#twd fanfics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months

Text

Your Fault

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is pregnant and suffering from morning sickness, only to be comforted by Daryl. Takes place in Alexandria. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me).

Tropes: Fluff, Pregnancy Fluff, Established Relationship

Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any. If anything I'll say references to past smut, but not explicit at all. Mentions of vomiting.

Word Count: 1.5K

Note: This is written in a dialect style with Daryl's accent in mind so the misspellings are intentional. There is minimal use of (y/n). Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, but nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!

Internal monologue is done in italics.

ENJOY!

******************************************

Daryl's hand is soft, tangling into the strands of your hair to pull it back from your face as you unleash the remnants of your dinner into the toilet with a loud groan. The brightly colored tile on the bathroom wall mocks you, each swirl of color illuminated by the fluorescent light above that hurts your sensitive eyes.

Who picks bright pink for bathroom tile?

You think with a groan as your stomach heaves again.

Daryl’s right hand rubs soothing circles into your back to let you know he's there.

“It’s alrigh. Jus get it all ou.” He mutters.

You had practically run him over when you ran to the bathroom, waving your arms to make him go away, not wanting to see you like this, but Daryl had ignored your half hearted attempts to push him away.

And even though you hadn’t wanted him to see you like this, it was easier. Daryl made everything easy, effortless, and most importantly made you feel loved, more loved than you had felt before all of this.

Your forehead presses against the cool lip of the toilet as you wipe the remnants of dinner off your chin and let out a shaky breath.

"Here." Daryl gently pulls you back from your position to wipe at your chin with a towel.

"Hmm." You lean into his touch with a sigh.

"Ya alrigh?"

"Ughh."

“Come on.” He pulls you against his chest, sitting back so his back is against the bathtub, folding his knees in front of him and dwarfing the already small bathroom.

Daryl looks almost exactly the same as he did when you first met and every time you look at him, you feel the exact same. Butterflies flapping against the walls of your stomach, heart surging up into your throat while pins and needles trace his well placed rough fingertips against your arm. Every touch feels like the first, every kiss sets you on fire, and you wouldn't change a second of it. Sometimes you think just how lucky you are that all this happened, because you can’t imagine your life without him. Admittedly a little selfish, but then you think of what your life would have been if none of this had happened.

Maybe you would still be in Atlanta finishing up your residency, still live in that apartment downtown, still have the same shifts, eat at the same restaurants- but then where would Daryl be?

Where else would you meet someone who got you so simply, who understood what you were thinking just with a quick glance. Who else would make you feel like you’d swallowed the sun when you found them looking at you?

And who else would you love as utterly and completely as you love him?

"This is your fault." You lean your head against his shoulder, stretching out your legs to knock your thigh against Daryl’s knee.

He was taller than you, broader and stronger in all the best ways. It was what drew you to him, well that and you thought that it was cute how shy he was, how he'd stumble a bit through his words when you first started talking and how the tips of his ears would flush pink when you smiled at him.

"My fault?" You can hear the smile in his voice. Daryl shifts his arm up over your shoulder to pull you closer into his chest, brushing his hand up and down your arm, letting you settle into him.

"Yes. It's your fault I'm pregnant." Your right hand runs over your stomach that has begun to protrude more in the past few months, a whirlwind to be sure, but a welcome one. The initial 30 days had been 30 days of agony while you tried to think of a way to tell Daryl that he was going to be a father. When you first started dating he had been hesitant to tell you about the raised pink scars on his back and chest- the ones you had seen when patching up a bullet wound that he had taken for you.

And when he finally told you what his father did to him, you couldn't help but fold him into you and hold him close.

The pregnancy wasn't a surprise to you, you'd been living together since you'd arrived at Alexandria and this was a happy accident. But nevertheless when you told Daryl he had left without so much as a word taking your heart with him. You had stayed in bed for what seemed like days, only to have him arrive 4 hours later with a bouquet of wildflowers and prenatal vitamins, where he found them you didn't know, all that mattered was that he was back and he was happy. Happier than you'd ever seen him.

Since then Daryl had been at your side almost constantly, the occasional run had intervened, when Rick himself had to drag Daryl away, but on each run Daryl always brought something back for you. Whether it be another book you could read together, one of the last candy bars to ever exist, or a knitted blanket to cover your shoulders when you dragged yourself into the bathroom at what seemed all hours of the day- like the exact one you had draped around yourself now. And when he wasn't on runs he was helping you with the small nursery, where a hand carved crib stood as another sign of Daryl’s love, the exact crib that made you burst into tears when he and Rick brought it into the house for the first time.

"Pretty sure we were both there." He rumbles with a smile.

"Logistics don't matter." Your eyes narrow.

"Pretty sure they do. Ya're the doc after all." Daryl's smirk makes a warm tingle travel down your spine, the same smirk that got you into this mess in the first place. "I also remember that ya were wearin my shirt-"

"Typical man blaming the woman for what she's wearing. I thought you were better than that."

His smirk grows. "More like what ya weren't wearin."

"My clothes were wet from the storm, I was trying to change-"

"Inta' my shirt!"

You lean away from him, feigning anger. "Oh you think you're so innocent? You came into the house soaked to the bone and no one should look as good as you do soaking wet." You accuse.

"Maybe you should have shut your eyes then." He shrugs.

"Shut up." Your hands fall against his chest, playfully pushing him away, but he grabs your wrists.

"Make me."

"Don't look at me like that." You groan shifting away from him. "That's what got us into this mess in the first place-" Your eyes search his face for a minute, taking in the familiar blue eyes and scruff that scratches against the smooth skin of your fingertips. "But at least we know it's a girl. No more Daryl Jr."

"We ain't gonna call 'im tha. And how do ya know it's a girl?"

"They say that if it's a girl you get sick more often.”

He snorts, pulling you back into his chest. "The way ya are going we might be havin' two."

"Shut up. Don't joke about that. One's enough, and this one is taking it's sweet time."

"Maybe jus' likes it in there."

You groan into his solid chest, feeling his muscles tense around you, familiar and welcome. "Everyone always talks about what a blessing it is to be pregnant, how you glow, blah blah blah. It's all propaganda! I feel like I'm smoldering. I'm fat, my feet hurt, I'm sick all the time-"

"Ya ain' fat y/n."

"Don't lie to me." You sit up to look him in the eye. "You made a promise to not lie to me."

"I ain' lying." He breathes.

You search his gaze, nostrils flaring as if you think you can smell the lie, but all you smell is Daryl. The hypnotic scent of cigarettes (that he refused to smoke around you), sweat, the heady smell of the woods and the smell of a thunderstorm before it hits, that clean smell of rain as it dribbles through the branches above before falling onto your skin.

"Ya're even more beautiful than the firs' day I met ya." Daryl's touch is feather light against your cheek, drawing you closer so he can press his forehead against yours. "Pretty sure ya get more beautiful every day. And if this is a girl-" His free hand drags across your belly, smiling as the baby kicks against his fingers. "She's gonna be beautiful jus' like ya."

You feel the blush drift up into the roots of your hair remembering the day you met. “That was a crazy day-“

“Because ya shot me.”

“It only skimmed your hair, don’t be a baby. And I thought you were a walker.”

“Las' time I checked my hair is on top of my head.”

“You were fine.” Your palms gently fall against the scruff of his cheeks. “I’m really glad I missed.”

“Me too."

******************************************

Thank you so much for reading!!

If you liked this fic, be sure to read the prequel “Meet Cute,” that shows the story of how Daryl and the Reader met!

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl x y/n #twd fanfics

574 notes · View notes

ruewrote · 1 year

Text

𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.

PAIRING: carl grimes x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: angst and fluff SONG INSPIRATION: sarah by alex g WORD COUNT: 994

navigation | inbox

you were by carls side as he recovered from the gun shot, when he couldn't even sit up. when he'd yell at you to leave, to not look at him.

to not look at how hideous he is now. you thought nothing but the best of him always, a wound would not be changing that anytime soon.

you slept in a chair next to his bed in the infirmary, risking a sore body the next day but that didn't matter as long as you got to see him.

it was about time that he got relocated back over to the grimes residence, you were the first to jump up and offer assistance.

"ill help! i could bring his stuff back over and-" you were soon cut off by him, his nostrils flared, his teeth gritted, eye narrowed.

"oh my god will you please just shut up for five seconds, just go home. i don't need you here." his chest huffed out a sigh, turning away from you. his feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

biting your lip, blinking repeatedly trying to stop the tears from flowing. you nodded letting a wobbly okay. making your way over to the door giving him a last look over.

"i'm sorry that i bothered you, i hope you feel better soon." all you got in response was a scoff from across the room, that's when you took your leave.

sobs racked throughout your body as you ran over to your house, just wanting this day to be over as you flopped onto your bed and began thinking.

he had never spoken to you like that before, you just wanted to help. you just wanted him to heal. of course you did.

you went in circles for hours to think what would make him speak to you like that.

carl always had a soft spot for you. you had the unconditional you would die for each other sort of love.

everyone saw it as you used to walk hand in hand lightly swinging your arms as you leant into him as you strolled down the road to see judith.

now he was acting like he didn't even know you? it hurt more than words could explain, you just wanted your boyfriend back.

you eventually fell asleep with tears staining your cheeks.

you were determined to make him feel better, pounding a small rhythmic knock against the front door. letting out a deep breath, your frown replaced with a bright smile.

footsteps were heard, the door opened being met with rick with judith on his hip. she babbled and made grabby hands towards you.

plucking her off of rick, placing her on your hip instead. the three of you making your way further into the home. tickling judith as you did so.

"he's very delicate at the moment. he's far from the same, it might take a while for him to be back to normal, at this point i'm not even sure if he ever will be." your hand rested upon his shoulder giving it an reassuring squeeze letting him know that you could do this, you could look after him. not knowing if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

he looked hesitant as he took the small girl back from you explaining that he's leaving her with olivia and that he'd be back at the end of the day, closing the door behind him leaving the house empty and very quiet.

you made your way over to the kitchen deciding on making carl some soup, once you had finished cooking, putting the bowl and a glass of water on a tray, you tiptoed over to his room. silently opening the door, his back faced you as you placed the tray on his bedside table.

lightly shaking him as he stirred from his sleep he lightly grumbling then turned over. his face dropping when he saw it was you.

"i-i made you some soup and there's some water." you shrunk at the way he was staring at you, with what felt like hatred.

clearing his throat, pushing himself up by his elbows to look at you properly, "why are you here?"

"because believe it or not. i care about you carl."

that only led him to look away from you, nervously rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. scared to look back at you. "i don't understand why. i'm useless now, i'm ugly y/n don't you see that?"

your heart shattering at the horrible words he was spluttering at you, "none of that is true carl, it doesn't matter how you think you look, you're not ugly or useless. you're brave." gently holding his face in your hands, him refusing and trying to turn from you. but your hold on him was firm so he had no choice but to look at you.

"so so so brave, i can't even imagine how you must be feeling. i'm sorry this happened to you, you of all people do not deserve this. anything but this."

that's when the dam broke and he threw himself into your arms and cried, your hand stroking his hair as you held him. your hug soon turned into you cuddling, small sniffles were heard here and there as you whispered affirmations into his ear. he felt safe enough to fall into your arms that morning.

later that evening rick and judith arrived home, she had fallen asleep against him on the way back home. he was confused to come back and the house be completely quiet.

so after he had tucked his daughter in leaving a kiss on her forehead, he made his way over to carls room, making no noise as he opened the door. peeking over finding you peacefully cuddled together.

backing out of the room once again, closing the door with a small smile on his face, knowing his son was safe.

as long as he was with you.

2K notes · View notes

the-dixon-effect · 9 months

Text

"What are you thinking about?" you said, turning to face Daryl who stood next to you, lighter in hand. Bringing it up to his mouth to light his cigarette, he hesitated before he spoke.

"It's nothin'" he drawled, staring off into the distance. The two of you leant up against the front wall of the shared Alexandrian home that belonged to Rick, Michonne, Carl and you. The sun was just about setting and, for the first time since you got here, you felt somewhat at ease. Not looking over your shoulder at any given moment for danger.

"C'mon, you can tell me," you were smiling now, understanding that Daryl may not share your feelings of peace. Maybe you were wrong, however, and it wasn't danger on his mind.

"Ya' feel safe here?" he furrowed his brows and faced you, speaking quietly and softly.

"Do you?" you looked so sweet, so soft. Like you were supposed to be here. You looked perfect. And yet here you were, sharing a blunt with Daryl who seemed so... out of place.

"I dunno," he began. You sensed that there was something he needed to say out loud. "It's jus', you- ya' seem like yer gonna fit in jus' fine here. Me, I dunno."

"Daryl, of course you're gonna fit in here. Besides, if anyone decides they have a problem with you, they'll have to deal with me first." you said, sincerely.

He hummed in response. "Alrigh', just dun get too close ta' that Spencer dude. Saw the way he was lookin' at ya earlier," he drawled. Daryl felt a sense of protection over you, not to mention the other things he felt for you, too.

"Ooh, is Daryl Dixon jealous?" you joked. A corner of your mouth tugged up when you met his eyes.

"Maybe I am, lil' bit,"

prompt: What are you thinking about?

#brandy writes #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon twd #twd fanfics #twd drabbles

647 notes · View notes

suniloli · 2 months

Text

LISTEN TO THE MUSIC

28 Feb 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes, allusions to SA, descriptions of violence and death, angst

Setting: Alexandria (s5)

Summary: Your time after the fall of the prison has your mind all over the place. Upon arriving at Alexandria, you discover something that you think will help bring your mind to peace. Unfortunately, you're becoming more detached from those who love you, including Daryl. He sees you venture off into the darkness one night and decides to follow.

Author Note: This took me AGES to finish…..I’ve just had so much on. Faith No More’s ‘Easy’ inspired a certain scene that this one's based on. Tried not to make it cringe, mate :)

SIDE NOTE: I’ve written it so the song matches up to that part of the story if you want to listen to it while it plays out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn't gotten comfortable in the walls of your new home. It was so incredibly odd. This town, Alexandria, was just so out of the ordinary. It was still hard to fathom that a place of such domesticity, which was so reflective of the world before, existed utterly untouched. You were in it, living there, and acting as if suburban-ty was all that ever was.

Well, you weren't acting in the usual sense. You knew what was out there. You'd never forget.

And the rest of your family wouldn’t forget either. They just appeared to be better at adjusting to this new life than you were.

The issue was that you felt uneasy. The walls' protection was alluring, but you always felt something was off. It was an intangible feeling you couldn't quite grasp or explain. It was akin to being in the Twilight Zone. Alexandria was almost blurring the lines between this new reality and your past one — it made you doubt who you once were, what you did, and whether you actually led the life you did before. It also made you doubt who you were now, and whether outside the walls was real or just a figment of your imagination.

You couldn't relax. You couldn't let go and appreciate the break from chaos and stress. That's why you took as many opportunities as possible to get out and breathe in the fresh air. To remind yourself that you weren't going crazy.

You hoped that this would pass. You also hoped you were just being stupid and that your paranoia wasn't based on truth. But you just couldn't let go of that nagging feeling telling you not to get too comfortable.

Ever since your escape from the prison, it was like your mind was on autopilot. Now that living wasn't just survival day to day, all of those memories — memories of escaping alone, of killing both walkers and people, struggling to find food and water. Having to savagely kill men who'd stalked and found you, and tried to do all sorts of things to your mind and body. Going through a depression of having lost everything and all the people you loved. Memories of Terminus. Of seeing people slaughtered right next to you. Of having the knife to your throat because you were next. And somehow, more impactful than the rest: the feeling of reuniting with your family for the first time, only for your soul to be crushed at seeing them all lined up prepared to die like lambs to the slaughter, just as you were going to be. Memories of seeing your comrades Rick and Glenn and your newfound ally Bob there. Your heart racing upon making eye contact with Daryl, but being wholly shattered when you saw pure fear lace your best friend's gaze. You'd never seen him like that before…

Now, because you were inside the walls again, all of it came flooding back. It still haunted you. Being inside reminded you of everything you'd lost and endured.

However, being in such a well-looked-after settlement surrounded by 'normal' people going about their daily chores and lives also reminded you of other things you'd lost. In particular, something from before when your own life was 'normal.'

Music.

No matter where or what you were doing, listening to, singing, and dancing to music was one of your favourite things. It had the power to move you. Some songs truly spoke to your heart. Some ignited within you your stellar ability to dance and feel the beat. Others brought you comfort. Some made you cry.

In your opinion, music was, and still is, one of art's most vivid and beautiful expressions. It has such an ability to speak to the soul, to inspire it, and let it be free.

So, as with most things people love, it was one of the things you most yearned for.

Selfishly, that was one of the few reasons you suggested to Deanna that your job be to go on runs. Rick vouched for you, saying you were one of your family's strongest, more capable fighters. He stated that you were smart, resourceful, etcetera, etcetera, which was true, but he didn't know you had your motives either.

Given your recent struggle to sleep at night and the aloofness accompanying your every action within the walls, you thought giving yourself a specific task would help calm your mind and allow you to think coherently.

You liked the thought of having a little private project to yourself. Although sleep constantly refused to take you into its arms, just the mere prospect of listening to and enjoying music again was enough to continue this trend of insomnia (though probably not for the best) and perhaps provide you with the means to focus and get all of your emotions and thoughts straight.

So, you had developed a little routine come nightfall. Slowly, over the past few weeks, you accumulated the parts and accessories needed to listen to a beaten-up walkman you found. You made it your mission on every run you went on to find wire, fitted screws, and anything which would aid you in repairing it, as well as to devise some working earbuds. And on top of that, you were working on collecting tapes and swapping and changing them until you had a playlist you could enjoy. Things were much easier with your iPod back in the day, but you hadn't gotten your hands on anything like that. Plus, the internet didn't exist anymore, so even if you wanted to add and change songs, you couldn't. Bummer.

Although it may have been harder to collate music, the very act of holding the tapes and taking apart and assembling the little black brick made you more appreciative of the art form. Additionally, the anticipation of your hard work eventually paying off kept you going when you couldn't sleep. It was the thought that you could experience some semblance of peace as melodies and tunes washed over your brain, coaxing it into a state of tranquillity that had evaded you ever since you were on the road, which gave you a new energy.

Every action performed at your bedroom workbench felt like a labour of love, where you were reminded of the power of music to weave its way into the very fabric of your memories and remind you of your true self. It was the perfect distraction from all the other distractions plaguing you.

You just needed to accept that perhaps Alexandria was both the bane and revival of your existence.

It was 3 am, according to the working clock in your room. Focusing back on the task, you gently opened the walkman and placed your tiny screwdriver on the table. Placing a tape in the cassette player, you closed it back up and carefully grasped your homemade earbuds. Plugging them into the audio jack, you pressed the play button.

Immediately, the gears inside the cassette started shifting, and finally, the tape didn't tangle. A soft whirring sounded, and the small noises of a drum rift softly erupted from the sound output.

With shaking fingers, you grasped an earbud and lifted it to your ear. Sure enough, the opening riff to a rock song was playing.

You let escape a giggle of disbelief. Slowly but surely, it turned to loud, almost manic laughter.

No way. No fucking way.

Daryl was worried about you. Really worried about you.

He'd been able to reconnect with his family since they all found each other again after the prison. Although he'd also technically reunited with you at Terminus, he couldn't reconnect with you.

Daryl had many conversations with Carol about it. At least Rick's craziness revolved around his concern for his family's safety and his passion to keep you together. You, on the other hand, were somehow changed differently. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but you were slowly slipping away from everyone.

You were slipping away from him.

Carol suggested that it was tough on you, whatever had happened while you were out there alone. Easy for her to say. She was adjusting just fine with her innocent neighbour costume and whatnot, which he thought was ridiculous. However, she had made several observant points: there were scars on your body at Terminus that weren’t there at the prison. You were quiet, quite different from the sassy, talkative woman he knew and grew incredibly fond of.

Of course, Daryl had noticed those things. It was just reassuring to know that it wasn't only him who noticed. It was also comforting to understand that you weren’t just shutting him out, either. Although it still stung. It stung a lot.

After all, you two had gotten so close that he felt comfortable enough to show you his own scars, physical and emotional, and you your own — it was like the both of you formed an unbreakable bond: one of complete trust and companionship.

And now, he could tell you were struggling more than even he was, but your pride didn’t allow you to express that outwardly.

But Daryl knew. He could see it in your eyes, in your walk. Ever since Terminus, you refused to really talk with him. You refused to allow yourself to be vulnerable and shouldered it all on your own, letting it accumulate and weigh you down.

Damn stubborn woman.

You two were similar in many ways — Daryl also tended to be sceptical, and refused to let others bear his pain. But you were letting it affect every aspect of your life, even if you outwardly presented as composed and stoic to the average person.

But again, Daryl knew you. He knew you inside and out. And you knew him. You both shared something unexplainable that he could only put down to one thing, from his end at least.

Love.

When the prison fell, Daryl tried to find you, but you were gone without a trace. He spent his time with Beth in depressive thoughts of not only his home and family perishing, but the fact that he might have left you to die underneath the rubble — that you died because of him.

But then Beth brought him out of it because a little part of her reminded him of you — your optimism and strength to push past any obstacle that stood in your way.

It was her death that almost made him lose complete hope in humanity.

But, that fateful day, when the people at Terminus revealed you as one of the other poor victims of their cannibalistic desires, he was filled with a renewed sense of urgency. He couldn’t let you die again. He was scared shitless.

It was kneeling at the trough, and seeing you battered and scarred, that he realised he loved you. He was in love with you. Seeing your pleading eyes connect with his, he realised then that he’d been in love with you for a long time.

So, when you all managed to free yourselves from your bindings and escape that wretched train station, he would never let you go again as long as he lived.

But the moment he saw you brutalise those people there, and saw that crazed look in your eyes, Daryl knew you’d changed.

That first night of freedom, you remained physically close to him. Daryl didn’t sleep, but you snuggled up to him, finding comfort in his presence. You slept with your arms wrapped around his torso and head on his chest, and surprisingly, he found the courage to lay his head against yours and softly run his hand against your arm. But the next day, and for the months after, you had rejected his touch and everyone else’s.

At first, Daryl thought he had done something wrong, that you regretted being that physically close to him — that he’d crossed some boundary in your relationship. But he was perceptive and soon realised that your distance wasn’t about him. It was about something deeper that had changed within you during your time alone in the wilderness.

Daryl made sure to keep an eye out for you. Although you didn’t say much about how you were feeling, you still always acknowledged him, telling him you were okay.

He hated seeing you like this — constantly plagued by whatever haunted you. If only you’d open up to him, you’d both realise that you were dealing with similar things.

So, instead of invading your space, Daryl tried to lift you in other ways, such as by trying to make you laugh more often or gifting you with something thoughtful, like the dainty silver arrow necklace he gave to you when you were both on watch a couple of weeks ago.

Occasionally, he’d see glimpses of the real you: you'd gift him your beautiful laughter or that gorgeous smile he constantly dreamt about, in return. He cherished it when you had dangled the necklace he gave you in your palm, and you’d held his hand with your other, squeezing it gently.

Sometimes, he wished he could hear you more like he used to. He remembered your singing. Although Daryl made out it was annoying when you used to randomly burst into passionate song, and grab him by the arm to get him to reciprocate (in which he half-scowled in return), he thought you were so incredibly charming. Sometimes, Daryl thought you might’ve even meant some of those lyrics…

Now, though, you were mainly preoccupied, never honestly in the present. And considering that Daryl had seen your light on at night for the past week from his porch across the street, he knew it was perhaps time to approach you.

As Daryl was outside letting the nicotine from his cigarette fill his lungs, he watched as your silhouette moved from behind your illuminated window curtain to out of view.

Before he could snuff his cigarette out and walk over, he was ripped from his thoughts as, unusually, the yellow hue of your window suddenly turned dark. Maybe ya were finally tired.

He squinted his eyes as he faintly heard the screen door to your shared house flip open and close again, a flurry of movement following behind. It was you, and you seemed…huh…there was a sharpness to your movements. You got to the bottom of the stairs, went to the sidewalk, and down the road into the dark.

Daryl waited for a few minutes before he decided to follow.

Daryl's footsteps were quiet along the pavement. The only thing that illuminated his path was the luminosity of the moonlight, and even then, it was difficult to see. But, ever the skilled hunter, his eyes adjusted quickly, and soon enough, he found you sitting by the edge of the lake in the middle of the settlement.

Approaching slowly from behind, he took louder steps, attempting to alert you of his presence. Surprised you hadn't heard him, Daryl went to call your name but paused just short — he could hear some soft mumbling.

Usually, he would have left anyone in your situation alone, but seeing you like this broke Daryl's heart. Kneeling down next to you, he gently touched your shoulder.

"Woah!!" you startled, sharply turning your body to face whoever was there and shuffling away from the threat. Upon realising it was the archer, you sighed a sigh of relief. "Daryl…"

"Ya alrigh’ Y/N?" he started. Still kneeling, he adjusted his stance. Observing you, Daryl registered that you had earphones plugged into your ears and a goddamn walkman in your lap. “S’all this?” he questioned, gesturing towards your person.

You closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, savouring the final riff of the song being played. A small smile tugged at your lips as you gently pulled out the earbuds and hung them from your ears. Contemplating Daryl’s questions, you were reluctant to answer both.

“What are you doing here?” You deflected.

“Comin’ ta check on ya’. I want ta know what’s goin’ on with ya’. Ya refuse ta talk ta me. Ever since…” he broke off with a throat clearing. “I can tell somethin’s up.”

“Trust me, it’s nothing — ”

“Well it most definitely don’ seem like nothin’” he gruffed. This was going to be hard. And as established, you were a hard one to crack. Like him, he supposed.

Daryl sat down, legs outstretched in front of him. You sighed deeply, lost in thought. He could see you deliberating something in your mind, so he waited for you to speak.

“Here.” You suddenly declared, crawling towards him and planting yourself on the ground, leaving little space between you. You held the walkman out to him so he could see it better. Daryl was now staring at you intently. You glanced from your outstretched hand to his face. You continued, the soft rumblings of bass emitting from the next song playing through the earbuds.

“I, uh…haven’t been sleeping, so I’ve been working on this. Fixing it up, collecting tapes. Making it mine…”

You turned the device over in your hand and looked down again to observe it. You could feel Daryl’s stare burning into the side of your head.

“I get it, ya know. I can’t sleep neither. Can’t really relax in ‘ere.”

You hummed in agreement. Shaking your head slightly, you looked up towards the lake, observing the small ripples illuminated by the moon. “Music was my life. Is. I was hoping that doing this…bringing it back would occupy my mind,” you vaguely waved your hand around, “I don’t know…make it easier…”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Ya coulda’ told me ya’ were strugglin’. Ya’ have so many people here for ya’...I’m here for ya’…ya’ know that.”

You looked away from the lake and into Daryl's eyes. You could see something alight in them that you weren't sure you wanted to acknowledge just yet. Despite the happiness you'd felt when listening to the Walkman, a lump formed in your throat, and once again, that anxiousness you'd experience whenever you even contemplated opening up was brewing. But this was Daryl. Why were you suddenly feeling this way? Was it even that?

“It’s just too hard to explain…feels like I’m goin’ fucking crazy...” you mumbled.

Daryl softly placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed almost imperceptibly. Something about his touch burned.

"Ya' know, I thought I was going crazy too…" Daryl whispered, almost shyly. You couldn't break from his gaze. "Ya were gone for so long...thought I'd never see ya' again." He admitted.

A puff of air escaped your nose, and you looked down at the hand on your thigh. Memories of explosions and debris flying flashed through your mind, reminding you of screaming Daryl’s name until your throat was hoarse. Subconsciously, you fiddled with the arrowhead chain around your neck, recalling how lost you were out there all alone. Without your family. Without your best friend. Without your Daryl.

“Me too,” your voice broke. With his other hand, Daryl slowly lifted up your chin to face him again, moving his thumb tenderly across your cheek. You could sense the moment he drew his attention to the pink sizeable scar there, thumb and eyes moving to it and trailing across it as if in question.

“What happened to ya out there?” Daryl whispered, chewing his bottom lip. It took all your strength not to recoil at the question.

“So many people have died to get to where we are now. And I’m sure everyone here experienced the same shit…I’m just being selfish —”

“Ya ain’t selfish Y/N…anyone can see ya’ ain’t ya’self. I hate seeing ya’ be consumed by whatever's on ya' mind everyday. Please, talk’ ta me…” Daryl was gentle, but was as firm with his words. He continued slowly dragging his thumb across your cheek for a couple of seconds, then seemingly realised what he was doing and pulled away.

You were conflicted.

Daryl’s touch left your skin charred. Everything about him made you feel butterflies. But that, intermingling with the anxious beating of your heart was going to give you a heart attack.

Here Daryl was, insisting you talk to him. He was the closest person you’d ever been to. Here he still was, showing you his affections.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself. Daryl’s gaze softened.

“What fer?”

“For blocking you out…this whole time you’ve been here for me, wanted to be here with me and I’ve given you nothing…” You couldn’t even begin to utter the words. The anger. The shame. “I’ve seen how weary you are of this place. How much you blame yourself for things that have happened. I’m sorry for not being there for you. For not giving you anything, ever.”

A few seconds passed by Daryl in stunned silence.

“Y/N….” he whispered. You don’t know who moved first, but now your bodies were touching. “Ya are ma’ everythin’...everythin’ ya’ do, with me and for me... yer’ laugh, yer’ smile, talkin’ ta me…it’s more than I could’ve ever asked for in this life…”

You looked at him. For the first time in months, you really looked at him. It was hard to form words. As you gazed into his piercing blue eyes, yours grew blurry with unshed tears. Daryl's explored yours, trying to decipher the feeling there.

You'd never been more touched and more loved than in this moment.

Loved.

It dawned on you just how much you really loved him.…

The weight of his gaze had you looking down, discreetly wiping your eyes of such emotion with your hand. Grabbing his hand in yours, you managed to find that trust you two had shared so deeply, and allowed yourself to give in to it.

“It was really rough out there,” you began. Daryl hesitantly squeezed your hand, but once you squeezed back, he intertwined your fingers. The very act spurred you on. “This was a group of men,” you said, a fire in your eyes as you pointed to your cheek with your other hand. “It's not even what they tried to do…it's how after, there was no going back…”

Daryl didn’t utter a word. His very presence was like a beacon of warmth, fuelling the anger in your eyes. Daryl’s anger also heightened.

“I’ve never…mutilated…anyone like I did then, ever. I didn’t even know I was capable of it.”

You heard a soft grunt from Daryl.

“Now, I just have a festering anger at anyone who tries anything…it’s like I don’t care anymore. Those people at Terminus…I just wanted them all fucking dead.” You said with a jarring resolution that Daryl could nevertheless understand.

Daryl recalled the moment he saw you at Terminus. If he was scared shitless, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how you felt with the knife to your throat. But your next utterance interrupted his thoughts of that day.

“They fucking deserved it, that night in the woods…” you seethed. “But I couldn’t look at myself after. There was so much blood…it was just everywhere. I got some of them in their sleep, slit their throats, some of them woke up to me cutting em’ up…”

There was a far away look in your eyes, as if you were reliving the moments. Daryl saw goosebumps raise on your arms, even though the evening breeze was warm.

Daryl had an inkling, but he needed to know what they did. He wanted to kill the rest of them himself if they lived.

“What’d they do ta ya’?” he gritted through his teeth. His grip on your hand tightened. It was now that you broke eye contact.

“What do you think? They tied me up…touched me, left me by a tree afterwards. I managed to free myself in the night…”

Daryl gripped both of your shoulders firmly.

“They all dead?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

Daryl’s response was terse, but was filled with sad understanding, passion and something else you couldn’t quite place. You were filled with shame. Not only about what they had done to you, but the fact that you were shoving this all on Daryl too. It’s not like he could do anything about it —

“Ya thinkin’ too loud,” Daryl hummed. You turned your head a bit away from him, trying to distance yourself further in hopes to hide your embarrassment. Daryl chewed his lip. “They fuckin’ deserved wha’ was comin’.”

You inhaled a deep breath. The smell of night time filled your nostrils, with an incredibly subtle undertone of cigarette smoke and leather vest seeping in. Your lungs were filled with familiarity. It was comforting.

The warmth in your chest being ignited spurred on memories of the prison, when you and Daryl would spend nights close together in the watchtowers, talking about nothing and everything. Usually he’d be smoking a cigarette, wearing his signature vest, and the smell lingered then too.

You remembered how different you were back then. How innocent. How removed you were from the horrors of brutal killing and maiming. You never had a thirst for blood then, when someone did you wrong. Now you were harder. More cold. It concerned you.

Daryl’s hands gently rubbing your arms brought you back to him.

“I know,” you replied curtly. “But that’s not even what keeps me up…it’s like ever since we got here, my mind hasn’t been able to let go of that ‘feral-ness.’ I still think about how I got all that blood on my hands. And I can't get rid of the paranoia that something else bad is gonna happen…”

Daryl grunted in agreement. “Ya’ shouldn’t be so hard on ya’self. The fact yer’ thinking ‘bout it makes ya’ gud. And I feel paranoid too, bein’ here...but Y/N,” Daryl made you look at him.

“Nothin’s gon’ happen to ya’. Nothin bad’s gon’ happen as long as I’m with ya’. I won’ let anyone do anythin’ to ya’, alrigh’? Ya’ don’t gotta worry.”

The way he was looking at you now made a familiar fluttering erupt in your stomach that you hadn’t given yourself the privilege to truly feel. A small smile emerged on your lips. Looking into his eyes now, you noticed they were electrified with emotion. You were sure yours mirrored Daryl’s by the way he was looking at you, an equal mix of intensity and appreciation there.

Daryl drew his gaze to your eyes, down to your lips, and across to your scarred cheek. He brought his hand up, and cupped that same cheek again, touching it with a graze so gentle, he could've thought his finger and your cheek were one.

“I meant what I said before,” he whispered. The smile on your face moulded into an expression of shy curiousness as you leaned into his warm touch. “Ya’ are ma’ evry’thing…have been fer a long time.”

Somehow, Daryl’s sincerity was filled with such profound emotion, that hearing him say it was like a punch to the guts. His words winded you, rendering you almost speechless.

Before you could respond, the music in your earbuds picked up, adding to the ambiance of the moment. As if the universe was attempting to serenade the intimacy between you two, you turned up the volume, and recognised the song immediately. Smiling a big, genuine smile, you slowly stood the both of you up, placed one earbud in your ear, and the other in Daryl’s.

“Surely you know this one,” you said, a playfully soft glint in your eyes. Daryl could only look on with surprise.

The opening piano riff filled his eardrums. Of course he knew it. You moved to slowly sway with him.

🎵 I know it sounds funny but I just can’t stand the pain

Girl, I’m leaving you tomorrow

Seems to me girl you know I’ve done all I can

You see I beg stole, and I borrowed 🎵

Daryl could hear you quietly humming along. It was beautiful. You both swayed with each other as the chorus filled your ears, smiles adorning both your faces. Daryl’s hold on your hips tightened as he found more comfort in your movements, slowly caressing the spots there. Your hands tightened around his neck, bringing your faces that bit closer. Mouthing the words, you looked at Daryl. He grew the courage to sing the next verse to you.

“I wanna’ be high, so high,” he rasped. You looked at him in pure awe and something else he couldn’t pick. “I wanna be free to know the things I do are right —”

“I wanna be free-ee!” You interrupted, “Just me…oh baby…”

As the bridge in the song played, the tension between the two of you reached new heights. Your heart started racing. You could feel Daryl’s pulse also racing underneath your palms. Daryl’s pupils were almost completely dilated.

As the guitar solo played, Daryl pulled you in close, connecting his lips with yours. Immediately, your mouths melded together as if you’d kissed hundreds of times before. The kiss was so soft, yet so passionate. Your hands moved to hold Daryl’s jaw and the back of his head, and he ran his own hands up your back.

The sensual tone of the guitar matched that of the smoothness and sultriness between the two of you at that moment. It was as if the alluring quality of the solo gave you both an unwavering confidence about how each other felt.

As the chorus broke through your ears again, your mouths disconnected, and you both heaved in large breaths. You had never seen larger smiles on the other ever. Daryl gazed at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Pulling his hand from your behind, he slowly dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, and you caressed his jawline.

You savoured the final melodies of the song. You couldn’t help yourself looking at Daryl’s smirk, leaning in to give him a few more soft pecks there. Chasing you for more as you pulled away, Daryl displayed to you the fondest expression you’d ever seen.

You let a breathy giggle escape your lips. “You’re more than I ever could’ve asked for too, D.”

178 notes · View notes

ellie1green · 1 year

Text

(Y/n just doing absolutely anything)

Carl: look at them, they are just so pretty

Enid: then go And talk to them?

Carl: ARE YOU CRAZY?! They would NEVER talk to me

y/n hearing Carl shout And going over: oh hey Carl, is everything ok?

Carl: i love you

Enid: (facepalm)

Y/n: huh..?

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #twd incorrect quotes #twd fanfics

594 notes · View notes

livingdeadblondequeen · 1 year

Text

Shoot To Kill

Daryl Dixon/RickSister!Reader

Era: Season 8; During Wraith

Warning: Violence, Negan bashing

Summary: Another Grimes takes matters into her own hands during the final battle.

“Save him.”

Despite the number of people in the field who had been watching the fight between the two leaders, there was nothing but silence, the only sounds that could be heard at that moment were the heavy breathing of Rick, and the footsteps of the new doctor as he moved towards the fallen Negan. Everyone was in shock, not only because it was over but by Rick’s demand.

“No! No, he can’t! No, he killed Glen!” Maggie shouted, her cries echoing across the field as Michonne reached to stop her from advancing. “We have to end it! We have to make it right!”

No one else moved, those on their side watching silently while the defeated Saviors stood with their hands up, everyone listening to the Widow as she screamed. At least not until the sound of a gunshot rang out.

Rick spun around at the sound of the shot going off, thinking that perhaps Negan had had a hidden weapon on him, only to be shocked at what he saw. Standing a few feet away from the leather-clad Savior leader stood Rick’s own sister, her gun aimed at Negan. He knew immediately that she had been the one to fire, which she confirmed by firing off another round.

Like the first bullet, it found its mark in Negan’s skull, his body spasming at the impact. Rick could see her hand tensing to shoot again but his hand on her arm stopped her from firing. “Y/N, stop. It’s over, he’s dead.”

She pulled her gaze away from the body in front of her, her eyes locking on his. “Good.”

Rick was about to say more when Y/N wrenched her arm from his grip and walked away toward Maggie and Daryl. Michonne looked at his sister in disbelief as she passed and then looked at him for direction. He just shook his head. He and Y/N would have words about what she did but now was not the time.

*******

Hours later, Y/N found herself walking into the now-empty cell that Morgan had built. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept well the night before, thoughts about the upcoming battle not allowing her to. Then once it was over, there were other things to do, like burying the fallen.

Yet as tired as she was, Y/N would not go to bed. Not until Daryl got back from doing whatever he decided to do with Dwight. She just didn’t want to sleep in their bed without his arms around her, that had happened enough lately.

As if her thoughts of him somehow made him appear, Y/N heard the familiar cadence of his footfalls on the stairs. Moments later, Daryl’s large form filled the doorway. “Tara said she saw ya come this way. What’re ya doing down here?”

“Trying it on for size?” Y/N replied, her voice rising at the end as she wasn’t sure.

Daryl only huffed at her answer as he made his way in and sat down next to her. He took her hand in his, kissing the top of it before lacing his fingers with hers. “Rick ain’t gonna lock ya up.”

Y/N didn’t quite have the same faith in those words as Daryl seemed to. “Maggie said I would be welcome at Hilltop if I needed to. If it comes to me leaving…”

“Us,” Daryl corrected her.

Squeezing his hand, Y/N went on. “I don’t know what my brother might do, but whatever it is, it is. I don’t regret killing Negan, not after he killed Abe, and Glen...”

With her free hand, Y/N reached up and brushed away Daryl’s shaggy bangs so she could see his blue eyes. Her fingers left his hair and trailed down his cheek, gently cupping his jaw. “And you. I couldn’t let him live after what he did to you.”

The archer leaned into her touch, his eyes meeting hers as she asked, “What about Dwight?’

Daryl seemed to hesitate a moment before answering. “Gone. Told’m not to come back unless he got a death wish. Told him to go look for her.”

Y/N nodded. She honestly hadn’t known what he might do to the former Savior when they left. She understood either decision he would have made. Dwight had put him through hell, but he’d only been a puppet, doing Negan’s bidding to protect someone he cared about. It didn’t make what Dwight did any better, but she and Daryl couldn’t say that they wouldn’t have done something similar to protect the other one.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them as Y/N leaned her head on Daryl’s shoulder. She was about to say it was time to go home to bed when they heard the door to the street open and her brother’s boots could be heard on the stairs. Despite the fact that she trusted Rick with her life, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her body tense up. Time to face the music.

Rick’s gaze ran over her form then Daryl’s, taking in the scene before his eyes flicked back to her. She met his stare head-on, years of practice of him trying to boss her around using the big brother card. “Daryl, why don’t you head on home? I need to have a moment alone with my sister.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

The archer’s response caused her brother to break his gaze from her to look at his friend. “You think I can’t be trusted with her? That I would hurt Y/N?”

“Nah I don’t,” Daryl replied as he stood, dropping Y/N’s hand as he did so that he was eye-to-eye with Rick. “But ya surprised me once today, ain’t risking her if ya do it again.”

Jumping up between the two most important men in her life, Y/N placed her hands on each of their chests. “Daryl, it’s fine. I’ll meet you at home in a bit.”

Daryl continued to glare at Rick before finally looking down at Y/N. He gave her a short nod before brushing his lips against her temple. “Ya ain’t out in an hour, I’m comin’ back.”

Rick took a step back to allow Daryl to pass through the door and out of the cell, the two staring at each other again until Daryl disappeared up the stairs. Once the siblings were alone, Rick sighed heavily as he ran his hand through his hair. “Do you know what you have done?”

“I did what you were supposed to do,” Y/N replied, keeping her eyes straight and not backing down. “What you should have done.”

“But I didn’t and you should have followed my lead. I had my reasons not to kill Negan.” Rick stated.

“I know you did, I know what Carl said in his letter to you. About finding a way to live peacefully with Negan. He said something similar in mine.” Y/N told him. “But that wish was never going to happen. It couldn’t.”

“It could have, we could have made it work. Michonne and I had a plan.”

“That neither of you thought to talk to one of us about?” Y/N practically shouted. “What was the plan, Rick? To have the new doctor fix him up then tell Negan he had to behave?”

“No! We were going to put him in here,” Rick said with a wave of his hand to indicate he meant the cell they were standing in. “With guards. Make an example out of him.”

“So you wanted to waste not just manpower to guard him but also food and water?” Y/N asked, not believing what her brother was saying. “Did you not think how locking up Negan would be dangerous? I mean, when has letting our enemies live ever worked out for us? Andrew, the Governor, and Gareth, they all came back at us and we lost more people.”

“He would be locked up, people always watching him.”

“Who's to say that his people wouldn’t try to break him out? From what we know, they were living the good life under Negan. They would want that back, instead of being equal with everyone else.”

“It wouldn’t have been like that. They would see our way was better and fall in. Or we’d make them leave.” Rick insisted.

“Negan killed Abe, he killed Glenn! They tortured Daryl!”

“You think I’ve forgotten that?!”

“I don’t know, have you?” Y/N asked.

“I know who he killed and what he’s done, but Carl…”

“Was a sixteen-year-old boy. Granted, he had been through and seen way more than a kid his age should have ever seen but he was still a kid. I would have done anything for him, if I could have taken that bite instead of him I would have in a heartbeat,” Y/N confessed, the grief she had been holding off since Carl’s death suddenly rose. It became too much, and she leaned against the wall, trying hard not to let the tears fall.

Looking over she saw her brother’s eyes soften as he looked at her, taking in her words while she continued. “And yes, what I did wasn’t what he wanted, but it is what I did. What I did, Rick. Not you. I hope that alleviates any guilt you might feel at not carrying out your son’s wish.”

Rick looked at his sister and felt the anger he had been feeling at her dissipate at her declaration. He knew she had only done what they had all wanted to do, what he had sworn to Negan’s face that he would do that night of the lineup, and he couldn’t fault her for that. “What are you doing down here, anyway? Of all the places I’d thought to find you, the cell isn’t one of them.”

Y/N shrugged. “Thought after what I did, it might be my new home.”

Rick’s brows shot up in surprise. “You thought I would lock you up.”

“No, not really. I don’t know. While I knew you wouldn’t be happy about my killing Negan, I thought you might be more upset that I did it in front of everyone. Go against your wishes as a leader.” Y/N explained. “Maybe it would be a good thing if I leave Alexandria for a little while. Go to Hilltop and help Maggie. She will be showing soon I’m sure and will want some extra hands. Daryl and I…”

Shaking his head, Rick interrupted her. “Daryl’s going to be needed somewhere else. I need him to take over at the Sanctuary, make repairs and get it up again.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“The people there are going to need someone in charge and I need it to be someone strong and who I trust.”

“You can’t send him back to that hell, he suffered enough, Y/N begged. She wanted to tell Rick about the nightmares that Daryl had when he slept, or how the fact that he hated their room in complete darkness but she knew he would not want that. “He’ll go if you ask him but don’t ask that of him. Please.”

Rick sighed loudly and ran his hand over his face, “Y/N...”

“Send Carol, send Rosita, let the place burn for all I care,” She argued. “So many there were miserable, without the Saviors taking stuff from the other communities it couldn’t sustain itself.”

“Okay, okay. I see what you are saying.” Rick conceded. “I’ll talk to Maggie and Ezekiel, and get their thoughts on it.”

“But no asking Daryl?”

“No. No, we’ll find someone else.”

Unable to help herself, Y/N grabbed her brother in a hug, squeezing tightly. He hugged her back, and the two stayed like that for a few minutes before breaking apart, Rick nodding towards the exit. “Come on, I’m sure Daryl is wearing a hole-in-the-floor pacing while he waits for you.”

“Funny that you think he actually went all the way home to wait for me.”

Rick was about to ask her what she meant as they reached the street when the small red light from the end of a cigarette out of the corner of his eye. Standing a couple of doors down, far enough to give them privacy but close enough to come when called, stood Daryl. She knew the archer would be waiting for her. His sister smirked up at him before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning, big brother.”

Rick said his goodbye before she strolled off to the man waiting for her. Daryl nodded at him in acknowledgment before he focused on the woman in front of him as she took his outstretched hand. Rick watched his sister and the man he thought of as his brother walk away together before he turned toward his own home. Tomorrow was the first day of something new.

*Note: I have an entire headcanon for Ricksister!Reader & Daryl and have thought of doing other one-shots with them. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading them. And if you have any requests for them, you would like to see, let me know.

Please share by reblogging

Thanks to @minervadashwood, @littlegodzilla, @green-eyedladywrites, @bringinsexybackk69

#Daryl Dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #twd #Daryl x Reader #Daryl Dixon

502 notes · View notes

geralallfandoms · 1 year

Text

|DARYL DIXON|

○Damn liar○

Summary:Daryl and y/n discuss of one of the saviors. Things seem to be getting worse and worse and things don't end as expected.

Warnings: Use of y/n, bad words, violence, argument, fight, angst,etc etc.

Part 2 maybe??

It was all over at last.

The war with the saviors had ended, not in the best way, but the tranquility could be felt a little more.

Things weren't easy yet, of course not, there were many things to resolve, things that brought many endless debates that never came to anything, and one of them was between you and Daryl. It was one that, at first, you hadn't even discussed, but for some strange reason, Daryl had now changed his mind.

The relationship between you was, roughly speaking, quite perfect. You two fought, of course you did, like any normal couple, but most of the time both of you shared quiet and beautiful moments. But since Rick's death (or disappearance according to Daryl, another of the reasons why they argued) things had changed too much, such as what you were going to do with Dwight when it was all over.

Before the two had assured that they would not leave him alive. What he had done to you that time in the forest, after you helped him and his wife, was enough to make you hate him. You just couldn't forgive him. But now, when the time had finally come, when one afternoon you went to talk to him about how you would do it, you got a big surprise.

"I don't want to do it." He said seriously, without taking his eyes off the motorcycle that he had been fixing all day.

"What?" You asked in a daze, thinking that maybe you had misheard.

"It's just…I think we should forget about it. Try to keep things peaceful." His voice was calm and sure, as if he was trying to keep you from freaking out, which was impossible.

"It has to be a joke. You're fucking kidding me right?" He just looked at you while biting his lip. It wasn't a fucking joke. "Is it that you don't remember what he did to you? What he did to us? How he betrayed us and laughed at us? And how later he came asking for forgiveness, help, shelter and on top of that we gave it to him?!" You didn't want to draw attention, much less from Michonne who was already looking at them from the opposite sidewalk, but seeing the calm with which he said things was simply infuriating.

"Y/n, things have changed, okay? We all change is..." but you cut him off before he could finish speaking.

"No! You've changed! Don't you think it's enough that we have forgiven them all, that we let them live and eat our things, as well as having to spare their lives?!" At this point, Daryl had already gotten up from the floor and was beginning to approach you with the intention that you would calm down or at least that you could discuss this in private and not before the eyes of the curious, but at the moment when he gave a single step towards you, you back two.

"No. I got it. You dont want to kill him? Okay. You for your part and I for mine."

"No y/n. Things don't have to be like this...there are other ways, I had something else in mind." The seriousness on your face forced him to keep talking. "I was going to take him to the woods, leave him there and let him go on his own, look for luck elsewhere. But if I ever see him around here again..."

"What will you do? Kill him? Ha, please, Daryl, you don't even believe that. You've sworn it on your life, you've sworn it on me, and look at you! Being a good man..." you took a few steps forward, the enough to be almost glued to him, where only he can hear what you had to say. "Don't be surprised if one day you don't find him..." and with that, you just walked away.

Because you weren't going to forgive him that easily, not after betraying you like that in the woods, not after not helping you with Negan until it suited him, not after seeing all the things he'd done to you and not move a finger to help you, not after they'd gone out of their way for both of them and they'd just ignored you.

So it was that same afternoon, after dodging Michonne's questions and Daryl's pleas, that you put together your plan. You were going to do it in the same cell, that same night, you would torture him a little, enough to make him regret it even more and then you would just kill him, so you wouldn't risk someone hearing his screams.

You didn't want to think too much about what you would do to him, you would just let the moment flow. You didn't want to think too much. Not before you regret it.

But what you didn't know was that after you left, Michonne and Daryl knew that you were going to plan something, so they stayed in the cell themselves, waiting for you to come and stop you.

But what they didn't know was that you were determined to finish him off, whatever you had to do, which included having to finish off the guards.

The guards, who were none other than Daryl and Michonne.

____________

Night had fallen, you had everything you thought you needed, you had made sure that no one had seen you leave, or so you thought, and you had run to the small prison they had built.

Upon entering you found that everything was dark when they always used to leave a lamp on, but the fury did not let you think calmly. Observe the place calmly but the thirst for revenge did not let you see them standing there by your side. You walked over to where Dwight was, but the voices in your head didn't let you hear the footsteps behind you.

You only realized something was wrong when you noticed that the cell was completely empty. It was there, when due to the slight reflection of the knife in your hand, the one with which you intended to attack whoever crossed your path, was that you noticed the two people behind you.

You turned quickly with the intention of sticking the knife into whoever was trying to stop your plan, but Daryl was much faster, he already knew your movements when attacking, and his hand nimbly took yours while with the other took the knife out of your hand, throwing it to the side. The other figure, Michonne, stepped up behind you wrapping her arms around yours to stop you from moving.

And when they saw that they were only making you angrier, they took off their hoods.

"Y/n that's enough...you don't have to do this." Your eyes filled with fury and not caring that it was them, you moved with all your strength to get rid of them, you kicked with the intention of hitting Daryl, but only managed to make his arms cling to yours as well.

"You're a treacherous bastard!" You screamed with all your might.

"Y/n you're acting like a spoiled child..." Michonne said, to which Daryl thought was the worst thing she could have said if she was trying to reassure you.

"I'm not a damn girl! Is it wrong that I want justice? Is it wrong that I don't think the same as you?! Why yours is valid and mine isn't?!" You screamed with all your might. You couldn't understand, you wanted to but you couldn't, the fury was stronger than the reason, because deep down, deep inside, you knew they were right, you knew that perhaps you were exaggerating. But you couldn't stop your impulses, your thoughts, those that didn't let you sleep at night. Because after all, they had done even worse things, what did it mean to kill just one of them?

"No, of course it's not bad. Damn, you think I like all this?" Daryl said a little more upset.

"Well, you seem to enjoy it!"

"Well I don't! No one tells you not to want revenge, but we need this. We need rules and we need everyone to follow them, we need peace of mind and we need everyone to cooperate...no exceptions. We can find other options okay?...you don't have to get into this trouble...please y/n." He replied while caressing your cheek.

"Okay. So...I have another option." You said serious and a little calmer, even though inside you were like hell.

"Tell us...we can work it out, we don't want this." Michonne answered hopefully.

"Either Dwight dies...or I'm out of here. You decide or I do, but you know exactly which one I'll choose."

"No. No way, forget it." Daryl growled, furious again.

"So will you let me go?" You asked in a playful voice.

"We already talked about it, our word will not change. There are no exceptions." Michonne replied. You looked at Daryl for a few seconds, waiting for him to change his mind, for him to see the seriousness in your words, but it didn't work, so you simply said;

"Okay...then I guess you'll have one less warrior."

And without saying anything else, without even thinking about the pain in your chest that was formed at the thought of having to abandon the love of your life, you let go of the weak grip of the two and left the place, you headed home...well, old home, you took your things and left.

Not before leaving Daryl a little letter.

"-Together against the world forever.- Do you remember? Well, it seems that you are a damn liar.

With love y/n, who will continue to fight the world for both of us."

______________

HELLOOO

Ok, first I apologize for misspellings or mistakes, English is not my first language <3

Second: I'm not a fan of Dwight, in fact I don't like him too much, and I always wanted to say what I thought about him and what better way to do it than here!! Also, leaving my opinion about the situation, I think it's a bit difficult when you want something, when you want revenge and no one understands you, when you feel that the person you love the most betrayed you, and I also feel that it would be a difficult decision to choose. , but it's just my opinion, a story. If you don't like it, you can keep reading and take it for granted!

Third: the events are not in the same order as the series, it's not the big change but hey, I wanted to change it a bit.

Fourth: THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the love to the other stories, it really makes me super happy that you like it and I would gladly write about what you like. (Sorry if I'm not very constant, the university is stealing a LOT of time)

And finally, if you liked this one, maybe I can do a second part. Do you see where Daryl goes in search of Y/n? You decide.

MUCHAS GRACIAS <3

THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

200 notes · View notes

ravenrose18 · 3 months

Text

Masterlist

My Personal Savior

Raven Rose

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

@integra1127 @integra1127grimmreaper @jdmorganz @jdm-negan-mcnaughty-blog @justjdm @jdeanmorgan @jwritesfanfics @justjdm @negansource @negans-girl-blog @negans-dirty-girl @negandarylsatisfaction @negangifs @jdm-traash @jdmslut-red @jdmorganstuff @girlwiththenegantattoo @ghostwriter2203 @a-woman-with-claws-and-fangs @naughtyneganjdm @naughty-negan @naughty-negan-clan @naturallynegan @fanfictilltheend @neganandjdm @neganappreciation-blog @neganandtonyswife @neganandblake @neganandstevensdoll-blog @savedpeople @sanctuaryforthelost @jdmswh0re @jdms-flat-ass @jdmsimp @twdxtrevor @jdmorganstuff @jdmslut-red @jdm-traash @jeffreydaddydeanmorgan @jeffreydeanmorganconfession-blog @jeffreydeanmorgantrash @jeffrey-daddy-morgan @negansource @negans-girl-blog @negandarylsatisfaction @negangifs @sanctuaryforthelost

Other places to enjoy my story

26 notes · View notes

supernaturalfreewill · 11 months

Photo

reader pronouns: she/her

“Sammy, I just think we should talk about this!” Dean said, hurrying to keep up with his long strides.

“We?” Sam retorted. “I think this is entirely between me and Y/N, Dean. It’s not your place to have an opinion here. If this was reversed, you’d tell me to shove it.”

Dean sighed heavily. “Look, I’m just worried and I want to make sure you’ve thought this through.”

“I love her!” Sam said fervently. “What the hell else do I need to think through? I should have told practically her every single day since I met her.” He was hurriedly cramming some clothes into his duffel bag.

Dean’s face was tight with concern. “Sam, think about what this means. If you think this is going to have a happy ending then you haven’t been paying attention! The job takes everything, and everyone!”

Sam froze, finally stopped in his frantic packing by the fear in his older brother’s voice. “That’s how it has been. But that doesn’t mean that’s how this is going to go. I won’t let it.”

Prompt: “If you think this is going to have a happy ending then you haven’t been paying attention.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

60 notes · View notes

writingismysafespace · 9 months

Text

Negan watched the woman as she lay in bed, she did not look peaceful despite how desperately he hoped she would. She had darkening bruises littering her body in a sickening display of the damage someone else did to his Phoebe.

His stomach churned at the sheer thought of hurting the woman who laid in her bed. Anger boiled silently in his stomach knowing he would walk heaven and hell just to punish whoever did this to her.

He knew she would hate this thought coming from him. She would see it for what it really was instead of what Negan has been trying so desperately to convince himself it wasn’t. He has fallen for her, and despite his best efforts to hide it she knew he had too.

From the moment Phoebe walked into The Sanctuary he had been taken by her and she could read Negan like a book. She actually said ‘a children’s book’ once to be exact.

Phoebe is his humanity, his lifeline, she taught him to be kind and how to lead with genuine power instead of power the is induced by fear.

Which was almost humorous to Negan as he had never felt this much fear knowing that his heart walked freely outside of his body.

He leant into her and placed a small, gentle kiss on her forehead while bringing a hand up to hers and running his thumb gently over her knuckles.

Negan knew better than to do that to Phoebe while she was awake, they both knew that falling for one another was dangerous. Phoebe had quickly becomes Negan’s right hand girl and admitting their obvious feelings for one another was a stupid mistake neither of them wanted to make.

Phoebe rustled awake groaning slightly in pain. Negan removed his hand and smiled to her as she blinked open her eyes.

“Pheebs” he let out a small breath as their eyes poured into one another.

Her eyes sparkled despite the pain that she was quiet obviously in and Negan nearly dropped to his knees at the sheer sight of her.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was cold and detached. It was either that or a seething anger that he couldn’t control and he knew that wouldn’t be productive for either of them right in this very moment.

She paused for a second watching his movements being able to look right through him. She knew he would tear apart the world around them just to destroy whoever did this to her but she needed it to happen. She needed some form of closure and Negan always seemed to find it to rewarding when she first met him.

“His name is Rick. Rick Grimes…”

24 notes · View notes

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 days

Text

Warnings: adult consumption of alcohol, sexual innuendo

"Alrigh'... I think it's time to go. Ya've had enough to drink fer both of us," Daryl said, gently grabbing you under the arm and pulling you up to your feet. He nervously wrapped his arm around your back to steady you.

"Orrrr how about you go get us both another drink and we drink together," you said, your words slightly slurred.

Daryl let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. "How 'bout I take ya home," he retorted.

Suddenly you were smiling widely at him and then biting your bottom lip. "Well, I didn't think I'd be drunk for our first time but I'm not gonna turn that down," you said with a smirk.

"W—what? No. What?" Daryl's entire face was burning out to his ears. "No, I meant—I'll take ya to yer house and then—then I'll go to my house. I didn't mean—"

You laughed again lightly. "I know you didn't mean that, Daryl. I'm just kidding... sort of..."

Daryl gulped and tried to draw in a slow breath. His heart was pounding. "Let's just—get ya to a damn bed, okay?"

"Mine or yours?" you joked with another good-natured laugh.

"Christ... just be quiet, would ya?" Daryl growled, going completely red again. But his hand tightened slightly on your waist and he moved in closer to you.

Prompt: "How about I take you home."

#flirty!reader #shy!daryl #always a win #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

261 notes · View notes

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months

Text

Meet Cute

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn't want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to "Your Fault," describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me).

Era: Hershel farm era.

Tropes: Angst, Fluff (if you squint at it), Patching up someone's wounds.

Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any. I'll say references to past trauma with survivors, but mentioned only once or twice and not detailed. Blood and gore, because the reader is patching up Daryl's wounds and of course zombies. Cursing, not a lot, but a few words.

Word Count: 4.1K (Oops) (Seriously did not mean for it to be this long.)

Note: There is minimal use of (y/n). Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!

Internal monologue is done in italics and is in first person.

ENJOY!

******************************************

It was raining and you were having a bad day. You weren’t having a bad day because it was raining, you actually liked standing in the rain, feeling the cool water drip down your face and through your clothes made you feel alive in the best way. It was difficult to find things that made you feel alive, especially after two months in the zombie apocalypse.

You considered yourself lucky, the first day everything went to hell you had slept through it. Pulling a double at the hospital downtown knocked you out and you woke up to the screams and the pounding of feet in the hall of your apartment building.

By then the phones were gone, electricity to the city had been cut off and you were hopelessly alone. Not unwelcome, due to the fact that it had been you on your own since your father had died a year earlier, but still acute enough for you to notice. It took you a week to leave your apartment to try and scavenge for food, even then you were not ready for the carnage that waited on the streets of Atlanta. After another week you realized that you needed to get out, it was too dangerous to be there. The military had failed and there was nothing left for you in the city. So you packed your backpack and said goodbye to your old life. Finding the cabin outside Atlanta was fortuitous, especially after you ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere. That being said when you found it originally, it had its quirks. No windows, a door that hung off its hinges, blood stains on the wooden floors, and no running water all made the cabin less than ideal.

But after two months it was home.

You sigh to yourself as you reset the trap, hiding it underneath the wet dead leaves as rain dripped from the treetops above. Someone or something was getting into your traps. It was the third time in a week it had happened and you were starting to get annoyed. You suspected it was a walker, since you continued to find bits and pieces of squirrel in the forest around the trap.

You continue your trek in the half-circle one mile out from the cabin. It was a nice spot, dense forest with a small creek that ran through, small enough to cross, but enough water that you didn't have to worry about going any further to find it. The only time you left the cabin was to scavenge, but that took a few days of preparation.

Rain pattered softly over the fallen leaves, weaving in and out of the canopy above, and kissing your skin. Being alone never bothered you before, but the thought that you might be the last person on earth was different. It was one thing to choose to be alone, another thing to be forced into it.

The sound of shuffling and sliding leaves makes you pause, ears peeled. You did not see too many walkers where you were and figured that because you were in the middle of nowhere there weren't enough people to turn.

The shuffling gets louder and you duck behind one of the trees, drawing your pistol from the belt at your waist. It was a gift from your father when you moved to Atlanta to start your residency. Target practice every week made you a good shot and helped blow off steam when shifts at the hospital were tough. Unfortunately, you hadn't been able to find many bullets, which prompted you to carry a hunting knife on the opposite side of your waist. The only ammo stores you found were stripped down and desolate. Sometimes you worried what would happen when you ran out.

You hear the heavy exhale of the walker as it continues through the woods behind the tree where you are hiding. You peer around the tree trunk, watching it shuffle along. It's wearing dark clothes, blood dripping from its side as it hunches over and travels away from you. A crossbow is strapped along it's back at an awkward angle and every step it releases a heavy exhale.

You click off the safety. Probably the same walker that's been eating all my squirrels. You think to yourself as you aim the gun at the back of the walker's head and take in a deep breath. But just as you pull the trigger, the walker stumbles to the left and the bullet scrapes along the outside of the walker's skull.

Shit.

As it falls, it hits its head on a tree stump and lies still, face down. You come out from behind the tree cautiously, replacing the pistol at the holster on your waist and pull out the hunting knife. The walker doesn't move.

Okay. I can do this. I can do this-

You tap it with your boot. It groans once, but doesn't make an attempt to get up. Wait. If its groaning and not moving is it not-

You bend down and grab the back of the walker's shirt, avoiding the crossbow to roll it over, and suddenly realize, it's not a walker, it’s a man.

SHIT.

"Hello?" You poke his chest once, twice, but he doesn't respond. "Um- Sir? Are you okay? Can you speak?"

Why did I just call him sir?

The man groans softly, but does not open his eyes.

SHIT.

You hadn't run into many people in the apocalypse. Saw them from afar, but never approached one. Your father had instilled in you that desperate situations bred a new kind of person. No one could be trusted. The one time you had run into a group, you learned that the hard way. You shake it off and look down at the man on the ground.

He's covered in a layer of dirt and grime, a necklace of walker ears hangs over his dark green tank top, a large hunting knife hangs from his waist next to a child's doll, and blood soaks through the side of his shirt.

Why does he have a doll? Is he like one of those truckers on the highway that has a teddy bear strapped to the front of their semi? Because that's kind of weird.

You stepped closer to examine where the blood has stained his shirt along his side. He's really hurt.

You raise your head to look around the forest around you. He doesn't have a pack, his camp must be nearby. Which means that there might be others that come looking for him.

You look back down at the man where the bullet scraped through his hair, watching the blood trickle down the side of his head. You think about leaving him there. I don't know him. I can just walk away no harm done-

You bite your lip. I can't do it. I can't leave him here. You curse your conscience. Now I just have to haul him the entire mile back to my cabin, without waking him up or hurting him.

Great.

*******************************************

Dragging him back to the cabin through the woods and up the front steps took over an hour. You were too afraid to drag him back quickly, afraid that it would do more harm than good especially because you were unsure how bad the wound on his side was. He hadn't woken up, a bad sign, but you were optimistic.

Guilt momentarily fills your chest. You wouldn’t have shot him if you knew he was still alive. You probably would have just let him go on his merry way. But then you think about how he stumbled.

If I let him go, how far would he have gotten? Maybe me taking him is better than the alternative.

Staring at him laying on the hardwood floor made you wonder if this was a bad idea. You didn't know him. He might have a group somewhere and he might be faking to find out where you lived.

If he is faking he is certainly committed. You mused gazing down at him again.

He was older than you, by a few years at least, with brown hair that stuck out in different directions. Your eyes sweep his clothes, nose wrinkling at the strand of walker ears around his neck. His clothes were dirty, covered in dirt and dead blood. You had taken great care with his crossbow, setting it down on the small wooden table that you usually ate at, noticing how clean it was.

He must really care about it.

You couldn’t help but notice how small the man looked laying on the floor. And it made you feel more guilty about shooting him.

You walk away to get your medical bag, it was on the makeshift kitchen counter on the right back wall. The cabin was one room, in one corner there was a giant cabinet filled with whatever cans you could salvage, in another there was a wooden counter with a non-working sink, a small fireplace sat on the left wall, and in another there was a small twin sized bed covered in mismatched blankets. You had been prepping for winter, moving further and further into town to salvage what you could and storing chopped wood against the inside wall by the fireplace. The thought of winter scared you more than you’d care to admit. Especially with the squirrel traps giving less and less each day.

I wonder if this is the person stealing all my squirrels. You frown to yourself. Maybe I shouldn't help him.

You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.

Great.

"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.

Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.

"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."

"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

This was such a bad idea. Granted I also would have that reaction if I woke up in a strange place.

"I'm a doctor. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You collapsed and I noticed you were bleeding."

He backs up towards the door without turning around, eyes wild, body tense, ready to spring.

"Wait please. I feel really bad-"

The guilt is back now as you look at the scrape along his head and the blood soaked shirt.

"Why?" The man narrows his eyes.

"Because I-" You scrunch up your face in embarrassment. "I thought you were one of those things and I shot you. I'm sorry."

"You shot me?"

"Yes. I mean, you stumbled at the last second and I missed, but I'm also pretty sure that you hit your head pretty hard."

"What?"

"It felt wrong to leave you there.”

“I don’t need your help.” He spits.

“You’re probably right.” Your hands are still palm up in front of you. “But I thought it would be stupid if you survived this long with those things out there and then died from an infection. That's pretty pathetic." You smile sheepishly at your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn't smile.

Well the good news is if he leaves I'll never see him again, and I'll be able to forget about this entire awkward exchange. Who am I kidding? It’s going to haunt me at night, right up there with the time I tripped and ate it on the way to the microphone at my 8th grade talent show.

"I don't want your help." The man says again as he turns to go, but groans when he feels the muscles on his side strain with the movement.

"Please." You breathe. "It'll take ten minutes then you can leave and we never have to see each other ever again."

His eyes are still narrowed. They skate across your body sizing you up. “Are you alone?”

The question makes a cold shiver travel down your spine. It's the question that made you avoid other survivors, the question that made you tie your hair up under a hat, wear oversized clothes to hide your body, and a scarf to hide the bottom half of your face.

“If I say yes are you going to attack me?” Your throat is thick when you ask it.

He shakes his head.

You watch him curiously, but even though he’s pointing a crossbow at your chest you don’t think he’s lying. “Then yes.”

The man stands there for another few seconds. “Five minutes.”

“Fine."

He makes no move to lower the crossbow.

"Is it okay if I move or are you going to shoot me?" You raise an eyebrow.

The man sighs and finally lowers the crossbow, which you take as confirmation that you can pick up your medical bag.

What am I doing? I should have just let him leave. You think to yourself, watching the way his eyes dart around the cabin.

You both stand there awkwardly for a second. “You can just sit on the bed. It'll probably be easier than the chair.”

He sits down, but places the crossbow next to him on the bedside table, as if preparing for you to attack him.

You tried to remember the training you had for dealing with unwilling patients. Of course when that happened the hospital let them leave, but you didn’t want him to leave. You felt guilty for shooting him and you felt guilty for dragging him all the way here. And despite not knowing him, you were worried.

He could barely move without it hurting, what would happen if he left? One of those things were sure to get him on the way back wherever he came from.

You pull up a chair, so close to him that your knees are almost touching, and place the bag on your lap, looking through for your supplies.

“How long have I been here?”

“A little over an hour. Took me a while to drag you here. You’re heavier than you look.” You smile up at him, but he continues to frown.

“Are you really a doctor?”

“Why would I lie about that?” You shuffle through the bag, placing the supplies on the bed.

“I don’t know.” He shifts. “You don’t look like a doctor.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“No. You're just-“

You wait for him to think of it, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Okay.

“This is going to hurt just for a second.” You soak the cloths in the antiseptic and raise one to the side of his head. The man flinches away from your touch with narrowed eyes. “For this to work I’m going to need to touch you.” You say softly with a gentle smile. You were under the impression that he wasn't mean, rather he just wasn’t used to other people.

He leans forward, looking away from you to give you access to the side of his head. Your left hand brushes away the strands of hair from where the bullet scraped along his head, dabbing with the cloth along the shallow wound. You were happy to note that it didn’t need stitches, but you still wanted to clean it out. The man doesn’t wince when the cloth touches his skin.

“I’m y/n by the way.”

He waits a beat. “Daryl.”

You continue to clean along the wound, concentrating on getting as much blood and dirt away from the opening.

“Have you been out here alone this whole time?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. How about you?”

“No.”

Guess he doesn’t say a lot.

When you finish with his head, you start to reach for his shirt, but Daryl jumps hand twitching towards the crossbow.

“It’s okay." You smile at him. "I want to look at your side. If you could just take off your shirt-"

“No.”

“But I have to see it-“

He frowns at you. Finally, Daryl pulls up his shirt only enough for you to see the wound on his side, but no further. Just under the cloth of his shirt where it stops, you see remnants of pink scar tissue.

You try very hard not to look at the pink scar tissue, but you were curious. Was that why he didn't want me to take off his shirt?

He’s not looking at you. In fact the only time he made eye contact with you was when he was holding the crossbow.

“You might need to lie down for this one.”

Daryl eyes you again, before finally he lays down on his side, still not looking at you. The wound on his side is deeper, two piercings that go from the front of his abdomen and through to his back.

Did he shoot himself with the crossbow? How is that even physically possible?

“What happened?”

“Fell.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I think I’m going to need to pour the antiseptic in this one and it's going to hurt. You can hold my hand if you want.” You put your left hand on the bed as a peace offering. He doesn’t take it.

Or not.

As soon as the liquid touches his skin, Daryl fists his hand in the mountain of blankets, clenching his teeth together.

“I know I’m sorry.” You can't help but touch his arm and he flinches back away from you. “But now it’s clean and you don’t have to worry about infection.” You go through the motions with the stitches, pulling the needle through the skin smooth and steady, surprised that Daryl does not react to the needle. You reach for a bandage to cover the affected area. "Okay, so keep this clean, don't raise your arm up too high or the stitches will rip, change the bandage in a day or so. I'm going to give you one to take with you. Do you want some painkillers? I think I have some in here somewhere."

"No."

"Okay." You stand up and move out of his way so that he can get up from the bed, before beginning to look through the bag for a spare bandage.

Daryl stands there for a minute with his crossbow dangling from his right hand as if he's not sure what to say.

"Here." You hold out a bandage.

"Don't need it."

"Are you sure?"

Daryl nods once.

"Well if you rip your stitches or decide you want another bandage, you know where to find me." You can't help but smile at him.

As much as you were afraid of him at first, you couldn't help but like the interruption in the monotony of your day. And despite his gruff exterior, you liked talking to him. Which was surprising given the fact you hadn't liked talking to anyone else in the past.

He doesn't say anything, instead he starts to walk to the door of the cabin, but he stops. "Thanks." Daryl doesn't look away from the door.

"You're welcome. Be careful out there."

And then he's gone, leaving you in the still silence of the cabin once more.

********************************************

The next few days pass as they usually do. You check the traps, scavenge for water, read a book by the fireplace at night, but every time you leave the cabin you hope to see Daryl again, hope that he'll come back because he needed that bandage or maybe will just come by to sit in utter silence.

That last bit seemed the most in character.

You didn't want to admit to yourself how disappointed you were in the silence that followed his exit. Not because he spoke that much, but even his presence in the cabin made whatever this was easier. Before you relished in the fact that you were alone, but now after you met him, it felt too quiet.

However, you had noticed more dead in the area over the past few days and that made you worry.

What if Daryl never made it back to wherever it was he was going? What if he had gotten attacked as soon as he left? You tried not to think that, because Daryl looked capable enough to survive in the apocalypse. Definitely seemed capable when he held a crossbow to your face.

You jolt awake to the sound of someone frantically knocking against your door.

What?

You tighten your hand on the hunting knife under your pillow before you sit up in bed. Maybe I dreamed that.

Someone kicks open the front door of your cabin.

Definitely didn't dream that.

A ball of fear lodges in the back of your throat as you grab the gun on your bedside table, holding it up between you and the dark figure standing just inside the doorway.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice shouts.

"Daryl?" You lower the gun watching the dark figure turn to barricade the door.

"We have to go."

"Daryl what's wrong-" As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you hear the moaning and shuffling of the dead followed by the pounding of hands against the door.

Fear makes your entire body freeze. You had been in Atlanta long enough to watch the chaos, watch what happened in the streets, the memories of what you saw keeping you awake more than one night, memories of the masses of bodies swarming survivors and the ungodly screams that followed.

"We gotta go.” He grabs your wrist and hauls you out of bed.

In case of an emergency like this, you always slept fully dressed. You clip your belt around your waist before putting the gun back in the holster and throwing your oversized jacket on over your t-shirt. Your pack is on the floor by the back door. The medical bag is small enough to shove inside the black backpack.

“Come on!” Daryl grabs your hand and pulls you out the back door, dragging you through the woods behind him.

You glance over your shoulder. The moonlight above illuminates the mass of walkers that surely would have destroyed the small cabin and you inside.

He came back for me. The thought makes a surge of gratitude warm in your chest. He didn't even know me and he was willing to fight his way through dead infested woods to save me.

Daryl shoots one that stands in your way, glancing behind him to see the mass of walkers that follow, before letting go of your hand and reloading the crossbow.

“Where are we going?” You shout running behind him, gun drawn.

“Up ahead-“ He responds over his shoulder.

You break out of the tree-line onto a road, where a motorcycle waits haphazardly on the edge of the long grass.

He jumps on the motorcycle revving the engine once, looking up at you expectantly. You don’t hesitate. You kick your leg over the side and wrap your arms around his waist to secure yourself. Daryl's muscles tense as you do, but the motorcycle shoots off, the sound of the engine masking the moans and shuffles of the dead emerging from the trees behind you.

You drive for a few miles, far enough that you put your face into Daryl's back to block the onslaught of wind that comes up over the road.

As soon as Daryl hits the interstate he weaves through the broken cars, before finally parking in the median. The world sounds quieter without the roar of the motorcycle, you notice as the smooth silence of the night returns.

"Why did you come back for me?" You ask him, as you get off the seat before you can stop yourself.

Daryl lights a cigarette, not meeting your eye. "You helped me."

"After I shot you."

"You missed." He shrugs.

You snort. "I did." You look out over the desolate interstate where cars are haphazardly parked and empty luggage cases spew clothing onto cracked pavement. "So what now?"

Daryl blows out a lungful of smoke. "You could-" He stops.

"What?"

"Well." Daryl shifts his feet, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Daryl?" You try to catch his eye worried that he's going to tell you to go away, that he's going to say goodbye right here right now.

"My group is supposed to meet up here." He doesn't meet your eye. "If you want you could come with us, but you don't have to." In the moonlight you swear you see his ears turn pink.

"Well," You sigh looking around. "How else am I going to repay you for saving my life? Might as well stick around."

"We're even."

"No. I think saving someone from zombies trumps suturing a wound. Plus, somebody's got to make sure you don’t shoot yourself with your crossbow again."

Daryl frowns. "I didn't shoot myself with my crossbow."

"I think that you did and that you're too embarrassed to say anything. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

He continues to frown at you, but it only makes you smile wider.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

***********************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, be sure to read "Your Fault!"

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl x y/n #twd fanfics

263 notes · View notes

ruewrote · 1 year

Text

𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑠ℎ.

PAIRING: carl grimes x fem!reader WARNINGS: strong language GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: selfish by madison beer WORD COUNT: 556 PARTS: one two

navigation | inbox

ever since the group had gotten settled into alexandria you and carl had definitely drifted from each other. he’d deliberately go off with the other kids. even when you had tried to make plans with him, he blew them off.

once he had changed schedules for his supply runs, that’s when you really had stopped trying.

that didn’t stop you from still watching over him and his family, you often went over and helped rick with judith and he was incredibly appreciative and for sure had brought up that he noticed the drastic change to yours and his son’s friendship.

three months ago today you had finally found this wonderful place. you should be over the moon, filled with joy even. it never came.

you sat with your knees pressed to your chest, tears running down your cheeks - playing with the friendship bracelet that was still attached to your wrist which was a gift from him back when you guys were at the prison, it was now worn out but of course you kept it.

footsteps were heard walking toward you, so you quickly wiped your eyes and covered up the band. looking up and were met with the last person you wanted to see.

your eyes were back to being glued to the ground, sat in the same way as you were before as he sat beside you. a what was once comforting silence now awkward surrounding the two of you.

tears stung in your eyes as you glanced over at him, “i hate you.” your voice shook as the tears started to fall. his own filling with regret.

“i hate that you think you can just walk over here and act like everything’s perfectly fine between us when it’s clearly not!” carl sat and listened to what you had to say - what was well overdue.

“you’re selfish. y-you abandoned me when i needed you the most,” the lump in your throat only getting worse as you spoke.

his eyes locked onto your own, “i never left. i’ve been right here.”

his empty words made you scoff and roll your eyes, making it seem like he hadn’t made such an effort to be as far away from you as possible.

you stood up abruptly - looking down at him. “i can’t believe you, you will sit there and lie to me after you know you did literally everything to not see or be near me. god even your dad thought it was weird that we weren’t around each other.”

“so don’t you fucking dare try and tell me you were there for me when you clearly weren’t.” he only got angrier.

“you were too goddamn clingy y/n, you were never not latched to my side, you needed to grow the fuck up.”

the pain flooded throughout your body, his words dug deep into your heart. he tried to reach out and hold you and apologise, but it was too late. you pulled away from his touch, the words coming out of his mouth sounded distant and muffled. that’s all he thought of you? all that time?

your steps staggered backwards, carl walked closer to you still trying to explain himself, you started to walk away from him but not before you ripped the bracelet off your arm and threw it at him.

1K notes · View notes

the-dixon-effect · 8 months

Text

A/N: pic doesn't look like a chevy but we roll :| couldn't find any aesthetic pick-up trucks on pinterest 😔 thanks for the request my love, such a cute idea xx

requested by: @dixonsgirl93 -> masterlist

words: 509

The inky-black sky was scattered with twinkling constellations, a divine sight that so often went forgotten about these days. The sound of eagerly buzzing crickets from the surrounding forest was overpowered by the roaring engine. Perhaps if you weren't overcome with fatigue from the day you had, you would have noticed the truck vibrating beneath you and wince at every bump in the road. After the ambush at Woodbury starting in the early hours of the morning, you needed rest. And you couldn't wait much longer.

Daryl felt a little uneasy as he settled into his spot in the back of the Chevy pick-up. Maybe it was the rough day he'd had, maybe it was being in such close proximity to you. Needless to say, he felt every bump in the road and the vibration of the engine as he leaned against the cool steel wall. Then he felt the soft thump as your head rested on his shoulder, innocently asleep taking in hushed little breaths through your nose.

He turned his head sharply, on instinct at first, still a little on edge. Only to be met with the sight of you, so sweet and pretty, unconsciously snuggled up to him as the car headed for home. Daryl revelled in the moment, enjoying the idea that a part of you trusted (and liked) him enough to let yourself physically relax around him. He liked the closeness, the sense of comfort he could bring to you, the feeling of your head on his shoulder and hands so near each other, that they were practically intertwined. Right now, he was glad that he agreed not to take his bike, on the grounds of getting separated from the others. Immediately he tensed up, realising that any sudden movement could wake you from your slumber. God forbid you would awaken to him gazing down at you like some lovesick teenager. Luckily, the pick-up was at the back of the queue of cars so nobody had to watch him get flustered this way. He remained motionless. Completely still until the truck rolled into the gates of the prison, when Daryl started to wonder how to deal with the situation.

"Oh.. sorry," you hummed and rubbed your eyes as recognised those familiar metal fences, and realised that you had been sleeping on Daryl's shoulder for the whole ride home.

"Oh, nah, dun' worry 'bout it," he tried to muster the best smile he could, but it came out a little more like a grimace. You thought it was cute, though.

You chuckled, asking, "How long was the ride? I don't remember any of it," still half-asleep as Rick opened the tailgate allowing you both to hop off the truck. You figured he must've noticed judging by the mischievous look he was giving Daryl.

"'Bout an hour," he drawled, taking your hand to guide you down to the ground.

"Shit, sorry.. You should've woken me," you said with a laugh as you looked up at him, beginning to stroll up to the prison entrance.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

292 notes · View notes

suniloli · 2 months

Text

BOILING POINT p3

7 Feb 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8K (dayum)

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes, crude language, description of blood and violence, angst

Setting: Prison (between s3 and 4)

Summary: It’s the next day at the prison, and you’re feeling good. However, something is said which is way over the boundary of acceptable. Is this truly it?

Author Note: Final part! And obviously who wants to read a fic of two people fighting for like 72 years? I know most readers probably wouldn’t act this way. But too bad >:) I’m thinking this might be a bit out of character for Daryl…but it amuses me so why not? I hope the carrot joke makes sense. I also hope the 'pay off' isn't rushed. (This gif is funny) -Sol

Part 1 / Part 2

Surprisingly, the next morning you were much more chipper. The sun was shining brightly through your cell curtain, and you could hear the chatter and laughter of people in the prison. Today’s gonna be a good day you smiled to yourself.

You tried to forget yesterday. You guessed crying it all out and venting to Rick must’ve allowed your brain to finally come to the beginnings of peace, and to let go of this whole thing with Daryl. He didn’t want a relationship with you anymore. And, who cares if he wanted one anyway? It’s hurting you too much. It’s hurting you both.

You were done.

So, no matter what happened, today was going to be good. You could feel it.

Normally you hated doing stuff in the garden, but today it was quite therapeutic. Bound to have some mighty tan lines with the sun beating down on your singlet-bearing skin, you fixed up your gloves. Wiping a bead of sweat from your hairline, you adjusted your sunglasses and pushed yourself up from your crouched position. Sighing contentedly, you observed the hustle and bustle of the mid-morning prison activity.

There were plenty of people in the courtyard sitting together in groups talking and laughing, sharing in the day’s glow. You could see Carol and some other women conversing and preparing some stuff in the outdoor kitchenette. Across the other side of the grounds, Glenn was teaching a group of people some combat skills. Turning around, you looked up to the watchtowers and saw Maggie and Sasha. You reciprocated Sasha’s wave and Maggie’s smirk and turned around when you felt a presence behind you.

“Hey Beth!” you greeted with a pat on her shoulder.

“Hey Y/N. Bringin’ round some water to everyone.”

“Thanks,” you said, eagerly grabbing a glass and chugging it within a couple of seconds. Handing it back to Beth with a grin, you added, “What? It’s hot out.”

Giggling, she agreed and placed the tray on the ground. “I can already see the burn on your shoulders…don’t be turnin’ into a lobster now!”

Nudging her with your elbow, you feigned offence. “I tan beautifully, thank you very much.”

Your banter was interrupted by a group of people from Woodbury. A few hey’s and friendly exchanges were made, mainly between Beth and them. They were a bunch of younger teens, some of which you recognised. The one with glasses was Patrick, who you liked because he was fond of Carl. And another was Zach. He was the one giving Beth rather flirtatious glances. Cute.

You waited until they left before speaking. “You get along pretty well with that Zach guy…”

“Hmm?”

You smiled. “Zach. The guy who was giving you flirty eyes.”

“What?! No he wasn’t…” Beth looked down shyly.

“Uh, yeah he was. The dude was flirting with you big time. For the record, I think it’s cute.”

“Do you think so?” Beth asked. Oh, to be a teenager with a crush again.

“YES. FYI, we’re living in the apocalypse. So if I were you, I’d go for it. Time is truly of the essence these days…” you mused.

“I’ll make you a deal…if I make a move, you have to too.”

A huff of air escaped your nostrils. “With whom exactly?” You humoured. You realised what she was hinting at until it was too late.

“Daryl of course. And for your information,” Beth paused, a cheeky expression taking over her face. “I saw the two of you that one time…behind the stables…”

“Uhhh…”

“My window was open…” she said sheepishly. You didn’t say anything. “He likes you, I can tell — ”

“That was a mistake. What…happened…meant nothing.” You tried to divert.

“As you said, time is of the essence. You should talk to him.” You could see her deliberating something in her mind. The next second, she brought you in for a tight hug which caught you off guard. “I…heard yesterday…it ain't very nice what he said. I’m sorry…”

Slowly returning the embrace, you took a long breath. “Well, I’m over it.”

Looking up at you, she sighed and gave you the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. “Well," she began, in an attempt to lift the mood, "As long as you know that I love you Y/N, and I’ll never let you go!” She squeezed tighter around your waist.

“Get out of here!” You laughed, trying to push her off and away from you. “Go hand out some more drinks!” Beth released a hearty laugh as she picked up the tray and headed to the other workers.

You looked down at your half-full bucket of harvested veggies. You sighed deeply. You just couldn’t escape him.

Fuck.

It was much closer to lunchtime when you approached the main courtyard. It was as if the people could sense that it was going to be served soon. However, as you approached, the delicious smell emanating from the kitchen space would’ve had you all antsy too if you’d been around.

“Howdy ladies,” You drawled. “Stew smells ab-so-lutely divine. Delicious. Delectable.” Placing your yield in front of an amused Carol, you pinched a carrot and munched on it slightly obnoxiously. Receiving a look of feigned disgust from her, you were satisfied.

“You like the letter D I see” she quipped. You hadn’t noticed someone standing by your side when you pointed your carrot to her and tried to keep a straight face.

“I certainly do like the D. But the kind exactly like this carrot. Thick…real girthy…”

A beat of silence before Carol burst out laughing. Your laughter was getting difficult to hold. You could feel the air being held captive in your lungs as you attempted to hold your breath. Eyes still sparkling, she looked a little to your right, pointing with the utensil in her hand.

“Like his D, I’m sure…”

You turned to see none other than Daryl, who seemed to be waiting with a pained expression. Based on his odd-looking grimace, you awkwardly assumed he’d heard everything.

Carol…you bastard.

You looked back to Carol, whose mischievous smirk turned slightly perplexed at his demeanour. Unbeknownst to you, Carol was thinking about her and Daryl’s conversation yesterday, and how she’d seemingly gotten through to him. She thought that you two had talked and ‘made up’. Guess not…

“Real classy, ain’t ya?” he spoke under his breath.

You got it wrong. Today was not going to be a good day.

As Daryl nearly threw a cut of raw meat down on the bench for its use in the stew, you attempted to keep it nonchalant.

“Lighten up Daryl,” you smirked, pausing for a couple of seconds. He looked up at you. You couldn’t help but stir the pot. Just a little. If not for yourself, but for the reaction of your friend next to you, you told yourself. “It’s not like I’m missing out on anything,” you said sarcastically, giving Daryl’s body a once over. You were about to ignore him and continue with Carol until you heard his voice, more of a growl than an actual utterance.

“Don’t seem like ya missin’ out on any dick lately.”

You could sense a silence overtake the people in the kitchenette. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Daryl be that vulgar before. But, you were incensed at his insinuation. Did you hear what you thought you did?

“......What?”

Daryl went to stalk off, but you moved forward, gripped his forearm, and turned him back around harshly.

“WHAT?”

“Ya heard me.” He spat. You were completely baffled. You had no idea what he was talking about. You did what you could to try and remain calm.

“What. Are you fucking on about?” you said slowly. You attempted to clench your fists at your sides to subdue the growing feeling. Your heart rate was beginning to rise. This was not good. And you still hadn’t even finished your carrot.

Staring you up and down, he seemed to consider you. But just as the softness in his eyes was there, it quickly vanished, and in its place was something sad and bitter.

Daryl aggressively chewed his bottom lip. “How bout’ ya just go find some desperate dick to warm ya bed.”

“Daryl!” Carol chastised. You glanced at her, at a complete loss for words.

You were barely aware of the growing crowd of people who were wondering what the commotion was about. However, that was your last straw. You’d had it with him and his emotional back and forth. Daryl’s face was looking punchable as fuck.

Holding back tears, it was like something possessed you. “You FUCK —”

"Y/N!" Carol yelled. Before she could stop you, you landed a beautiful left hook to Daryl’s nose. Immediately a rivulet of red poured from his nostrils. Daryl was stunned, to say the least.

“Uugghh!” Holding his face, he removed his hands to look at them. Daryl immediately moved forward to push you. “What tha' hell Y/N?!”

Luckily for you, your adrenaline had given you ultra instincts. You didn’t even register the pain in your hand as you deflected his own. Out of pure anger, you managed to shove both of you to the ground.

Half straddling him, you managed to lay a few good punches into his face, before Daryl realised his strength. Kneeing you in the guts, momentarily winding you, he flipped you over, and mid-flip his right hook made contact with your left eye. You could feel your eyebrow split open and felt something warm gush down your face.

You could vaguely hear children screaming and yelling in the distance. You thought you could see a crowd of people running towards you, but you were too blinded by your hurt (and blood). The both of you got another few good hits in until it became what could only be described as a cartoonish scuffle on the ground. It would’ve been comical if not for the blood and damage you’d inflicted upon the other.

“Fuck you, Daryl!!” You screamed. “Ooof!” Daryl had managed to pin you to the ground, holding both of your arms in place. Wiggling and squirming, you used all of your might to attempt to get out of his grip.

Daryl, just as fuelled, looked down at you from above. Time seemed to stop. You looked pained. There was blood pooling over and into your whole left eye. He was sure he looked just as bad, if not, worse. But what made him pause was seeing tears escape and roll down the sides of your face as you cursed and screamed and writhed like a maniac. He barely registered the “fucking get off me!” you hurled at him.

Just as he was about to loosen his grip, two sets of hands pulled him roughly away, two other people doing the same to you.

“That’s ENOUGH!” Rick bellowed. Sasha and Maggie rushed to wave off the circle that had surrounded you.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Carol scolded, shocked. She tried to tend to you, but you pushed her away.

Trying to wipe your face of the blood there, you pointed your finger at him. “You’re such a prick!”

Daryl stayed silent with his signature steely expression, breathing heavily.

“I’m done with your shit! Whatever is fucking bothering you, you better talk, or…or you’re fucking dead to me…” He watched as a lone tear made its way down your cheek. It moved, tracing the underside of your jaw, before trickling off into the depths below.

One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds passed.

You sucked in a sharp breath. He thought he saw disappointment in your expression. Rick, Carol, and Glenn were glancing at each other exasperatedly. They dared not move in case you both started up again.

“Say something for god's sake.”

Daryl’s expression softened, however, his gaze was as piercing as ever. He wiped his nose and winced in pain as his fingers came back bloodied. He didn’t know where to start.

You scoffed. You began to walk back towards the prison.

“I remember tha’ night on tha' farm.” Daryl suddenly declared. Rick glanced over at Daryl with an understanding gaze, and subtly motioned with his head to Carol and Glenn to leave the two of you alone. You however stopped dead in your tracks, your back to him. “I think bout’ it all tha' time.”

You slowly turned to look at him. He was met with your inquisitive, yet fiery gaze.

“What’s your fucking problem then?”

Daryl saw so many pictures flash through his mind. He saw his childhood home burning to ashes, his mother inside. He saw his dad and that leather belt buckle shining in the light of the window. He was reminded of Merle, who left him all alone to bear it all on his own back, literally and figuratively. Suddenly, Merle morphed into his older form, and his insults echoed in his mind. Daryl replayed Merle dying and leaving him for good. He replayed you leaving him.

Daryl’s shoulders sagged a bit. The more he thought about the bad things in his life, the more he was reminded of the good in it. Daryl discovered that in his redemption, Merle had truly loved him. Right now at the prison, he had a found family who cared for him, and would probably die for him. He had you. He was so lucky to have you. He never dared entertain the thought, but you’d probably die for him too. He’s the one who pushed it all away. Daryl didn’t want you to hurt him, and leave him like everyone else did.

So, to answer your question: he was the problem.

After a couple of seconds of contemplation, Daryl spoke quietly, but resolutely.

“Me. Ma’ problem is me.”

“What does that even mean, Daryl? Because I’ve been trying to fix things this whole time, and you keep pushing me away!”

Daryl raised his voice. “We ain't’ ever gon’ be good anyway!”

You observed him for a long moment. You’d had deep conversations with him before. You knew of his past and he knew of yours. You knew he had it rough before the end of the world. But Daryl was a fighter. He kept on, even in hard times. Deep down, he was a shy, compassionate, and in your opinion, mistakenly self-conscious man, the latter of which you attributed to his upbringing. Knowing that you’d gotten so close, just for him to reject everything the two of you went through together made you even more frustrated.

“So you think everything we’ve been through was for nothing then? The way that we were means nothing to you?” With slightly less fire, you added, “The things we’ve done and what you’ve said to me…you never meant any of it?”

You could see Daryl struggling to bare himself completely. But when he looked up and into your pleading eyes, you saw the last of his defences crumble away. His next words were almost whispered in the wind.

“I meant it. And I still mean it.”

“Then why have you been so unfair?”

“‘Cause ya just gon’ end up leavin’ me!” He admitted. Daryl abruptly moved so he was in front of you. In your periphery, you saw him raise his hand, but he moved it back down to his side again, seemingly thinking against whatever he was going to do.

It was all so real now. Daryl pushed through his combativeness. This time, he did reach a hand up to your face, and ever so tenderly wiped the blood out of your eye from under your brow. You held back a flinch. Daryl caught it. However, he spoke his words so gently you would have never guessed that the two of you were involved in something so violent mere minutes before.

Looking at the damage he’d caused, he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. It only spurred on his thoughts of the previous night. “I won’ ever deserve ya’ anyways with how I’ve treated ya’. You’ll be better off with Rick or some other guy —”

You shook your head in disagreement.

“How could you have ever thought that I wanted to be around someone else? Has it not been clear this whole time how much I...like you?”

Daryl began biting his lip anxiously. It was clear to him, but deep down he refused to believe the extent to which you did.

“I appreciate you so much, Daryl! That’s why this whole thing’s been killing me! To have someone hurt me so much when things were so good…” He felt your head slowly shake against his hand. You inhaled deeply. “I’ve never hit anyone like that before. You just...you made me so fucking angry!” You abruptly grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand away from your face, taking a step back. He saw a hurt flash in your eyes again. “How dare you just insinuate that I’m what? A slut? That I’m sleeping around?” You were pacing now. “What business is it of yours anyway?” You sassed. “You’ve been so dismissive and rude that you shouldn’t even —”

“Goddamnit woman!” Daryl exclaimed. Surprisingly, he managed to stop you in your tracks, your mouth shutting with a clink of your teeth. “I’m scared alrigh’! I’m scared that I’m gon’ mess you up! That I’ll never be good enough fer ya’...I’m…I’m scared that somehow, somethin’s gon’ happen to ya’, or somehow, ya’ gon’ be taken from ma’ life like everyone else...”

For once, you were the one with nothing to say.

All Daryl wanted to do at that moment was give in to his desire for closeness. His desire for your touch once again. But he was still in the grips of insecurity. “And cause’ I’ve been such an asshole, ya’ve moved on and I don’ blame ya’. A-And seeing ya’ with other people…I ain't ever gonna be worth your time…”

“Are you seriously telling me that you’re not good enough for me? Daryl, if anything…never in my wildest dreams could I have conjured up a man as good as you in my own life.”

Etched into his face was still disbelief in your words. How many times did you need to tell him?

“No matter how much you infuriate me and piss me off,” you started, “No matter how things are between us, I’m never going to leave you. Ever.”

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat as he listened. He struggled to process the weight of your words.

“Nah, nah...I don’ think ya’ —”

“I'm fuckin' in love with you Daryl!” You yelled. “Is that blatant enough? Do you get it now?”

All he could do was look at you. Even all bruised and bloodied, even with your dishevelled hair and stressed demeanour, you were the most beautiful thing to him at that moment. Your eyes began to well up with tears. Your voice broke when you spoke next.

“So just please tell me if you want this to end, because I can’t do this back and forth anymore —”

Daryl purposefully strode over to you, and cut you off by grabbing your face, giving your lips a very chaste kiss. It took a couple of seconds for you to realise what was happening. When you did, your body moved into his, and you placed your hands on his sides, slowly snaking them around his back.

This kiss became more intense. More desperate. So much more emotion and feeling was expressed in this melding of your mouths. You both had been away from each other for so long, that once you touched again, it was like you became addicted.

“Mmmm…” you moaned against his lips.

Before it could get too hot and heavy, Daryl breathlessly pulled away. Still cupping your face, he looked directly into your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I didn’t sort ma’ shit out. That I caused ya’ so much pain.”

“I’m sorry too…”

“Nah…it’s ma’ fault. And ya’ still stuck around. This whole time...ya stuck around...”

You both caught your breath, staring into each other’s eyes. You missed looking into those circles of blue. You missed this feeling.

“I love ya’ Y/N. I always will.”

You ducked your head and placed a delicate kiss on his lips. He chased yours until both of your mouths were granting the other entry. This time, the kiss wasn’t as rough, but it was just as intense, if not even more passionate. All you could hear were the wet sounds of your tongues tasting each other. Your hand moved from his back to his shoulders, feeling the rippling muscle there.

One of Daryl’s hands moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss still. His other made its way across your shoulder to your waist, which he gave a loving squeeze. It was like now that you’d come together again, you just couldn’t stop.

Your little bubble of heated desire was interrupted by the sounds of…squealing?

Roughly breaking apart from each other, you looked to Daryl who seemingly thought the same thing you did. Still gripping onto each other's bodies, you both turned your heads towards the commotion and immediately flushed with embarrassment.

Your main family stood not too far away, hollering like idiots. There were a bunch of kids screaming, but excitedly. You were certain that you’d scared them with your brawl earlier. Now they seemed joyous. Most of the people from Woodbury just stood around and stared in shock.

You looked down shyly and softly pushed Daryl’s body away from yours. “Asshole…” He was back to chewing his thumbnail. Some of the two things you both had in common was your stubbornness and your hate of being the centre of attention. Especially like this.

“Finally…ain’t that a sight for sore eyes…” Rick mused.

Carol was still a bit dazed at her two best friends beating each other up. “Leave it to them to sort it out with their fists…”

“They did more than sort it out! ” Beth laughed.

Daryl removed his thumb from his mouth. “You might wanna get ya’ eye checked out...” he grunted, nodding to the bruising around it.

“You might want to get your nose set back into place.” You retorted.

For the first time in a long time, you heard one of your favourite sounds. A deep rumble escaped from Daryl’s chest. His laughter was the most beautiful music to your ears.

You beamed at him, unable to hide your admiration.

Today may have been shitty. You may have been bruised, battered and sore. Daryl equally so. But this moment right now wasn’t just good.

It was brilliant.

#daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #daryl twd #twd #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fanfics #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead x y/n

115 notes · View notes