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deansapplepie · 2 days

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B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐚 (18+) ‧₊˚ ✧

Summary: Daryl needed some love and you gladly gave it to him. Warnings: TWD violence, gore, blood, character deaths, explicit language, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected p in v, simple aftercare). Not proofread. Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f! reader smut + fluff. Setting: Quarry. A/N: I read a post some time ago that said that Daryl in season 1 just needed some kisses to calm down and I couldn't agree more so I wrote this. It's also my first time trying to write smut, so I am so sorry if this sucks, and I was so hesitant to post it so please be nice lol. 😞

“Ha-ha, funny girl,” T-Dog deadpanned, rolling his eyes and suppressing a genuine laugh. It was the third bad joke you told in a row, and he was starting to find them funny.

“I really am,” you replied breathlessly, finally able to catch your breath after cackling at your joke.

“Okay, Eddie Murphy,” T-Dog, added jokingly, making you giggle as he placed a bunch of firewood you'd been helping him split for the past 40 minutes. “Let's head back.”

“I just thought of another one!” You exclaimed as you walked next to him. His groan of annoyance made you laugh before you even told the joke. “What do you call a fish with no eyes?”

“I. Don't. Know.”

“A fsh,” you replied after a dramatic pause, hardly able to contain your laugh as he gave you a side-eye, pressing his lips together to hold a smile back. “Please, I-” you started, but interrupted yourself as a commotion reached your ears from the camp. You recognized Daryl's voice.

Sharing a confused look with T, you both picked up the pace, coming into view with what seemed like a heated discussion between Daryl, Shane, and Rick, the man who joined the camp yesterday. You felt a little annoyed that they ignored T-Dog's request to let him tell Daryl, but oh well.

“Rick Grimes,” he introduced himself to Daryl.

“Rick Grimes,” Daryl mocked him, “y' got somethin' you wanna tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof hooked into a piece of metal,” Rick stated, apparently with confidence. “He's still there.”

You stayed in place, watching as T-Dog slowly took a few steps closer to the scene.

Daryl hummed as he turned around, pacing shortly before he spoke, “Le' me process this,” said he while turning to face Rick again, clearly growing irritated. “Ya' sayin' you handcuffed ma brother to a roof, and you left 'im there!” His veins popped as his voice got raspier as he yelled at the other man.

Rick gulped before admitting. “Yeah.”

Suddenly, Daryl tossed the squirrels he was carrying toward Rick, the latter swiftly dodging them before Shane jumped into action, tackling Daryl to the ground. Next, he pulled a knife from its holster, swinging it at the former cops, but being stopped in a matter of seconds.

In the blink of an eye, Shane put Daryl in a chokehold, while Rick snatched the weapon out of his hand. “Ya best let me go!” warned Daryl, struggling in Shane's grip as the cop brought him to the ground. You walked closer toward Carol as your eyes remained on the scene, but decided to walk to the other side as you noticed Ed was next to her.

“I think it's better if we don't,” Shane replied, almost mockingly.

“Chockehold's illegal,” Daryl added, face red from the struggle.

“'Kay, file a complaint,” If this situation was not so tense, you would've laughed. You did a little on the inside. Rick kneeled in front of the restrained man as Shane spoke again. “C'mon, man, can keep this up all day.”

“I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. You think we can manage that?” Rick spoke, trying to find Daryl's eyes. “You think we can manage that?” the cop repeated when no answer was obtained.

Panting and growling, Daryl grunted in agreement, finally getting Shane to release him; more aggressively than he should, if they asked you. Sitting up quickly, Daryl pointed at Shane warningly. Rick continued: “What I did was not on a whim,” he explained. “Your brother does not work and play well with others.”

“It's not Rick's fault,” T-Dog spoke up, his leg bouncing anxiously as he confessed. “I had the key. I dropped it.”

“Couldn't pick it up?” Daryl retorted. His voice was calmer, but you recognized in his stormy eyes a hint of grief. Nobody else cared about his brother when his brother was everything he had. You couldn't imagine how terrible this situation was for him.

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.”

Dropping his head, Daryl slowly got up, gathering his composure again. Anger returned to his expression as he walked past T-dog, “'f it's s'posed ta make me feel better, it don't,” glaring daggers at the 'culprit.'

“Maybe this will,” T went on to say, “I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him... with the padlock”

“It's gotta count for something,” Rick piped in.

Drying a tear as soon as it came, Daryl took a deep breath. “Hell with all y'all!” he screamed. “Jus' tell me where he is, so's I can go get 'im.”

“He'll show you,” Lori stated, staring into her husband's eyes. “Ain't that right?” Rick's eyes left his wife's after a few seconds, finding T-Dog's shortly before nodding.

“I'm going back,” he declared, almost solemnly, hands on his hips as his eyes met Daryl's again. The younger Dixon clenched his jaw before walking past everyone to get his crossbow and stomping to his tent.

You didn't notice you went behind him until Dale stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “What are you doing, honey?” the older man questioned. He'd always been kind and sweet to you, so you gently released yourself from his grip.

“He's upset,” you explained, and he seemed to understand as he nodded reluctantly, but understandingly. On your way, you grabbed your half-full water bottle, and slowly approached the edge of the camp, where the tent of the Dixon's was.

You found Daryl sitting on the chair outside his tent, shoulders hunched forward, fists clenched with anger as if grasping the last shreds of control. His head bowed low and his eyes were shut tight. You caught the way his body shook softly with quiet sobs. You stilled, not daring to interrupt this stolen vulnerable moment.

After another minute, he abruptly stood up, drying his tears before cursing loudly while kicking the chair he was sitting in. You were suddenly hesitant to approach him and decided to turn around and leave, but before you took one step, his voice reached your ears.

“Whaddaya doin' here?”

You took a deep breath before turning back around and walking up to him, your water bottle hanging from your hand. “I- uhm, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Merle, and-”

“Ya don' even like 'im,” he snapped defensively.

“No, I don't,” you confirmed, “but I like you, and he's your brother. Even if my brother would annoy the shit out of me before, I loved him, and... I'm sorry you're going through this, Daryl,” you took a few steps closer, eyes on the ground as you spoke before meeting his.

His gaze remained on yours, before studying your face, finding nothing but the truth.

He frowned deeper, angrily huffing out a breath before turning away from you to rant. “He's jus' so fuckin' stupid. Nobody can fuckin' stand him an' he can't keep 'is fuckin' mouth shut!” he yelled, pacing from left to right, hands dancing through the air practically independently, punctuating his words.

“Why he gotta be such a fuckin' pain in the ass? Not even when we gotta surv-” mid-sentence, your hands found his cheeks, and with utter sweetness your lips impulsively found his, silencing his words.

He stilled, hands slowly dropping to his sides, body completely tense.

You quickly pulled away, opening your eyes to find his eyes slightly wide and totally confused. Your hands left his face and you took a step back. Your eyes awkwardly looking anywhere but at him. “Fuck, Daryl, I'm so sorry,” you started, a knot of anxiety growing in your chest. “I don't know why I did that... well, I know why, 'cause I like you, but I shouldn't have, I'm- I'm so sorry, really.”

Your rambling was interrupted by his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to connect his lips with yours. This time he was more relaxed, and the kiss was slower. His hands slid down to gently grab your hips, pressing his body to yours.

Your arms snaked around his neck, dropping your water bottle, and allowing your lips to part when his tongue requested entrance. Exploring the taste of each other, time stilled for a moment, but you loved it. The kiss grew almost desperate and the grip on your hips got stronger.

Unhappy to pull away, but needing to do so to breathe, you found yourself gasping as his lips left yours. You smiled brightly, cheeks rosy, and he smirked while dipping his head. “Also, I brought you water,” you added, grabbing the bottle from the ground, and dusting off the little dirt that stuck to its side before handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he nodded, taking it from your hands before opening it, downing the liquid, and emptying the bottle.

“You're gonna find him,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder and a quick kiss on his cheek. He smiled and nodded once again, muttering a thank you. You sounded pretty confident as if you knew, which gave him the confidence when he left on the search for his brother later that day.

Everybody screamed as they tried to avoid or fight the walkers emerging from the thick forest. The evening that started so peacefully suddenly turned into the perfect scene of a terrifying horror movie.

Things moved fast and slow at the same time. It was a blur. Tunnel vision, solely focused on surviving and protecting your group, moving on automatic pilot as you dug your machete countless times into the head of those flesh-hungry monsters.

You didn't even notice when it ended, barely feeling a pair of strong hands gripping your shoulders. His voice sounded distant asking if you were okay over and over. But you couldn't answer, you weren't sure if you were okay, the adrenaline didn't let you feel your body.

His loud voice calling your name finally snapped you out of your trance. “What?” You asked, brows knitting in confusion.

“Were ya bitten? Are ya alright?” Daryl questioned, nealy manhandling you as he searched and scanned for bites or scratches on your neck, lifting the sleeves of your flannel to make sure the skin of your arms was intanct.

“I didn't get bit or anything,” you shook your head, still a bit gone.

Cupping your face to study your eyes, he quickly pulled you into his arms, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt finally safe now. You wrapped your arms around his torso, closing your eyes and hiding your face in his neck.

After everyone agreed to get some rest and leave the cleaning for the morning, Daryl offered to stay in your tent with you that night.

He helped you into your pajamas, and you cuddled for a bit as he told you what happened in Atlanta. Then you simply lay in silence. You played with his fingers and he watched you adoringly, rubbing soothing circles on your back with his free hand.

You looked up to find his eyes on yours. Gently he cupped your chin, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hand went up to cup half of his face, returning the kiss with equal passion. It was almost needy but slow. It was like he needed the confirmation that you were both here and okay.

Tongues met in a slow dance, and his hands reached down to cup your ass, easily moving you to lay on top of him. You couldn't help but moan as your body completely pressed against his, but it also made you want to feel more.

His hands slid under your shirt, and you broke the kiss in need of oxygen, immediately latching your lips onto his neck, sucking and kissing. He hummed in satisfaction, which was all the confirmation you needed to keep going, but he stopped after a few moments, pulling his hands out of your shirt, and cupping your face again for you to look at him.

“You sure 'bout this?” he asked, his face stern as he waited for your answer.

You nodded hastily, licking your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

“'M sure,” he said without hesitation, pulling you onto his lap so you could straddle him. “Need ta feel ya,” he whispered in a husky voice, sending a shiver down your spine as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

His hands caressed the dip of your waist up and down under your shirt as you made out. You buckled your hips up unintentionally but did it again on purpose when you heard him moan into your mouth.

You were straight-up grinding into his hips before he pulled away from your mouth, “not yet, doll,” he whispered as he took your shirt off. His hands went to your breasts like magnets, kneading and massaging the curves shamelessly as he peppered your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses that trailed down to pop a tit inside his mouth.

Your clothed cunt clenched on air, as you closed your eyes and moaned, enjoying the attention, and you could feel his excitement tenting in his pants as well.

He slowly shifted the position, you back now on the mattress. After he decided both tits had been given enough attention, albeit still reluctant, his mouth trailed lower and lower, hands smoothly pulling your shorts and panties at the same time as his tongue and mouth kissed and licked the skin of your stomach.

His eyes met yours as he kissed your thighs, silently asking for permission to go further. “Please,” you whispered, surprising yourself by how needy you sounded, but then again, you did feel like you needed him right now.

He wasted no time, and in less than a second his mouth was latched to your clit. Tongue swirling on it and sucking, making you gasp. He used his whole face, pushing himself deeper and moving side to side as his tongue flicked over your sensitive pearl quickly. Hungrily. You arched your back involuntarily, fingers finding his hair to pull while simultaneously pulling him closer.

With a hand on your hip, he sucked a few more times before he licked a strip down to your entrance where his tongue began to fuck you. His thumb replaced his mouth on your clit, rubbing at the same speed as his tongue went in and out of you. You moaned and whimpered and cursed, trying to keep quiet, being apparently unsuccessful.

“Quiet, sunshine,” he whispered, his free hand reaching up to make you suck on two fingers to silence you, and you happily obliged. Your legs wrapped around his head as he continued his ministrations, the familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“Fuck, Daryl, I- wait,” your back arched further, legs pulling him closer, contradicting your plead as he moved faster and faster, changing again to suck on your clit and fuck you with his fingers. He hummed and the vibrations brought you closer. “So close.”

Your pitch was higher and higher, the knot tighter and tighter. All it took was a final, flick and suck of his tongue, feeling him moan against your cunt before pushing you over the edge into a shattering climax. The free hand covered your mouth as the other slowed down, prolonging your pleasure until your body relaxed and you came down from your high.

“Fuck,” you looked at him with hazy eyes.

“Fuck,” he said as a confirmation, looking down to see a damp spot on his sweatpants.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. He gladly kissed you back as you slid your hands under his shirt, trying to pull it up, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist.

“I-” he started, looking away from your eyes and knawing on his bottom lip. “I have- I....”

“You don't have to take it off, it's okay.”

“No, I wan' ta, jus'” he sighed, slowly taking the shirt off. He was thankful his back was away from you. At least you wouldn't have to see those yet. “My dad... was a drunk,” he reached to touch, kind of trying to hide, one of the scars on his shoulders, but you gently pushed his hand away, tracing the scar with your fingertips before looking up at him. You smiled and kissed him shortly, before kissing the scars on his shoulders.

“You're so strong,” you whispered.

His heart was beating fast but in a good way. His lips found yours again as he settled himself between your legs. Your now-familiar mouths found a rhythm as he started to pull his sweatpants and boxers down.

His erection hit your thighs making you pull away. You bit your bottom lip at the sight; he was thick, and the size was a bit on the bigger side. “All for you, baby,” he whispered, as he pumped himself a couple of times.

He rubbed the tip on your clit and entrance, spreading your and his juices all over your cunt again. “Ya ready?” he asked, slapping your cunt with his dick gently. You nodded. “Nah, need ya to speak up.”

“Please, Dar, I'm ready. I need you.”

He hummed in satisfaction, leaning to prop himself up with his forearms around your head, kissing your cheek, before slowly pushing into you. You moaned and he groaned. You were wet and ready enough, so the stretch felt like pure bliss for both of you.

He grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head, starting to move when you wrapped your legs around his hips. “Feel so good, doll.”

He started slow, savoring the moment but also nervous to hurt you. But soon, he picked up a rhythm and started moving faster. Your boobs bounced beneath him as he kissed and worshipped your neck and breasts. You felt so deliciously full as he thrust up into your tight, dripping heat, moaning and whimpering underneath him.

He was in heaven, eyes inevitably closed as he made love to you, but he wanted to keep them open to look at you. To him, you looked like a work of art just like that.

“Harder,” you breathed, and he obliged. Your skin met over and over and the sounds filled your tent. He grunted, reaching down to rub on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. “Oh, right there,” your voice was getting higher, letting him know you were close. “Don't stop, fuck, please, don't stop.”

“I won', baby. I gotcha,” he moaned. His thrusts became more and more urgent, each one hitting that sweet spot that made your body arch and your toes curl. If your hands weren't inside his gasp you'd be grasping the sheet beneath you. With one last flick of your clit, you shattered.

His mouth claimed yours to silence your cries of pleasure. Pure ecstasy filled your body, and prolonging your high, Daryl continued moving inside you, until he, too, reached his peak, quickly pulling out and releasing himself on your stomach.

Spent and breathless, he collapsed next to you, who was in the same state as him. Your body tingled with the remnants of your passion, and you couldn't help the smile on your face as he kissed your face lazily.

Your eyelids were too heavy to notice when he pulled a little rag from somewhere and cleaned you up, then you felt him put your clothes on again, and his too. All too relaxed, you nestled into his embrace as he pulled you into his arms, both falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

#fanfiction recommendation #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader

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deansapplepie · 3 days

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This was beautiful 🩷 sad, but beautiful.

I really resonated with Daryl x abused reader could you maybe do one where the reader doesn’t let their past define them and shows little signs of abuse like they’re super cheery and happy and doesn’t let their past get them down and but maybe reader has a ptsd attack by Daryl after he confronts her about being so happy especially in an apocalypse and they just realize they relate to each other even if they’re personalities are so drastically and Daryl just comforts reader 🫂

The Painted Bunting

Era: Greene Farm

Summary: Daryl is paired with you on the search for Sophia and snaps at you after growing tiresome of your seemingly endless kindness.

Note: No more laptop for now since the cord broke so I hope you’ll all forgive the lack of my usual post formatting :(

Warnings: profanity, mentions of past abuse, grumpy sassy asshole Daryl (the man we originally fell in love with)

Banner credits on this post

Shining hair in the rays of the sun, an infectious laugh, a beaming grin that never seemed to dissipate. A glowing beacon in the dark. That was what you were. And, admittedly, it got under his skin a little, so Daryl tended to avoid you. You weren’t oblivious to it, but you accepted it for what it was. After all, you couldn’t win them all, right?

You had always been that way; soft, gentle, graceful, kind. If you had never let the past change that for you, you certainly wouldn’t let present day events change it, either. Maybe the world had become a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you had to be one too.

Daryl thought that what really gritted his teeth about you was that through everything that had happened, you never changed a single bit. Not like the others had; not like he had.

After the world fell, after the camp by the quarry was overrun, after the CDC, after Sophia had gone missing, you remained exactly the same. For all of the afore mentioned, Daryl found you to be one of the most vexing people he ever had the displeasure of interacting with, second only to Shane, who could have easily been traded off for his own brother, Merle.

Needless to say, he was peeved at the idea that you were sent on search duty with him after he hurt himself in the ravine. Rick decided a buddy system would be beneficial to all of the search party participants, and you volunteered to tag along, because of course you did.

You weren’t so much looking forward to spending so much one on one time with the man, yourself. You didn’t necessarily have an issue with him, but you were all too aware of the issue he seemed to have with you. Really, you couldn’t relate to him at all. Not everyone around camp was perky and sweet, and rightfully so, but Daryl was such a brooding presence and you just couldn’t put yourself in that frame of mind.

The two of you had set out just after dawn and the hours ticked by as you made friendly conversation and Daryl occasionally offered you a measly grunt in response.

“Do you think we’ll find anyone out here?” You asked. “I mean, aside from Sophia. I know we’ll find her.”

“Pro’ly better if we don’t find nobody else.” Was his first verbal response all day. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Could be good. I’m sure there are people who could really use some help.”

“Ain’t our problem.” He argued. “Gotta look out for our own. The hell you worried about helpin’ strangers for when we ain’t even found the little girl we’re after?”

“Oh, no.” You chuckled nervously. “It’s not that I was just —“ You cut yourself off, sensing an oncoming ramble. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Mm.” He hummed, pausing his footsteps to take a breath and scan his surroundings. After a moment, he continued forward, and you followed without question . Admittedly, you had no clue how to track, so if anything you were there in case he got hurt.

“So, if someone needed your help… You wouldn’t help?” You asked innocently.

He whipped around to face you, the aggression behind his motion drawing you to a dead stop.

“The hell’s your problem, huh?” He snapped. You blinked. “It’s the end of the goddamn world and you’re askin’ me about some hypothetical moral dilemma? Let me tell you somethin’, girl; ain’t no damn morals in the apocalypse. Ain’t no more law and order! It’s just us,” he paused, sending an arrow through the skull of a walker that had crept up behind you. You flinched and turned to watch its carcass thud on the forest floor. “And them.” He concluded.

“I—I was just making conversation.” You mumbled timidly.

“Why? It’s not a social call! We’re out here to find that little girl. This is why I didn’t need no damn babysitter.” He complained.

“I was just trying to be nice.” You defended.

“Nice?” He scoffed. That simple word seemed to trigger something in him as his eyes lit up with aggravation. “Don’t you get it? It ain’t about bein’ nice anymore. It’s about survival. Got dead people standin’ up and eatin’ people and you’re worried about bein’ nice. Walkin’ around passin’ out water and food and gigglin’ with everybody like we ain’t got a bunch o’ dead bodies stumblin’ around us just waitin’ to take a bite out.”

Maybe it was the way he raised his voice, or the way his eyes shot flaming daggers of fury right through your chest, or the way he threw his arms down and spat words at you like you were some puny, wretched little thing. You didn’t know what it was, but somewhere in the whirlwind of heated exchange, his voice slowly blended together with the other voice — the one that still lived in the back of your mind and ate away at you every day.

The voice that belonged to your own father, the one person who struck true, genuine fear in you. Before you knew it, that old sensation of real terror, the one you’d buried somewhere deep inside you and covered with cement, was breaking free and engulfing you.

You were frozen, like a fawn under the scrutinizing gaze of a predator. The humid air felt like a thick paste as you struggled to gulp it down and catch a breath. At first, Daryl felt inclined to criticize your tears as a show of weakness, fragility, inability to handle a little raise of the voice. He quickly noticed, however, that this was no simple burst of reactionary emotions. No, this was something much deeper and it was rattling you to the core. There was a distant look in your wide eyes, one that he came to recognize, even if it took him a minute.

He shifted on his feet, scanning you, unsure how to intervene.

“Hey.” He eventually called out, but it was clear his voice wasn’t reaching you. This was the final piece of confirmation he needed. You were having an episode, the kind he experienced a few times when he first got out of his father’s abusive home.

He sighed and grabbed your trembling shoulders. You jumped but you didn’t flee or strike out. His touch seemed to dry you out and shrivel you up like a raisin. You shrank into yourself, hyperventilating.

“C’mon.” He said softly, ushering you done to your knees. “Hey. Ya gotta breathe.”

Your breathe only became more shallow and forced. Tears poured down your cheeks as your chest got tighter.

“Just breathe. That’s the only way it’s gonna stop.” He urged. He went to grab your wrists but you panicked, snatching your arms away and falling down on your back.

“No! Get away! You can’t do this anymore! I’m not a little kid!” You cried out.

You were making quite a bit of noise by this point, between the gasps for air and the sobs. He crouched over you and grabbed your shoulders.

“(Y/N), ya ain’t there anymore. Wherever it is, it’s gone. In the past. It’s just you and me right now, and we ain’t there. We’re here.” He soothed, hoping his voice could find you somewhere in the abyss. “Just listen. Ya hear that? It’s a Painted Bunting. Look,” he pointed up into a tree at a bright multicolored bird, similar in its beauty to a parrot, only much smaller. “It’s right up there. Ya see it?”

Your breathing had started to slow down now, those shallow inhales finally reaching a little deeper within. Your eyes lazily followed his finger to the bright little bird singing a flute-like melody.

“Ya see it?” He asked again. You managed to nod once, still holding your arms tightly to your chest as you laid flat on the bed of leaves and twigs. He took a moment to see you, to really take you in, and he realized you were beautiful. Not just in the way a pretty girl with a nice personality was beautiful, but in a way that left so much of who you really were unsaid.

“Just watch it.” He whispered, glancing back up at the feathered creature, hoping it would stick around long enough to bring you back down to earth. “They take two years to look that pretty. Did ya know that?” He asked, glancing back down at you. Your eyes were still on the bird, but you shook your head no. “Yeah. Only the males, too.” He added. “Otherwise, they’re just kinda greenish and yellowish.”

Once your chest was rising and falling with a steady rhythm, you finally looked over at him. Humiliation began to set in. You quickly sat yourself up and brushed the dead foliage away from your clothes and hair.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“‘S okay.” He shrugged, standing himself back up as well. “Happens.”

“Yeah, we’ll, it shouldn’t. Not nowadays.”

“Can’t help it when it does.” He assured you. “I get it.”

“Maybe I should head back.” You suggested.

“We both can. If ya wanna. It’ll be dark soon anyways.”

“I don’t wanna make you lose your trail or.. Ya know.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“Nah. Ain’t no use after dark, anyways. We’d just be stumbling in circles and bumpin’ into each other.” He insisted, contrastingly soft in comparison to before your episode.

“Oh. Right.” You nodded. Just as you got ready to turn back toward the farm, he cleared his throat.

“Ya wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” You turned back to him. He shifted his weight anxiously, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Offering an ear to listen was at least ten yards outside the perimeter of his comfort zone. “About that?” You asked. “That was nothing. Just something stupid that happens sometimes. That’s all.”

While his tone was much kinder and warmer than before, yours was cold, dull, and tired. Those episodes could take a lot out of a person, and he was no stranger to that fact.

“Sometimes it helps.” He said. “Talkin’ about it. Makes it a little less…” He trailed off, searching for the word he wanted. “Less, uh… Consuming.”

“It never gets less consuming.” You argued.

“It does.” He insisted.

“And how would you know?” You asked, impatience lacing your words.

“I used to get ‘em too.” He admitted. “Been awhile but… I just get it. That’s all.”

You studied him. In all the weeks you’d spent around the man, you’d never seen him so genuine, or really so open. He never seemed to look at you like another person. You were always just another load on his shoulders.

“My dad.” You finally spoke. He nodded.

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry.” You sympathized.

“Me too.” He agreed.

“We should go.” You sighed, turning away again.

This time you didn’t wait for him, you just started walking, until he called out behind you; “‘M sorry.” You stood still, but you didn’t look back. He knew he had your attention, though, and he knew he had to say something else. “I know I did it this time. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at ya like that.”

“It’s okay. Maybe you were right.”

“Nah.” He shook his head, taking slow steps to catch up to you. “I wasn’t. It’s good. Ya didn’t let none of that shit make ya bitter. Keep it that way. Else you’ll end up a grumpy redneck.” He joked. You suppressed the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Maybe the grumpy rednecks of the world got it figured out.” You said, walking again once you felt him catch up.

“Nah. I don’t know shit about shit.” He admitted, eliciting a small laugh from you. You shook your head.

“I don’t think anyone does.” You reasoned.

On the hike back to the Greene farm, you two shared some light banter, some stories of the past, some laughs and extended looks. He grew finder of you that day. The critical glares he’d send you from a distance were replaced with admiration and respectful nods. You’d often catch him looking and flash him a big smile, waving at him before you attention was drawn elsewhere.

You both learned that maybe the two of you were differently colored fruit, but you grew from the same tree, and you weren’t so different after all. And, that sentiment was never lost or forgotten. It carried with you for as long as you two knew each other.

Taglist || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

#fanfic recommendation #daryl x reader #daryl dixon

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