your words from before echo to him. They weren’t nonsensical, he did get it: he does mean the things he never says as much as the things he does, but no one will ever get to know. Not that everyone has to, but maybe for you, maybe just a little, maybe you can be the exception. And he can tell that you’re trying to me: who carries around a silly little ribbon anyway? Or who keeps their window open almost every night, even on cold nights? He felt like he was failing you. Maybe these gifts and these small moments weren't enough. Maybe they were just trinkets; meaningless, giving you false hope for a love he couldn’t provide.

You both hear the outro, “Oh, and I’m on my way to believing,” and his heart pangs at that. Maybe he doesn’t have to fail, maybe he can try, at least right now, “It’s just…” he speaks up, his voice clears, “It made me think of you when I saw it.” He was talking about the mp3, “That’s why I brought it back… You’re always humming under your breath. Now you can stop annoying me with the same old thing.”

Your eyes roll, but you aren’t mad, in fact, you can't help that it makes you smile. “Oh, okay, Daryl,” you say through quiet bits of laughter.

“Also thought it could help you sleep… I dunno.”

You nod intently at his words, “Thank you,” and that wistfulness in your voice returns. “That's really kind.”

He nods back. He’s so gruff and straight-faced all the time, but was it bad to say that there were moments when you can't help but see him as adorable? He was always trying not to meet your gaze through his hair, and it was always messy like a kid’s, just like when you took that photograph.

Muse’s Starlight starts playing as you brush some of the hair out of his face. It's an awkward transition, but it's what you get from accidentally pressing shuffle so many times. In the end, though, the words make it seem perfect for the moment. The singer spoke of desire and escape, about missing loved ones and wanting to keep someone special, someone that's like starlight, close by. You understood that. He did too.

You giggle lightly, “Daryl, you- you have something…” You point at your face in reflection of his.

“What?” He wipes his nose.

“No, it's- it’s here,” you say, taking your finger to lightly catch the eyelash that threatened to slip away from his face and onto the bed. “Make a wish,” you whisper. Your face is nothing short of innocence and wonder.

His snorts, “I’m not doin’ that.”

“Daryl,” you eyes widened with apparent prodding and pleading annoyance, but your words still have a sense of amusement to them, “I think we need all the luck we can get.” Your head tilts as you say through your smiling teeth, “I’ll do it with you…?”

“Fine.” He can’t help that your squeal makes his lips curl but he’s trying to hide it.

“You have to really do it.” You turn the music down, it's in the background now. Your usual sun-filled eyes are currently wide like the moon as you look into his, coming closer to his face.

He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise?” You sing.

“Promise.” He meant it, he even closed his eyes before you to prove it.

You closed your eyes too, “Okay, I’m trusting you.” Squeezing them tightly, you whisper, “Think about what you want, and then I'm going to count to three and we blow.”

Instantly, your heart foolishly thinks of Daryl. You know you could be thinking about the safety of your group, the stability of Alexandria, or hoping that the threat everyone feels coming subsides into nothingness, but all your thoughts are just of him. It makes you feel like a silly little girl, waiting for that big romantic confession of love that you dream about, the one that will probably never come.

I wish for you, you think. You can’t help it, you can’t say anything else, this is the only thing that’s true, I just wish to stay by your side, forever.

The song echoes your hopes too, I’ll never let you go if you promise not to fade away.

You agree, never fade away, please.

“Okay,” you say softly aloud, “1… 2… 3…” And then your wish flies into the air. You two stare at each other afterwards, eyes starry like the sky from your window.

You wished for each other.

Trinket No. 6: Scars, Marks, Tattoos, and Internal Wounds ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Things I Only Trust You to Know

It’s another night. Another visit. It wasn’t intentional this time, but your curtains were drawn. They’re almost never drawn, at least not completely. The window was still open though, the night’s breeze ruffled them backwards. Daryl became concerned, so he climbed up, opening the window wider and pushing the curtains to the side to get through.

He saw you crying.

Hearing the thud of his boots stomp lightly to the ground triggered you to turn, body facing the closet as you were curled in your bed. You didn’t want him to see you. “I’m tired tonight, Daryl.” Your voice was low, you tried to keep in neutral. For the most part you were doing well, but it was still obvious you weren’t fine— he saw your face before you covered it.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs hitting by your feet. He didn’t feel like asking if you were okay if you were going to lie and say no. “You can tell me to go if you want,” was all he said, rubbing your arm as he did and then let go. You starting sniffling involuntarily because of the touch. You realized you were holding in a breath, the shaky exhale came out louder than you wished it did. “I’m sorry,” your voice blubbering. You were embarrassed. You hadn’t done this in front of him since before he brought you home.

“Don’t gotta be.”

“I feel stupid,” you say under your breath. You’re still trying to hide your face.

“Stop.” He puts his hand over your body now, on the bed, and he faces you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head slowly, looking at him, “I don’t know how to say. I can’t-”

“Just say it,” he said calmly.

You felt heat rising from your throat, it was like the words were trying to come out, but it felt scary to do so, it made your teeth grind against each other. Your head shakes harder, “I don’t think I can.”

He brings a hand to your face and wipes some of your tears with his thumb, “What would you tell me?”

You would tell him to speak, that it’s okay, you both knew it. The thought makes you sit up in your bed, tears still running down your cheeks, but you were going to try.

“You’re just going to get annoyed,” you wipe some of your tears with your wrist, “think I’m dumb, like a little girl.”

“You’re not dumb,” he spoke over you before you finished.

You pause, you shake your head again. The words are on your tongue but you just feel so bad and so embarrassed to admit it. “Sometimes I just…” your voice hitches and your hands goes to your head, more tears fall, “it’s just one of those days, I guess.”

One of Daryl’s hands goes to your shoulder and your upper back, he pats you until it quickly becomes a soft, swaying motion.

Your voice doesn’t go above the lightest whisper as you try to start again, “Sometimes- I just look at myself and I-” a sob erupts from your throat and tears roll much quicker, “I know you’re going to think I’m stupid, but sometimes I just wonder if anyone could love me.” It doesn’t even feel good to finally admit it, but you continue, “I feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m not enough. Or I’ll never be.”

Daryl’s face heats up. How could you ever feel that way about yourself? How do you not see yourself as anything less than everything he’s seen in you since the day he met you? You’re not stupid. Never. He feels stupid for not seeing this in you. He feels stupid for it being so hard for him to tell you everything wonderful about yourself in the way you deserve.

He thinks for a moment, he wishes he was more poetic, but he wasn’t and there are still certain things he’s not ready to say. So he decides on something else as he calls your name, “You’re telling me you can’t see you’re a tough son of a bitch?” The phrase makes you laugh involuntarily through your tears, he always says it like it’s one word. “One that found a way to burn down a hospital and kill a bunch of dickheads in one go just to stay alive?” He huffs, “Prettiest arsonist I’ve seen.”

You gasped but it made you smile lightly, it was funny. “I’m not an arsonist! And it was only part of the building.”

“Coulda fool me.” He tilts his head, “But you’re also probably one of the best scavengers we got. And you’re a good friend.” His hand travels to your knee, “You’re really good at talkin’ to people… and to me.”

You try to let his words fill you up but there is still doubt. “I don’t feel like pretty and really good are the right words.”

“Then you’re wrong.”

You shake your head.

He doesn’t get it, “Well, what do you see that I’m not?”

Your heart beats ferociously, you don’t move, you’re hesitant, you don’t know if this is right, but there is a part of your that wants to. “Can I show you something?” You asked.

He nods.

It’s scary, but you decide to trust him, showing him the part of yourself you felt most ashamed of. The part of you that you thought was unloveable.

But he sees nothing shameful, nothing bad, he just holds onto it or another part of you, caressing you gently. “You’re perfect,” he says, shrugging as if his words aren’t a big deal, but he knows they are. This is the first time he doesn’t keep a thought like this in his head anymore. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He turns his back on you now, and he takes a breath, sighing deeply. You’re confused until he sighs and starts to speak; “When you were with those guys— and I know it ain’t the same, but— I know what it’s like. For people to use you.” He swallows hard, “I don’t like myself all the time neither.”

Your eyes widen. He was taking off his shirt. The first thing you see are tattoos, until your eyes travel to the other side, you see what he meant; the scars. “My dad. He was a drunk and a loser and an asshole.” Daryl's voice hitched, you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you had never heard him like this before. “He did it to my brother too, Merle. But then he just left when he was old enough. Didn’t even give a shit that our dad was gonna do it to me,” there was anger in his voice. “He said he didn’t know,” and then he chokes on his words, “but how can I believe that? Thought it’d just skip a generation? He never changed. Neither of ‘em.” You wanted to hold him, but you didn’t know if it was too soon. He was still speaking, “Then when I got old enough, I left too. Some time later I started drifting ‘round with Merle, like that was gonna be any better… Two fucked up kids doing nothin’ with their fucked up lives.” His face turned to the side, you saw his profile, his eyes were red, “That’s what I did before Rick… You all were going to do good things with your life and I was gonna be nothing.”

“Daryl…” you were crestfallen, “I’m so sorry.” You held his arm, stroking it softly. “But you weren’t going to be nothing.”

“Yes, I was.”

“There is no thinking about what could have been. This is how life is. Maybe this was always going to happen,” your voice falters as you say it. “You’re not nothing. You’ve become everything to so many people.”

He turns his face back around and you look at his back again. It was difficult to look at, you won’t lie. Your heart sunk low, like it was being squeezed and brought down to the pit of your stomach to know that someone put him through this. Someone who was supposed to love him. Another tear escaped your eye at of the thought.

“Daryl,” you stutter meekly, “Is it okay if I hold you?”

His nod is so faint you barely see it, but he doesn’t say anything else so you believe it is a yes.

Your fingers ghost over his back until you let the tips of them finally lay on his skin.

His eyes wince and squeeze as he shutters despite your fingers trailing so tenderly. Your palm is now flat on his back as you move downwards and back up again. You kiss near his shoulder, right on the tip of his highest tattoo and then you wrap your arms around him, under his arms over his waist, and he holds your hands there.

You stay there for a long while, you don’t have a recollection of time. The moment feels like forever, although it is sad and you wished you weren’t discussing the things you were to get here, you don’t want it to end. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him.

It’s quiet until he says, “No,” disagreeingly, “You’re not brave just because you go through some shit.”

“But you still are,” you insist. “This happened to you and you chose to be the person you are now despite it. You became someone invincible.” You pressed him against you tighter, “I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Finally he turns around and takes you in his arms, your head now resting over his shoulder as your chests touch, closing the gap. You lay down on the bed and he stays on top of you. One hand plays with your hair and you continue to caress his back.

“I really like your tattoos,” you whisper, almost a giggle in your voice. “They look really good on you.”

He smiles a little. He never takes off his shirt so people barely see all the ones he has. He liked that you liked them. “Thank you,” he says.

“Do you want more? If you could?” You also want to ask why he got the ones he did, but the crying has made you sleepy and him being on top of you is making your mind hazy. “I wish I could,” is all you add.

He looks at you, “Maybe that’s the next thing we find.” He was talking about a tattoo gun, “That’s the kind of junk people don’t need now, we’ll look.”

He plays with your hair again, both your smiles are so innocent and lazy, you two would knock out soon, but it was nice to talk about something that used to be mundane for a moment.

“What if we do it and it turns out bad?”

“We’re not gonna find it tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, moving on. “You know… I remember I used to be so scared of that stuff— needles and blood. I can imagine wincing just thinking about a needle touching me at the doctor’s… But now, I think that’s a pain I’d actually prefer… Rather than the other things we’ve gone through… If there ever was a choice like that.”

He agrees, “If there was a choice, I’d be covered by now.”

You two laugh at that, letting go of each other. Your bodies are on your sides, parallel to one another as you lay down. You’re on the side that faces the window and Daryl’s back is to it. He sees the moonlight illuminate your face because of it, the glow makes you look enchanting.

He wonders if you would get one— a tattoo, or another one, of this: of the moon; of the night where you showed each other parts of your bodies you wanted to hide, thinking they were flaws; of the night where you accepted each other fully despite it. Where he laughed and felt happy even after he shared something so dark. He almost never laughs or feels happiness in its totality, but with you, he does. It happened right now as he’s looking at you.

You see his face glistening in tandem with the white light that shines on you, it’s darker, but it’s still there. You were wondering the same exact thing.

Your eyes feel heavy now. They slowly flutter shut, but you try to keep them open. You don’t want him to leave. But he sees that your face dozing off, you’re tired, your eyes keep trying to close and close fully. He quietly gets up to go, but you stop him. Holding onto his forearm, sliding down to his hand. “Just stay,” you murmur, “please,” it’s light and dream-like. So he does. He doesn’t want to let go of your hand. He doesn’t want to let go of you.

You both stay at your sides, your intertwined hands at the center. He continues to look at you and you smile softly as your body finally allows your eyes to close shut. You drift swiftly to sleep. And he stays awake for a while longer, fixed on you and your slowing breath until sleep finds him too.

Daryl being right there, and you being right next to him, made everything infinitely better.

Despite it being vague on details, feel free to skip around areas of this one if you are not comfortable with reading about the reader being imprisoned at the Sanctuary.

Trinkets No. 7 & 8: The Second Ribbon and the First Kiss ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ જ⁀➴ -`♥︎´-

Confessions From a Broken Bowman and a Battered Beaut

It had taken a long while for you and Daryl to talk again after you escaped the Sanctuary.

The last time he saw you was through your tears as Negan’s men threw him in a van, your eyes bloodshot, wanting to scream and plead. He felt it was his fault that he didn’t fight harder; he felt that it was his fault that you were in there for so long; felt it was his fault that you were taken there in the first place. He couldn’t save Glenn— a burden he still carried so deeply, even after talking to Maggie— and that led to not being able to save you. He felt like he left you, not knowing you would have been in the same place he was if he didn’t escape before you got there. But what choice did he have? He didn’t know. And he doesn’t even know if it’s a good or bad thing to admit that in a heart beat, he would take another day of torture, of abuse and pain, if it meant he was with you, and you could make it out together. One more day for him would have been worth your days only adding up to one hand if it could. It would have been better than just waiting for you on the other side. Having to hide just so Negan wouldn’t find him and kill him and more of his friends because of it.

And even worse, what if he threatened Daryl with you instead? Especially since you were still there, with him. That’s part of the reason why Daryl wanted to blow up the Sanctuary. It would have just been one side. Just enough to cause the chaos you needed to run away from your captures and back home. You were fast enough, he knows you are, and you must have known all the exits by now. He tried to convince himself of it. Rick told him it was a bad idea, dangerous to do that to the workers, and most importantly to you— it too many what ifs if it didn’t work out— but what else was he supposed to do? He needed you out, and the Saviors to be gone. It felt like the only choice.

But then, Daryl saw your face. You got out, you didn’t need another fire. It must have been their first attack against the Sanctuary that helped.

Your breathing was so heavy when you finally stopped, you were running so fast, there were patches of dirt all over you, sweat dripping from your neck. It must have been fate that he, Tara, Micchone, and Rosita were right there on the other side, ironically trying to go back to the place you just escaped from.

All their guns were pointed in your direction. They heard the gunshots, they heard someone running. They instantly dropped everything when they saw that it was you.

It felt like the world turned in its full rotation in seconds, coming into a halt all in this moment. The woods, the running, the chance encounter— him; it’s like you were brought right back to the start.

He was speechless, stunned in a way he didn’t expect, mouth agape and yours the same. You didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know how to apologize in the way he felt he should, so you both just stood there. Tears started to well in your eyes. All he did in the end was look down.

This exchange of stares happened only in a mere matter of seconds until Rosita brought you in for a hug, cursing leaving even though she knew you didn’t have a choice, being so happy you were back, but for you it felt agonizingly long.

And for Daryl, it all felt endlessly hopeless. The reality that his plan probably could, or most definitely would have killed you sunk in. He was stupid for thinking that it could work. And seeing you in that wife's dress? A black bow tied to the back of your head? It was unbearable. He hates that he found it hard to even look at you.

The two other women welcomed you back, Michonne even looked teary eyed. The sight made some of your own tears fall because of it. She took you by the shoulder and Rosita took your waist, guiding you to the trunk. Tara went back near Daryl, she wanted to ask if their new plan at the Sanctuary was still a go but waited when she noticed Rosita sent a glare Daryl’s way. It honestly did more to Tara than Daryl. He didn’t even bother meeting her face, he was already punching himself for his silence, for his inaction. He just got in the driver’s seat and took off.

After that, you watched him, waiting to see when his eyes would finally meet yours, but he tried to avoid them as much as he could. The only time he spoke to you was to ask if you were okay when Alexandria fell and you were all in the sewers, and when he entrusted you to take care of Judith as he guided everyone to the Hilltop afterwards.

This treatment was excruciating, but you said nothing. You didn’t feel like yelling at him, you just wanted him. And there was no time between when you came back to right now when you could speak alone anyway if you did want to yell. If you asked why he probably would just shoved you off and you’d get more sad and upset than you already were, or maybe you’d pester, demanding some kind of answer and he'd be the one that might yell… no reason to fight in front of people, especially since there are so many other things to worry about.

But you remember when you finally got to the Hilltop, and how you saw the way he embraced Carol almost right after he saw her. You weren’t upset about that specifically. You admired Carol, even if you didn’t get to know her that well yet. You knew they loved each other, you thought they had a beautiful relationship… It wasn’t that. It was the fact that you fought all the way to get back to your family, to him, and it felt like it was all just so he could act like a stranger again. He didn’t even say hello when he saw you, or ask how you got out, or that he missed you. Maybe he didn’t. That was the real reason you said nothing. The thought broke your heart.

You could at least say that Negan talked to you, and didn’t keep all his feelings inside– whether they were real or not, you were only half sure somtimes– but your time at the Sanctuary, becoming a soon-to-be-wife, it was a hardship only you endured. No one would understand the humor of that sick joke, and it especially wasn’t the time nor would it ever be when everyone hated him and wanted to kill him so desperately.

The next day came by, you all prepared for the Saviors to attack at Hilltop. You were on a break, sitting in the cellar. It was dark, but it helped relieve you from the incessant heat that beamed outside.

Daryl was looking for you. This happened to be the third place he went around. He had just spoke to Rick, apologized for their fight. He felt awful that it took until after Carl passed for them to talk about it, and that his passing made Rick start to believe all the killing might be the only option like Daryl believed before. He still wasn’t sure what he felt now. All he knew is he couldn’t let you two go on like this any longer. It was time to talk to you.

As he opened the cellar door he kept it slightly open, letting the light emanate through.

He sits down next to you, bringing his knees up as he usually does. You don’t bother looking at him. Maybe he would just ask you to do him a favor like last time.

There is silence for a moment. He doesn’t know where to begin. All he decides to say is, “You got Judith here safe, I made sure Rick knew. Thank you.”

“You’re the one who led us here.” Your voice says quietly.

“You helped chop a lot of those walkers down in the swap.”

You sigh, not answering him right away. “This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” he mutters.

Silence is all that hangs in the air again. With each second that passes it makes your throat swell, bubbling up to your tongue and brain as it usually does until you’re trying to hold back tears.

Daryl was feeling similarly. All his words were caught in his throat too, wanting to be said out loud but he can’t, it’s like someone is squeezing and choking him right there. And he can see your teary eyes, it could almost make his eyes match.

He says your name low and slow, “Do you hate me?”

You’re stunned at the thought. Your words are hushed but vehement, “How could you ever think I’d hate you?”

“I left you-”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve fought harder when they put me in that van, you grabbed onto me and I still let them take me—”

You speak in between his words, “Why are you acting like you had a choice?!”

“—I could’ve went back right after they told me that’s where you were. Not leave you! I coulda done that.”

You shake your head, your voice a sharp whisper, “If you tried either of those things you would have been dead. Everything would be worse and this probably still would have happened.”

“I could’ve done something,” is all he repeats. Quietness fills the space again. You’re never going to agree on this. He’s stuck on what happened and you’re upset about what’s happening.

You breathe in shakily. He’s still finding it hard to look and it hurts, it makes you sad and angry.

Your voice becomes stifled, almost weepingly as you ask, “Daryl… Why can’t you even look at me? Why have you barely talked to me since I came back?”

His voice raises strainingly, “Cause I left you.”

Your voice cries as your head shakes again slowly, “You didn’t leave me, they took me. You left me now.” That makes him turn. You see his eyes, they’re puffed and the whites of his eyes are a faint red, and yours are still watery. “It’s not your fault.”

The backs of your fingertips brush against his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard and you go down further, continuing to shake your head sadly, moving back to your face to wipe your own tears.

“Did they put you in that cell? Take your stuff?”

“Only the first time I came there. And then the two other times I tried to escape. After that I was sent to sleep with the other girls.” Your voice is quiet, “I don’t think it was the same for me like it was for you.”

“Did he,” he almost can't say it, “Did he hurt you?”

You knew what he meant. All you could do was shake your head slowly, it was a gesture of no.

He nods, his mouth fixed. Some relief is finally released from that, but this doesn’t change anything. They still took you away, they probably put you in a cell, they don’t deserve mercy. He wants to tell you that you all are still going to kill Negan and how he still plans on killing Dwight, but he holds his tongue. This wasn’t what being with you was about right now. His mind races with plans, just thinking of how to get close to them, how to commit the final act, until you speak, reading is mind again.

“I-” you stutter ashamedly, “I think- I know that my time in there has changed me and maybe I see things differently or know more than I used to but… it doesn’t change that I’m with you. I never let that go.” You whimper, “It just hurt when you didn’t say anything to me. Like you were disgusted by me.” You can’t help the string of sobs that come out.

“No,” Daryl holds your face close to his. The bottom of his palm reaching your neck, his fingertips extending over your cheeks, his thumb caressing over the area under and behind your ears. “I fucked up. I was going to try to blow up a part of the Sanctuary… even before I knew you got out… If you got hurt that would have been my fault. That would have been on me. I’d never see you again- Would’ve hated myself.” His voice hitches, it’s rasp so coarse and grating.

You hug him instantly. Your hands go under his arms and one of his goes in your hair, holding your head so tightly as it presses into his shoulder. He cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop” You breathe him in, “It’s okay.”

“It aint.”

“It doesn’t matter now.“ You wait a moment, telling him quietly into his neck, “I only want to be with you.”

“And what if it goes bad? What if I hurt you again?”

“We’re going to hurt each other, Daryl. What matters is we try and we stay. That’s it.”

He faces you now. His nose brushes against yours, your foreheads connect, it makes your eyes flutter shut. Your tears are drying the longer he holds you like that and everything feels so warm. Your heart, your brain, your cheeks and his fingertips against them. It makes you feel it again, that fearlessness— you kiss him. Gently touching his jaw, your chin moves upwards, your mouths opens, your lips twist so softly with his, you already can’t breathe, and then you let go.

As he looks at your face, he smiles, realizing he’s seeing the girl he used to know again. His sunshine girl with the stars in her eyes. They’re shining up, still half sad and glossy, but the bright lights are slowly coming back on. His dream is back. She’s real. You’re real. You’re trying, you’re staying, so will he.

He takes your neck and kisses you this time. His tongue slips in, you’re so surprised, you gasp into his mouth. It makes you both smile into the kiss. You come closer and he helps you into his lap, allowing you to lean in. His hands go to your waist and yours to his shoulders. Then one of his hands runs up to your hair and your opposite hand does the same to him. You want to touch each other everywhere now.

Then he feels the ribbon, the black one. It makes him stop.

You’re worried, “What happened?”

He holds the piece of hair that the ribbon is secured to, it’s only a little part, the rest of your hair is down, and he undoes the bow, discarding it to the ground. Your hair falls messily over your ears and down your neck. “You don’t need that anymore.”

Daryl pushes your hips and you sit on the floor again. He’s reaching in his pocket, and you can’t believe it, it’s another one. A dark ruby, maybe a silky burgundy one it was in color— it was another ribbon.

“How long have you had that?”

“Since I found the other one.” He shrugs, “I thought the first one was better.” This one had fraying on one end, unraveling just a bit.

You would have said that you could sew it later, but you didn’t, you said only what mattered: “It’s perfect.”

Daryl doesn’t argue. This is him trying, he takes the win.

He doesn’t know how to put it nicely in your hair, how you do it with the different styles, so he just wraps all of your hair in a ponytail, just like last time, tying it into a bow.

It feels like a gift, not just because he gave it to you and not because it looks like a decoration on top of one, but it is all of it— this moment, the conversation— it all feels like breathing new life into something you worried might be slowly withering and dying. You exhale, it felt so nice to feel him so close, to feel his fingers run through your hair, to feel his breath on your skin.

“Think maybe this suits you better now,” he says, and maybe it always has.

He leans back against the wall and you lay your head and back in the crux of his knees and chest. You look up into his eyes and he does the same right down at you. There was more work to be done, more fighting to endure, but for now, you lay there as if you were the only two in the world. In a moment of sweet understanding; in a moment of love. You could finally admit it to yourself now, you were absolutely and monumentally in love.

… I could go on forever ♡ perhaps this can be a mini-series where I post one when I think of another and you can feel free to request a trinket you think Daryl would give the reader and I’ll post it and respond or even write a blurb for it and add it to the list if it’s a good fit! Thank you for reading. ⋆｡°✩

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fluff #twd fanfiction #twd fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #writella’s sfw section

[rickgrimesfever]

Sleepy Sheriff

ughhhh, was just thinking of my handsome husband, so here y'all gooooo! Just something short and sweet for my babygirl 😩

Synopsis: You wake up before your boyfriend and have a minute to admit just how handsome he really is. Set in early Alexandria.

The rays of the warm sun peek in through the silky curtains covering the window. The rays land across your face and your eyelids slowly open.

You inhale sharply, feeling relaxed for the first times in day. You glance around the bedroom, still trying to get use to your new home.

This big house all to you, Rick, Judith, and Carl. You have to learn how to live again...

You glance over at the sleeping body beside you. Rick is still asleep on his side, his arm still tightly wrapped around your waist while his other arm is over his head.

His bare chest is poking out from the sheets covering the rest of his body as he's sprawled out on the bed.

Your eyes rake over his clean shaven face and his sharp jawline. The way his curly locks hang over his forehead and his pink lips are slightly parted open, soft breaths leaving.

You carefully reach your hand out and rake your fingers through his soft, clean hair. You smile at how easy your fingers glide through his locks, tucking them behind his ear.

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at Rick. Oh, how you loved him.

You loved him when he had black eyes, bruised ribs, when his face was beaten beyond recognition. You loved him when people were afraid of him and how he was acting when all he was trying to do was protect his family.

You loved him when he was protecting you from any threat or walker. You loved him when he was staring at you with those beautiful blue eyes, declaring how much he loves you and how he will always protect you.

Rick stirs in his sleep, inching closer to you and tightening his arm around your waist. You gently place your hand on his cheek, your thumb rubbing his skin ever so carefully.

He's so handsome and angelic. God, did you love Rick Grimes.

A/N: I am working on requests right now btw! <3

#rick grimes #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x y/n #twd rick #twd fluff #the walking dead fluff #cuddles #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x you #the walking dead imagine #rick x reader #rick x y/n #snuggles

[babyyblues]

for the prompt list.. #14 with daryl. preferably reader is the one who says it to daryl 🙏

#14. "Look at you a blushing mess" era: farm (no spoilers) warnings: soft daryl !!!

-

“Hey pumpkin, can I join ya?” you asked lowly, looking up at Daryl as he sat atop the RV. He ignored the way his ears burned, as he gave you a curt nod continuing to watch out upon the field of the Greene farm. 

“What did I tell ya bout them nicknames,” he grumbled, holding his hand out for you as you climbed up, settling in beside him close enough for your thighs to brush against each other. 

“That you love them and I should definitely keep doing it,” you sneered, reaching out for his hand to intertwine your fingers. He froze at the sudden contact before relaxing in your grip, subconsciously allowing his thumb to rub against your smooth skin. 

“Lucky I like you,” he mumbled, looking over at you, unable to stop the spread of his lips as his eyes landed on your smile as you chuckled. 

“You love it, and you love me,” you teased, puckering your lips, your silent way of asking for a kiss. He rolled his eyes yet didn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours, once, then twice, and three times before pulling back to look at you. 

“I do love ya,” he whispered. 

“I know you do sweetheart, and I’m the luckiest girl in this damned world,” you confirmed, placing your hand on the bottom of his jaw. You watched as his face reddened, feeling the heat from his cheeks radiate in your hand. 

“Look at you, a blushing mess,” you murmured, scratching lightly at the scruff that graced his chin. He scoffed, pulling away from you as you laughed quietly. 

“Get out o’ here, you’re distractin’ me,” he joked, squeezing your hand before pulling you as close as you could get to him before actually sitting on his lap. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily Dixon, ‘m here for the long run.” Looking back up at him, you placed a sweet kiss on his neck and cuddled into his side as a strong breeze hit. 

You sat in comfortable silence under the stars, letting your eyes shut as you listened to the crickets and Daryl’s soft breath.

“Gettin’ tired?” he asked lowly, running his hand up and down your side. 

“No, just enjoying the moment.” 

“Enjoying watching for walkers and danger?” You huffed out a laugh, flickering your eyes open to see him already looking at you. 

“No, enjoying being here with you. Alive, safe, and in love.”

“Don’ get all cheesy on me,” Daryl said a small smile on his lips.

“Can’t help it, jus’ love you ‘s all. This is the first time since this whole thing started-” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “that I’ve felt so secure.” 

“Knew you were tired, you should go rest.” 

“Stop trying to get rid of me, ‘m not leaving your side.” you quipped, changing your position so your head lay on his lap and you were looking up at him. 

“Stubborn pain in my ass,” he mumbled under his breath running his hand through your hair, before pulling his jacket off to lay across your body as another gust of wind burst through the air. 

“Sleep here then.” You nodded, yawning once more before turning to get comfortable. 

“Goodnight pookie,” you slurred. 

“Y/n,” he scoffed earning a chuckle from you. He reached down to pinch at your side, causing you to jerk as you laughed. Shaking his head, he continued his movement in your hair to calm you back down. 

“Goodnight.”

#daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fluff #the walking dead fic #the walking dead #the walking dead angst #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon drabbles

[unadulterated-syd]

Warnings; use of the word sister, otherwise neutral reader.

Synopsis; Y/n looks after Judith, and Carl's in love all over again.

req

It was no secret that you didn't like kids, you did your very best to avoid watching over them. At least, that's what you'd convinced everyone.

Truth be told, you'd loved kids. However you'd had siblings, young siblings, and none of them were around anymore. So out of guilt and hurt, you always chose to keep your heart safe from kids.

You were scared of lashing out, especially when specifically asked to watch any of the kids. Carl had practically found every excuse under the sun to get you to watch Judith, and you found every excuse not to.

After awhile he'd gotten the hint, and respected your boundaries. Though you could tell it damped your friendship over the years. Judith meant a lot to him, and in a way his only deal breaker was that his friends didn't find her just as special.

But, as you grew, and watched Judith grow, you'd come to realise how much she'd meant to you. She was like a little sister to you in a way, and she grew drawn to you.

And after awhile you gave in.

She would come running to your house in Alexandria, on legs that barely carried her. She always barged in and ran to you. With every run since she'd started this trend, you'd brought back anything and everything she could play with.

You'd been so excited when you found an old doll, one you could easily wash and give to the girl. Glenn had questioned you about why you wanted to take it, after-all he had no clue about Judith's playdates with you.

You remembered shrugging him off, and telling him it reminded you of someone. Given the situation of the World around you, he'd naturally assumed you meant someone you had lost.

When you got back to Alexandria you spent hours trying to get every stain and smell out of the old doll, and by the time you'd finished it was good as new.

However, today was a different occurrence than usual.

Carl had a day off in Alexandria, and had planned to spend the day with Judith. Although, Judith was not going to let this stop her from hanging out with you.

So Carl hesitantly followed the small girl to your door, where she swung the door open and ran in calling your name. In a way he felt he should stop her, but her familiarity with the place led him to believe this happened often.

"Jude!" You called, seeing the girl, a huge grin growing on your own face. You looked forward to seeing her, truthfully. She was a piece of innocence in a World that barely knew the meaning.

You picked her up, swinging her around in a playful manner. "I got you something, Jude." You smiled at her, and presented her with the small stuffed animal you'd gotten the day prior.

She'd thanked you and took the doll from you, insisting on naming the old thing. But, your mind was quickly taken from her when you heard the clearing of someone's throat.

You looked up to see Carl, leaned against the door frame with a small smile on his face. He was watching Judith with the new doll, when his eyes finally reappeared on you.

You let out a sigh of defeat, crouching down besides the girl assuring her that the name Blue was perfect for the doll. After a short while of convincing, you put her down for a nap.

Now was the hard part of somehow having a normal conversation about this with Carl.

"So?" He looked at you, he didn't look like he wanted answers. He looked more, happy. Excited perhaps? It confused you in a way, however you also knew how much he'd wanted you and Judith to be friends.

And here he was finding out that she called you her sister.

"She comes over everyday." You groaned, sitting down beside him on your couch. "I bring her little knick-knacks and we hangout, she's a smart girl. Really smart."

"I thought you 'didn't like kids'" He teased, the same smile never leaving his face. However, before you could defend yourself he continued, "I'm messing with you, means a lot that you care for her so much."

You smiled at him, and nodded. You enjoyed the silence just sitting with him, it'd been so long since the two of you saw eye-to-eye. Because Judith was the most important factor in your relationship, she always had been.

But, with you and Judith being so close now, in a way he'd fallen in love with you all over again. It was safe to say he'd loved you before but he couldn't commit, not if you didn't love Judith too.

"Talk to me Grimes, what's going on in that big brain of yours?' You hummed, messing with a candle on the coffee table in front of you. "I think I love you." He blurted, no thought behind the confession.

You stared blankly at the boy for a couple of minutes, whilst he basked in his own regret. He went to apologize, when you cut him off. "I love you too, Carl."

But, before you could say more, Judith was in between the two of you. She was persistent about you two reading her a book, rather than a nap.

Of course you couldn't say no. Who could say no to her?

#carl grimes oneshot #carl twd #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fluff #request #carl grimes x-reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fluff #fanfic #carl #twd #judith grimes #judith

[holdmytesseract]

Drabble request Daryl x fem!reader: i don't want to watch the world end with someone else 🫶🏽 don't know if that's kinda challenging or easy going, I'm excited 🤭

Life and Death

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warning: the usual Walking Dead stuff? walkers, weapons, fluff

Word Count: drabble

a/n: I can't describe how much I enjoyed writing this. Gods, I missed writing for Daryl. 🥹 Thank you SO much for this, friend! 🧡

You were driving down the muddy forest path on your motorbike; crossbow slung over your back. Being the girlfriend of a certain archer had it's perks. Especially in a apocalypse.

The air smelled fresh and clean. Slightly cold, but not freezing. It had just rained; causing the scent of water and earth to fill your nose. Waterdrops fell from the trees which lined the path; hitting the skin of your face from time to time. Closing your eyes for just a moment, you relished in the scent and feel of the nature around you. It was beautiful. And dangerous. But that was nothing new.

The neigh of horses from some distance, ripped you out of your thoughts. You focused; seeing a carriage quite a few yards ahead. You immediately had a guess who it could be and slowed down, carefully approaching. But you could already tell that it was a friend and not an enemy.

When the carriage stopped and you beside it, you knew you were right.

With a bright smile you got off your motorbike and went to hug your friend. "Hey, Maggie. Long time no see. How are you? And Hershel? And Hilltop?" The brown haired woman wrapped you in her arms tightly. "Way too long, Y/N," she started. You could hear the smile in her voice. "'M good, thanks and so's Hershel. Hilltop as well. How are you?" "Never been better, thank ya."

She stepped back from the embrace with her signature smile. "Already the second archer I met today." Your eyes shone bright. "You saw Daryl?" Maggie nodded. "Indeed. Was off huntin'." "I know, yeah. I wanted to look for him and help. Been busy this morning; training some kids in fighting off walkers, but now I've got time. Do you know where he went?"

"He didn't tell me, but I'd say he went south-east," she answered; pointed into the direction. "Thanks."

You actually wanted to talk longer to your dear friend - bound together by the end of the world, but Jesus's words about a small herd of walkers approaching through Maggie's walkie-talkie unfortunately brought an early end to the reunion. Of course, neither you nor Maggie wanted to end up in a herd of walkers. Small or not.

Therefore, you quickly bid your goodbyes and moved on. Maggie back towards Hilltop and you (hopefully) into Daryl's direction.

Luckily, your boyfriend had taught you well over the years and so you were able to make out his wheel tracks in the muddy earth and could track him down.

You found him near a quite big cliff on the edge of the forest; standing near the edge. His motorcycle was parked a few meters behind him; a handful of dead rabbits and squirrels draped over the saddle. Daryl's crossbow was slung over his shoulders as he was gazing into the far distance; on the valley to his feet.

You had turned off the engine of your motorcycle already a while ago and had been wheeling it instead; unable to drive over the uneven and steep forest ground.

You clapped down the pedestal of your vehicle and parked it beside Daryl's, before you sneaked your way over to Daryl; a mischievous smirk on your lips. Perhaps you could catch him off- "Ya might wanna work on yer sneaking up technique."

You hadn't even made three steps when those words left his lips. Damn it. You pouted and slumped up to stand beside him. "Oh come on, was I this obvious?" The archer looked over to you, a soft smile on his face. "Nah, but I recognised yer steps." You blinked in disbelief. "My steps?" "Yeah. Should know that by now after all those years 'n nights ya creepin' around the places we called home, eh?"

"Well... I suppose you're right." He gave you another soft smile and redirected his gaze.

"What you're looking- Oh my gosh..." Your eyes almost popped out of your head as you followed your boyfriend's gaze. The valley below the hills surrounding it was flooded with walkers. Hundreds. Thousands. Maybe even more.

Your jaw dropped in shock and... You couldn't even describe it. It was a picture of horror in an almost idyllic piece of land. Decay and rotting; flourishing nature and rebirth. Life and death. Light and darkness. Old life and new life. It was the definition of this world and all that happened to it all those years ago in one frame. It was unbelievable and rather difficult to grasp.

"Kinda frightening, right?" Daryl's voice urged to your ears. You swallowed; nodding. "Yeah, but also... I don't know..." You needed a moment to find the right words. "A blessing and a curse. A blessing for the earth. The recovery of nature and all its aspects. A curse for all human beings. Sad to see what became of the people - of the world we used to know." Daryl nodded in agreement. "Couldn't have put it better." He had never been a man of many words, but you could tell that he understood. He felt the same.

Like automatically, you reached for his hand and slipped your fingers through his; needing his comforting touch. Daryl's head shortly turned to look at your now intertwined hands. He squeezed your smaller hand and gently pulled you closer, until your shoulder was brushing his; the both of you still staring down on the horrific scenes below you in silence.

The only reassuring thing about it was the fact that they were very far from the place you called home.

"Daryl?" You spoke up again; voice merely above a whisper. "Yeah?" "I'm happy you're here. With me. In this. I'm grateful I found you. I couldn't imagine this world - neither my life without you. I wouldn't want to watch this world end with somebody that isn't you. Or our friends."

Again, Daryl wasn't a master of words, so instead of answering something, he let go of your hand in order to wrap you up in a tight hug - and you gladly let him.

Nevertheless found four little words their way into your ear. "I love ya, Y/N."

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @lou12346789 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919

#campfire sleepover #2k follower celebration #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fan fiction #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fluff

[velvetcloxds]

come over- more twd request for you, daryl and sunshine!reader braiding his hair and him forgetting to take it out before getting to work in the morning

OH, SUNSHINE | D.D.

word count: 1k

warnings: soft daryl my beloved, age gap, alexandria era, little suggestive at the end- not exactly as requested, also added some dbf!daryl, quickly proofread

You giggled as Daryl grunted for at least the hundredth time since he was very cruelly persuaded to take a shower with you, you being there the only thing that was convincing enough to let you wash his hair for him, a deep conditioning only allowed after the promise of letting him kiss you all over while you worked. His hair was longer than it was in the prison, very much so, and with the aid of the hair dryer his hair looked prepped for some fancy advertisement you’d have seen posted on a wall somewhere before.

“Stop that,” you cooed, the cigarette he flicked out the window long forgotten as soon as his eyes landed on you, you were sprawled out on the bed they’d assigned him, all clean and perfect in a shirt that should’ve been his, but he didn’t mind seeing it on you instead. He had half the mind to check if the door was locked again, knowing you shouldn’t be in here, shouldn’t have been in there with him either, but hell what a sight, he’d face whatever reprimand his selfish feelings would earn him for savoring the delicacy that you were. He fiddled again, trying to tuck his hair behind his ear but the softness was unfamiliar, slipping right back and earning another little huff and puff from him. “Come here,” you beckoned, sitting back against the wall, unfolding your legs so he could settle between them.

He was slow in his descent, hesitant, careful as always knowing who you were, who you belonged to, his best friend, your father, fast asleep in the room next door. But he moved still, on his knees in front of you, raking his eyes over your features as the most delicately hopeful smile rested on your lips. You were much less hesitant, gentle hands reaching out to smooth out his hair, the fuzziness from the conditioner making his grunting more understandable.

“Can I braid it for you,” you breathed though you knew he wouldn’t mind, ever the stubborn man that he is, he could never say no to you, never fuss as much as he is used to doing, not with you, it felt wrong to be anything but perfectly agreeable to your every wish and desire. “It’ll be less frizzy,” you had one of those smiles on your face again, like the one that coerced him into the shower, into his room, into his heart.

Now he wasn’t all that excited for the concept of it all, he’d briefly considered an issue coming up in the middle of the night and he’d have to face the dead or the enemy while sporting a braid but selfishly it would mean he’d get to feel your fingers digging through his hair, scraping at his scalp, cooing him in a way he’d only allow from you.

“Alright,” he gave in and he was putty in your hands in an instant, melting down onto his elbows to let you work, eyes full of disbelieved wonder as he watched you and he couldn’t fight himself placing a kiss onto your bare thigh, humming as he stole a few more, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Is this better, baby?” you sighed, performing some sort of magic with the end of his braid to tie it off and make it stay in place, fingers gripping his shoulder to guide him up, bring him closer, humming just the same as he gripped onto your waist. He kissed at your neck, trailed his lips up your jaw, your cheek, pausing as he hovered by your ear as he whispered inaudible praises- you fought a giggle at the softness of him, so unfamiliar yet so natural. “Dar,” you wanted to see him, unhappy with him hiding even as he was so close to you. He kissed the hair above your ear, grunting differently this time, a smug little sound as his hands drifted up your shirt, rough flesh scraping against your silky skin.  

“Yes, sunshine?” he shifted to look at you, not surprised when you cupped his cheeks, brushed your nose against his, and scrunched said nose when he pinched at your sides.

“I love you,” you knew you weren’t allowed to say that out loud, whisper it maybe, draw it in small hearts on his hand when he reached for you in secret, write it on notes to sneak into the pocket of his leather vest but never out loud- it was a dangerous thing to say, to admit, loving him shouldn’t be something you were bold about. “You love me too,” you added, and his brows dipped, he wanted to disagree, remind you that this wasn’t the plan, wasn’t what either of you signed up for but he couldn’t find the words to lie to you. So, he kissed you again, harder, forceful with the softest, gentlest reminder of love. You held onto him tightly, scared he’d leave if you didn’t, brave as you felt him guide you down into the pillows pulling lightly at the material of your shirt.

“Say it again,” he whispered into your mouth and you smiled when he pulled away, looked you over, the heat creeping over your skin, burning against his own and you knew it was crazy to be so caught up in him in the midst of it all. “Again, say it again.”

“You love me,” you dared him he had that smug smile again, tilting his head to demand more. “And I love you,” he hummed, pleased with himself, with you obliging him. “You going to show me how much?” how you managed to say that with such an innocent little expression was beyond him, but he wouldn’t stop giving you what you want now, and never would.

“Let’s hope this braid of yours holds.”

And it did hold, right up to the morning when he'd forgotten he had it in the first place, the night before having much more memorable moments that took root in his head. You were the last one up, making sure to sneak into your room to get some real clothes before going downstairs where you found a blushing Daryl eating a piece of toast. He was the center of attention, jokes coming from all around even from your dad, and your little hairstyle was to blame. His frustration eased ever so slightly when you ever nonchalantly stilled next to them.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and he knew you were, knew you felt extremely silly for making people laugh at him over what was supposed to be an act of love. He handed you the plate with his other piece of toast, shrugging as he licked his fingers clean.

"Don't be," he whispered right back just in time for Rick to come through with another joke that had you biting back a smile of your own as the kitchen filled with laughter. "Something funny, sunshine?" he dared loud enough for the room to hear and you were the one to shrug, hiding the fondness in your eyes by taking a bite of the toast, humming at the taste, content as he accidentally rested his shoulder against yours.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x yn #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon blurb #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fluff #twd fluff #monique's writing events #monique's homesick sleepover #right where queue left me

[ichorai]

shrike ; rick grimes.

track eight of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; rick grimes x gn!reader

synopsis ; alexandria was a safe haven. but it wasn’t home, no matter how hard rick tried for it to be.

words ; 1.1k

themes ; fluff, angst

warnings / includes ; lots of kisses, mild suggestiveness, a bit of angst, rick's beard is gone :(

a/n ; sobbed and screamed during twd's finale ;-; this is in honor of rick's return <3

main masterlist.

The quiet in Alexandria felt different from the quiet outside. 

This quiet felt suffocating—like the calm before a storm. Outside, the quiet was something you cherished, a comfort that became a scarcity.

Now—now there was too much.

It was too quiet. 

The white blanket pooled around you as you shifted yourself up the bed, until you were flush against the cool wood of the headboard. 

Rick stirred in his sleep beside you, mumbling incoherently under his breath. The arm that was once hooked around your midriff now loosely draped over your legs, warm and heavy. 

You watched him keenly, observed the way the moonlight melded over his features, softened in slumber. It was strange seeing him clean-shaven, he’d been growing out his beard for such a long time, you’d nearly forgotten what he looked like without it. His wiry brown curls fell over his forehead as he turned slightly, nuzzling his nose into the side of your thigh. You gently brushed his hair away from his eyes, pursing your lips.

When one of his eyes cracked open, a groggy noise fell from his throat, and he moved forward until his entire cheek rested upon your leg. 

“Why’re you awake, darlin’?” he asked quietly, shattering the fragile silence, a certain sleep-heavy timbre woven through his tone. “‘S still dark. Sun ain’t out yet.” As he spoke, his eyelids seemed to droop, fighting the urge to pass out again. Weeks of sleepless nights were finally starting to get to him.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, threading your fingers through his overgrown hair. “It’s a habit.”

Rick blinked up at you, blue eyes watering as he muffled a yawn. He pushed himself up on an elbow, ducking forward to slant his lips on your cheek. 

“I miss your beard,” you said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He jerked back to raise an eyebrow at you. “You always complained that it tickled you,” he replied, haughtily. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize how much I liked it until it was gone.”

There was an underlying implication to what you said, and it was clear to Rick that you weren’t just talking about his beard.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until it grows back,” he said, giving you another kiss, this time to the side of your temple, before scooching back down with a pleasant sigh, resting his head on your chest, listening to the faint thump, thump, thump, of your heartbeat.

“I love you,” he said into your shirt. 

“Love you, too.”

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Tentative, you mumbled out, “Rick, I don’t feel safe here.”

Your words were quiet, much like the silence enveloped around you. When you glanced back down at your boyfriend, you weren’t at all surprised to see him asleep, cheek smushed against your chest as his own steadily rose and fell. 

Your eyelids drooped with exhaustion, but you stayed awake. 

Sleep never reached you that night.

“You’ve got a bit of toothpaste,” said Rick as he strode into the bathroom, gesturing vaguely to his mouth. Before you could move to wipe it away, Rick bent forward and kissed you deeply, his forehead knocking against yours amidst his fervor. One of his hands snaked over your waist and the other traversed lower to tightly grip your thigh, hiking you up against the bathroom sink. You made a noise of content, nearly melting into him when he hummed over you. “Mmh, minty.”

When he pulled away, you were able to get a good look at his new police uniform, which was really just a ratty brown jacket pulled over a blue button up. Either way, it looked good on him.

“Hiya, officer,” you murmured with a cheeky grin, one of your hands wrapping around his tie, tugging him closer. “You clean up well.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for uniforms,” he said, voice dropping an octave lower. His gaze darted from your eyes to your lips, unsubtle in his growing lust. 

“Wouldn’t really call that a uniform. Looks more like a halloween costume than anything,” you chuckled, to which Rick just rolled his eyes, dipping back to you to steal away your laughter. 

He kissed slower this time, nose flush against yours.

You were the one to pull away, pressing a hand to his chest. 

Noticing the change in the atmosphere, Rick tilted his head, placing a tender hand beneath your chin. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Rick… doesn’t this feel weird to you? Like… like we’re playing pretend? It doesn’t feel right.” Guilt roiled within your stomach as you echoed what you had said last night. “I don’t feel safe here.”

His brow furrowed, and he let out a small sigh. “I know what you mean. This place feels too good to be true—but I have to try to make this work. We have to try. For Carl. For Judith.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Rick,” you started, worrying your teeth into your bottom lip, “Alexandria will never be a home to me. These people—they’ve been sheltered—oblivious this entire time. I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable around them. At least not until I know I can trust them. But even though Alexandria won’t ever be a home to me… home will be wherever family is. And right now, if you want us to stay, then I’ll stay—because you’re my family, Rick.”

Your boyfriend stared at you with those pretty blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears. “I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking with raw emotion. “I love you.”

He kissed you again, eyelids squeezing shut as tears slipped down his cheek. His lips left yours, moving up to your temple, where he freckled dozens of pecks over your hairline. 

“We’ll build a home together. You and me—I promise,” he mumbled, encompassing his arms around you fully to rope you into a warm embrace.

“Okay, Rick,” you said, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. “I trust you. I love you, too.”

As you held onto him, enveloped by his pleasant, musky forest scent, you realized that home would be with him. Rick was your home, wherever he went. And you’d follow him every step of the way.

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead rick #twd fanfiction #rick grimes twd #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes angst #rick grimes imagines #rick grimes drabbles #twd fluff #twd angst #twd imagines #twd drabbles #twd rick x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes fic #the walking dead fluff #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead angst #the walking dead s5 #twd season 5

[moonxnite]

Stay With Me, Doll.

Daryl Dixon x Reader, Rick Grimes x Reader (platonic)

Summary: Y/n’s a lone wolf, she has a horse and a house so she didn’t feel the need to stay in a community or sanctuary. That is, until Daryl manages to convince the reader to stay with him in Alexandria.

Y/n liked to travel a lot, she didn’t particularly stick to one community, instead she had multiple connections to them. To Y/n, she only had one true best friend, which was her horse, Myra. To be frank, Y/n liked spending time alone and she preferred it that way.

Y/n always made sure to check in with every community and was welcomed to stay in each, all for which she politely declined. Everyone from Rick, Maggie, Ezekiel, and surprisingly Negan all thought Y/n was crazy but respected her wishes. Daryl understood her lifestyle and respected her for it.

Y/n liked Daryl, a lot.

She also hated him because he always made her blush and giggle like a schoolgirl.

She just didn’t know that he liked her back.

Making her grand entrance at Alexandria, Y/n couldn’t wait to see her friends, but also her love. Arriving at the gate, Y/n was allowed to enter and walked amongst the field to allow Myra to be taken care of and fed. She smiled as she spotted Rick but her smile grew wilder as she saw Daryl. Running out of excitement, Y/n rushed into Daryl’s arms to which he caught her and spinned her around.

‘What a bunch of teenagers,’ Rick thought as he witnessed the bittersweet moment, wishing he could capture it on camera.

“Oh my gosh how I missed you so much!” Y/n exclaimed loudly as she hugged Daryl tightly.

“I missed yer too” Daryl exchanged back

“So no one missed me?” Rick questioned

“You know I do, come here!” You smiled as you pulled Rick in a hug

The trio made their way into Rick’s house, everyone was caught of guard when Y/n screamed and jumped as she reunited with Carl and Judith. The rest of the gang all rushed inside the house to welcome Y/n and celebrated a dinner for their favorite member. Upon hours of her stay, Carol and Michonne gave Y/n a grand tour of the community while also introducing her to new recruits. As the sun came down and the moon said hello, Y/n made her way to Daryl’s house

Y/n’s heart kept fluttering as she made her way, smiling and blushing during her walk, she hoped one of these days she would confess.

But not tonight.

“Hi” She smiled

“Hey” He replied back

“Is it okay if I spend the night here? I promise I won’t disturb you too much, I’ll be on my way tomorrow morning” She said softly

That was the problem with Daryl. He wanted her to stay with him but he knew she preferred to stay alone. Daryl wanted to join her so many times but he couldn’t leave his friends and family, but oh how badly he wanted to leave with Y/n.

“Uh sure, why don’t you stay here?” He asked

“I am silly! I’m staying here for today” She knew what he was referring to but she couldn’t find the heart to have this conversation now

“No, I mean why don’t you stay in Alexandria. Why are you always alone?”

She knew that she had to answer the question to them, to him. She just hoped he would understand.

“I’m not always alone, I have Myra and a house. I guess I like being alone on my own journey.”

“But why? You can stay here with us, with me.” Daryl’s voice began to tremble and it nearly broke her heart. She didn’t mean to hurt him but it was one of the reasons why she was always afraid to commit. She hated hurting others, whether she meant it or not.

“Oh no Daryl, I’m sorry didn’t mean to upset you.” She walked towards him, placing her palms beside his face. She could see the pain written across his face.

“It’s fine” He mumbled, he attempted to push her hands away but he couldn’t. He loved all the affection she gave him.

“It’s just that-” Y/n stuttered, “I get scared of opening up to people. I do have you guys, and I’m grateful for the hospitality, it’s just that I get scared that if I stay, I’ll get close to everyone and have to deal with a loss that I always tend to avoid. I’m afraid of losing people because I lost so much ever since this happened. I’m scared that if something happened to you, it would hurt way more than I could take.” Y/n felt every bone of her body weakened as she admitted, she could feel the relief exiting out her body but could feel herself getting fragile as she spoke.

“I get ya” Daryl spoke “It’s not easy losing folks and it never will, I can’t give ya a happy pep talk about loss but I can say that losing people without ever knowing em’ is something you will regret. I would hate to lose more folks but I am to glad to know em.”

Y/n never thought of it like that. Daryl made sense and it finally clicked in her head that its worth trying to settle into Alexandria, with him. She always hated commitment in a community because she was always expected higher from others but if it meant having an actual family and living with Daryl, Y/n would be an idiot if she left that morning.

“Stay” Daryl pulled her back into reality

“Hm?”

“Stay with me, doll.” Her heart fluttered

It was Daryl’s turn to place his palms around her face. His eyes set deep inside hers. The silence was so loud they could hear each others heart’s practically beating so loud. Daryl continued to stare into Y/n’s eyes and slowly began capturing their lips together into a sweet gentle kiss.

“Stay with me”

“Okay, I’ll stay you.”

Daryl pulled Y/n back into a kiss, both smiling as their new lives began.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #negan x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #the walking dead fluff #the walking dead imagine

[ruewrote]

𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦.

PAIRING: glenn rhee x fem!reader WARNINGS: strong language GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: on my mind by ellie goulding WORD COUNT: 521

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it hadn't really clicked how you felt about glenn until the well situation, how he was dangling above a walker like... bait.

how your heart got caught in your throat as you watched and heaved the rope back with the others, how the tears stung in your eyes.

how you couldn't even look him or the others after the incident. separated from the group, your tent next to daryls.

glenn of course tried to talk to you multiple times, but you brushed him off. making yourself busy in the process, going on food and medical supplies.

teaching carl how to hunt and maggie how to kill the walkers.

the moment played on your mind every waking minute.

you had been with the group since the beginning, you were actually with glenn when you had found some of the others.

andrea not taking a liking to you immediately but her sister amy did.

the both of you had gotten closer since her death.

it came back around that somebody had to go further out for supplies this time. of course he volunteered. you refused.

"you can't keep letting him put himself in danger all the time, its not fair! just because he's what 'faster'?" pushing yourself onto your feet off of the couch.

"y/n it's fine really i—" he interupted but that didn't stop you from continuing.

"it's not, this is total and utter bullshit. he's been putting his life at risk since he got he and i bet he's done it before you arrived."

they all agreed for a different plan, a safer one for the boy.

the meeting was dismissed and you made your way out of the house with your head hung low. trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

grabbing a woven basket and started your chores.

slightly moving each chicken so you could grab the eggs, standing up straighter as footsteps were heard behind you.

rolling your eyes when you came face to face with glenn.

"okay seriously dude what is your problem?" still ignoring him but listened to him talk.

"first you are ignoring me, now you're sticking up for me?"

you just walked around him, stopping when he lightly grasps your arms holding you closer to his chest, face to face.

tears welling up in your eyes as you looked into his.

"i shouldn't be feeling this way. i barely even know you! it's so stupid." your words came out wobbly as you shake your head.

glenn listened whilst he wiped away the fallen tears from your cheeks.

"i-i just can't see you get hurt, you are always the one to jump to put your life in danger and no one ever second guesses it. it's not fair damnit."

"if i knew any better you'd think you've got a littl crush on me." a blush spread across your cheeks as his shoulder playfully knocks into your own.

looking at your dirty boots knock together in response.

"w-wait really?" no you're lying!"

gathering everything you had in and placed your lips against his, feeling as he almost instantly shuts up and melts in the kiss.

"woah..."

© ruewrote.

#glenn rhee #glenn rhee x reader #glenn rhee oneshot #glenn rhee oneshots #glenn rhee imagine #glenn rhee imagines #glen rhee fanfic #glenn rhee fanfics #twd #twd x reader #twd oneshot #twd oneshots #twd imagine #twd imagines #twd fanfic #twd fanfics #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead oneshot #the walking dead oneshots #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfics #the walking dead fluff #the walking dead angst #glenn rhee fluff #gleen rhee angst #glenn rhee x reader angst #glenn rhee x reader fluff

[enid-rhees]

THE PEOPLE WOULD LIKE MORE ROSITA FLUFF PLSSPLS 💗💗💗

late nights || rosita espinosa x fem!reader

summary: rosita sneaks into your room during a sleepless night

warnings: none! just fluff :)

a/n: tysm for your request, anon! and yes, requests are BACK OPEN! read my rules before requesting, please! hope you all enjoy 🖤

Rosita Espinosa Masterlist

no matter what you did, you couldn’t get to sleep. you turned on your left, right, on your back, on your stomach, and nothing was working.

you were growing frustrated, as you felt tired, but your body didn’t want to agree. tomorrow, you had too much to do around Hilltop and wanted to try and rest as much as possible, but you just couldn’t.

as you were about to get up to try and go down into the kitchen for some food in hopes that it would make you tired, you started to hear footsteps walk across the hall outside your door. at first, your hand reached for your gun instinctively. sometimes, you were just stuck in your old ways before you had a somewhat permanent home.

the doorknob on your door started to jiggle slightly and you took a step back and furrowed your eyebrows. finally, the door creaked open, and then Rosita peaked her head in. your shoulders fell as you let out a sigh of relief, “what are you doing, Ro? you should be sleeping.”

Rosita closed the door behind her and walked over to you, sliding her arms around your waist. “i couldn’t sleep.” she told you, lifting her head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. you chuckled, “that makes two of us, then.”

“can’t sleep either?” she asked you, and you shook your head. “no. i’ve tried everything.” you told her. Rosita took your hand and started to crawl into your bed, taking you with her.

when you laid down, Rosita pulled you into her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around you. your body instantly relaxed in her touch. Rosita pressed a kiss to your head and laid her head on top of yours.

you felt your body start to slowly shut down. a chuckle left your lips, “i think all i needed was you.” you whispered. “i feel like i can sleep here forever.” Rosita laughed along, “yeah? good thing i came in here, then.”

“get some rest, love. we got a lot to do tomorrow.” Rosita leaned down and connected your lips softly. you kissed back, and neither of you pulled away for almost a minute. when you did, you dropped your head back on her chest, and it only took a few minutes for you to fall into a deep sleep.

it took Rosita a few more minutes, but to pass the time she watched you with nothing but love in her eyes. your chest rose and fell slowly, and your hand had gripped her shirt so she couldn’t go anywhere - not that she wanted to. she kissed your head one final time before her eyes closed and she eventually fell asleep with you.

#divider creds : cafekitsune #rosita espinosa x fem!reader #rosita espinosa x reader #rosita espinosa #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #the walking dead x fem!reader #twd x fem!reader #rosita espinosa fluff #rosita espinosa blurb #twd blurb #the walking dead blurb #twd fluff #the walking dead fluff

[forgetminot]

hii!! just wanted to say its so cool to see a writer with pots and cfs, I have both too! I totally understand those and im sending u lots of spoons 🫶 if ur up for it could u please do something fluffy with rick or daryl taking care of an injured reader? thanks so much!!

My Hero.

♡ Daryl Dixon x !gn reader ♡

[ Warnings : Injury, angst, killing of a deer, profanities, established relationship, very sweet Daryl, fluffff, slightly proof read ]

Author's Note : awwe, sending you lots of spoons right back!! SOO, i might have gotten carried away with this... The start is how the reader gets injured, so it's slightly angsty and the end is full of fluff; like the most fluffy stuff I have written.

Summary : You get injured while out hunting with Daryl, he fixes you right up and makes sure you are okay.

You liked to think you were getting better at hunting, you started off in the beginning by watching Daryl from afar, trying not to spook him or the animal he was tracking. The further into the apocalypse you got, you crept your way into Daryl's walls and he'd let you tag along once or twice. Now? He refused to go anywhere without you.

"It looks like deer markings, right?" You question as you study the footprints in the mud.

"Mm, yer' right." Daryl nods, continuing to follow the trail. You follow closely behind as you both make your way through the forest, pushing branches out of the way as you go. Daryl stops suddenly, placing his hand in front of you to slow you. "Over there, see it?"

You smile as the deer steps into view and you take your bow from your back, drawing up a shot. Deep breath in. You release the string and the arrow flies through the air with force, hitting the deer square in the neck and it falls to the ground with a thud.

"Nice shot, you're getting better at tha'" You thank Daryl before heading towards the deer, the leaves rustling beneath you.

"Do you think we can get-" You let out a harsh scream as you step straight onto the plate of a bear trap, the sharp jaws digging into your ankle; your bow dropping to the ground and you fall to your knees in pain, hands clawing at the metal around your leg.

"Shit, Don't move!" Daryl is by your side in seconds, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head up to look at him. "Deep breaths." You breathe in deeply, holding your breath and then releasing, tears streaming down your cheeks which Daryl is quick to wipe away. "Ya' need to stay calm for me, ok?"

You nod as Daryl bends down to examine the trap. He sighs deeply, looking up at you. "Think I can pry it open." You close your eyes, shaking your head back and forth in panic. "Need yer' to pull your ankle out as soon as I get it open."

Opening your eyes you look down at Daryl, he's staring up at you with panic written all over his face. "Okay" you whisper.

He places both his hands at either side of the jaws and pulls on them harshly. You cry out as the traps jaws leave your wound and you tug your ankle from the trap as it closes with a loud clang. You fall backwards onto the ground, groaning from the pain.

Daryl is already searching through his bag, pulling out any medical supplies you brought with you. You reach for your bag, taking it from your shoulders and handing it to Daryl.

"There should be some vodka in there." Daryl laughs, raising his eyebrows at you in question. "Not like that, it's for medical purposes." You hiss.

"M' sure it is." He places the vodka on the ground beside him as he helps you remove your now destroyed boot and sock; you wince as the fabric peels away from the wound. Daryl picks the bottle back up, removing the cap and throwing it to the side. "It's goin' to sting."

"Just do it." Daryl pours the alcohol over your wound and you scream out in agony as it burns your skin; you grab onto Daryl's shoulder, squeezing tightly as he continues to pour vodka around your ankle. "Fuck, that hurts more than I thought it would."

"Here, drink this." You laugh as Daryl hands you the bottle of remaining vodka and chug it down in one go. "Knew that's why you brought that." You glare at him, pushing him back by the shoulder.

He takes a bandage from the first aid box and carefully applies it around your wound.

"All I can do, ya' definitely going to need stitches though."

"Thank you." You lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, smiling as you lean away. "My hero." You giggle.

"M' no hero." He states.

"I don't see anyone else around here." You turn your head, looking around the forest. "Except for the dead deer..."

"You're a loud screamer."

"What?" You laugh. "Anyone would scream that loud after stepping on one of those things." You motion to the metal contraption.

"Don't think I would." He replies. You roll your eyes at his response, reaching your hand out towards him.

"Help me up?" He takes your hand, placing his other around your waist as he pulls you up and you groan at the sharp shooting pain coming from your ankle. "Please get me back to Hershel."

"Ain't going to abandon you." Daryl scoops you up in his arms, smiling down at you.

"What about the deer?" You question. "Don't forget my bow."

"I'll get em' later." He answers. "Only worry I have is getting you back home safe."

--------

You wake up in your shared cell, cuddled beneath multiple blankets on your floor mattress; Daryl is beside you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist with his chest firmly against your back. You turn, placing a small kiss against his lips; smiling as his eyes meet yours.

"Hi."

"Hi." He chuckles, pulling you close to him. "How you feelin'?"

"Okay, I'm okay." You say.

"Good." He whispers, kissing your temple lovingly. "You passed out when Hershel was stitching you up."

"That's not a surprise." You grin. "Never have been good with needles."

"I know, told Hershel you would faint. He didn't believe me- Maybe I shoulda' bet on it." He teased.

"Wow!" You giggle. "At least Hershel believed in me."

"Never said I didn't believe in you, I just know you too well." Daryl pulls away from you, sitting up from his position. "Which reminds me, he told me to get him when you woke up." You groan, reaching out and grabbing Daryl's hand.

"Hershel can wait." You say, playing with Daryl's fingers. "Please?" He rolls his eyes, laying back down next to you.

"Fine, five minutes."

"Thank you." You place your hands in Daryl's hair, combing through the knots. "When was the last time you brushed this mess?" You question. He scoffs, looking down at you. "I'm joking!" You smirk.

"Mhm." He hums softly.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah, angel?"

"You're my hero." You tease, staring up at him.

"Told you-"

"M' no hero" You mimic his words from before. "Seriously, Thank you."

"Wasn't going to just leave you there." He states, taking your hand in his.

"I know." You laugh.. "Just take my thank you."

"Fine, You' welcome." He rolls his eyes as you smile up at him, placing your spare hand on the back of his neck and pulling his lips down against yours. "Love you." He whispers into the kiss.

"I love you too."

#the walking dead fluff #the walking dead angst #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x you #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #reader insert #x reader #twd x reader #twd #fluff #angst #injured reader #fluffy daryl #fanfiction #fanfic #how many hashtags is too many? #gn reader #this man is gonna be the death of me #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x y/n #ask and you shall receive

[babyyblues]

Rescuer

Request: "Can you please do 21. "Get behind me. Now.? The reader, M/F and Daryl go on a run and they run into the reader's abusive ex. Daryl says #21 as he pushes them behind him. You can figure out how it ends. "

prompt 21: "Get behind me. Now" ​

Era: Prison (Mid-season 3) no spoilers

Summary: Daryl Dixion finds you all alone, and after learning about your past that reminds him of his childhood, he vows to protect you. So what happens when you run into the one who once made your life a living hell?

Word Count: 3,120

warnings: dv mentions (Slight description of violence), child abuse, twd violence and gore

A/n: OMG ITS HERE!!! I'm really excited to share this as it's my first piece for Daryl, and I hope everyone reading enjoys it. Please feel free to leave feedback and let me know if there's anything I can change to improve my writing!

The day Daryl Dixon first laid his eyes on you, he was sure he was about to watch yet another person get eaten by the undead. You were surrounded, breathing heavily as you did your best to fight off the walkers around you. Exhaustion hit you and you weren’t sure how long you could keep this up. Your eyes widened as a walker lunged at you, ready to feast on the flesh of your dirty shoulder but you breathed a sigh of relief when a bolt shot right through its brain. You let out a grunt as you turned around, shoving your dull knife repeatedly into the head of the last of the small herd, falling to the ground as even more of the smelly walker blood splattered all over your face. You stared down at the massacre, doing your best to catch your breath before looking up at the man who helped save you. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice horse from the lack of use. 

“You alone?” he asked, stepping toward you making you flinch and take a step back. 

“Um y-yeah,” you studdered, nerves raking through your body as your eyes shifted from the crossbow in his arms to his piercing blue eyes. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he watched your body begin to shake, his presence seemingly making you more nervous than any of the undead did. He watched as your knuckles turned white, hands trembling around the grip of your knife. Stopping in his tracks, he strapped the bow securely behind his back, placing his hands in your vision. 

“ ‘M not gonna hurt ya,” he confirmed, “jus’ makin’ sure ‘m safe.” You nodded slowly in understanding, hesitating before releasing the knife. 

“We have a camp bout half a mile back, jus’ need to ask you three questions ‘fore you can come.” You nodded again, waiting in silence.

“How many walkers you killed?”

“Lost count,” you murmured. 

“How many people have you killed?” 

“None,” you shook your head along with your answer, looking back up at the man. He nodded, looking around him before beckoning you to follow him back. After walking for what seemed like forever, your eyes landed on a prison and as ironic as it was you felt immediate relief for the walls and safety that you hoped you come from this building. 

Walking into the courtyard, you felt eyes on you causing you to want to shrink into your self and if the man noticed, he didn’t say anything. You walked quickly trying your best to keep up with his long strides, following him as he walked into the building. 

“Rick!” he called out, waiting for the man to come around the corner. Your eyes landed on another man, this one a bit taller and leaner, his hair sticking to his neck. 

“Found ‘er alone in the woods,” he grumbled, walking away leaving you to cower in front of the man you assumed to be Rick. 

“Rick Grimes,” he said holding his hand out for you to shake. You flinched at the sudden action, stumbling backward, your hand flying to grab the knife that sat in your waist, ready to defend yourself if need be. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he held his hands up in surrender, “what’s your name?” 

“Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n,” you answered quietly taking a deep yet shaky breath before releasing the weapon. 

“Daryl said you were out there alone?” he asked, earning a nod in return. 

“This whole time?” You shook your head in response, swallowing hard to find your voice again. 

“Got separated from my group not too long ago,” you told him, averting your gaze to the cold floor beneath you. Rick nodded. 

“Were you trying to find them?” You shook your head lightly. 

“I uh- I was just trying to stay alive.” Rick studied you for a second, the room falling into silence so loud your ears began to ring. 

“Well I assume you’ll want a shower and your clothes to be cleaned, I’ll find you something to wear in the meantime and then we can get you something to eat, we have plenty. I’ll have Daryl check in on you and help you get settled in if you want to stay,” he said before leading you through the cell block to the shower area. 

“I’ll send someone with the clothes, gotta pump this to get the water going,” he demonstrated the process for you before leaving you alone. You took a minute to look at the space around you before shutting your eyes and taking a long deep breath. 

“ ‘Scuse me,” you heard a young girl say gently. Regardless of how low her tone was, you practically jumped out of your skin at the noise.

“Sorry, I’m Beth, I just brought those clothes Rick told you about,” she rambled earning silence in return, “I haven’t been able to find a jacket for ya yet, and the shirt might be big but I’m gonna go look for a jacket for you.”

As she hurried off, you grabbed the clothing before turning back toward the shower, pulling the makeshift curtain closed, you felt the familiar sting of the tears that sat behind your eyes as you carefully stripped out of your clothing, stepping underneath the stream of lukewarm water. A hiss escaped your lips as you made your best attempt to scrub clean not only the dirt and grime that seemed to be embedded in your pores but the marks that seemed to never go away. Tears were now steadily mixing with the water, and you turned around to start the nasty and undoubtedly tiring work on your hair that had been matted to your head. 

After finishing, you slipped on the clothes Rick had promised, ironically folding the dirty clothes into a neat pile before exiting the shower areas. Daryl was sitting at the table, looking up when he heard footsteps emerge. 

“Took ya long enough-” his words died down on his tongue immediately as his eyes trailed across your figure. He took in the sight, a thin tee shirt hanging off your malnourished frame, deep spots of black and blue riddling the entirety of your upper body, the most gruesome being the taunting handprints that stained your throat. You looked back down, unwilling and unable to catch the piercing gaze of the man before you. 

Daryl’s breathing immediately caught in his throat, he knew these weren’t normal walker dents and bruises that people are accustomed to these days. How could he not know? He knew what it was like to be beaten on by the one who swore to love you. How you were unable to leave a situation that was literally killing you. And maybe this is why Daryl had such a soft spot for you, and why this stranger, whom he didn’t know the name of, caused a sea of red to flash across his vision. His jaw clenched as he made quick work of unbuttoning the top layer of his button-ups, to hand it to you. 

“Here,” he mumbled, reaching his shirt out to you, “might freeze out there.” Looking up at him slowly, you bit the inside of your cheek before grabbing the shirt, covering up your shame. 

“Thank you,” you whispered yet again. 

“Come on, we’ll get you settled in,” he said nodding up the stairs, intending to put you in the cell directly next to him. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, not enough for all of your bruises to fade or the nightmares to go away, and you honestly weren’t sure how you had worked your way to be as close with the front runners as you were. You had proved your strengths over and over again, going on runs with Daryl and helping out with tasks other than laundry and basic cleaning. You knew how to protect yourself, and as the trust built between you and the ones who surrounded you, you knew how important it was to protect them as well. 

You weren’t much of a talker, however, they felt as if they knew enough to trust you with the more important duties such as fench work and watch. You laid your blanket onto the chilled ground of the watch tower, preparing to start your shift. As you sat, you took a deep breath, thankful for the people around you, the security the walls held, and the brief time alone you had. It hadn’t been long before you heard the door open, but you didn’t need to turn your head to see who it was. It was always Daryl, the man who you undoubtedly grew the closest to, and the one who by far knew the most about you. You shifted over slightly, giving him plenty of space to sit beside you on the blanket so you could both watch out over the fields of the prison. 

“Just checkin’ in,” he mumbled as he took a seat, careful not to make any sudden movements in your presence. 

“I haven’t seen anything, just the walkers on the fence-”

“On you, I mean,” he admitted quietly. Your breath caught in your throat, your teeth immediately making their way to the inside of your cheek.

“ 'M fine,” you answered, earning a grunt in response. He turned toward you, catching your gaze before softening his features. He reached out to your shoulder, his aim for the same button-up he had given you. When you flinched, he retracted his hand quickly.

“Sorry,” he swallowed, “Jus’ tryna’ make sure you’re healin’. Can I?” Your breath was unstable, but you nodded closing your eyes tightly as he reached again for the button-up, this time lowering it just enough to take a look at the bruises that were across your arms. 

“Turnin’ yellow, should be gone soon,” he mumbled, taking his time to get closer and observe the ones on your neck, “this one’s gettin’ there, kinda blue.” He replaced the fabric onto your shoulder, returning to his original position. 

“My dad used to beat on me, I know what that looks like,” he confided in you, looking at you again, watching the way your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to spill. You sniffled, pulling your knees to your chest. 

“It was my boyfriend,” you whispered, the volume of your voice quickly leaving with the strong gust of wind that flew through the air. If Daryl didn’t still have his eyes on you, he might have missed it. 

“I was so stupid.” You let your head fall to your knees, the tears falling with it as your body began to tremble. 

“Don’t say that, ‘s not your fault.” You shook your head with a harsh swallow trying the calm the sharp pain you began to feel in the back of your throat. 

“No, n-no. I should have known better,” you mumbled. Daryl bit his lip and his tongue, fighting the anger that rose up in his body toward the one who did this to you. 

“Used to watch my dad beat my mom, guess towards the end of it I just thought it was normal then,” you spoke, your heartbeat picking up, an anxious turn in your stomach. 

“So when I met Max, I was young, and he was nice. He was so nice, and he loved me. I swear he did, and then it was small at first. He started getting mad about everything when I went out with my friends or was on the phone with my mom. Fight got so bad he backhanded me-”

“Y/n you don’t have to-” your head snapped to his, your wild eyes making contact with him for the first time you met. 

“He was sorry! He was!” you snapped, nodding your head crazily. You stood up, your balance questionable as hot tears ran down your flaming cheeks. Daryl got up too, ensuring that you weren’t going to fall out of the watch tower. 

“He said he was sorry,” you told Daryl again before collapsing back onto the ground in a wave of sobs. Without thinking, Daryl immediately dropped with you, pulling you into his grasp as you cried providing you with the comfort he could have only dreamed of for his younger self. You let yourself fall into Daryl’s chest, grasping at his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

Daryl sniffled from above you, biting his lip enough to taste a metallic bite on his tongue, willing himself from the tears that threatened to fall. 

This was the turning point in your relationship with Daryl. You found it so easy to confide in him, you knew he understood you and he was always willing to listen. It was uncommon to find a moment where you and Daryl were separated in fact, oftentimes spending the night in each other's cells, taking watch together, and going on runs. Months passed, and your feeling for Daryl easily grew as he showed you how a man should really treat you.

It started slow, the faint passing touches, then the longer more lingering ones. The distance that began to close when you sat next to each other, the eye contact you held with each other, talking about meaningless things. The flowers he brought back from hunts, and the eventual switching from bunkbeds to just the one. Forehead kisses turned to cheek kisses, soon turned to sweet kisses that would forever be embedded on your lips and in your memories. 

It was yours and Daryl’s turn to go on a supply run, the plan to go out just a bit further in the hopes the area wasn’t completely picked clean. Waiting for Daryl, you leaned against his bike, looking out into the sea of people throughout the courtyard. You heard his name before you saw him, people greeting him while on his way to you. A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as he approached you.

“Morning,” he grumbled, unable to stop his smile in return to yours. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. How’d you sleep?” 

“All that snorin’ of yours, I barely shut an eye,” he teased earning a light shove to his shoulder. He chuckled lightly, his hand falling to your hip.

“Didn’t seem to complain when I woke up with you practically on top of me,” you quipped back, standing up fully to meet the smirk on his lips. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Come on, sunshine,” squeezing your hip before hopping on his bike. You got on behind him, breathing in his scent as your arms wrapped around his torso. 

-

“‘Right let’s go, be careful,” he reminded you. You nodded in response, reaching for your knife. You approached the first building, an old convenient store, knocking on the glass like Daryl had taught you. He glanced at you, before nodding and watching your back as you entered the door. You replaced the knife with your gun, making quick work to clear the building as Daryl followed you from behind. Your footsteps slowed as you heard a rummaging sound, Daryl catching up to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. 

“Get behind me. Now,” he mumbled, raising his crossbow before making his way toward the sound. Following him closely, your eyes landed on a familiar form as the man shoved things into the backpack that was in front of him. 

“Put ‘yer hands up, and drop all of your weapons,” Daryl growled, his crossbow aimed right at his head. 

“Woah, woah, hey now,” the guy spoke, his hands tossing his knife away. The sound of his voice sent immediate chills down your spine, Your breath hitching as he turned to face you.

“Y/n?” he asked, taking a step toward you. You instinctively flinched, your hand gripping tightly on your gun as you took a step back. Daryl stepped towards him, his gaze unfaltering, and his crossbow coming close to his face. Max’s hands raised higher. 

“Hey man, take it easy. That’s my girlfriend-”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t put one of these arrows through your skull,” Daryl confronted him. 

“Daryl-”

“Y/n tell him-” 

“Oh, she told me plenty. Told me all about how you couldn’t keep your hands off of her. How you’re a disgusting piece of shit.” Max ignored Daryl, looking your way before snickering. 

“What is this? You got yourself some kind of bodyguard? How pathetic. You lost me and like the whore you are you go and find yourself this redneck to take care of you-” he was cut off by Daryl’s crossbow dropping to the ground and his shirt being grabbed as he was forced against the wall with a thud. Daryl didn’t hesitate before, landing hard blows to his face, Max using all his strength to push Daryl away and tackle him to the ground to retaliate. 

You were frozen in fear, swallowing the tears that threatened to fall. Your hand shook around your gun as you watched Daryl regain control. 

“Daryl stop!” you yelled, your voice wavering. He pinned Max down, watching a bloody smile look back up at him. 

“Fightin’ over her, and for what? She’s nothing but a waste of space and energy- nothin’ without a man to tell her what to do and when to do it-” Daryl saw nothing but red but before moving he heard a gunshot ring out, Max falling limp in his grip as blood poured from his head. Daryl looked back at your trembling form, the gun in your hands still pointed at Max. Your eyes were glazed over as you watched Max’s life fade away. 

Daryl made his way toward you, grabbing the gun from your hand and letting it drop to the ground before pulling you into his arms. You tucked your head into his neck, the sobs releasing from your mouth as Daryl’s hand gripped your body tightly.

“Y/n, hey, look at me,” he whispered. You shook your head, his shirt tight in your grip. 

“Come on sunshine, show me those pretty eyes,” he spoke lowly, separating himself from you enough to lead your chin up to look at him. 

“You did what you had to do.” 

“But I-“

“No buts, you did what needed to be done. ‘M proud of you,” he said, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. You sniffled with a forced nod briefly looking over again at Max’s body before looking back at Daryl who had his hand open for yours. Picking up your weapons and stuff you deemed necessary, you made your way back to the prison, back to your home, with the person who mattered most. 

#daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fluff #the walking dead fic #the walking dead angst #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fic

[unadulterated-syd]

I wrote this like a week back, when I had the motivation to write

I'll crack down on some reqs after Christmas <3 + I may be a little more inactive on here for awhile, I've been busy and frankly very tired.

Much love <3 and feel free to participate in either of my Events,, both are still up and running.

-

Standing in the door way, you sighed. Watching Judith and Rick curled up on the couch, who knew how long sleep had overcome them.

You pulled a blanket from the nearby closet, sliding it carefully over the two— truth be told wondering how they'd managed to fall asleep in the cold like this in the first place.

You heard the patting of steps coming from the stairs, though disregarded it as creaks in the home. It spoke rather often, squeaking here and there as if intentional.

However, as you turned to leave— after tucking the two in, you found Carl stood in the doorway. He just stared at you for a moment, adjusting to the idea of you living with them.

You'd moved in a while back, after being kicked from your solo home due to crowding issues. You were glad to move in, really, the home made life less lonely, more liveable.

Though you got along well with most of the Grimes— playing with Judith, working with Rick, even learning sword tricks with Michonne, Carl and you rarely talked.

You had a mutual agreement, though silent, that you'd keep your distance. The two of you saw hope for the future in each other, in one way it was close to love, though you'd never admit it.

"Sorry— you can have the room. I was just heading out anyway." You told him, in a hushed voice, careful not to wake the sleeping Grimes behind you.

He looked at you, it was still dark out, time for sleeping by all means.

"Where are you going? It's late."

"I've uh— got a spot a little ways out. Perfect for when I can't sleep."

"When you can't sleep..?" He asked, seeming to ponder on another thought, "What.. is it."

"Nothing special. It's a cleared home just outside the walls, has some cool stuff." You paused, "But from the roof you can see the stars really well. You're welcome to join if you want?—

— we can stay on opposite sides.. its plenty big."

"Okay." He agreed, though wincing at the idea of ruining your safe space. on opposite sides. That was the first time the agreement was ever voiced.

Upon arriving at the old home, you took it all in once more. It had high gates, well kept— stretching eight feet in the air. There was a strong padlock pressing the gate shut, one you'd added for security.

"How long have you known about this.." His eyes glanced around, noticing small details like you owning the key to the lock, or the way certain windows were pressed open to get the best circulation.

"Long enough to protect it." You guaranteed, locking the padlock back— once the two of you had already crossed the threshold in the gate.

You led him into the house, it was rather clean— evident you'd purposely kept it that way. You stopped in the hallway, looking at him.

"You can have free reign in here, I'll stay up on the roof." You whispered, extending the keys for him to take, "I trust you won't leave me."

He stared at the keys in his open palm as you exited up the stairs.

Carl looked around, his eyes landing on a picture of you and your family— who he presumed was your family anyhow. Had you lived here?

He shrugged off the idea, enjoying the look of happiness you presented. He'd never truly seen that in you, not in the time he'd known you anyway.

He walked further into the house, exploring the CDs laid out on the livingroom floor, before moving to the kitchen. The table was littered with pictures of people, some he knew, others he didn't.

They were of you with people, most taken after the rise of the Walkers. There was an odd happiness to you— in all pictures you'd seemed to try your hardest to look happy.

His eyes stopped when they landed on a picture of you and him, one he had no idea you'd kept. He remembered the day it was taken, Glenn had insisted on getting a picture of the two of you—

— he'd told you privately that you two'd make great friends, and he wanted Carl to branch out. You'd both agreed due to the silliness Glenn presented with the idea. He'd been so excited you couldn't reject.

And after it was taken, your silent agreement begun. You'd both stared at the picture so long Glenn thought he'd taken it 'wrong'. That was when it occurred to you both that you'd make more than good friends.

He shook his head, picking up the photo and looking at it. Flipping it over, his fingers glided over the back, which read 'Carl & Y/n' simply.

He could tell there had been more written on the back, though it was shakily erased. As if it had been something you couldn't convince yourself of.

His eyes soon caught a picture of you with everyone— Michonne, Rick, himself, and Judith. Right before you'd moved in, when they'd taken you in.

You seemed happy in this picture, he could tell that much. It made his heart flutter, though he wish it wouldn't, how happy his family made you. How happy you made them.

How happy you made him.

He put the photos down, a pit formed in him as he put certain pieces together— how many people never showed in new pictures, people he could tell hadn't made it.

The photos all showed a progression of happiness, newer photos wouldn't even feature a smile from you. He wished he could say his life had gone differently, but it hadn't.

He dropped the picture he was holding, when he saw you stood beside him, looking over his shoulder at the photos. You weren't mad, you didn't look mad, you looked.. sad.

He looked at you, analyzing the look on your face— he decided he never wanted to see you like this again. A part of him decided that this, agreement, it had to be over.

You reached over him, picking up the same photo of you and him— the one Glenn took. Clearing your throat, before breaking the silence.

"I'm really glad he took this, even if we're not close." You promised, "I used to think about what he said— he told me that we reminded him of Maggie and him."

"We act like we hate eachother in front of others, but one of us is always after the other in some way. That's what he said about us."

"He said that?"

"Yeah. I never really told you— considering the whole distance thing." You paused, looking at him, before reaching out and grabbing another photo.

"I don't even know why we took this one." The picture was a picture of you and Beth at the very beginning, goofing off, "But I'm glad we did. There was so much to her that she didn't get the chance to show."

He looked at you as you reminisced. "And this one, Tyrese told me to keep it forever, that I had to hold on to it because if either of us died it wouldn't be me."

You paused as you looked at it, "He was right." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "You think you'd lose humanity with how the world is now. I think I've only gained more."

"That's a good thing." He told you, taking the picture from you, and setting it back down. He stood up— pulling you into a hug.

"You keep them alive, Y/n. Half the shit they did for Judith would've been completely forgotten if you didn't tell her." He whispered, remembering everytime he'd hear you sharing their stories with her— with anyone that'd listen really.

"They deserve that much." You smiled at him, finally giving into the hug, "Thank you. I missed this."

"Missed what?"

"You."

He did a double take, stiffening in the hug as you continued.

"We used to be this close. When we were younger— before everything got complicated."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're here now, so am I." You paused, wrapping your arms tighter around him.

"I want to be like Glenn and Maggie. I just didn't think you.. I didn't think you'd want that."

"Are you asking me out?"

"Maybe."

"Yes. My answer is yes."

-

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