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hidtired · 3 days

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Hangman [Part 2]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Y/N Dixon was to be punished for her husbands actions at the line up. Negan decided to do it in style. Daryl watches you hang before being dragged away. But you had still been alive by the time you were cut down. What will Daryl go through before reuniting with you?

2.8k words

Warnings (Mentions of suicide, gore, ANGST, violence, injury, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Daryl POV

He saw you getting dragged to stand on that wooden box. Noose swinging back and forth in the air. He had threatened and then pleaded when the rope went around your neck. ‘He had done this, the reason for you standing there.’ You were looking at him. A sweet smile on your face. How could you possibly not be furious with him. He was getting dizzy from moving so much and the amount of blood he lost already. He watched the tears slip down your face but then your face straightened and you glared at Negan. How could you look so brave into death?

Negan was still yapping but the ringing in his ears muted most of his words. He registered, “Any last words?” You didn’t even hesitate stating, “See you in hell.” The look in your eye must have been murderous under the bag that been dragged over your head. Negans chuckle in amusement sent his skin ablaze, “Hope I don’t keep you waiting-“ the silence that followed had Daryl’s mind racing to replace the noise, ‘How do I stop this?’ ‘I can’t lose her!’ The abrupt kick from the box under your feet felt like a stab in the heart. He felt like he was watching it in slow motion. Your slow decent to the ground. To hear the rope pull tot again the tree branch above you.

He watch in shock no noise coming out of him. The bounce of the rope tightening around you suspending you in the air. It was Carl he heard the loudest make a pained grunt at witnessing it. Then you were clawing at the rope that suffocated you. Feet dangling and kicking. You had made a surprised yelp at the first impact. It burned into his mind as soon as he heard it. He took a sharp intake of breath for the first time and he mumbled incoherent please through his cry’s.

When your head fell back you then went slack. Your stillness punched all the air out of his lungs. Everyone’s cry’s and faces pulled into disbelief at your now motionless body. Daryl’s eyes remain glued to you. It felt like he was pulled into a sinkhole and had an empty feeling flowing through him. Negan’s proud voice cutting through the noise of grief, “That was like a damn witch hunt! Shit, didn’t think she would be flopping around so much!” He turned to the people shaking on their knees. “Damn, seems to have learned an important lesson finally! We got there in the end though. THEY GET THE SPIRIT AWARD FOR SURE!” Negan turned to Rick, “I JUST GOT A FEELIN’!” Negan yelled prancing around… putting on a show. “YOU PROVIDE FOR ME!” Rick slowly nodded, “SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO!” He gulped a flash of light making him squint before speaking, "W-we provide-" Negan nodded with a pleased smile getting what he wanted. He pointed to Daryl, "Load him up."

Daryl had dug his hands in the dirt still staring at your body, looking dazed. He felt them pull him and he only struggled a little, tears streaming down his face, noise unable to release from his tight throat. He couldn't leave you. They throw him back in the truck they had dragged him out of in the beginning. He struggled to get back up so he curled into himself. The door slammed making him jump. His mind getting dragged to flashback of you. The moment you saw each other after the prison. When you first admitted to being in love with him. Remembering when you took his last name as yours.

Till death do us part.

Now that it had happened he couldn’t comprehend it. To live without you. For your existence to simply cease. His grief rolled into anger. At the world, at the saviors, but mostly himself. You had always disliked when he got worked up, ‘It will be the death of you!’ But in the end it was the death of you. You had yelled it at him during an argument. He would have said something back to that if you hadn’t started to get worked up tears shinning in your eyes.

‘Your love for me got you killed.’

He quietly sobbed at the thought. The van he was in started to move. He was being taken to who knows where. Whatever it was he would burn it to the ground with everyone who had hurt you in it, including himself.

He passed out somewhere along the way. Only waking at the feeling of stitch’s digging into his shoulder. He was later stripped of his clothes and put in a dark room. He would sit in the corner huddled together playing with the remaining ring on his finger. That’s when the torture here began.

He was feed poorly. Sleep deprived with a song that play on loop at full volume. He felt weak, sometimes thinking he would hear your voice off into the darkness. He would perk up and cry apologizes to you. Blaming himself, soon your presence turned into a haunting after a rough day. He tried to run but was tricked and beaten. He was on the cool floor hearing your voice ring in his ears, “Your fault. If I never took pity on you I’d still be here! YOU KILLED ME!” He would often pull on his hair to quiet you.

A day later, he was dragged to Alexandria. His face was swollen and he had a remaining shake in his hand. He was in a constant state of fighter flight. When he had got to the gates he couldn’t meet anybody’s eye. They had succeeded in breaking him. But not the way they intended. They broke him to comply. To be one of them. But he continued refusal. They broke him by making his life meaningless. With a sole purpose of destroying the ones who took his love from this world.

He was helping move boxes from Alexandria homes. Rick standing next to Negan near by. Rick had spoke to Carl from the porch, “You should go check on Lori. Make sure that she is okay.” He said it loud enough for Daryl to overhear. Daryl was perplexed at the sentence, was he trying to insinuate something? Lori had been dead for a while now, had he lost it again? Carl chimed in, “I’m sure she is doing fine.” Were they talking about you? There’s no way in hell you would be ‘fine’ after the shit that happened. It was hopeful thinking, he probably didn’t even say Lori and he imagined it.

Rick pleaded for Daryl being able to stay but when asked to make his case he knew he wouldn’t let him go. He also didn’t feel he deserved it. He had looked to his brother, his face screaming he cared. It only made him more guilty. You had cared for him, that’s why you were dead.

That was only solidified more back in his cell. Dwight was on him to join them, that all the torture would be over. Even if he did, the torture would still continue in your absence. Daryl said somethings that struck a nerve, “And be like you? Lettin Negan bang your wife, wow you sure saved her.” Dwight threw the dog food sandwich to the floor, “At least she is still alive.” He threw a polaroid to the floor, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Daryl’s hands were balled up. The burning ache in his chest at the mention of you. He slowly moved for the picture flipping it over. The crack of light coming from under the door revealing the picture. It was you hanging in that tree. He immediately looked away, clutching a hand to his chest. The hard tension of emotion bubbling out. He silently wept while the music changed. How stupid could he have been? To think maybe Rick was suggesting you were OK.

Your POV

Daryl was right about that, you were everything but ok. Alive yes, but struggling. When you had gotten to hilltop you were rushed to the doctor. He had done a endotracheal Intubation, shoving a tube down your throat to assist you with breathing. Maggie held your hand while Glenn pinned you down. You relaxed when it was in place. Breathing fully and properly, your eyes rolled in the back of your head going unconscious. All adrenaline leaving your body, now unable to process the pain and shut itself down.

You woke startled. The intrusion down your throat causing a panic. You pulled it out but struggled to cough to clear your airway. You rolled over the side of the bed letting gravity do it. It was hard to work any muscle in your throat. You felt something rapped around it. Almost like a pillow. It was a neck brace but the feeling reminded you of having the rope around you. The pillow case under you reminding you of the bag. Someone grabbed you and propped you up to sit. It was the doctor. You froze from your panic seeing panicked eyes all watching you. Maggie sat leaning into Glenn’s shoulder with a hand clasped around her mouth.

It was like a slap of reality. Eye contact with everyone in the room. They explained things to you while still a little frazzled. You were asleep for 14-16 hours. Your bottom lip trembled and you waved everyone closer to you. You enveloped people in hugs. You had never been so close to death. You gesture for something to write on. After getting it you wrote, “Is everything Ok?” Sasha who now sat in a chair next to the bed spoke first, “You should get better, only concern was how you would eat.” The doctor chimed in, “The damage to your throat is unknown. I can’t say for sure if you could eat solid foods or even talk ever again.” You rub the tension between your eyes grabbing the paper and writing again.

“Daryl?”

Glenn put a hand to your leg, “He’s alive. You should know the saviors took him before they left.” You ran a hand through your hair eyes closed tight. The burning in your eyes from the need to cry only added to the pressure in your growing migraine. You bit your lip and tried to swallow down the tightness growing in your throat from tears. However, the sensation of gulping made your whole body tense, slamming your fists down at the pain. A shaken inhale coming out of you. Everyone cringed around you. You collected yourself before writing again. “How the baby?” You had pointed the paper to Glenn and Maggie. She smiled, “We’re ok.” You breath in relieved about the first good news.

Then came the recovery. Not just physically but mentally. Any rope, tie, or, string set you off. You now no longer slept with a pillowcase. You had to eat everything in a paste. You’d crush it and dilute it with water. Felt like dog food. You were persistent when it came to asking about updates on Daryl. ‘When were people going after him?’ ‘When are we fighting?’

Everyday with the same answer. To think of what they were doing to him as each day passed. You started to debate going after him yourself. No opportunities presenting itself until Sasha and Rosita went off to kill Negan and hadn’t come back. With everyone distracted by them you follow after them. You left a note that read,

“I’m sorry for not telling you I ran off, but I need to go get Daryl. Anyone would do the same in my situation. So, no being mad when I come back! Preferably with two Dixons.”

You while still unable to talk and less than great ability to even drink water, were going to save your husband. You followed old tracks from the girls. Knife in hand and an empty gun holster. Also a black hoodie that was a few sizes too big, (you stole from Jesus.) You were by far behind in your tracking ability compared to your Husband. You remember all the times you would go with him to hunt. Being out there alone often lead to other activities you will admit. Probably what took you so long to learn. You found a factor type building the near the end of the trail. You would wait until the sun goes down and seeing what you were working with.

You had rounded the building a few times preparing for when it became sunset. You also took notice at a lot of cars that had left. You decided to act while they were gone. There was a lot with cars and to your surprise Daryl’s motorcycle. It seemed empty and unguarded. There was already holes in the fence tied with zip ties. You avoided the walkers attached to the fence. Breaking the zip ties with your knife and sliding through. You quickly and quietly made your way through a side door.

The hallway had minimum lighting. Any door you would pass you slowly open to look inside. Footsteps on the other side of the hall caused you to go up a flight of stairs. Quick to make your way down the upstairs hall when you heard women chatting. Ducking into a room closest to you. Pressing your ear to the door listening for the people to pass. Taking notice of the room there was a big bed, and a jacket all too familiar. You were in Negan’s room. Stepping back outside you paused and looked at the door.

Deciding to carve a little message in his door before continuing your search for Daryl.

____ | | | o | /|\ | | | / \ |_

"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _."

You made your way back downstairs. Passing door after door until you saw one cracked open. It was another bedroom. You slowly opened it spotting the key to Daryl’s bike. You pocketed it then saw another thing you recognized, Rick’s python. You moved it to your holster while moving back to the door. You ducked your head out of it looking both ways before continuing. Your heart raced every second you were there.

There was 3 doors left at the end of the hall. When opening the first one it opened to reveal a small space that was empty. It was dirty with full brick walls and concrete floor. You moved to the next one but it didn’t budge, it was locked? You moved to the last door and it popped open like the first. You back tracked to the other door and made a small knock against it. Leaning your ear to the door you heard a deep sigh. Someone was locked in one of these small rooms. Inhaling and hoping it was Daryl. You looked around again to make sure no one was coming.

Jamming your knife in the key hole and pulling out a Bobby pin from the back of your head. You were used to lock picking doors open since all the scavenging you’ve done. It was a habit to always have it on you. You fiddled with the lock looking around from time to time. When you finally got it to turn and unlock you put the pin back and held your knife out for whatever was behind the door. The door slowly opened light illuminating the dark room with a beaten and dirty Daryl. Your heart dropping. He was sat down staring at the floor squinting from the light. You slowly feel to your knees.

He looked up seeing you. A mix of a panicked and heart breaking look flashing across his battered features. You put a finger to your lips telling him to be quiet. You crawl over to him and grab his face. He leaned into you making your heart feel strained, ‘what have they done to him.’ Daryl whispering apologies, “It’s all my fault… god I love you.” His hands hovering over your face. You leaned over to lay your head in his hand. He seemed surprised at the contact. He leans forward looking at your face searching your eyes. His hand traveling down gently to your neck his eyes catching a sight glimpse of the bruise around it before you flinched at the contact to it. He breath comes out ragged,

“Y/N?”

You nuzzle your face in his and leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the lips. He was looking at you with amazement. You grabbed him by the arms and tried to get him to stand, trying to hint that you both needed to leave.

You were going to get him out of here.

Part 3

Next part is final! Feedback welcome and requests always open! What do you think the Hangman game spelt?

This feels like I wrote it poorly so apologies.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff

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thoughtless-muse · 1 day

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chapter summary: daryl dixon was everything you despised in a man: rude, unkempt, derisive, scornful and unarticulated. yet, daryl dixon was also everything you craved in a man: mysterious, rugged, self-sufficient, masculine, aloof, and much older than yourself. it was the worst sort of enigma to place yourself in, especially during the throes of a damn apocalypse – and yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail to try and get closer to the man who hadn’t even bothered to tell you his name himself.

word count: 3.6k

c/w: language, suggestive themes/thoughts, a bit dialogue heavy, younger!fem!reader, first meetings, older/younger, undisclosed age-gap, subtle bickering, instant attraction, brief allusions to death/loss, super minor angst (maybe?), pre-season one at the quarry camp

prologue: start of doomsday

being raised by a brother ten years your senior gave you ample time and experience to grow accustomed to being dubbed with various nicknames.

goob, goober, snot, shrimp, brat, princess – you’d heard all of those and many, many more. you had long since learned to let them bounce off of you, to simply roll with the flow and ignore them.

but when he’d given you a nickname, why, you simply couldn’t let it roll off your back; couldn’t stop yourself from replaying the exact moment he’d first called you it, couldn’t refrain from stewing over the way it had rolled – all gravelly, husky and derisive – off his tongue.

“well, ain’t’chu jus’ a doll, girly?”

doll.

he had called you a fucking doll.

and girly. as if you were some sort of child.

it was such a puerile thing to get hooked up on, something so trivial and immature – especially when compared to the more pressing concerns that you should be worrying about; such as the dead slobbering for your flesh and the dwindling food supplies within the camp.

maybe it was because when you had approached him you were just a hairs-width from a mental breakdown, the world nothing more than a mere crumble around you, and his rudeness acted as the straw that broke the camel’s back.

or maybe it was because you were simply trying to be nice, for fuck’s sake, and the moment he’d laid sight on you he decided he would harbor a personal vendetta against you, for no real reason other than he could – or wanted to.

you didn’t even know his name. and it had become painfully obvious that he’d taken great lengths to make sure no one in the camp did; when you’d approached shane about him moments after that fateful incident, shane had spared no more than a glance in the direction the man had stalked off in and shrugged.

“no idea who he is, really. he kinda just showed up.” was all shane had said, as if what had just transpired was trifling at best – and, deep down inside, you knew it was; a man copping an attitude with you was the least of shane’s worries, and it was petulant for you to expect him to place it above everything else that was already piled onto his platter, that it was stupid to expect him to do something about it as if he were a parent getting onto a child.

but you just couldn’t help it.

you hadn’t been able to help it for days.

those words rang through your head every time you saw him, sauntering around the camp with a scowl, lugging around that clunky crossbow like it was some sort of deterrent, like no one would be brave enough to approach him while he had it within his reach – it just flat-out irritated you.

you were only trying to be nice.

“I don’ need no damn help. I can find a tent jus’ fine!”

“prick.” you muttered under your breath, only realizing that you’d audibly expressed your distaste at the memory when a cool, damp hand gripped your bicep.

“you okay, (y/n)?” andrea asked softly, stroking her thumb over your skin soothingly. you shot the older woman a small smile, shirking off the irritation that had built under your skin from the mere thought of that man.

“yeah, yeah. I’m good, andrea. thanks.” you returned your focus to the bin of dirty laundry you had abandoned in favor of recounting sore memories and began to scrub near-viciously. this happened a lot, too, when you thought about him. the thoughts would pop up unprompted, and then everything else would fade away into mere white noise – you were sure it was incredibly frustrating for those who shared your assigned tasks each day.

andrea hummed softly and uncurled her fingers from your bicep to return her hand to her own basin once more. silence fell over the group of women washing clothes at the lakeside, nothing but the cries of forest birds, rippling water and churning splashes against the walls of multiple basins acting as a melody to the activity.

that was, until amy spoke up, her voice airy and strained by amusement that she tried to desperately to conceal. “so, uh, who’s a prick?”

you whipped your head over to glare at amy as muted giggles arose around you, and she vehemently avoided your eyes lest the smile teasing at her lips grew into a full on grin. heat flared over your cheeks and you blew out a puff of hot air, equal parts embarrassed and irritated that you were caught angrily musing over that man red-handed. again.

“no one.” you stated simply, voice weak even to your own ears; and with the way amy’s shoulders began to tremble with contained laughter, you knew she had picked up the lack of conviction within your tone as well.

she just knew you too well.

you had met the harrison sisters the morning after the bombing of atlanta. they had been among the group of people that shane had led to the quarry. amy was sociable, nice, and outgoing, fluttering around the camp and offering bottled water and protein bars to everyone around her. close in age, you’d clicked with her almost instantly, drawn in by her bubbly personality and likeness to yourself; the two of you had been nearly inseparable since, and you even considered her to be a best friend despite the fact that you’d met her only a little over a week ago – falling in with andrea seemed all but inevitable, and you couldn’t say you hated that.

andrea was more reserved than amy was, but no less kind. you weren’t sure if it was a facet of her personality or simply because she had seen the bond forming between amy and yourself, but andrea had, at some point, taken you beneath her wing and treated you as if you were an extension of her own family – it was comforting, but in some ways, it made your heart ache.

because you’d had that once before; had it in the form of broad shoulders, dark hair, blue eyes, and a voice of reason that could talk down even the most insane of serial killers.

you’d had it in the form of rick, ten years your senior and your best friend, tied to you by more than just shared blood.

“I’m serious,” you pressed, smiling through the sudden onslaught of ache within your chest. “I wasn’t talking about anyone.”

“okay.” amy responded simply, dragging out the ‘y’ in way that conveyed exactly how much she believed you in that instant. you chuckled lowly and shook your head, willing the pain in your chest to ebb away quickly, before it swelled to something too big to contain; a knot was forming in your throat, one that had become far too familiar within the past couple weeks, and swallowing it down was growing harder and harder.

amy’s attempt at prodding fell to silence again, one that the others seemed content in, completely ignorant to the turmoil roiling within you. the silence acted as a catalyst rather than a balm, an overwhelming force that prompted the small cut in your chest into a growing chasm, and in a desperate attempt to strike conversation and sow it back up, you said, “I was talking about that guy with the crossbow.”

laughter erupted around you – the first painful stitch. amy nudged you with her elbow with a light guffaw – the second stitch, a little less painful than the first.

“yeah, I kinda figured as much.” andrea acknowledged with a laugh. “you’ve been in knots over him ever since he first showed up.” the third stitch, nearly painless.

“I have not!” you rebuked, even though a small part of you knew it was true. the man had simply waltzed into camp one day, a string of squirrels thrown over one shoulder and his crossbow slung over the other, a scowl on his face and body covered in filth and grime. sweat glistened across his brow and over the skin of his exposed biceps, and when he spoke, it was with a southern drawl that had drawn you in nearly instantly.

he was attractive as hell, at least he was to you – you became instantly overwhelmed by the desire to talk to him, to know him, to get closer in some way; but perhaps you should have observed him a bit more before practically cornering him and offering your help. maybe then you would have been able to foresee his reaction, and you wouldn’t be in this torn-up state in the first place.

“he is a bit of a prick, though.” amy conceded. “I think the only reason shane allows him to stay is because he can hunt.”

that chasm had been successfully sewn up by now, but the flesh around it was still achy and sore, sensitive to any prod and poke. you’d have to tread carefully to avoid reopening it, at least for now.

“I’m sure he’s got other skills.” you weren’t sure why you were defending the man after just insulting him and stewing over him, but for some reason, it irked you for him to be likened to as a one-trick pony. maybe it was simply the cursed attraction you had to him.

“and I’m more than certain you’d love to figure out just what those other skills are.” jacqui, who had been stationed furthest from you, piped up for the first time. your mouth popped open, your eyes widened, and heat flared to your face while the others erupted into laughter. amy’s laugh was the most notable, loud and boisterous, and despite the slight mortification you felt at jacqui’s suggestive (but true) statement, you found yourself laughing along.

you wondered just how obvious you must have been about your attraction to the man for even jacqui to have noticed; you didn’t talk much with her, but when you’re sequestered into a camp fending for your lives against the walking dead, you supposed it was only natural to pick up on things about the people around you.

had the man noticed it, too?

after all, you had, without a doubt, noticed things about him; things that no one would notice unless they had their eyes on him a little too much.

you noticed the small things that made him attractive; the subtle age lines around his eyes and lips, the creases along his forehead, the bags beneath his bottom lids, the semi-permanent frown fixed upon his face.

you noticed the things about him that stirred your gut, that pooled heat between your legs and brought about carnal arousal within you; the broad width of his shoulders, the way those shirts with the cut-off sleeves framed and accentuated his biceps and torso, those small glimpses that his pants sometimes gave you of his package, the way he sauntered around, glaring at everyone, cold and unapproachable – like a dark, gloomy castle just waiting to be turned into someone’s conquest.

most of all, you noticed the clear difference in age between the two of you – fuck… it had to be at least ten years, right? if you were lucky, it may even be larger than that.

your gut twisted with the familiar sensation of arousal and your sex throbbed between your legs, prompting you to close your thighs together in an attempt to stop it. or maybe get some friction, you weren’t sure.

this was becoming a big, big problem.

“(y/n)! aunt (y/n)!”

a shrill, childish voice called out to you from the gravel road yards from the lake, effectively dousing the low-burning embers in your belly. you whipped your head back and cupped a hand over your eyes to shield them from the sun. you smiled widely at the approaching form of carl, your one and only nephew, and discarded the wet shirt in your hand in favor of turning your entire body to face the boy.

“hey, carl! what’s up?” you questioned the exuberant child when he halted just feet away from you, panting heavily and dowsed in sweat. you reckoned he must have run all the way here from the camp. what an energetic youth.

“there’s something going down in camp. shane’s fighting with this weird guy! he has a gun!”

your heart tripped over itself and you quickly rose to your feet, shooting a hand out to grip carl by the shoulder and draw him closer. a threat of this magnitude hadn’t shown face in the camp yet, and despite the fact that it wasn’t within your jurisdiction to handle matters such as these, you couldn’t push down the instinct to do so.

“amy, could you finish up my part, please?” you asked kindly, sending the young blonde a pleading look from over your shoulder. she nodded and reached over to pull your basin closer to her, throwing a cheery “you owe me!” at your back and prompting a chuckle from your throat. uneasy murmurs had broken about amongst the women at the lake, though amy seemed unbothered by the same circumstances, focused completely on her task where as the others had slowed to a distracted crawl.

“yeah, I do, thanks. okay carl, take me to camp.” you ordered the boy, who nodded and shrugged your hand from his shoulder before dashing forward, kicking up dust from beneath his heels.

you swallowed down the command for carl to slow down that swelled in your throat and instead picked up your pace; if it was true that shane was currently grappling with someone, you couldn’t waste any time on chastising carl or slowing the pace. you had to get to camp to de-escalate the situation if it called for it.

by the time carl had broken through the foliage around the camp, your ears picked up the unmistakable rumble of shane’s voice; it held that same stern yet soft tone that he used when talking to criminal suspects – you’d been there when he’d done it before.

“… just hand me the gun and tell me your name, and we can get this all sorted.”

“I ain’t handin’ya my gun, pretty boy.” this voice was different; rugged and hoarse and dry, as if the owner of it had just chain-smoked a whole pack of cigarettes. “alls I’m lookin’ fer is my brother. I don’ have any other business with ya.”

shane sighed heavily just as you broke through the green shrubbery surrounding the east side of the camp. his hands were glued to his hips, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in annoyance at the man a few feet in front of him. when carl had first mentioned a gun, you worried that the man may have been pointing it at the ex-officer, or others; but it was instead holstered at the man’s hip, untouched and non-threatening.

“look, man, I get that. I don’t think you’re gonna hurt anybody; but we’ve got women and children here, and you’re a stranger with a gun. I can’t take any chances. I’m sure you understand.” shane coaxed further, removing a hand from his hip and extending an open palm to the man. the man glared down at shane’s hand but made no further movement; he didn’t reach for his gun, nor did he shift his feet at all, hell, you couldn’t even tell if the man was breathing at this point. but it was obvious this man wasn’t a threat – but if shane continued to pester him this way, he very well could become one; and with carl right next to you, that was a chance you couldn’t take.

shane huffed loudly and you saw his fingers twitch, as if he were barely holding back from striking at the man. you swallowed down your trepidation and pushed carl back, clearing your throat subtly before marching right up next to shane to confront the man.

“what’s your brother’s name? maybe we can help you find him; if he’s here.”

two pairs of eyes simultaneously snapped to you – one pair dark and narrowed in a harsh glare and the other quickly lighting up with barely-concealed interest. the stranger, a man with a buzz cut and wiry face, smiled widely at you, the tip of a pink tongue slipping just barely from between his lips as his eyes trailed your body. you pushed away the shiver that threatened to crawl up your spine and held the man’s gaze confidently until he was done with his blatant show of lewd conduct.

when his eyes met yours once more, there was a coy, feline smirk upon his lips, and his croaky voice had dropped a few octaves when he responded, “daryl. his name is daryl.”

for a moment, you sat silent, gnawing on your inner cheek and wracking your brain for just who ‘daryl’ could be. you didn’t know the names of every person in camp, but that list of unknowns was short – only three people. your heart constricted. could it be?

“so, your brother’s name is daryl. what’s yours?” shane piped up, voice edged with aggravation, as he rocked back on his heels and slipped his thumbs through his belt loops. the stranger’s eyes never left your body as he opened his mouth to respond, but the voice that echoed back didn’t belong to him.

“merle? what’d’ya think yer doin’ here?”

you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know who the shambling footsteps behind you belonged to. your stomach twisted in on itself when a warm hand pushed you aside by the thick of your bicep, not too roughly but enough to have you stumbling slightly, the contact brief but enough to leave tingles in its wake. you glanced at the man between yourself and shane, taking note of the grimace on his face as he stared down the stranger.

the stranger, merle, took no heed to the glares that were fixed upon him. he smiled widely and threw his arms out as if expecting a hug.

“baby brother! isn’t it obvious? I’m here lookin’ fer ya.”

“you know him?” shane inquired, jerking his head in merle’s direction, eyes locked on the man between the two of you.

the man – daryl, as you now knew – shuffled on his feet and cast his eyes to the side, giving shane a brief once over. after that, daryl returned his eyes to merle and nodded.

“yeah. tha’s my brother.”

shane ran a shaky hand through his hair and chuckled hotly, muttering something underneath his breath. trepidation fluttered in your gut. you’d known shane long enough to know exactly what those mannerisms of his meant, and it didn’t spell anything good. you had a bad feeling shane was about to say something either highly stupid or highly impulsive; more than likely something that was both of those things at the same time.

“y’know, I don’t really have a problem with you, daryl. I never have. but this” – shane gestured to merle, who was still standing with his arms extended and that wide smile on his face – “is a bit dangerous. when you came here, you didn’t tell us jack about you; we didn’t know who you were, where you came from, or who you knew. and I didn’t bother to ask.”

daryl hadn’t moved a single inch since shane began speaking, eyes still fixed on merle, but the discomfort was plain as day on his face, and you felt irritation begin to bubble hot beneath your skin. granted, daryl was a haughty, antisocial prick, but why was shane acting like he did something wrong?

“I mean, this is just–”

“what’s your point, shane?” you cut the man off, a bit rudely, turning a sharp-eyed glare to him past daryl’s chest. shane’s eyes widened fractionally as if he hadn’t expected you to interject yourself, yet again, into a matter that he was handling on his own.

“my point is that daryl put us all in danger.” shane pressed, lowly, with a hand wave towards merle and dark eyes glaring daggers into yours. “we don’t know him, and we don’t know his brother. for all we know, merle could have stormed into camp, gun blazing-”

“but he didn’t.” you rebuked impatiently. you crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your head subtly to the side. “and that’s a risk that comes with everyone in the camp. we don’t know anyone here, other than each other. and even so, you haven’t seen me in three years. I may as well be a stranger, too.”

“that’s different. you’re like a little sister to me.” shane rebutted, prompting an eye roll and hip jut from you. you wouldn’t consider shane a brother even if he’d spent every moment of your youth with you. you swallowed down that statement in favor of keeping yourself on track with the real issue at hand.

“my point still stands. nothing bad happened, so why don’t you just cool your jets and back off a bit?”

shane’s lips thinned into a line, dark eyes darting between you, daryl and merle a couple times before he heaved a great sigh.

“okay, fine, you’re right. nothing happened. but I’d still like to have a conversation with both of you, if that’s alright.” shane conceded, directing his final statement at the two brothers still locked in a stare down. daryl only gave the tiniest of nods to display that he’d even acknowledged shane’s statement, and, satisfied with the knowledge that tensions had been quelled, you turned on your heel to head back to the lake and check on the progress of the laundry.

unbeknownst to you, the event that had just transpired would turn out to be the catalyst to a soon-to-come tension between shane and yourself, as well as the act that had garnered you a modicum of respect and interest from the rude, attractive man that you were sure would never even notice you; and that little problem that you thought was becoming much too big was only going to grow larger, and very quickly.

a/n: tbh I struggled a bit with this one. it is just a prologue, a means of setting up the deeper story, but I still wanted it to come out as good as possible, and I feel I didn’t quite articulate that. but before this finalized version, I went through at least three drafts before finding this one to be somewhat adequate. if you guys enjoyed this one nonetheless, please show it some love! if you’re looking forward to more updates, consider following or being added to the taglist!

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown

#daryl x reader #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd

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normanhypegirl · 3 days

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other men can stfu 🤫

#norman reedus #daryl dixon #scud frohmeyer #blade 2 #cutie patootie #i need him #murphy macmanus #twd daryl #scud #twd #my man my man my man #loml #love of my life

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daryldixonsboy · 2 days

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Sometimes, when I want to cry, I think abt Daryl as a kid.

I imagine what it would be like to talk about him before he was so hurt by his father, before he was forced to toughen up. He was probably so sweet, just a kid who needed love.

He was probably a momma's boy, too. He would've loved affection, he would've loved giving hugs. He'd have a sweet little smile that he wasn't afraid to show. He wouldn't be scared to talk or share how he was feeling.

Poor boy😭

#RAHHHH IM SOBBING HELP #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl

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dixons-sunshine · 1 day

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hi I just wanted to start with I really love your writing its just so good. I do have a request and if your not interested its okay it is angst but with a possible happy ending.

so its a daryl x reader where before the apocalypse r and daryl were together and they ended things right before everything went to shit and then when the group gets to Alexandria r is there and she has kid/s (maybe twins?? boy and girl??) so turns out r found out she was pregnant right when everything started happening so daryl didn't know and idk he like puts two and two together yk? and if you're okay with it can she be hispanic/ latin (maybe that can be one of the reasons they broke up bc yk merl is an ass to POC)

anyways sorry if that was a lot or didn't make sense

anyways have a good day/night much love <3

Two Plus Two Makes Four | Daryl Dixon x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Summary: A week before the apocalypse, Daryl was forced to break up with you by Merle, leaving you heartbroken, but not alone—soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. Now, two years later, you come face to face again with the man that broke your heart, and he finds out something shocking.

Genre: Angst, some fluff towards the end.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope this is good enough to make up for the wait! Please note that I used Google translate for this, so the translations may be incorrect or awkward! Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

—

“Kids?! Ya were pregnant and ya didn't fuckin' tell me?!” Daryl bellowed angrily, grabbing your arm to halt you from walking away from him.

You ripped your hand from his grip. “¡No me toques!” You spun around, furiously pointing a finger in your ex boyfriend's direction. “Don't you even dare put this on me, Dixon! You left. You walked out because you cared more about your brother's opinion than you did me! I'm sorry I wasn't gonna baby trap a man who didn't wanna be with me!”

“I deserved to know! I missed two years of their lives 'cause ya didn't tell me! I could of been there fer 'em, for ya, but ya chose to keep it from me!” Daryl exclaimed angrily, following you as you walked into your kitchen. “How could ya keep tha' from me?!”

“You chose to run to your brother the first chance you got! Four years down the drain in an instant for that racist asshole. I didn't owe you anything after that, maldito idiota!”

Daryl stopped in his tracks, instantly regretting starting up this particular argument. You spoke nothing but the truth. You didn't owe him anything. After all, it was him who walked out on you. He chose to let Merle's judgement get to him and influence his relationship. Hell, if it weren't for Merle, he would have proposed to you. He already had a ring picked out and everything back then, but he let Merle ruin everything. It was his own stupidity that cost him two years of his children's lives.

“Mama?”

At the sound of a small, timid voice coming from behind you, both you and Daryl turned and came face to face with your kids, your two year old twins. Your son, Luka, was nervously looking up at you and Daryl while your daughter, Camilla, was standing behind him, holding his hand.

Daryl was struck by the similarities both children shared with him. They both had his eyes, and his hair colour. They were spitting images of him. There was no doubt in his mind that these two children were his. He wasn't blind. He could see they were.

“Everything's fine, amores. I'm just having a conversation with Mr Dixon.”

Camilla stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with wonder. She looked up at Daryl, a smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Dixon?” she asked, pointing up at him. “Papa?”

Daryl was surprised. He looked up at you in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. You sent him a strained smile, forcing a relaxed look in front of your children.

“I always talk about you. They deserve to know who their father is. Well, who he was before he left me,” you explained, looking back down at Camilla and Luka.

“Papa?” Luka asked as he stepped forward, his blue eyes that reflected Daryl's sparkling with wonder. “Our papa?”

Daryl looked at you for permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You nodded, silently giving him permission. He was their dad, after all, and he had just as much right to have a relationship with them as you, even if he did leave you. However, that was between him and you, and your children didn't deserve to be denied a relationship with their dad because of it.

The archer bent down, looking between Luka and Camilla as they stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, m'yer papa. M'sorry I wasn't here before, but m'here now. I ain't goin' nowhere.”

Daryl wasn't sure how much of his speech they understood, if they understood anything at all, but it didn't matter. The speech was mainly meant for you. It was to let you know that he wanted to be a part of their lives, and there was just about nothing that could stop him from that.

Camilla and Luka, as if having some sort of twin power, both simultaneously rushed forward and into his arms. Daryl wasted no time in hugging them back, somehow managing to pick them both up and rest them comfortably in his arms. It was relatively late, nearly eight at night and well past their bed times, so they rested their heads on his shoulders, making Daryl's heart swell with fondness. They didn't even know him, only having heard of him through the stories you told them, but they already trusted him. And even though he just found out he had kids, he would kill for them.

“We need to talk, sunshine. This ain't somethin' we can just sweep under the rug,” he told you, allowing you to take Luka from his arms to lighten the load. He adjusted his hold on Camilla, letting out a fond chuckle when he heard her yawn and nuzzle her face deeper into his shoulder.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “I know. But let's get these dormilones to bed first.”

Approximately half an hour later, the twins were tucked into bed and asleep. You and Daryl were back in the kitchen, both having a glass of wine in your hands—liquid courage for the conversation you were about to have.

“M'sorry fer leavin' ya,” Daryl broke the silence first, nervously sloshing the liquid around in his glass. “I dun' even know why I did. Merle's opinions should've never influenced our relationship. I loved ya. I still do. I regret leavin' ya more than anythin' else in my life.”

You inhaled deeply, willing the tears away. For two years you had wanted an explanation, and now you were finally getting one. However, hearing him admit that he still loved you, that you weren't stupid for still loving the man who broke your heart, was both relieving and hurtful.

“You hurt me, Daryl,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I get that Merle was your brother, but you should've never let him influence you like that. I had to go through everything alone. Do you know how hard it was being pregnant and fighting for my life against the dead out there? Do you know how terrified I was? I was lucky enough to find Alexandria a couple of days before I gave birth. If I didn't, I would've given birth out there with the walkers. I probably would've died. Camilla and Luka too.”

Daryl felt the guilt gnawing at his insides. He really hated himself at that moment. “M'sorry, sweetheart. I really fuckin' am. I promise I won't leave again. I dun' expect you to give me a second chance. God knows I dun' deserve it, but I promise I'll be here fer ya and the lil ones. I ain't ever gon' let ya down again, I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, something you always did whenever the two of you had a serious talk. “Give me some time, Daryl. I still love you, but I need some time to adjust to the idea of 'us' again. It's been just me and the twins for two years. As far as I knew before today, I thought I wouldn't see you ever again. Just focus on the kids for now, okay? They deserve to know their daddy.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a smile, and he nodded. “I'll wait as long as ya need me to. I ain't ever gon' let anyone influence us ever again, I can assure ya of tha'. And I ain't ever gon' leave ya to raise 'em alone, never.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

¡No me toques!: Don't touch me!

Translations (May be incorrect! Please feel free to correct me if they are!):

maldito idiota!: fucking idiot!

amores: loves.

dormilones: sleepyheads.

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wannabespacesmuggler · 2 days

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D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Six | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

“Fuck!”

The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief.

You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.

“You ‘lright?”

The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”

Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.

“What’d ya do to your hand?”

He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.

“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.

“Give it ‘er.”

You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.

“Just surprised, is all.”

“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”

He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”

His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are.

“You have a cigarette?”

The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.

“What’s goin’ on?”

You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.

“It’s just Shane…”

You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.

“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.”

“Hey…”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.

“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”

Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for.

Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips.

“It was nothin’.”

You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.

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#twd #The Walking Dead #walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #Rick Grimes #shane walsh #merle dixon #glenn rhee #lori grimes #the walking dead imagine #walking dead imagine #Norman Reedus #norman reedus imagine #norman reedus x reader

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darylmydix · 23 hours

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730 DAYS | daryl dixon [coming soon]

“we protect our people. we’ll protect you–i’ll protect you.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep, daryl dixon.”

summary: 2 years since you’ve been trapped with the saviors as one of negan’s many wives, and 2 weeks since you’ve made your escape into the world of the living dead, anticipating whatever fate awaits you; but when you meet unlikely hero, daryl dixon, he saves you and brings you to alexandria. it’s a paradise you’ve longed for, but how long will this freedom last until negan finds you?

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, sexual assault, mentions of noncon, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, murder, slow burn-ish, strong language, torture, decapitation, s6-11, 18+, minors dni.

author’s note: so i started watching twd again, which i haven’t watched in years but now that i’m a grown woman i’ve been feigning for daryl lmao, he’s so fine idcidcidc.

000

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ghostboneswrites2 · 3 days

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//moodboard//: hometown x Daryl Dixon

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #moodboard

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xoxo-sarah · 23 hours

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Ms. Perfect

↝a/n: this is an old idea that I had in the back of my notes app. Oops.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝warning: death, widow!Reader, apocalypse, mean! Daryl, swearing, not proofread

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

↝⎙ 4.23.24

Daryl wasn't sure why he hated you so much. You were nice to everyone around you, even understanding. But the sight of you makes the blood in his veins boil.

It became a routine; you and him sniping at each other, digging up trauma neither of you really wanted to. He just got under your skin. Like now.

“Sorry, in case you haven' noticed, the world ain't all rainbows and sunshine anymore. We don't shit money to buy the newest thing. Life is different, Doll. Get used to it.” He drawled, his eyebrows scrunched together.

There he goes again.

You weren't even talking to or about him, but he had heard you. That had been enough for him to butt in, apparently.

Ever since you had stumbled your way into Daryl's group early on, Daryl had had it out for you. At the creek, he would be pointing out how your hair had to have been done recently. Your jewelry, clothes, how smooth your skin looked from the expensive moisturizers and night creams you had to use, your newly manicured nails- ignoring the dirt and blood underneath-, and the shine in your eyes. You didn't have the shine at first, but when you would hang out with Carol, you would smile, and the recent glazed look was gone.

Your eyes shone brightly like the stars in the countryside. Not that you would know. You probably never had the chance to see how bright the stars shone in the city.

You were unbothered by the people at the campsite, keeping to yourself. You didn't have to worry about anything when the world was built for your liking and convenience.

Daryl despised you and that god-awful rock on your finger that could feed him for probably 6 months to a year. He glared at the ring every chance he got—so much so that you eventually yanked it off, throwing it in the murky pond.

Even after leaving the campsite, you stayed with the group, arguing with Daryl along the way.

“I get it, you're used to having people do everything for you, but we're not always going to be with you, Princess. Sorry life now is so much different from your perfect life before.” For a quiet guy, he always had so much to say to you. All negative.

You bit your cheek, glancing from Maggie—who you were originally talking to—to the dirty man in front of you. "Yeah-I had the perfect life. I had the fiancé that I couldn't wait to marry. I had the apartment that I had the luxury to design with my mother, gushing about the difference wallpapers." You smiled at the memory. Your mother had been so happy for you. "I had the fluffy dog that had its own room. I had the dad who would always talk about playing catch with his future grandchild. I had the money where I didn't have to worry about anything in life." You didn't falter as you felt behind your eyes begin to burn. " I did, alright? I had the life that almost every little girl dreams about. But it was yanked out of my hands, like everyone else's. One day, I didn't wake up to my fiancé kissing me, or the smell of burnt toast-- cause he didn't know how to cook. I woke up to him nowhere in sight. Instead, I heard yelling outside the door, car horns honking outside of the windows. When I opened the door, I saw my neighbors with white eyes, growling and clawing at the skin of the man I was going to marry and grow old with. His screams will haunt me 'til the day I die. But you will not ever hear me feeling bad for myself. I did have the perfect life, but that doesn't matter now. So, get over -yourself-, cause I am just trying to survive just like you."

Daryl watched your eyes gloss over, your nostrils flare. You were rightfully pissed. And right. He hadn't heard you weep for your past-- ever. You had jumped right into survival mode as soon as he laid eyes on you. You had held your own too- most people called you a badass, Daryl wouldn't let himself verbally agree. With that, you turned and walked away. Maggie shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Daryl. She wore a disappointed frown.

Weeks. You ignored his existence for weeks, 2 weeks to be exact. Everytime he would go up to you, you would walk away. Even if you were in the middle to a conversation. The person you were talking to wouldn't mind, really. They would've known about your bitter back-and-forth. They wouldn't think anything of it.

Daryl just wishes you would give him a chance to at least try to apologize. After you had let your walls down and told him about what the end of the world was like for you, he felt bad - pathetic, even. He was so jealous about how you lived before the outbreak, he didn't care about how it had affected you. He should've.

The moonlight led him towards your house, his hands fidgeting. The streets were silent, everyone already in bed. He hadn't been able to sleep. The thought of you kept him up in a different way than before.

His knuckles hovered over your door. You had to be in bed. Was it worth it? You would probably be too tired to yell at him. He knocked.

It took a minute for the door to open. You stood, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a sleep frown on your face. At the sight in front of you, your hand dropped, your sleepy eyes immediately rolling in annoyance. "Oh my god-" You tried to close the door, but his boot caught it before it could close all the way. "Move your foot, Dixon."

"Listen." His eyes were pleading, something you weren't used to. You kept the door open when he reluctantly moved his boot. " 'm sorry."

You scoffed, Sure, you are."

" 'm serious. " He looked at the floor as he brought his hand up, turning it and showing his hand. "Not sure why I kept it." At the sight of your ring, tears bordered your eyes. Your head pressed against the side of the door as your body shook with a silent sob. Daryl didn't look at you. He let you grieve for whatever you wanted to in that moment. He let you have that moment. After your sobs died down, his calloused hand took yours, opening your hand and dropping the ring into your palm.

"You're a dick." You hiccupped.

"I know."

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

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

#xoxo-sarah 🩷#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #twd imagines #twd fanfic #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead angst #the walking dead x you

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louifaith · 2 days

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I just want to give Daryl a bath, devoid of any sexual connotations, share a moment of intimacy and vulnerability, taking care of him. I washing his body in a serene silence that only happen when two people are deeply comfortable with each other. As I run my hand over his scars, I'll tell him how strong and loved he is. Washing his hair, gently massaging his scalp, I'd tell him how long his hair has gotten since we met and how much I like it

I NEED HIM RIGHT NOW

#I don't even want to talk about helping him get dressed #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #daryl

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lunajay33 · 3 days

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Change Part.3

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.2

•Masterlist•

I woke up feeling groggy and exhausted from the events of the day before, rolling over to see Daryl still laid out on the makeshift bed of blankets on the ground by my bed

“Daryl?” I said reaching down and shaking his shoulder

“Hmm?” He groaned opening his eyes to look up at me

“It’s morning, do you wanna go get some breakfast?”

“Sure”

I got up and rummaged through my drawers pulling out a pair of black leggings and longsleeve white shirt that had a tiny pink bow on the collar

“Mind if I change here?” I asked seeing as Daryl was already looking at me

“Go fer it”

I turned around and undressed throwing my pajamas in my laundry bin then quickly putting on the new days outfit, when I finished I turned seeing him with a wide smile

“What?”

“Cute panties” he said laughing under his breath obviously talking about my pink panties with white little lace trimming

“Stop” I said lighting pushing his arm

“As if yours are any better” I said as we both looked at his plaid boxer

We went out to the diner and had some breakfast, I didn’t wanna stay in the house knowing Jackson was still there

May was there and took our orders when we sat at the counter

“Thanks again for staying with me last night” I said as I stirred my straw in my water hearing the ice cubes clink together

“ ‘s nothin, didn’ wanna leave ya there knowin those assholes were still there” he said shrugging

It was silent for a while after that as we got our food and ate in peaceful silence, then paying May and leaving

“Wanna come over?” He asked as the dinner door behind us rang as it shut behind us

“Sure I don’t have anything else to do!”

He showed me around, he lived in a little house on the edge of town near the woods, more like a cabin than a house and if it got cleaned up and decorated nice, it would make a cute home

“I know it ain’t much but it’s enough” he said obviously feeling ashamed as we sat on his bed facing eachother

“I’m not judging you Daryl” I smiled, he nodded as I saw a flush of red on his cheeks

I looked around his room never having been in a guys room before, but it seemed like the typical you’d expect, light brown walls, cross bow in the corner, plaids upon plaids hanging in his closet, a page ripped out of a busy magazine and tapped to the wall

“I see you got a type” I said trying to hide the laugh that was creeping up as he quickly turned to look at it by his bed post

He ripped it down and threw is in the trash in the corner of his room

“Damn Merle musta put that up”

“Suuuuuuure”

“Ain’t my type anyways” he grumbled under his breath

“Oh and what is?” He looked me up and down before looking back at his lap

“H/c, e/c, she gotta be nice a little bit more quiet, can’t stand lots o’ noise”

“Hmmm I see” atleast he kind of described me, I had the hair color, the eye color, I’m pretty nice I think and I’m pretty quiet but I’m not gonna read into it just to get my heart broken

“So Mr. Dixon what makes you Daryl, what do you like”

“Not much, like huntin, tattoos, bikes”

“Do you have tattoos?” I asked intrigued

“Got two on my back”

“Can I see?” I could tell he tensed up and wasn’t so keen on the idea

“Maybe another time” he said looking down again

“Okay no problem!” I said a bit cheerier to life the tension

It was silent for a while until he got up off the bed and crouched down under his bed by me pulling out a box and placing it infront of me and he sat back infront of me

“What’s this?”

“Got ya somethin, saw it in a store, cleaned em up as best I could” he was blushing again and I was beyond excited to even see what he got me

I opened the lid of the box and my heart stopped, it was a pair of ballet slippers, shiny pink with ribbons, the bottoms were a bit stained but it’s expected

“Daryl……..you got these for me?” I was stunned no one has ever done anything like this for me

“Was looking around hopin I could find somethin, don’t know if they’ll fit tho”

I hopped up taking off my socks and slipped them on, I stood up and they were a perfect fit, Daryl got on his knees before me and laced the ribbon around my leg tying it in a bow

“Ya like em?” He asked looking down at me as he stood up

“Daryl I love them, thank you so much!” I said so happy I threw my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, feeling his hands on my lower back, engulfing it, I pulled back slowly our lips so close I could feel his breath, smoky but mint

“Thought ya deserve ta feel like a ballerina” he whispered

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I leaned in ever so slowly our lips just grazing each others…………when the door burst open

“Damn it Merle” Daryl groaned as we stepped back from eachother

“Woah sorry brother, didn’t know ya had a lady over”

“Get out” he said trying to push him out

“Just came ta tell ya, dads comin home soon” he stiffened and looked back at me as I stood there embarrassed

“Do ya wanna go out fer dinner or somethin?” He asked with pleading eyes

“Of course! We can go to the diner again!” I took my slippers off and put the in the box as I pick up my socks and we went to the front door to put on our shoes, then walking quietly to the diner

“Are you okay D?” I asked worried

“ ‘s nothin, old man just ain’t the meetin type”

“Oh well, you know I’m always here for you, you can stay at my place whenever you’d like!”

“Thanks, might take ya up on that, yer gonna have ta show me yer moves with yer new slippers” he smiled as he placed his arm around my shoulder

I couldn’t believe all this was happening, it’s been such a short time since I’ve really known him and he’s already done more for me than anyone else, and made me feel more alive, I might really like this Dixon

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @welcumetomyescape @severelykinky @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @lettersfromyourlove @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @secretsicanthideanymore

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hidtired · 1 day

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Hangman [Part 3]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Y/N Dixon was to be punished for her husbands actions at the line up. Negan decided to do it in style. Daryl watches you hang before being dragged away. But how is he coping when you open the door to his cell as his savior.

2.3k words

Warnings (Mentions of suicide, gore, ANGST, violence, injury, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Daryl POV

The rattle of a door knob brought him out of thought. When the door didn’t open he thought he imagined it. Maybe he was losing more of a grip on reality. The sleep deprivation wasn’t helping, or the grief. He still heard noises that he imagined. Like the yelp you made when you dropped to the ground and the noose tugged at you. He sat back resting facing the door. The pulsating pain in is eye from being punched. He went to rub at it when a small knock tapped against the door.

He released a sigh, ‘I am losing it.’ Then the rattling of the lock made him tense. He didn’t think he was in there for more than a hour after Negan left to take Carl back to Alexandria? The clicking of pins suggesting it wasn’t from a key. The soft click of the lock releasing made a shiver run up his spine. He cautiously stare at the door creeping open. The light hit his eyes disrupting his view to who it was. The person didn’t speak when they fell to their knees in shock. He got the glimpse of a knife being put to the floor. When they slowly crawled over and gently cupped his face he couldn’t help but stare up and see your face.

He at that moment declared himself crazy. The guilt building in him again, “It’s all my fault… god I love you.” He rose his hand to your face, not wanting this to go away, he didn’t make contact with you just to see you disappear. Then you leaned into his hand. His mouth opened and his heart dropped. He got closer leaning toward you for confirmation he wasn’t crazy. You hadn’t said a word. He looked down to your neck hand slowly tracing down to it. The moment you flinched was like proof of your existence. He released a breath that had caught in his lungs at the original sight of you.

“Y/N?”

His eyes roaming across your face again. You lean down and pecked his lips. He felt like a burst of life just ran back into him. That quick kiss sending him back to life. You started to tug at his arms trying to get him to stand. He took the hint standing. You had made a quick look out the door but he had wrapped his arms around you. The feeling of you relaxing and thumping your head into his chest damn near broke his fragile mental state. The moment was quick with you pulling away and getting something from your pocket and showing it to him. It was the key to his bike. That's when another realization hit him.

‘You came to get him out of here?’

He grabbed the key from your hand staring at it. You were getting him out of here. A switch flipped in him after the shock of seeing you. It was a later thing to talk, they needed out of here first. He grabbed your hand and nodding to you. You smile at him while he walks past to check the hall. Looking back and forth seeing it clear he looked back at you and off you both went to freedom. The door he remembered where his bike was cracked open. Must have been where you got in. He smiled at the thought, ‘Smart girl.’

Pushing the door open crouched he scan the area. Seemed empty? He pulled you along with him to the bike. Letting go of your hand and trying to open the gate as quickly as he could.

“What the hell!”

The surprised voice made him turn. Fat Joey is what they called him. He had his eyes on you looking mortified, then landed on him. A burning feeling set under his skin as he stomped in raged at him. “Woah! L-look man I didn’t see anything!” His eyes scanned from him to you. The first punch Daryl landed sent his sandwich flying to the ground. Through his rage while he beat the man he remembered you were behind him. He stopped fist mid air and turned back to see you staring. Straight faced eyes looking down at the man then back to him. Fat Joey groaned, but Daryl’s eyes were still locked with you. You dragged a finger slowly across your purple and black neck, ‘kill him.’ He did just that. His jumpsuit now splattered with some of Joeys blood as he took the key and approached the bike.

The rumble of it under him then your presence behind him felt like a dream. You had looped your arms under his and he took off getting them out of there. His hands shook with nerves and adrenaline. He was becoming overwhelmed. The taps to his middle from you made him look in his side mirror. They had been driving for almost 40 minutes a ways away from the saviors. You gestured to pull over so he did. He felt on the verge of a panic attack.

The sound of his skin releasing from his tight hold to the handle bars seemed loud to him. His ears rang when your hand went to his shoulder and you leaned over face filling his vision. He doesn’t even feel you get up. Was this real? You rubbed up and down his arm. ‘Ya, this is real.’ His knees shake as he stood getting off the bike. He looks up at you after having his gaze glued to the floor. The guilt was seeping back through. Tears were in your eyes when he met them. A wobble to your lips, something he knew was you trying to not cry.

“I’m so sorry-“

You jumped wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His arms moving to catch you. His hand digging into your hair, a slight sway as in their embrace. He broke down, tears running down and a small hiccup coming out of him. Despite everything he thought he deserved you were still loving him. The unconditional love you gave broke his heart, “I almost killed you- I thought I killed you.” His cry’s grew deeper. You pulled away looking at him at his words. You shook your head. You jabbed a finger in his chest and tapped there. You shook your expressing a hard no. You pointed back down the road with a serious face.

He gulped at your conviction on the matter. He looked at you like you were the world and you caught the broken expression from him. Giving a smile and kiss for emphasis. He inhaled and exhaled, the fighter flight feeling he has had the whole time gone within your touch. His eyes moving back to your neck, “Are ya alright?” You hesitated before nodding. He met your eyes, “You can’t talk?” Bitting your lip you looked away from him shaking your head.

Daryl released you from his hold. Your feet landing on the ground but you continued to look at him. Up and down, probably taking notice of the clothes he wore. He felt ashamed at the thought of the stupid ‘A’ shirt he had on. You pulled off the large hoodie you had stolen from Jesus. You grabbed the end of his shirt and lightly tugged at it. His teeth clenched he reluctantly took it off. He watched your face turn into a frown. He still had a bandage on his shoulder where he was shot, also a few more bruises and scraps. He slowly took the hoodie from you and slipped it on. You both stood looking at each other. Your eyes saying you had a million of things to say. He broke the silence.

“M’ body is burning with the shame of not belonging…”

Your POV

You closed your eyes and inhaled. This isn’t the first time he has been this far stuck in his mind with guilt. He had it with anything that has ever gone wrong. Like he could somehow tell the future and it was his job to prevent every bad thing. Any death, any injury. Blaming himself for Beth, the prison falling, and now this. You open your eyes and look to his face. Slowly shaking your head as you walk away, going to sit back down on the bike. He still stood staring at you so you tap the spot in front of you. He moved shoving the corner of his thumb into his mouth. A nervous habit that you think he got as a kid.

You saw the small tremor left in his hands. Leaning into him and resting your head between his shoulders, arms pulling around him. Your fingers softly scratching at his mid section as you continued your ride to Hilltop. Hoping to provide him with as much comfort without words.

The sun was setting when reaching the gates of Hilltop. The door pulled open revealing Glenn, Maggie, and Enid. Daryl parked as soon as he got through the gate. Glenn was the one to jog over first, “You actually got him!” Glenn pulling Daryl in a quick hug. Maggie made her way not a second later, she look a little mad, “You idiot how could you just run off like that! Without even saying something before going!” It was apparent in your recover at Hilltop that not only you were traumatized. Someone would often check on you confirming to themself you were ok.

Maggie especially did it at night. Everyone had grown an attachment to you after that day, constant dread you would just drop dead. It was Glenn who spoke on your behalf, “She did leave a note.” You nodded and pointed at Glenn with agreement. Then pointing the attention at Daryl with a ‘look see I did what I said’ look. Maggie while finished yelling at you turning to hug Daryl, “Thank god you both are ok.” Daryl was still to wired into the things he had experienced to be any other way then awkward. You festered for everyone to go for a minute waving them off and dragging Daryl to the medical trailer. It was Glenn who remarked while you walked away, “She can’t even talk but still bossing us around.”

Dr. Carter seemed surprised to see you but you just pointed at Daryl. When he was done treating Daryl he move back over to you. You had originally tried to wave him off but Daryl spoke with a calm voice, “Please? So I know you are ok.” How could you say no to that? There was this terrible cream that smelt like a hospital he would put on a bandage and around your neck. He knew you hated it not liking things around your neck. “I’m also wanting you to crush and dissolve some vitamins into your food. A soup should do but remember it can’t be hot." Your lips were pursed in displeasure. A hand slide rubbing your back. Looking up you met Daryl’s eyes.

You both walk out the door not before finally getting a pen and paper back. “Do you want to shower and get a change of clothes?” Daryl looked like he wanted to jump out of his own skin. The clothes not looking to comfortable and the grime on his skin. He nodded looking at the paper, “Ya I’ll do that.” He looked at you and the house but he couldn’t seem to walk away from you. You wrote again, “I can sit outside the door?” He shook his head, “Nah I got it, go try and eat beautiful.” You smile at the familiar nickname. He said it first teasingly after watching Glenn and Maggie being cheesy, however now he couldn’t seem to stop. You pointed to a trailer slowly walking backwards to it.

You and Daryl now lay facing each other in bed. You grabbed his hand tracing ‘I <3 U’. His hand closing around yours. “I love you too, there is no me in your absence.” He pushed a hair behind your ear, “least not one I liked.” You moved his hand to your chest, proof you heart still beat. The cling of metal of your rings hitting each other. You smile and wrote down, “Guess I can’t go anywhere then.”

You upheld this promise throughout the entirety of the war. Not even a half a day later came when Rick came to Hilltop looking for aid. He was happy to see you. Carl and Michonne gushing over you. Then when Daryl rounded the corner you could see everyone relieved again. You wrote,

“All happy to see a Dixon.”

You didn’t have much of a roll in the war. The only major thing was when the trash people betrayed them. It was the first time Negan saw you again. His eyes were on Daryl before turning to you. “Well shit you’re supposed to be dead. Guess your witch trail proved your one.” He looked back to Daryl before saying, “What should we do next? Drown her in the river?”

He was locked away now though. Rotting in a jail cell. You had disagreed heavily with Rick’s decision keeping him alive. He gave you nightmares. But after a while Rick suggested you seeing how what he was going through was worse than death. You had gained back the ability to eat. You still were working on talking. Now there you are standing in front of Negan. Pen and paper in hand. He expected you to kill him, even pleaded with you to do so. Rick had been right. You wrote something on the paper and stared back to Negan.

Negan tried taunting as always, “What? Cat got your tongue?” He was smug but you pulled his attention to the sheet of paper. You crumpled it in your hands. You threw the balled up paper through the bars of his cell. Staring at it before walking out the door. Negan scoffed going to unravel your message.

“Welcome to Hell.”

The End.

Feedback welcomed and requests always opened!

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff

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thoughtless-muse · 2 days

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|| daryl dixon blurb: breeding – 18+

daryl is absolutely obsessed with the thought of breeding you.

he thinks about it all the time, even though he shouldn’t.

he thinks about it when he watches you interact with judith, your voice soft and eyes even softer. daryl can’t help but think of what an amazing momma you’d make in those moments.

he thinks about it when the two of you eat, mind wandering to what you’d crave while carrying his child. would your love for sweets fade, or would it grow stronger? would your distaste for fatty meats turn to insatiable desire for them? would you cling to his arm and beg him to go hunt down a buck so that he could make you hundreds of helpings of his deer jerky that you love?

daryl thinks about it when he watches you flit about the house, imagines your flat little tummy swollen with his spawn, carrying his legacy. imagines the way you’d waddle around, skin glowing and face beaming, a hand on your tummy as you gush to others about the miracle growing within. about how happy you are, how content and whole you feel with the newest little addition to the dixon family mere weeks away from arriving.

daryl thinks about it when he’s buried inside your warm, pliant cunt. when his heavy, full, aching balls are slapping against your ass, begging to fill your little pussy with his seed.

the mental image of his spend swimming straight through to your uterus has him growling against your sweaty skin. the thought of it fills him with such carnal pleasure that it takes him to the brink in near seconds every time, his hard cock leaking and throbbing against your mushy, gooey walls.

daryl doesn’t know that you notice it. he thinks your completely ignorant to it. that he’s hiding it.

he doesn’t realize that you do see it. you see it every time you meet his eyes while you’re with judith. that you see the way they soften, that you can practically see the thoughts flitting through his head just from his eyes alone.

he doesn’t realize that you know the way he looks at you; that you see the way his eyes will trail down to rest on your tummy – the way that they’ve been doing so more and more frequently.

and daryl doesn’t know that he’s already expressed his desire. that he’s expressed it late at night, while his cock is bruising your cervix and his lips are mouthing at your neck. he doesn’t realize that you can hear him as he pants, as he whispers, as he begs you to “just get pregnant, just get pregnant” over and over again, only to pull his cock out at the last second and spray your skin with sticky warmth and a few mumbled curses.

daryl doesn’t know that you know he wants it – or that you want it just as badly.

a/n: I’ve got a dirty little secret and that’s that I have an enormous breeding/impregnation kink, and the thought of daryl having one too just drives me absolutely fucking feral. that feralness is what inspired this blurb. if you liked this content, please consider leaving a like/reblog/comment, and if you’d like to see more from me, please consider following or joining the taglist!

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown

#daryl x reader #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd

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normanhypegirl · 3 days

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my hero 🫢💕

(i changed my username btw)

#daryl dixon #norman reedus #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #i need him #i fucking love him #my man my man my man #my hero

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daryldixonsboy · 2 days

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It was late at night.

Alexandria was practically silent outside, the only noises being the cicadas chirping in the distance. You were listening to the familiar rhythm of the noise tossing and turning in bed while waiting for Daryl to get home.

He'd been out all day, and you weren't sure why. Most mornings, you'd either wake up with him next to you, peacefully asleep, or you'd wake up to him kissing your forehead before heading out, wheather to was to hunt, or work on his bike.

But today, you woke up with an empty bed and an even emptier house. He was nowhere to be found. You'd been worried something had happened, maybe you'd upset him doing something the day before. Daryl always seemed to close himself off when he was upset. Everything seemed to be okay between the two of you, though. You'd fallen asleep the night before, him holding his arms around your waist with his face nuzzled into the nape of your neck.

Where could he be?

Suddenly, you flipped around at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Slipping on one of Daryl's shirts, you tumbled out of bed and down the stairs, and there he was.

Daryl was kicking off his boots at the front door with his crossbow slung over his shoulders. He looked stressed, setting his crossbow down by the door and scrubbing his hands over his face, sighing.

You stepped forward quietly, until you were stood right in front of him, grabbing his hand and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

"What's wrong, Daryl? You okay?" You ask, keeping your tone soft, like he could break at any firmer of a tone.

"'S nothin'. I'm fine." He muttered, his gaze dropping down to his shoes, hair falling in front of his face.

You wordlessly guided him upstairs to the bed, sitting him down on the edge with his feet planted on the floor in front of him. He looked on the brink of tears, almost, his breathing shallow. His lips were set in a firm line, and he kept his eyes on the floor.

You started pulling off his vest and shirt, getting him ready to relax and lay down. You'd known him long enough that he felt comfortable showing the scars on his back to you. Usually, you found yourself tracing them with the tip of your fingers, gently pressing kisses onto them when he was asleep next to you. (Or so you thought. He could always feel when you did it.)

"I didn't see you today," You whispered to him, sitting down by him and leaning your head against his shoulder. Daryl wasn't an overly affectionate person most days, especially when he was upset. You knew he still loved it when you held him, but sometimes he couldn't handle it. "Wanna tell me what's wrong? I won't push, if you don't wanna tell me," You assured him.

Daryl was dead silent for a moment, still staring down at the ground in front of him. It wasn't that he didn't feel safe enough to tell you, it was more that he wasn't sure how to vocalize his feelings. His whole life, he'd been told by his father and his brother that he couldn't feel as deeply as he did.

"My momma died, 'round this time 'a year when I was a lil' kid." He started, taking another breath and scrubbing his hands over his face. "I don't like thinkin' 'bout it, but I still wanna honor 'er." His voice was so quiet, words breaking up. He didn't dare make eye contact with you.

You thought about your words before speaking. "Was she good to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she was good." Daryl replied, fidgeting with his hands. "She'd... uh, she'd always make sure I was happy. Never remember her yellin' at me or Merle. Stood up fer me when my dad was bein' a dick. I was a pussy as a kid, though, always cryin' when I had ta' be 'round a lotta people. She'd take care 'a me when I panicked."

Daryl had a very fond memory of his mother. The woman always managed to keep a gentle hand with him. When he was young, he'd never stray from her shadow. He remembered the way she'd carefully trim his hair for him when it got too long. She'd patch up his wounds, no matter where they came from, whether it was his father, Merle, kids in the neighborhood, or just a small mistake. She'd hold his hand when they walked through crowds, days that he'd be so nervous he'd break down. She always managed to calm him down.

He was heartbroken after she died. She was his source of comfort; she was his home. He no longer had that sense of security and love, only his aggressive brother and abusive dad. He was forced by the remaining people around him to suppress his emotions, his grief and pain. When it all became too much, he'd run out to the woods and hide somewhere he was sure he couldn't be found and cry all his emotions out.

"You weren't a pussy, Daryl, you just needed some help. It's okay to feel the way you did," You replied to him carefully. You weren't going to push him to tell you more, even though you wanted to know details of his childhood so bad. You wanted to soothe his scars, his hurt.

"She died smokin' cigarettes in bed. I watched my house go up. Kids in my neighborhood, police- hell, everyone was lookin' at me, like I knew what happened." He whispered, his voice getting softer. You soon realized that he was sniffling, physically holding back tears. "I jus' ran- I ran out to the woods. Wasn't nothin' else to do. Couldn't go home," and just like that, the lump in his throat dissolved into nothing, his vision blurring.

"Sweetheart..." You trailed off, taking his beautiful face in your hands. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks softly, watching his expression as he sniffled out uneven breaths.

"'M sorry... 'm not tryin' 'ta--" He mumbled through tears, his voice breaking.

You couldn't help but embrace him, holding him in your arms with his face pressed against your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly, pressing kisses into the top of his head every few minutes. He had his arms wrapped around you, hands gripping the fabric of your (his) shirt. You just sat there holding him, giving him the comfort he deserved, the comfort he'd never gotten as a child.

It appalled you that anyone could hurt the beautiful man in front of you. He deserved so much love, so much care. Daryl was so used to taking care of everyone else, that he'd never gotten the opportunity to take care of himself.

"You don't ever have to apologize for feeling. Not to me, not to anyone, Daryl," You murmured into his hair, listening as his breaths slowly evened out as he calmed down. "I promise, you can come to me when you need to. I'll never make you feel bad for crying- for hurting, either- 'cause I love you."

Daryl picked his head up from your shoulder to properly look you in the eyes, bringing one of his hands up to push some of your hair behind your ear. "What would I do without ya?" He asked, sniffling, not waiting for a response.

You gave him a gentle smile, tugging him back on the bed as you moved to lay down. "C'mere, pretty boy. Let's lay down, yeah?"

Daryl scooted back with you, not arguing. You pulled him so that he was laying his head on your chest, his body weight on top of you. The pressure felt comforting for the both of you, reassuring. You continued swiping your fingers through his hair as he began drifting off.

Right before the two of you could fall asleep, you heard him whisper something to you, just loud enough for you to hear. "I love you, too."

You'd always be there for him; his anchor, his home.

I hope this wasn't too horrible lmaooo it's kinda rushed😭 Lmk if yall want any more concepts like this‼️

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles

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