#daryl dixon
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Blood Ties Chapter 28
Series Masterlist
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.
A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.
Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.
“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.
“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair.
“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”
You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”
Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting.
“Daryl?”
He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”
You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain.
Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip.
Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas.
“Y’okay?”
Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started.
“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”
“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again.
Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”
“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”
You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone.
“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.
“M’right here. Y’okay?”
You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?”
Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture.
“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything?
“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened. “Y’alright?”
“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.
“Get some sleep.”
With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs.
“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.
It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.
“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"
“She’s sleepin’.”
You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”
“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.”
She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.
You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”
“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!”
You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed.
Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.
Oh shit.
“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him.
Yet.
“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”
“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.
“S’wrong?”
You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”
“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”
“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology.
“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”
“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.
Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”
“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees.
“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”
“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants.
“It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”
“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”
Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”
Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget.
“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You’d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around.
“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that.
Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief.
“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”
“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.
“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”
“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?
Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.
“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”
You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”
“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away.
You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.
“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?”
“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.
“Daryl?”
“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit.
“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.
“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”
“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours.
The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.
“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.
“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.
“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?
“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.
Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”
“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.
“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”
He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”
“Babies cry. How—what—”
“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.
“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”
“You’re not—”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.
“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out.
Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.
“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.
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chapter summary: daryl dixon was everything you despised in a man: rude, unkempt, derisive, scornful and unarticulated. yet, daryl dixon was also everything you craved in a man: mysterious, rugged, self-sufficient, masculine, aloof, and much older than yourself. it was the worst sort of enigma to place yourself in, especially during the throes of a damn apocalypse – and yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail to try and get closer to the man who hadn’t even bothered to tell you his name himself.
word count: 3.6k
c/w: language, suggestive themes/thoughts, a bit dialogue heavy, younger!fem!reader, first meetings, older/younger, undisclosed age-gap, subtle bickering, instant attraction, brief allusions to death/loss, super minor angst (maybe?), pre-season one at the quarry camp
prologue: start of doomsday
being raised by a brother ten years your senior gave you ample time and experience to grow accustomed to being dubbed with various nicknames.
goob, goober, snot, shrimp, brat, princess – you’d heard all of those and many, many more. you had long since learned to let them bounce off of you, to simply roll with the flow and ignore them.
but when he’d given you a nickname, why, you simply couldn’t let it roll off your back; couldn’t stop yourself from replaying the exact moment he’d first called you it, couldn’t refrain from stewing over the way it had rolled – all gravelly, husky and derisive – off his tongue.
“well, ain’t’chu jus’ a doll, girly?”
doll.
he had called you a fucking doll.
and girly. as if you were some sort of child.
it was such a puerile thing to get hooked up on, something so trivial and immature – especially when compared to the more pressing concerns that you should be worrying about; such as the dead slobbering for your flesh and the dwindling food supplies within the camp.
maybe it was because when you had approached him you were just a hairs-width from a mental breakdown, the world nothing more than a mere crumble around you, and his rudeness acted as the straw that broke the camel’s back.
or maybe it was because you were simply trying to be nice, for fuck’s sake, and the moment he’d laid sight on you he decided he would harbor a personal vendetta against you, for no real reason other than he could – or wanted to.
you didn’t even know his name. and it had become painfully obvious that he’d taken great lengths to make sure no one in the camp did; when you’d approached shane about him moments after that fateful incident, shane had spared no more than a glance in the direction the man had stalked off in and shrugged.
“no idea who he is, really. he kinda just showed up.” was all shane had said, as if what had just transpired was trifling at best – and, deep down inside, you knew it was; a man copping an attitude with you was the least of shane’s worries, and it was petulant for you to expect him to place it above everything else that was already piled onto his platter, that it was stupid to expect him to do something about it as if he were a parent getting onto a child.
but you just couldn’t help it.
you hadn’t been able to help it for days.
those words rang through your head every time you saw him, sauntering around the camp with a scowl, lugging around that clunky crossbow like it was some sort of deterrent, like no one would be brave enough to approach him while he had it within his reach – it just flat-out irritated you.
you were only trying to be nice.
“I don’ need no damn help. I can find a tent jus’ fine!”
“prick.” you muttered under your breath, only realizing that you’d audibly expressed your distaste at the memory when a cool, damp hand gripped your bicep.
“you okay, (y/n)?” andrea asked softly, stroking her thumb over your skin soothingly. you shot the older woman a small smile, shirking off the irritation that had built under your skin from the mere thought of that man.
“yeah, yeah. I’m good, andrea. thanks.” you returned your focus to the bin of dirty laundry you had abandoned in favor of recounting sore memories and began to scrub near-viciously. this happened a lot, too, when you thought about him. the thoughts would pop up unprompted, and then everything else would fade away into mere white noise – you were sure it was incredibly frustrating for those who shared your assigned tasks each day.
andrea hummed softly and uncurled her fingers from your bicep to return her hand to her own basin once more. silence fell over the group of women washing clothes at the lakeside, nothing but the cries of forest birds, rippling water and churning splashes against the walls of multiple basins acting as a melody to the activity.
that was, until amy spoke up, her voice airy and strained by amusement that she tried to desperately to conceal. “so, uh, who’s a prick?”
you whipped your head over to glare at amy as muted giggles arose around you, and she vehemently avoided your eyes lest the smile teasing at her lips grew into a full on grin. heat flared over your cheeks and you blew out a puff of hot air, equal parts embarrassed and irritated that you were caught angrily musing over that man red-handed. again.
“no one.” you stated simply, voice weak even to your own ears; and with the way amy’s shoulders began to tremble with contained laughter, you knew she had picked up the lack of conviction within your tone as well.
she just knew you too well.
you had met the harrison sisters the morning after the bombing of atlanta. they had been among the group of people that shane had led to the quarry. amy was sociable, nice, and outgoing, fluttering around the camp and offering bottled water and protein bars to everyone around her. close in age, you’d clicked with her almost instantly, drawn in by her bubbly personality and likeness to yourself; the two of you had been nearly inseparable since, and you even considered her to be a best friend despite the fact that you’d met her only a little over a week ago – falling in with andrea seemed all but inevitable, and you couldn’t say you hated that.
andrea was more reserved than amy was, but no less kind. you weren’t sure if it was a facet of her personality or simply because she had seen the bond forming between amy and yourself, but andrea had, at some point, taken you beneath her wing and treated you as if you were an extension of her own family – it was comforting, but in some ways, it made your heart ache.
because you’d had that once before; had it in the form of broad shoulders, dark hair, blue eyes, and a voice of reason that could talk down even the most insane of serial killers.
you’d had it in the form of rick, ten years your senior and your best friend, tied to you by more than just shared blood.
“I’m serious,” you pressed, smiling through the sudden onslaught of ache within your chest. “I wasn’t talking about anyone.”
“okay.” amy responded simply, dragging out the ‘y’ in way that conveyed exactly how much she believed you in that instant. you chuckled lowly and shook your head, willing the pain in your chest to ebb away quickly, before it swelled to something too big to contain; a knot was forming in your throat, one that had become far too familiar within the past couple weeks, and swallowing it down was growing harder and harder.
amy’s attempt at prodding fell to silence again, one that the others seemed content in, completely ignorant to the turmoil roiling within you. the silence acted as a catalyst rather than a balm, an overwhelming force that prompted the small cut in your chest into a growing chasm, and in a desperate attempt to strike conversation and sow it back up, you said, “I was talking about that guy with the crossbow.”
laughter erupted around you – the first painful stitch. amy nudged you with her elbow with a light guffaw – the second stitch, a little less painful than the first.
“yeah, I kinda figured as much.” andrea acknowledged with a laugh. “you’ve been in knots over him ever since he first showed up.” the third stitch, nearly painless.
“I have not!” you rebuked, even though a small part of you knew it was true. the man had simply waltzed into camp one day, a string of squirrels thrown over one shoulder and his crossbow slung over the other, a scowl on his face and body covered in filth and grime. sweat glistened across his brow and over the skin of his exposed biceps, and when he spoke, it was with a southern drawl that had drawn you in nearly instantly.
he was attractive as hell, at least he was to you – you became instantly overwhelmed by the desire to talk to him, to know him, to get closer in some way; but perhaps you should have observed him a bit more before practically cornering him and offering your help. maybe then you would have been able to foresee his reaction, and you wouldn’t be in this torn-up state in the first place.
“he is a bit of a prick, though.” amy conceded. “I think the only reason shane allows him to stay is because he can hunt.”
that chasm had been successfully sewn up by now, but the flesh around it was still achy and sore, sensitive to any prod and poke. you’d have to tread carefully to avoid reopening it, at least for now.
“I’m sure he’s got other skills.” you weren’t sure why you were defending the man after just insulting him and stewing over him, but for some reason, it irked you for him to be likened to as a one-trick pony. maybe it was simply the cursed attraction you had to him.
“and I’m more than certain you’d love to figure out just what those other skills are.” jacqui, who had been stationed furthest from you, piped up for the first time. your mouth popped open, your eyes widened, and heat flared to your face while the others erupted into laughter. amy’s laugh was the most notable, loud and boisterous, and despite the slight mortification you felt at jacqui’s suggestive (but true) statement, you found yourself laughing along.
you wondered just how obvious you must have been about your attraction to the man for even jacqui to have noticed; you didn’t talk much with her, but when you’re sequestered into a camp fending for your lives against the walking dead, you supposed it was only natural to pick up on things about the people around you.
had the man noticed it, too?
after all, you had, without a doubt, noticed things about him; things that no one would notice unless they had their eyes on him a little too much.
you noticed the small things that made him attractive; the subtle age lines around his eyes and lips, the creases along his forehead, the bags beneath his bottom lids, the semi-permanent frown fixed upon his face.
you noticed the things about him that stirred your gut, that pooled heat between your legs and brought about carnal arousal within you; the broad width of his shoulders, the way those shirts with the cut-off sleeves framed and accentuated his biceps and torso, those small glimpses that his pants sometimes gave you of his package, the way he sauntered around, glaring at everyone, cold and unapproachable – like a dark, gloomy castle just waiting to be turned into someone’s conquest.
most of all, you noticed the clear difference in age between the two of you – fuck… it had to be at least ten years, right? if you were lucky, it may even be larger than that.
your gut twisted with the familiar sensation of arousal and your sex throbbed between your legs, prompting you to close your thighs together in an attempt to stop it. or maybe get some friction, you weren’t sure.
this was becoming a big, big problem.
“(y/n)! aunt (y/n)!”
a shrill, childish voice called out to you from the gravel road yards from the lake, effectively dousing the low-burning embers in your belly. you whipped your head back and cupped a hand over your eyes to shield them from the sun. you smiled widely at the approaching form of carl, your one and only nephew, and discarded the wet shirt in your hand in favor of turning your entire body to face the boy.
“hey, carl! what’s up?” you questioned the exuberant child when he halted just feet away from you, panting heavily and dowsed in sweat. you reckoned he must have run all the way here from the camp. what an energetic youth.
“there’s something going down in camp. shane’s fighting with this weird guy! he has a gun!”
your heart tripped over itself and you quickly rose to your feet, shooting a hand out to grip carl by the shoulder and draw him closer. a threat of this magnitude hadn’t shown face in the camp yet, and despite the fact that it wasn’t within your jurisdiction to handle matters such as these, you couldn’t push down the instinct to do so.
“amy, could you finish up my part, please?” you asked kindly, sending the young blonde a pleading look from over your shoulder. she nodded and reached over to pull your basin closer to her, throwing a cheery “you owe me!” at your back and prompting a chuckle from your throat. uneasy murmurs had broken about amongst the women at the lake, though amy seemed unbothered by the same circumstances, focused completely on her task where as the others had slowed to a distracted crawl.
“yeah, I do, thanks. okay carl, take me to camp.” you ordered the boy, who nodded and shrugged your hand from his shoulder before dashing forward, kicking up dust from beneath his heels.
you swallowed down the command for carl to slow down that swelled in your throat and instead picked up your pace; if it was true that shane was currently grappling with someone, you couldn’t waste any time on chastising carl or slowing the pace. you had to get to camp to de-escalate the situation if it called for it.
by the time carl had broken through the foliage around the camp, your ears picked up the unmistakable rumble of shane’s voice; it held that same stern yet soft tone that he used when talking to criminal suspects – you’d been there when he’d done it before.
“… just hand me the gun and tell me your name, and we can get this all sorted.”
“I ain’t handin’ya my gun, pretty boy.” this voice was different; rugged and hoarse and dry, as if the owner of it had just chain-smoked a whole pack of cigarettes. “alls I’m lookin’ fer is my brother. I don’ have any other business with ya.”
shane sighed heavily just as you broke through the green shrubbery surrounding the east side of the camp. his hands were glued to his hips, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in annoyance at the man a few feet in front of him. when carl had first mentioned a gun, you worried that the man may have been pointing it at the ex-officer, or others; but it was instead holstered at the man’s hip, untouched and non-threatening.
“look, man, I get that. I don’t think you’re gonna hurt anybody; but we’ve got women and children here, and you’re a stranger with a gun. I can’t take any chances. I’m sure you understand.” shane coaxed further, removing a hand from his hip and extending an open palm to the man. the man glared down at shane’s hand but made no further movement; he didn’t reach for his gun, nor did he shift his feet at all, hell, you couldn’t even tell if the man was breathing at this point. but it was obvious this man wasn’t a threat – but if shane continued to pester him this way, he very well could become one; and with carl right next to you, that was a chance you couldn’t take.
shane huffed loudly and you saw his fingers twitch, as if he were barely holding back from striking at the man. you swallowed down your trepidation and pushed carl back, clearing your throat subtly before marching right up next to shane to confront the man.
“what’s your brother’s name? maybe we can help you find him; if he’s here.”
two pairs of eyes simultaneously snapped to you – one pair dark and narrowed in a harsh glare and the other quickly lighting up with barely-concealed interest. the stranger, a man with a buzz cut and wiry face, smiled widely at you, the tip of a pink tongue slipping just barely from between his lips as his eyes trailed your body. you pushed away the shiver that threatened to crawl up your spine and held the man’s gaze confidently until he was done with his blatant show of lewd conduct.
when his eyes met yours once more, there was a coy, feline smirk upon his lips, and his croaky voice had dropped a few octaves when he responded, “daryl. his name is daryl.”
for a moment, you sat silent, gnawing on your inner cheek and wracking your brain for just who ‘daryl’ could be. you didn’t know the names of every person in camp, but that list of unknowns was short – only three people. your heart constricted. could it be?
“so, your brother’s name is daryl. what’s yours?” shane piped up, voice edged with aggravation, as he rocked back on his heels and slipped his thumbs through his belt loops. the stranger’s eyes never left your body as he opened his mouth to respond, but the voice that echoed back didn’t belong to him.
“merle? what’d’ya think yer doin’ here?”
you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know who the shambling footsteps behind you belonged to. your stomach twisted in on itself when a warm hand pushed you aside by the thick of your bicep, not too roughly but enough to have you stumbling slightly, the contact brief but enough to leave tingles in its wake. you glanced at the man between yourself and shane, taking note of the grimace on his face as he stared down the stranger.
the stranger, merle, took no heed to the glares that were fixed upon him. he smiled widely and threw his arms out as if expecting a hug.
“baby brother! isn’t it obvious? I’m here lookin’ fer ya.”
“you know him?” shane inquired, jerking his head in merle’s direction, eyes locked on the man between the two of you.
the man – daryl, as you now knew – shuffled on his feet and cast his eyes to the side, giving shane a brief once over. after that, daryl returned his eyes to merle and nodded.
“yeah. tha’s my brother.”
shane ran a shaky hand through his hair and chuckled hotly, muttering something underneath his breath. trepidation fluttered in your gut. you’d known shane long enough to know exactly what those mannerisms of his meant, and it didn’t spell anything good. you had a bad feeling shane was about to say something either highly stupid or highly impulsive; more than likely something that was both of those things at the same time.
“y’know, I don’t really have a problem with you, daryl. I never have. but this” – shane gestured to merle, who was still standing with his arms extended and that wide smile on his face – “is a bit dangerous. when you came here, you didn’t tell us jack about you; we didn’t know who you were, where you came from, or who you knew. and I didn’t bother to ask.”
daryl hadn’t moved a single inch since shane began speaking, eyes still fixed on merle, but the discomfort was plain as day on his face, and you felt irritation begin to bubble hot beneath your skin. granted, daryl was a haughty, antisocial prick, but why was shane acting like he did something wrong?
“I mean, this is just–”
“what’s your point, shane?” you cut the man off, a bit rudely, turning a sharp-eyed glare to him past daryl’s chest. shane’s eyes widened fractionally as if he hadn’t expected you to interject yourself, yet again, into a matter that he was handling on his own.
“my point is that daryl put us all in danger.” shane pressed, lowly, with a hand wave towards merle and dark eyes glaring daggers into yours. “we don’t know him, and we don’t know his brother. for all we know, merle could have stormed into camp, gun blazing-”
“but he didn’t.” you rebuked impatiently. you crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your head subtly to the side. “and that’s a risk that comes with everyone in the camp. we don’t know anyone here, other than each other. and even so, you haven’t seen me in three years. I may as well be a stranger, too.”
“that’s different. you’re like a little sister to me.” shane rebutted, prompting an eye roll and hip jut from you. you wouldn’t consider shane a brother even if he’d spent every moment of your youth with you. you swallowed down that statement in favor of keeping yourself on track with the real issue at hand.
“my point still stands. nothing bad happened, so why don’t you just cool your jets and back off a bit?”
shane’s lips thinned into a line, dark eyes darting between you, daryl and merle a couple times before he heaved a great sigh.
“okay, fine, you’re right. nothing happened. but I’d still like to have a conversation with both of you, if that’s alright.” shane conceded, directing his final statement at the two brothers still locked in a stare down. daryl only gave the tiniest of nods to display that he’d even acknowledged shane’s statement, and, satisfied with the knowledge that tensions had been quelled, you turned on your heel to head back to the lake and check on the progress of the laundry.
unbeknownst to you, the event that had just transpired would turn out to be the catalyst to a soon-to-come tension between shane and yourself, as well as the act that had garnered you a modicum of respect and interest from the rude, attractive man that you were sure would never even notice you; and that little problem that you thought was becoming much too big was only going to grow larger, and very quickly.
chapter one
a/n: tbh I struggled a bit with this one. it is just a prologue, a means of setting up the deeper story, but I still wanted it to come out as good as possible, and I feel I didn’t quite articulate that. but before this finalized version, I went through at least three drafts before finding this one to be somewhat adequate. if you guys enjoyed this one nonetheless, please show it some love! if you’re looking forward to more updates, consider following or being added to the taglist!
TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown
#daryl x reader#twd daryl#twd x reader#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl imagines#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#the walking dead daryl#twd
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I Never Lived For The Applause | Daryl Dixon x Former!Celebrity!Fem!Reader
Summary: Before the world quite literally ended, you were a famously known singer. However, your celebrity status didn't do you much good in the apocalypse, despite most people in your group giving you privileges that you didn't want. Thankfully, a certain redneck archer treated you like a normal person, unwillingly becoming the guy who caught your attention.
Genre: Angst, fluff.
Era: The quarry; the farm; the prison.
Warnings: Swearing, usual TWD warnings, suggestive themes.
Word count: 3.9k.
A/n: Okay but the former!celebrity!reader x Daryl was such a unique idea that an anon requested! I never would've thought about that on my own. I thought that this idea would be great combined with a few other requests, and this was born. There's a few time jumps and this is honestly not the best. I scrapped over 1500 words and this is all over the place, and it was supposed to be smut, and I don't really like this, but I hope you like it nonetheless.
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Before the apocalypse came to be, you were a famous singer and songwriter. You had multiple hit singles that made the charts and your concerts always sold out. It seemed like wherever you would turn, there would be someone there who would want an autograph or a picture. It seemed like you could never escape the spotlight.
Not even now, when the dead started rising and the world came to an end.
“Amy, I told you, I'm fine. I don't want your food. You need it more than I do.”
Amy shook her head defiantly, practically shoving the paper plate into your hands. “I insist. You're my idol, and I'll be damned if I let my idol go hungry when I have food I can give her.”
You sighed and reluctantly accepted the plate. “This is unnecessary. I already had my share, sweetheart. You don't have to give me yours when you also have to eat.”
“I'm fine. Rather me than you.”
Before you could protest, Andrea called Amy's name. Amy gave you an apologetic smile and bid you farewell, walking over to her sister and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed and turned around, heading over to the tent you shared with your daughter. You opened the flap and stepped inside, seeing your twelve year old daughter, Nicolette, busy sketching in her sketchbook.
She looked up when she heard you step inside, sending you a smile. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, Nic,” you greeted her, sitting down on your cot opposite hers. “Why aren't you outside with the other kids?”
Nicolette shook her head, closing her sketchbook and sitting up in her cot. “Most of them treat me funny. They keep asking me if I can sing or if I can write songs, and if I got free stuff because you were famous. Only Carl and Sophia treat me like I'm a normal kid, but they're with their mom's right now.”
You sighed, guilt gnawing at you from the inside. Never once did you regret having your daughter, but sometimes you regretted having to raise her while you were in the spotlight. The paparazzi were relentless, and your daughter more often than not had to pay the price for that. It was unfair, and you wished that you could've just faded from the spotlight to raise your daughter in peace.
“I'm sorry, baby. If I knew back then what my fame could do to you, I never would have signed on with that record label. I wish I could take it back.”
Nicolette shook her head. She got up from her cot and sat down next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her head.
“It's not your fault, Mom. I don't blame you. You shouldn't, either.”
You shook your head. “That's easier said than done,” you replied, before adopting a more lighthearted tone. “But let's not talk about that. I've got some more food for you if you're hungry.”
Nicolette smiled at you and nodded eagerly. “I'm starving. Thanks, Mom.”
You smiled at her. However, before you could respond, a ruckus could be heard outside your tent. Both yours and your daughter's heads snapped in the direction of the two voices, instantly going quiet to hear what was happening.
“M'tellin ya, man. S'a fuckin' waste of time. We should jus' cut our losses here and scram. Take a few guns and food fer the road.”
“Merle, fer the last fuckin' time, we can't leave righ' now. It's too dangerous. We should wait 'til the heat dies down 'fore we go.”
“Wha' m'hearin' s'tha' yer a pussy. Wha's the matter, Darylina? Scared the geeks will get ya? 'Cause yer too incompetent to handle 'em?”
“Fuck off, Merle! It ain't like tha'. I jus' dun' wanna risk our lives if we dun' need to.”
“Whatever, man. M'goin' back to the tent.”
The man who's name you had learnt to be Merle left, his retreating footsteps growing fainter until you couldn't hear them anymore. However, you could clearly see the silhouette of the other man still outside your tent. You could hear him quietly muttering to himself.
Turning to Nicolette, you gently placed the plate with the food—cooked squirrel with some beans—onto her lap and stood up. You turned to her and leaned down to place a sweet kiss to her forehead.
“Eat up and get ready for bed. I'll be right back and then we'll continue reading that book.”
Nicolette nodded, and with that, you exited your tent. The man stood with his back to you, but a simple slight twitch of his head in your direction showed that he had heard you. His body stiffened visibly, and you frowned at that.
“Hey. You're Daryl, right?” you asked him, prompting the man to turn around.
However, he didn't meet your gaze, finding great interest in the ground below. He simply grunted his acknowledgement, a slight upwards nudge of his nose confirming your question.
“I'm Y/n. It's nice to officially meet you,” you introduced yourself, extending your hand to his for a handshake. Daryl made no move to shake it, however, making you awkwardly retract your hand. “I, uh, just wanted to say that you were right.”
“Wha'?” Daryl asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. He hadn't meant for the question to slip from his lips, trying to just remain quiet until you got the message that he was in no mood to socialise, but he failed.
“That argument you had with your brother. You were right. It's way too dangerous to wander off on your own right now. Personally I feel like you shouldn't be wanting to go at all because it's safer with a group, but that's not my call to make. Just thought I'd let you know that your instincts are right. Don't listen to your brother.”
Daryl was confused by your niceness. He was even more confused by the fact that you agreed with him. He was so used to women taking Merle's side instead of his all the time, so this was something entirely new for him.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” he replied awkwardly, nervously chewing on his lower lip.
You smiled at him before nodding. “Okay, well, just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and to ask you not to argue in front of my tent again. I have a twelve year old in there who doesn't need to hear all of that.”
Daryl ducked his head, an embarrassed blush flushing over his face. “Sorry.”
“I guess I can let it slide this time,” you said with a smile. “And thanks for the squirrel. Thanks to you, my daughter doesn't have to go to bed hungry tonight. Never thought we'd have to resort to eating squirrel, but it's not that bad. It's actually kinda delicious. It's way better than—” Realising that you were busy rambling, you shook your head and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just, thank you.”
Daryl didn't know why, but he felt an unexplainable pull to you. Maybe it was the way you showed him kindness without even knowing him, or maybe it was the fact that you were the only one who seemed to actually appreciate the food he brought back from his hunts, even if it was squirrels. Despite their hunger, everyone else mostly refused to eat anything he brought back if it wasn't deer. Yet there you were, thanking him for bringing back something as mediocre as squirrel.
And it certainly didn't help that he found you absolutely radiant.
“S'nothin',” he finally responded. “M'jus' glad yer lil' girl can eat tonigh'.”
“You're the one who brought back the squirrels?”
At the sound of a small voice, both you and Daryl turned around to face your daughter. Nicolette walked up to your side and beamed brightly up at Daryl, catching him off guard. The other kids in the camp were terrified of him and wouldn't even glance in his direction, yet this kid was not only looking at him, but willingly talking to him.
“Yes, he is,” you confirmed, smiling fondly down at your daughter.
Nicolette looked up at Daryl, realisation dawning on her. “You're the man with the crossbow! And the vest with the angel wings! You're so cool, sir. Do you think I could maybe shoot your crossbow one time? It's okay if you say no, but can I maybe see how you shoot it so that when I get my own crossbow one day, I know how to use it? Or—”
Daryl's lips subconsciously twitched up into a smile. Her rambling was so similar to yours. Like mother, like daughter, he thought to himself as he looked between the two of you. There were over a dozen similarities between you and Nicolette. She looked just like you.
You placed a hand on Nicolette's shoulder, halting her rambling. You turned to Daryl, giving him a smile. “We should probably get ready for bed. Goodnight, Daryl.”
“Night, Daryl!” Nicolette greeted him enthusiastically, following you into the tent.
“Night,” he whispered.
“Oh, and by the way, don't be a stranger. I'd love to see more of you.”
Daryl blushed and ducked his head. He hummed, not trusting his voice at that moment in time.
You smiled and finally entered the tent, zipping the tent closed behind you. He stood there for a couple of moments before turning and walking back to his own shared tent with Merle.
Daryl couldn't explain it, but for some reason, in that short conversation, he felt drawn to you. It was unnerving, but felt nice at the same time. And your daughter was downright an angel, your exact copy.
“Wha' were ya doin', sniffin' 'round tha' popstar?” Merle asked when Daryl entered the tent, catching him off guard. Daryl had assumed that Merle would've been passed out by now, high off of whatever drug he was using that night.
“Popstar? Wha' the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl questioned, plopping himself down on his cot.
“Tha' woman ya were talkin' to, she was a singer 'fore all this. Real famous, too. Used to see her on TV and in magazine's all the time.”
Daryl's mind swarmed with questions. You were a famous singer? How the hell did you end up there, with a bunch of nobodies? And why had you thanked him for bringing back something as simple as a squirrel? If you were famous, you had probably eaten banquets of the richest, most delicious food out there, yet you enjoyed squirrel? And to top it off, why would you willingly want to hang out with him of all people?
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“Daryl, oh my god.”
At the sound of your panicked voice, Daryl slowly sat upright in the bed in the guest bedroom. He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing the worry written all over your face. You hurriedly sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage around his side, careful not to add too much pressure and hurt him.
“M'fine, sunshine. Dun' have to worry 'bout me,” he replied, waving off your concern and gently grabbing your hand to push it away from the bandage.
You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head. “You're my friend, Daryl. Of course I'm going to worry about you. I care about you, and you expect me to not worry?” you asked, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek.
Friend. That word reminded Daryl of how you viewed him. It had been two months since your first interaction at the quarry and his affection and attraction to you had only grown stronger. However, it seemed to him like his feelings weren't reciprocated, so he settled on being your friend.
Little did he know that you felt the exact same way. You just didn't know it yet.
“Heard ya punched Andrea fer shootin' me. Any truth to those rumours?” Daryl asked, diverting the attention away from his now pounding heart as your fingers gently pushed his hair back.
You smiled sheepishly. “My hand slipped?” you tried, shrugging your shoulders.
Daryl smirked slightly and shook his head. “Sure. Whatever ya say, sunshine.”
You let out a sigh, reluctantly drawing your hand back from his hair. “She had it coming. We told her not to shoot and she didn't listen, trying to boost her own ego instead. She almost killed you, Daryl. That's not something she should be allowed to get away with, but Rick and Shane aren't gonna do anything, so I took matters into my own hands.”
Daryl smiled softly. “Not bad fer a popstar.”
You giggled. “Hey, I got into a couple of fights before my career took off. I know my stuff. I know how to shoot a gun, too, but that's a discussion for another day.”
Daryl chuckled and nodded. He shifted back against the headboard and gazed at you, simply admiring your beauty for a moment. It amazed him that a beautiful, kind, caring, smart woman like you would ever wanna be associated with the likes of him. You were perfect and he was, well, him. It didn't make sense, but he dared not to question it.
“Can I ask ya somethin' personal?” he blurted out before he could think about it.
You nodded at him. “Sure.”
“When ya talk 'bout yer career, it sounds like ya hated it. Why'd ya become a singer if ya hated it so much?”
You remained silent for a minute. Daryl feared that he had asked the wrong thing and was about to apologise, but you spoke up.
“I was nineteen when I signed with my first record label. I didn't want to be in the spotlight because singing was more of a hobby to me, but my parents forced me to. Growing up, there wasn't ever really any money around and my parents made it out like it was my fault. They made me feel like I owed them for everything they did for me, and they forced me to sign with that record label. My parents were my managers and all the money I earned for the songs I wrote and sang basically went to them. That went on for a couple of years until I met Nic's father. He was a bass player in a band I was collaborating with. I fell in love way too quickly, jumped into bed with him when he made an advancement and ended up pregnant. The guy didn't want kids and bolted, leaving me a single mom. My parents hated that and basically disowned me.”
“M'sorry to hear tha',” Daryl replied sympathetically. He didn't really know how to respond; he never knew that about you. You chose to keep your life before you had Nicolette private, and he respected that. He had his own demons he preferred to keep quiet.
“It's okay,” you reassured him, shaking your head. “He was an asshole. And I was better off without my parents. I managed to sign with a decent enough record label and the rest was history. I got a ton of backlash from haters for being a single mom. There were even rumours that I had cheated and that's why the guy left me, but that wasn't true. But none of that matters anymore. My reputation doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is keeping my daughter safe and keeping the people I care about alive. People like you.”
“Ya shouldn't care 'bout me. S'a bad idea.”
“Well, bad idea or not, I care about you. And so does Nic.”
As if being summoned, Nicolette knocked on the door and hesitantly stepped inside. Daryl adjusted the covers over his body and sent her a tight-lipped smile. Nicolette gave him a small smile back but he could clearly tell it was strained. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.
“Are you okay?” Nicolette asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if to make herself appear smaller.
“M'fine, kiddo. Dun' worry 'bout me,” he reassured her. “Hershel fixed me righ' up. I'll be outta here in no time.”
Nicolette looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded. “He's right. He'll be fine. Some antibiotics and he'll be up and at it in three days. You'll see.”
“Okay,” she nodded, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “I'm glad you're not dead, Daryl.”
Daryl chuckled at the girls forwardness. “M'glad m'not dead, too.”
You smiled at the small interaction between Daryl and Nicolette, your heart swelling with fondness. You stood up from the bed and motioned for Nicolette to follow you.
“C'mon, baby. Let's leave Daryl to get some rest, okay?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe stay?” she asked timidly, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It's just... I wanna stay.”
You looked at Daryl, and he shrugged nonchalantly. Despite his nonchalance, Daryl's heart swelled with fondness. This little girl, who owed him nothing, wanted to stay with him. He couldn't believe it.
“Okay, you can stay for a while. I'll be back later, okay?” you relented.
She nodded and sat down on the chair. You gave Daryl's hand one last squeeze before heading out, sparing one last look at the two. Nicolette was starting to retell some of the events of what her and Carl had gotten up to that day, and Daryl hummed in acknowledgement before looking up and locking eyes with you.
With one last parting smile, you headed out and made your way back to the tents. On your way there, a startling realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, one that would change the way you saw Daryl forever. Despite the fact that he could be snappy at times, and that he was known for being grumpy, he treated you with respect. He didn't care about who you were before the end of the world. He didn't care about your mistakes, about if you were famous or not. That didn't matter to him. He only saw you, the person behind the old tabloids, and he had become close with your daughter. He even took the time out of his day to teach her how to use his crossbow, even if she was a slow learner. And in that moment, you realised something:
You had feelings for him.
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
“Y'know, m'glad Nic didn't have to meet her father. She's better off.”
You turned your head to Daryl, a look of confusion spreading across your features. “I agree with you, but why do you say that? You didn't know the man.”
Daryl shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. “Ya said back at Hershel's tha' he never wanted kids. If he had stuck 'round, god knows wha' he would've done to her.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, turning your attention back to the darkness ahead of you. “She is better off.”
The night was relatively quiet, save for the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the prison's fences. Daryl was on watch that night in the guard tower, and you had taken the initiative to join the archer that night. Everyone else had retreated into the prison for the night, leaving only you and Daryl awake.
“So are we gon' tell Nic 'bout us or not?” Daryl broke the silence, taking the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out next to him. “S'been over a month now. She deserves to know.”
Unbidden, flashes of that night a month ago arose in your mind. The feeling of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body and the way he felt pressed against you. The feeling of your bodies becoming one was one that you wouldn't forget anytime soon, but the one memory you'd hold with you forever was the confession from the man next to you. After the heated, pleasurable moment you'd spent together, feelings were revealed, and you and the archer had unofficially started your relationship. You had both agreed to keep it a secret, but Nicolette was starting to get suspicious about the two of you.
“I'm okay with telling her tomorrow. She deserves to finally have confirmation on her suspicions,” you told him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She already sees you as her dad, anyways.”
Daryl couldn't argue with that. Flashes of his own arose in his mind. A couple of days ago, he had returned from a run, battered and bruised. He could barely walk and both you and Nicolette were distraught. However, after he was patched up and resting in his cell and you were up in the guard tower for your shift, Nicolette had come to him in tears. He had hugged her tightly to his chest, acutely aware that she was transported back to that day on the farm when he had been shot. That night was the night Nicolette had confirmed that she saw Daryl as a father figure.
“Please don't leave. My mom needs you. I need you. We both need you in our lives. Please, Daryl.”
In that moment, even though she didn't know yet that you and Daryl were together, he knew that he wouldn't be able to live without either of you. You both were his entire world. Nicolette was his little girl. You were his partner, and there was no way he was letting either of you go.
“Dun' worry, Nic. I ain't goin' nowhere. I promise ya tha'.”
Shaken from his thoughts by your lips on his exposed shoulder, he turned his head to you, coming face to face with a mischievous smirk. He instantly knew what that smirk meant, and he helped you climb onto his lap.
“But,” you began, pulling his attention back to your previous discussion. “Let's worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me and you.”
Daryl smirked and attached his lips to yours. You may have been a popstar before the apocalypse, a celebrity living in a mansion, but in that moment, you were simply you. The woman Daryl cared for deeply, the woman Daryl was never gonna let go of.
Because in that moment, you were nothing but his.
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#twd daryl#daryl dixon the walking dead#the walking dead daryl#daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl x y/n#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#the walking dead#daryl dixon imagine#norman reedus#norman reedus x reader
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D.D. | Shane's Girl
Part Six | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee
Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader
Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)
Word Count: 1.2K
Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.
“Fuck!”
The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief.
You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.
“You ‘lright?”
The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”
“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”
Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.
“What’d ya do to your hand?”
He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.
“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”
You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.
“Give it ‘er.”
You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.
“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”
His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.
“Just surprised, is all.”
“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”
He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”
His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are.
“You have a cigarette?”
The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.
“What’s goin’ on?”
You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.
“It’s just Shane…”
You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.
“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.”
“Hey…”
The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.
“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”
Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for.
Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.
“Thank you, Daryl.”
A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips.
“It was nothin’.”
You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.
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#twd#The Walking Dead#walking dead#daryl dixon#twd daryl#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#Rick Grimes#shane walsh#merle dixon#glenn rhee#lori grimes#the walking dead imagine#walking dead imagine#Norman Reedus#norman reedus imagine#norman reedus x reader
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Missing🖤
Summary: You and Daryl got separated at the started and now you’ve just been wandering hoping to find a secure place will you find Daryl again?
Pairing: Season 2 Daryl Dixon x f!reader
•Masterlist•
You and Daryl have known eachother since you were kids, growing up right next to eachother, along the way feelings grew and you got together right before graduation, you became a teacher and he worked at a mechanic shop, life was nice and simple together, you were even thinking about having a family but then things change, the world ended when you were teaching and you haven’t seen Daryl since, you search everywhere for him until eventually you had to leave down because of the walkers and venture out on your own, hoping you meet him again
Along the way you came across a barn, you scavenged for food finding some cans and as you looked out the window a horse was grazing the field, you packed up the rest of the food and ventured out finding a saddle approaching the horse steadily trying not to spook it away, thankfully it was friendly and approached you with ease letting, you strapped the saddle around her and hopped up, leading the horse as it trotted north
You’d be alone on your own for about 5 weeks now and it’s been lonely, you just wanted to see Daryl again just needed for him to hold you, you were on the horse walking through trees when a clearing opened up showing a farm house with people walking around, you were a bit wary since you’ve run into some shady people along the way but for some reason you were drawn to this farm, you lead the horse, you named Pixie, slowly as to not scare the people
As you and Pixie walked up the dirt road people started to gather, you hopped off Pixie holding her rope and waiting for the others to do or say anything and not just ogle you
“Who are you?” A man in a police outfit asked
“I’m y/n, I’ve been alone since the start, until I found pixie here” you said as you pet her shiny black hair
“Where’d you come from, who’d you find this place?” Another man asked he seemed a little crazy
“I’m from outside of Atlanta, I’ve just been wandering until I found something, I lost someone at the start and I’ve just been looking for him”
“Sorry to break it to you, he’s probably dead”
“Shane!” The officer glared at the man
“I still have hope, but do you guys have room for one more, I know how to hunt and I can help out”
“Of course, we could use another hunter, got one out hunting right now”
“Thank you”
The officer who introduced himself as Rick, showed you around introduced you to everyone even the owner of the farm, the sun was setting by the time all that was done
“We don’t have anymore tents we’ll have to go out tomorrow and get you one”
“Oh that’s no problem I can sleep out with Pixie” it was the normal for you now
“You sure?”
“Yeah it’s no problem…….shouldn’t your hunter be back by now?”
“Yeah oh there he is now” he said looking over you shoulder at the dirt road
A man with a crossbow and plaid shirt with ripped sleeves, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, you sprinted off towards him your heart racing, tears streaming down your face
“DARYL” you screamed as he looked up dropping his crossbow just in time to open his arms and wrap himself around you as you threw yourself into his arms
“Is it really you peach?” He asked in such disbelief it broke your heart
“It’s me, I can’t believe I found you I thought I’d never see you again, I looked everywhere for you I waited at our house hoping you’d come back but……I had to leave I had to find you” you said quickly your eyes not believing you found him having to tell him everything you’ve been thinking these 5 weeks without him
5 weeks may not seem like a lot but in the apocalypse there was no guarantee about anything so everything was precious
You held his biceps as he traced his fingers over ever features on your face completely forgetting others were around you both
“So I’m guessing you two know eachother?” Glenn asked
“She’s my girl” Daryl stated not taking his eyes off of you
“Thee Daryl Dixon got a girl?” Andrea laughed, you turned and glared at her
“You bet your ass I’m his”
“And ya ain’t ever leaving my side again”
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Hangman [Part 3]
(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist
Description: Y/N Dixon was to be punished for her husbands actions at the line up. Negan decided to do it in style. Daryl watches you hang before being dragged away. But how is he coping when you open the door to his cell as his savior.
2.3k words
Warnings (Mentions of suicide, gore, ANGST, violence, injury, ect.)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Daryl POV
The rattle of a door knob brought him out of thought. When the door didn’t open he thought he imagined it. Maybe he was losing more of a grip on reality. The sleep deprivation wasn’t helping, or the grief. He still heard noises that he imagined. Like the yelp you made when you dropped to the ground and the noose tugged at you. He sat back resting facing the door. The pulsating pain in is eye from being punched. He went to rub at it when a small knock tapped against the door.
He released a sigh, ‘I am losing it.’ Then the rattling of the lock made him tense. He didn’t think he was in there for more than a hour after Negan left to take Carl back to Alexandria? The clicking of pins suggesting it wasn’t from a key. The soft click of the lock releasing made a shiver run up his spine. He cautiously stare at the door creeping open. The light hit his eyes disrupting his view to who it was. The person didn’t speak when they fell to their knees in shock. He got the glimpse of a knife being put to the floor. When they slowly crawled over and gently cupped his face he couldn’t help but stare up and see your face.
He at that moment declared himself crazy. The guilt building in him again, “It’s all my fault… god I love you.” He rose his hand to your face, not wanting this to go away, he didn’t make contact with you just to see you disappear. Then you leaned into his hand. His mouth opened and his heart dropped. He got closer leaning toward you for confirmation he wasn’t crazy. You hadn’t said a word. He looked down to your neck hand slowly tracing down to it. The moment you flinched was like proof of your existence. He released a breath that had caught in his lungs at the original sight of you.
“Y/N?”
His eyes roaming across your face again. You lean down and pecked his lips. He felt like a burst of life just ran back into him. That quick kiss sending him back to life. You started to tug at his arms trying to get him to stand. He took the hint standing. You had made a quick look out the door but he had wrapped his arms around you. The feeling of you relaxing and thumping your head into his chest damn near broke his fragile mental state. The moment was quick with you pulling away and getting something from your pocket and showing it to him. It was the key to his bike. That's when another realization hit him.
‘You came to get him out of here?’
He grabbed the key from your hand staring at it. You were getting him out of here. A switch flipped in him after the shock of seeing you. It was a later thing to talk, they needed out of here first. He grabbed your hand and nodding to you. You smile at him while he walks past to check the hall. Looking back and forth seeing it clear he looked back at you and off you both went to freedom. The door he remembered where his bike was cracked open. Must have been where you got in. He smiled at the thought, ‘Smart girl.’
Pushing the door open crouched he scan the area. Seemed empty? He pulled you along with him to the bike. Letting go of your hand and trying to open the gate as quickly as he could.
“What the hell!”
The surprised voice made him turn. Fat Joey is what they called him. He had his eyes on you looking mortified, then landed on him. A burning feeling set under his skin as he stomped in raged at him. “Woah! L-look man I didn’t see anything!” His eyes scanned from him to you. The first punch Daryl landed sent his sandwich flying to the ground. Through his rage while he beat the man he remembered you were behind him. He stopped fist mid air and turned back to see you staring. Straight faced eyes looking down at the man then back to him. Fat Joey groaned, but Daryl’s eyes were still locked with you. You dragged a finger slowly across your purple and black neck, ‘kill him.’ He did just that. His jumpsuit now splattered with some of Joeys blood as he took the key and approached the bike.
The rumble of it under him then your presence behind him felt like a dream. You had looped your arms under his and he took off getting them out of there. His hands shook with nerves and adrenaline. He was becoming overwhelmed. The taps to his middle from you made him look in his side mirror. They had been driving for almost 40 minutes a ways away from the saviors. You gestured to pull over so he did. He felt on the verge of a panic attack.
The sound of his skin releasing from his tight hold to the handle bars seemed loud to him. His ears rang when your hand went to his shoulder and you leaned over face filling his vision. He doesn’t even feel you get up. Was this real? You rubbed up and down his arm. ‘Ya, this is real.’ His knees shake as he stood getting off the bike. He looks up at you after having his gaze glued to the floor. The guilt was seeping back through. Tears were in your eyes when he met them. A wobble to your lips, something he knew was you trying to not cry.
“I’m so sorry-“
You jumped wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His arms moving to catch you. His hand digging into your hair, a slight sway as in their embrace. He broke down, tears running down and a small hiccup coming out of him. Despite everything he thought he deserved you were still loving him. The unconditional love you gave broke his heart, “I almost killed you- I thought I killed you.” His cry’s grew deeper. You pulled away looking at him at his words. You shook your head. You jabbed a finger in his chest and tapped there. You shook your expressing a hard no. You pointed back down the road with a serious face.
He gulped at your conviction on the matter. He looked at you like you were the world and you caught the broken expression from him. Giving a smile and kiss for emphasis. He inhaled and exhaled, the fighter flight feeling he has had the whole time gone within your touch. His eyes moving back to your neck, “Are ya alright?” You hesitated before nodding. He met your eyes, “You can’t talk?” Bitting your lip you looked away from him shaking your head.
Daryl released you from his hold. Your feet landing on the ground but you continued to look at him. Up and down, probably taking notice of the clothes he wore. He felt ashamed at the thought of the stupid ‘A’ shirt he had on. You pulled off the large hoodie you had stolen from Jesus. You grabbed the end of his shirt and lightly tugged at it. His teeth clenched he reluctantly took it off. He watched your face turn into a frown. He still had a bandage on his shoulder where he was shot, also a few more bruises and scraps. He slowly took the hoodie from you and slipped it on. You both stood looking at each other. Your eyes saying you had a million of things to say. He broke the silence.
“M’ body is burning with the shame of not belonging…”
Your POV
You closed your eyes and inhaled. This isn’t the first time he has been this far stuck in his mind with guilt. He had it with anything that has ever gone wrong. Like he could somehow tell the future and it was his job to prevent every bad thing. Any death, any injury. Blaming himself for Beth, the prison falling, and now this. You open your eyes and look to his face. Slowly shaking your head as you walk away, going to sit back down on the bike. He still stood staring at you so you tap the spot in front of you. He moved shoving the corner of his thumb into his mouth. A nervous habit that you think he got as a kid.
You saw the small tremor left in his hands. Leaning into him and resting your head between his shoulders, arms pulling around him. Your fingers softly scratching at his mid section as you continued your ride to Hilltop. Hoping to provide him with as much comfort without words.
The sun was setting when reaching the gates of Hilltop. The door pulled open revealing Glenn, Maggie, and Enid. Daryl parked as soon as he got through the gate. Glenn was the one to jog over first, “You actually got him!” Glenn pulling Daryl in a quick hug. Maggie made her way not a second later, she look a little mad, “You idiot how could you just run off like that! Without even saying something before going!” It was apparent in your recover at Hilltop that not only you were traumatized. Someone would often check on you confirming to themself you were ok.
Maggie especially did it at night. Everyone had grown an attachment to you after that day, constant dread you would just drop dead. It was Glenn who spoke on your behalf, “She did leave a note.” You nodded and pointed at Glenn with agreement. Then pointing the attention at Daryl with a ‘look see I did what I said’ look. Maggie while finished yelling at you turning to hug Daryl, “Thank god you both are ok.” Daryl was still to wired into the things he had experienced to be any other way then awkward. You festered for everyone to go for a minute waving them off and dragging Daryl to the medical trailer. It was Glenn who remarked while you walked away, “She can’t even talk but still bossing us around.”
Dr. Carter seemed surprised to see you but you just pointed at Daryl. When he was done treating Daryl he move back over to you. You had originally tried to wave him off but Daryl spoke with a calm voice, “Please? So I know you are ok.” How could you say no to that? There was this terrible cream that smelt like a hospital he would put on a bandage and around your neck. He knew you hated it not liking things around your neck. “I’m also wanting you to crush and dissolve some vitamins into your food. A soup should do but remember it can’t be hot." Your lips were pursed in displeasure. A hand slide rubbing your back. Looking up you met Daryl’s eyes.
You both walk out the door not before finally getting a pen and paper back. “Do you want to shower and get a change of clothes?” Daryl looked like he wanted to jump out of his own skin. The clothes not looking to comfortable and the grime on his skin. He nodded looking at the paper, “Ya I’ll do that.” He looked at you and the house but he couldn’t seem to walk away from you. You wrote again, “I can sit outside the door?” He shook his head, “Nah I got it, go try and eat beautiful.” You smile at the familiar nickname. He said it first teasingly after watching Glenn and Maggie being cheesy, however now he couldn’t seem to stop. You pointed to a trailer slowly walking backwards to it.
You and Daryl now lay facing each other in bed. You grabbed his hand tracing ‘I <3 U’. His hand closing around yours. “I love you too, there is no me in your absence.” He pushed a hair behind your ear, “least not one I liked.” You moved his hand to your chest, proof you heart still beat. The cling of metal of your rings hitting each other. You smile and wrote down, “Guess I can’t go anywhere then.”
You upheld this promise throughout the entirety of the war. Not even a half a day later came when Rick came to Hilltop looking for aid. He was happy to see you. Carl and Michonne gushing over you. Then when Daryl rounded the corner you could see everyone relieved again. You wrote,
“All happy to see a Dixon.”
You didn’t have much of a roll in the war. The only major thing was when the trash people betrayed them. It was the first time Negan saw you again. His eyes were on Daryl before turning to you. “Well shit you’re supposed to be dead. Guess your witch trail proved your one.” He looked back to Daryl before saying, “What should we do next? Drown her in the river?”
He was locked away now though. Rotting in a jail cell. You had disagreed heavily with Rick’s decision keeping him alive. He gave you nightmares. But after a while Rick suggested you seeing how what he was going through was worse than death. You had gained back the ability to eat. You still were working on talking. Now there you are standing in front of Negan. Pen and paper in hand. He expected you to kill him, even pleaded with you to do so. Rick had been right. You wrote something on the paper and stared back to Negan.
Negan tried taunting as always, “What? Cat got your tongue?” He was smug but you pulled his attention to the sheet of paper. You crumpled it in your hands. You threw the balled up paper through the bars of his cell. Staring at it before walking out the door. Negan scoffed going to unravel your message.
“Welcome to Hell.”
The End.
Feedback welcomed and requests always opened!
#daryl dixon#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl imagines#daryl x female reader#daryl x reader#norman reedus#twd daryl#angst#fluff
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Daryl and Judith's scene in the commonwealth church is so important to me, I feel that is the moment when Daryl realize the role of being Judith's dad is now on him.
Carl and Rick's scenes in that house after the prison fall are as much as important to me, that's just Rick trying to take care of his son even though he's not good either physical or mentally and Carl realizing his dad is not invincible.
#the walking dead#twd#twd towl#rick grimes#daryl dixon#twd daryl#twd rick#twd carl#twd judith#rick and carl#daryl and judith#YES JUDITH CAN HAVE TWO DADS
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730 DAYS | daryl dixon [coming soon]
“we protect our people. we’ll protect you–i’ll protect you.”
“don’t make promises you can’t keep, daryl dixon.”
summary: 2 years since you’ve been trapped with the saviors as one of negan’s many wives, and 2 weeks since you’ve made your escape into the world of the living dead, anticipating whatever fate awaits you; but when you meet unlikely hero, daryl dixon, he saves you and brings you to alexandria. it’s a paradise you’ve longed for, but how long will this freedom last until negan finds you?
pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader
warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, sexual assault, mentions of noncon, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, murder, slow burn-ish, strong language, torture, decapitation, s6-11, 18+, minors dni.
author’s note: so i started watching twd again, which i haven’t watched in years but now that i’m a grown woman i’ve been feigning for daryl lmao, he’s so fine idcidcidc.
000
#daryl x reader#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon#daryl x y/n#daryl x you#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixion x reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x female reader#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x you#the walking dead x y/n#the walking dead#negan smith#negan x reader#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixion smut#daryl dixon angst#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl fluff#daryl dixon fic#daryl dixon fluff#daryl angst#daryl smut#the walking dead smut#the walking dead fic
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After 17hrs I finally finished it please please please send me reference photos to draw 😂💗😭
#daryl dixon#twd daryl#norman reedus#the walking dead#the walking dead daryl#andrew lincoln#daryl dixon x reader#jdm#rick grimes#twd caryl#twd#twd negan#daryl dixion imagine#daryl imagines#procreate#tumblr draw#drawdrawdraw#drawing#hand drawn#drawn
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"Andy just send me this " - Norman Reedus ❤️
#richonne#the ones who live#michonne#rick grimes#the walking dead#andrew lincoln#danai gurira#norman reedus#daryl dixon
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gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams
Rick: Why is Y/N crying?
Carol: She’s drunk.
Rick: And?
Carol: She saw a picture of Daryl's wife.
Rick: But she’s Daryl's wife.
Carol: I know.
Rick: Where’s Daryl?
Carol: She kicked him out for cheating.
Carol, whispering: He went hunting.
#murda writes#daryl dixon#generated + original#daryl dixon incorrect quotes#daryl incorrect quotes#twd incorrect quotes#the walking dead incorrect quotes#rick grimes#carol peletier#daryl dixon humor#daryl humor#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon the walking dead
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chapter summary: reality is certainly a hard pill to swallow – but in order to keep moving forward, swallow it you must.
word count: 4.2k
c/w: language, bickering, excessive use of apostrophes (courtesy of the dixon accent), subtle bodily description of reader (tits and hips, nothing too in-depth), low key sexual harassment I think (merle checks reader out a lot), blossoming friendships, minor angst, suggestive thoughts, brief mentions of grief/loss, subtle tension, pre-season one
chapter one: dislocated introductions
it had been some time since shane ushered the two men into his tent for a ‘discussion.’ in fact, by the time you’d walked down to the lake and back, the men were still inside the tent. you weren’t nervous about it, per se, but you certainly hadn’t liked the look on shane’s face as he guided them to the tent.
he looked… uncharacteristically angry. it was a look you hadn’t seen on his face in all the years you’d known him, which were quite a few – even when the world had been blown to shit, even as he watched the napalm drop into the streets of atlanta, even when he recalled the massacre he’d witnessed in the hospital, he hadn’t looked that angry.
it had you wondering why.
to you, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. shane’s reaction would have been understandable had merle been waving his gun around or pointing it at someone, or if he’d been threatening the camp in some way. but all merle had done was show up and ask for his brother, albeit a bit argumentatively; but he kept his gun holstered to his hip the whole time, never even reaching a hand down toward it.
and, honestly, who didn’t have a gun on them with the world in the state that it was?
shane’s reaction had appealed as more of an overreaction in your eyes. you could understand mistrusting complete strangers, especially ones who were armed, but the way shane handled it just seemed so… extreme. and to be angry at daryl for his brother’s choices? just ridiculous.
you had to physically restrain yourself from creeping closer to shane’s tent in an attempt to garner an earful. from this distance, you couldn’t hear any of the words that were being passed around within, but so far no yelling had broken out. you were sure the whole camp would be able to hear it if it had. but you were so damn curious; even though it truly wasn’t a matter than concerned you.
daryl wasn’t even supposed to be a concern to you; shane had made it clear right from the start what he thought your concerns should be – but you felt strangely as if daryl’s fate was being decided within that tent, and a part of you desperately wanted to have a say in that for reasons you couldn’t understand.
reasons you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.
“hey, sweetheart.” your concentration was torn from shane’s tent by a soft voice behind you and a warm hand on your shoulder. you whipped your head around and squinted against the glare of the georgia sun, barely able to perceive the outline of lori standing above you.
“oh, hey, lori.” you acknowledged the older woman with a small smile. she returned the gesture with a small squeeze to your shoulder.
“do you know where shane is?” lori queried with a glance around the camp. you grimaced subtly and gestured to shane’s tent.
“he’s in there. he’s talking to daryl and his brother.” you answered, a bit flippantly, still irked by the event that had transpired previously, still unable to remove that expression on shane’s face from your mind.
“daryl?” lori mused, eyebrows sewing together in confusion. you chuckled airily and nodded, using your hands to mimic the act of adjusting a strap over your shoulder.
“daryl, the guy with the crossbow.” you iterated, and lori’s lips popped open in a small ‘o’ shape as she mentally connected the dots.
“I didn’t know he had a brother.” lori hummed thoughtfully as she circled around you, plopping herself down on the wooden crate positioned diagonal from the one you sat on. her dark hair fell strand by strand over her shoulder as she planted her elbows on her knees and leaned forward.
“no one did,” you concurred. “hell, I don’t think anyone even knew his name. I didn’t know it until just earlier.”
lori simply nodded in agreement, glancing over in the direction of shane’s tent. you couldn’t help but notice a strange mist covering her eyes, as if she wasn’t truly seeing what she was looking at. concern gnawed like a tiny beast at your brain, and you leaned closer to the woman and lowered your voice, softly calling, “you okay, lor?”
you wouldn’t say lori and yourself were particularly close – at least not in a way that was inseparable, as you had been with your brother. but lori had certainly lived up to the ‘sister in law’ name, quickly becoming your family in every way but blood; you looked up to her, cared for her, and seeing her eyes cloud over with that look just didn’t sit right with you. especially not with shane’s glare still fresh in your mind.
“what was that, sweetie?” lori asked, almost absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the tent. you swallowed around a tight knot in your throat.
“I asked if you were okay, lori.” you reiterated, placing a bit more force into your tone, which seemed to break her from her trance. her eyes, now clear of that fog, returned to yours and her lips pulled up into a smile.
“yeah, yeah, I’m fine. just a bit… distracted, I guess.”
you weren’t wholly convinced by her answer, but confident enough in the fact that if there was something bothering her she would open up about it, you shirked off the worry and steered the conversation into a different direction.
“where’s carl?”
“carol’s watching him. he’s coloring with sophia right now.” lori responded almost immediately, but a stone still dropped into your stomach when she added, “why is shane talking to daryl and his brother in there?”
“well, I don’t know the full story. I was doing laundry when carl came and got me. I guess daryl’s brother just marched right into camp and demanded to see him.”
“carl was near him?” lori asked, panic eddying into her voice. you quickly reached over and grasped her by the crook of the elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“he was fine, lori. shane and I were both there. honestly, if you ask me, he wasn’t in any danger in the first place.” you barely managed to stifle back a scoff, and lori stared at you as if you’d grown a second head.
“morales told me he had a gun.”
you nodded in agreement. “he did, but he never even took it out of the holster. but shane just… overreacted. demanded that he hand it over.”
lori blinked slowly, once then twice, before she sighed and linked her fingers together between her knees.
“I can’t say if he was overreacting or not. but I know he’s been… stressed lately, so that may have played a part in his actions.”
you bit the inside of your cheek and swallowed down the groan that threatened to bubble past your lips. you weren’t sure what had you so irritated about the whole ordeal, you just were.
“that’s probably why he’s holding a full-scale interrogation in there right now, too, huh?” you quipped.
“he’s probably just making sure they’re good people. you can’t really take chances these days.” lori shot back.
now, you simply couldn’t hold back your scoff. was lori really on the same page as shane?
“daryl has been here for days, and nothing bad has happened. he came in with a crossbow, for christ’s sake! he very easily could have put an arrow between anyone’s eyes by now, but he hasn’t.” you combated, fixing lori with a glare. why were you so angry, anyway?
lori pursed her lips and the muscles of her throat contracted as she swallowed deeply. her knuckles began to whiten from how tightly her fingers were wound together.
“be that as it may, we don’t know his brother at all. daryl could be perfectly sane whereas his brother could be the complete opposite. I agree with what shane asked of him, and I agree with what he’s doing now.” lori implored, her eyes wide with plea; a plea for you to understand.
the irritation within your chest quelled a small bit as you digested lori’s words. could it be, perhaps, that you were the one who overreacted? human nature is a concept that is difficult to conceive, and just because shane’s actions seemed to air too far on the side of caution, you supposed they weren’t completely uncalled for; as lori had stated, merle was a mystery to everyone except daryl, and he could very well pose a threat in the future, even if he hadn’t posed one hours ago.
“I suppose you’re right, lori.” you finally conceded with a sigh, sending the older woman a bit of a sheepish look. your anger towards her and the situation suddenly dawned on you as a bit childish. lori’s lips pulled into a wide smile and she reached over to rub her palm into your bicep.
“it’s okay to have crushes, sweetheart. but don’t let them overtake your sense of reason.” lori murmured, her voice edged with amusement.
you gaped at lori as your cheeks bloomed with heat. crushes? what the hell was she talking about? you didn’t have a crush on anyone.
you were just upset that shane had immediately considered merle a threat without even knowing the man. because shane didn’t know him, and by considering him a threat, he, by extension, called daryl into question and –
oh.
oh.
that’s what lori meant.
don’t let them overtake your sense of reason.
slowly, everything began to click into place. the real reason behind your anger and frustration at shane’s actions. it wasn’t because you considered them to be too cautious, but because you didn’t like the idea of shane, or anyone else, viewing daryl as a potential threat.
the one thing you couldn’t figure out was why. why did that irk you so bad? was it because you genuinely felt that, bad attitude aside and no matter how much he annoyed you, daryl was a good guy? or was it because you simply wanted daryl to be a good guy because you were attracted to him?
or was it because you hated the way his face had contorted with discomfort when shane confronted him about something he clearly hadn’t wanted happening in the first place?
“fuck!” you groaned, burying your heated face into your palms. your reaction prompted a bubbly laugh from lori, who once more reached over to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“it’s okay, hun. just take some time to calm down, yeah? maybe go color with carl like you used to?” lori suggested, and you playfully batted at her hand, sending her a glare through your fingers.
“I’m not twelve anymore, lori. that won’t work on me.”
contrary to the statement you’d uttered to lori, you found yourself seated at the makeshift table next to carl not even fifteen minutes later, an indigo crayon clutched in your hand and two children giggling at your masterpiece.
“apples aren’t supposed to be blue!” carl guffawed, tilting his head to the side and scrutinizing your crudely drawn apple.
“okay, two things, carl,” you started, reaching over to flick the boy in the ear lightly. “first thing – this isn’t blue, it’s indigo. and, second thing” – you extended your arm past carl to the stack of crayons beside him – “I wouldn’t have to make my apple indigo if someone wasn’t hogging all the red crayons!”
carl nearly squealed and shot his hands up to slap at your arm, effectively batting away your advance towards his treasure trove. at the look of mock surprise you shot him, carl erupted into a fit of giggles and laughs, which shot warmth straight through your chest.
carl looked so much like rick that sometimes it hurt.
overcome with affection for the boy, you ruffled his hair, your fingers getting caught unceremoniously by the subtle tangles within.
“you need a haircut,” you observed, retracting your fingers from carl’s hair as gently as you could. carl made a gagging noise and shook his head vehemently. his reaction pulled a small chuckle from your throat. carl hated haircuts.
“hey, it’s that strange man.” sophia suddenly exclaimed, voice lowered as though to only speak to the occupants of the table. your heart tripped over itself and you whipped your head towards the direction sophia was gesturing to. sure enough, you noticed the man from earlier, merle, sauntering towards the table.
something quick and hot shot through your veins, lori’s previous words returning to your mind with a vengeance, and before you could truly stop to think about what you were doing, you were out of your seat and meeting merle halfway.
for a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another – merle seemed to be visually appreciating your body, whereas you were searching his for any sign of threat. the gun that had been holstered to his hip was absent, which slightly lowered his danger level in your eyes, but you weren’t about to let him any closer to carl or sophia.
just in case.
finally, after what felt like ages of staring one another down, merle spoke, his voice low and raspy.
“I just wanted’ta come find’ya and properly introduce myself. merle dixon.”
merle extended a large, somewhat grimy hand to you. after a moment’s consideration, you reached forward and gripped it with your own. you noticed that his hand was rough and littered with callouses. he was obviously no stranger to hard work.
“(y/n) grimes. am I correct to assume that you’re staying with us?”
you released your grip but merle had yet to let your hand go, holding it in his for the duration of a vocalized hum before letting it go.
“indeed, you are. see, yer man shane proposed an offer that my brother ‘n I simply couldn’ refuse.”
your heart throbbed inside your chest and your throat tightened. did that mean daryl was staying, too? completely oblivious to the slippery mental slope you were approaching, merle continued.
“so’s I figured tha’ since we’re goin’ta be proper campmates now, I’d come over and introduce myself; and giv’ya some of my true-earned gratitude.”
“gratitude?” you parroted, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. merle nodded slowly, almost sagely, and slipped his thumbs through the belt loops at his hips.
“yes, ma’am. had’ya not stepped in when’ya did, I’m afrai’ I prol’ly would’a lost my cool.” merle conceded with a sigh, and once more your walls shot up. you stood straighter and leveled the man with a glare. upon seeing your reaction, merle retracted his thumbs from his belt loops and raised his hands in a placating manner.
“woah, calm down. I wouldn’ta shot yer boy or anythin’. I mean, had he raised his gun firs’, that’d’be a diff’ren’ story. I was just meanin’ I feared it may’ave escalated had’ya not stepped in.”
you swallowed thickly and nodded just subtly; it was difficult for you to discern if merle was telling the truth or not, but his admission had brought about an iron-willed conviction inside you.
you would definitely keep your eye on merle dixon.
“well, there’s no thanks needed. no one would have wanted it to escalate; shane certainly wouldn’t have.” you said stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective manner. you ignored the way merle slipped his eyes down to the top of your breasts; you had some tits, you wouldn’t deny that. and as long as he kept his hands to himself, you didn’t see a reason to overreact.
“merle! git yer ass in gear an’ le’s go! we’re wastin’ daylight!”
your eyes were immediately drawn to the source of the new voice. biceps glistening and flexing with each step he took, angry scowl etched into his face, and the strap of his crossbow strangled in a white knuckled grip, he was a vision of pissed off. lori’s previous assertion of a crush had your cheeks flooding with heat as you watched daryl stalk closer.
by the time daryl finally stopped next to merle, your heart had created its own off-tune beat within your chest, and your cheeks felt hotter than the sun – but you pushed away everything you were feeling and gave the rugged, angry man a once-over. you already decided to keep an eye on merle, so you might as well go the extra mile and keep one on daryl, too.
you wouldn’t complain about having to do that.
it was as you were scanning his waistline that you noticed a familiar string of rope slipped through his belt loop. it was the same rope he’d knot multiple squirrels to, like he had the first day he entered camp.
“you’re going hunting?” you asked, halfway-conversationally, halfway with the intention of prompting that gravelly voice from daryl’s throat again.
except, it wasn’t daryl who answered. rather, he tore his eyes away from yours and focused on the foliage that lined the clearing, and merle spoke up in his stead.
“it’s our part of the bargain, darlin’. we keep you people fed, and we get stay here.”
you snapped your eyes back to merle in a vexed manner; if the man took notice of it, he didn’t respond to it other than with a slight widening of the smile on his face. you quickly pushed away your annoyance in favor of shifting your tone into something that could pass as amicable.
“well, good luck with that, then.”
it would be much easier to keep your eye on merle if there wasn’t any tension; keep your friends close and your potential enemies closer. that sort of thing.
“why, thank’ya, sugar, but I don’ thin’ we’ll need any’a tha’. daryl and me’s been in the woods since we was li’l.” merle drawled, inching himself closer to you. you resisted the urge to retreat, but you allowed yourself the lee-way of shrinking your arm back when merle extended a hand with the intention of grazing his fingers across your skin.
discomfort was burrowing deep into your body, but your ears nearly perked at the unintentional slip of information about the man you’d been wondering about for days. it was a fact that you could have surmised just by observing him, but the verbal confirmation of it had your brain thirsting for more.
it wasn’t because of a crush. it was only because of physical attraction; and of course physical attraction would lead to curiosity. of course.
at your clear rejection of touch, merle dropped his hand back down to his side, much to your relief. you were already connecting the dots on the type of person merle was just from this brief interaction, and though he wasn’t exactly coloring himself as a legitimate rapist, you determined that, from this point forward, you’d still do your best to ensure he’d never be alone with you or any other woman in the camp.
because this man was most certainly a pervert, at the very least.
“you should get going, dixon.” you murmured flippantly, casting a brief glance upward. “you’re wasting daylight.”
you thanked every invisible star in the sky that you were fast enough to catch the way daryl’s eyes shot to you as you parroted his previous words to his brother – it was such a quick glance that you were unable to ascertain what it meant, or if there was any interest hidden within, but your skin still tingled and your heart still tripped over itself when it happened.
but it wasn’t because of a goddamn crush.
mid-afternoon had melted to dusk before you could even register that that much time had passed.
the camp seemed so serene now; bathed in an orange glow, quieted, with multiple people milling about to the tune of cricket song, popping embers and whistling wind. the sun’s wavering strength granted a breath of chilly air, soothing the heat beneath your skin.
but even the cool, serene atmosphere of the camp couldn’t quell the storm raging inside your head; not as it normally would.
it was so stupid – you knew it was. and it wasn’t like yourself, either. there was no time for second guesses, not before and definitely not now.
and yet, it was a broken record. scratchy and choppy, set to an endless loop that frayed every single nerve within your body, the very embodiment of the sole goal of driving you absolutely insane with doubt.
crush.
crush.
the word taunted you, teased you, made you question everything; and it really shouldn’t. you knew it shouldn’t.
and you also knew with every fiber of your being that it was wrong – that lori was wrong. because you… you did not develop crushes. you never had. any relations you ever had with men were born of pure physical desire, with no underlying emotions.
you only ever felt physical attraction, lust, and want. it was familiar, it was comfortable, it was natural, it was you.
so why the hell were you second guessing the nature that you’d always harbored? the nature that had never changed, that never would change?
it was lori’s fault, plain and simple.
she was the reason you were thinking so much. all because she had uttered that one little word. and now you had to do something about it. you had to put a stop to it.
you zigzagged around multiple shoulders as you made your way across camp, bumping into some with muted apologies, absentmindedly, eyes rapidly scanning the crowd until you were able to finally locate lori. she was standing next to the rv that belonged to dale, engaged in some sort of indistinct conversation with the man – that was until you grabbed her wrist and pulled her off to the side, dragging her to the farthest reaches of the camp.
“(y/n), what’s going on–” lori attempted to prod you gently, but you cut her off by swinging around to face her.
“I just want to have sex with him!” you breathed out in a rush, surely resembling a wild, scared animal with the way your eyes darted around the camp. lori’s own eyes widened to the size of dinner plates whereas her eyebrows furrowed together.
“u-uhm, sure, y-yeah. you mean daryl, right?” lori pressed, and you nodded vigorously.
“yes, I mean him. I just wanted to make that clear, because earlier you said something about a crush, and I just want you to know that it’s not like that–”
why were you even explaining this? had you really gone off the deep end? had the end of the world finally rusted every last screw left in your brain?
“okay, okay, honey, I need you to breathe.” lori directed, softly, catching your hands in hers, adding, “what I said was only a joke. I know it’s not like that.”
relief sagged your shoulders as you let out a deep breath. you met lori’s gaze, still wide and confused and bewildered, and then everything crashed into you with the force of a derailed train.
you couldn’t stop it. you laughed. a full on belly laugh. because you were being so fucking ridiculous – and feeling highly embarrassed at the moment.
“god, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry lori, I don’t know why I’m even acting like this.”
lori let out a soft chuckle and released your hands. her eyes softened and the smile she wore was genuine; more genuine than you’d seen in a long time.
“you aren’t being stupid, (y/n). I think maybe you’re just feeling restless. anyone would if they were cooped up here all day, every day. I imagine it’s hard on you.”
lori wasn’t entirely wrong. before the world had went to shit, you were an adventurous spirit. you never much liked the idea of staying in one place – there was too much to explore, too much to see, too much to do – and you couldn’t even fathom not indulging in that, of not feeding the desire.
but this spirit of yours was the whole reason you weren’t there the day rick got shot, why it took you nearly a week to get to king county to visit his room; why a goodbye was rendered impossible.
but that wasn’t why you were acting this way; that you knew for a fact.
tears stung at the back of your eyes and, ever observant, lori pulled you into her chest and circled her arms around your waist. warmth bloomed across your front and the sweet scent of lori’s perfume, faded and floral, mixed with the scent of sweat and smoke clinging to her skin. the scent, despite being slightly odorous, sunk into your body and brought about extreme comfort. you bit back the sobs by sinking your teeth deep into your bottom lip and squeezed lori back tightly, shedding your silent tears into the welcoming jut of her collarbone as she shushed you softly.
you felt completely rattled – because it all suddenly made sense to you.
consuming yourself with lust over a stranger, worrying about the fate of that stranger, or even tearing yourself up inside over whether or not you actually had a crush on said stranger – it was far easier than letting reality take the wheel, far easier than accepting the fact that the life you had and the world you knew were both gone, sucked away into an endless black hole, never to be seen again.
and there was nothing you could do about it.
prologue | chapter two
a/n: if you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to more, please consider liking/commenting/reblogging/following, or maybe even get yourself added to the taglist! I love y’all so much! also, I’ve decided to switch some things around given the depth these chapters are given – some events were cut from this one and will be added into chapter 2 – which is when reader and daryl really start interacting!
NOTE: the dividers used in this post do not belong to me, nor did I create them. they come from this post, labeled under free-to-use. all credits go to the creator of the dividers.
TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @chylerluvschim @alialiclouds
#daryl x reader#twd daryl#twd x reader#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl imagines#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#the walking dead daryl#twd
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hi I just wanted to start with I really love your writing its just so good. I do have a request and if your not interested its okay it is angst but with a possible happy ending.
so its a daryl x reader where before the apocalypse r and daryl were together and they ended things right before everything went to shit and then when the group gets to Alexandria r is there and she has kid/s (maybe twins?? boy and girl??) so turns out r found out she was pregnant right when everything started happening so daryl didn't know and idk he like puts two and two together yk?
and if you're okay with it can she be hispanic/ latin (maybe that can be one of the reasons they broke up bc yk merl is an ass to POC)
anyways sorry if that was a lot or didn't make sense
anyways have a good day/night much love <3
Two Plus Two Makes Four | Daryl Dixon x Hispanic!Fem!Reader
Summary: A week before the apocalypse, Daryl was forced to break up with you by Merle, leaving you heartbroken, but not alone—soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. Now, two years later, you come face to face again with the man that broke your heart, and he finds out something shocking.
Genre: Angst, some fluff towards the end.
Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.
Word count: 1.3k
A/n: Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope this is good enough to make up for the wait! Please note that I used Google translate for this, so the translations may be incorrect or awkward! Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes! (Translations will be at the bottom.)
—
“Kids?! Ya were pregnant and ya didn't fuckin' tell me?!” Daryl bellowed angrily, grabbing your arm to halt you from walking away from him.
You ripped your hand from his grip. “¡No me toques!” You spun around, furiously pointing a finger in your ex boyfriend's direction. “Don't you even dare put this on me, Dixon! You left. You walked out because you cared more about your brother's opinion than you did me! I'm sorry I wasn't gonna baby trap a man who didn't wanna be with me!”
“I deserved to know! I missed two years of their lives 'cause ya didn't tell me! I could of been there fer 'em, for ya, but ya chose to keep it from me!” Daryl exclaimed angrily, following you as you walked into your kitchen. “How could ya keep tha' from me?!”
“You chose to run to your brother the first chance you got! Four years down the drain in an instant for that racist asshole. I didn't owe you anything after that, maldito idiota!”
Daryl stopped in his tracks, instantly regretting starting up this particular argument. You spoke nothing but the truth. You didn't owe him anything. After all, it was him who walked out on you. He chose to let Merle's judgement get to him and influence his relationship. Hell, if it weren't for Merle, he would have proposed to you. He already had a ring picked out and everything back then, but he let Merle ruin everything. It was his own stupidity that cost him two years of his children's lives.
“Mama?”
At the sound of a small, timid voice coming from behind you, both you and Daryl turned and came face to face with your kids, your two year old twins. Your son, Luka, was nervously looking up at you and Daryl while your daughter, Camilla, was standing behind him, holding his hand.
Daryl was struck by the similarities both children shared with him. They both had his eyes, and his hair colour. They were spitting images of him. There was no doubt in his mind that these two children were his. He wasn't blind. He could see they were.
“Everything's fine, amores. I'm just having a conversation with Mr Dixon.”
Camilla stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with wonder. She looked up at Daryl, a smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Dixon?” she asked, pointing up at him. “Papa?”
Daryl was surprised. He looked up at you in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. You sent him a strained smile, forcing a relaxed look in front of your children.
“I always talk about you. They deserve to know who their father is. Well, who he was before he left me,” you explained, looking back down at Camilla and Luka.
“Papa?” Luka asked as he stepped forward, his blue eyes that reflected Daryl's sparkling with wonder. “Our papa?”
Daryl looked at you for permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You nodded, silently giving him permission. He was their dad, after all, and he had just as much right to have a relationship with them as you, even if he did leave you. However, that was between him and you, and your children didn't deserve to be denied a relationship with their dad because of it.
The archer bent down, looking between Luka and Camilla as they stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, m'yer papa. M'sorry I wasn't here before, but m'here now. I ain't goin' nowhere.”
Daryl wasn't sure how much of his speech they understood, if they understood anything at all, but it didn't matter. The speech was mainly meant for you. It was to let you know that he wanted to be a part of their lives, and there was just about nothing that could stop him from that.
Camilla and Luka, as if having some sort of twin power, both simultaneously rushed forward and into his arms. Daryl wasted no time in hugging them back, somehow managing to pick them both up and rest them comfortably in his arms. It was relatively late, nearly eight at night and well past their bed times, so they rested their heads on his shoulders, making Daryl's heart swell with fondness. They didn't even know him, only having heard of him through the stories you told them, but they already trusted him. And even though he just found out he had kids, he would kill for them.
“We need to talk, sunshine. This ain't somethin' we can just sweep under the rug,” he told you, allowing you to take Luka from his arms to lighten the load. He adjusted his hold on Camilla, letting out a fond chuckle when he heard her yawn and nuzzle her face deeper into his shoulder.
You let out a sigh and nodded. “I know. But let's get these dormilones to bed first.”
Approximately half an hour later, the twins were tucked into bed and asleep. You and Daryl were back in the kitchen, both having a glass of wine in your hands—liquid courage for the conversation you were about to have.
“M'sorry fer leavin' ya,” Daryl broke the silence first, nervously sloshing the liquid around in his glass. “I dun' even know why I did. Merle's opinions should've never influenced our relationship. I loved ya. I still do. I regret leavin' ya more than anythin' else in my life.”
You inhaled deeply, willing the tears away. For two years you had wanted an explanation, and now you were finally getting one. However, hearing him admit that he still loved you, that you weren't stupid for still loving the man who broke your heart, was both relieving and hurtful.
“You hurt me, Daryl,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I get that Merle was your brother, but you should've never let him influence you like that. I had to go through everything alone. Do you know how hard it was being pregnant and fighting for my life against the dead out there? Do you know how terrified I was? I was lucky enough to find Alexandria a couple of days before I gave birth. If I didn't, I would've given birth out there with the walkers. I probably would've died. Camilla and Luka too.”
Daryl felt the guilt gnawing at his insides. He really hated himself at that moment. “M'sorry, sweetheart. I really fuckin' am. I promise I won't leave again. I dun' expect you to give me a second chance. God knows I dun' deserve it, but I promise I'll be here fer ya and the lil ones. I ain't ever gon' let ya down again, I promise.”
You gave him a small smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, something you always did whenever the two of you had a serious talk. “Give me some time, Daryl. I still love you, but I need some time to adjust to the idea of 'us' again. It's been just me and the twins for two years. As far as I knew before today, I thought I wouldn't see you ever again. Just focus on the kids for now, okay? They deserve to know their daddy.”
Daryl's lips twitched up into a smile, and he nodded. “I'll wait as long as ya need me to. I ain't ever gon' let anyone influence us ever again, I can assure ya of tha'. And I ain't ever gon' leave ya to raise 'em alone, never.”
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
¡No me toques!: Don't touch me!
Translations (May be incorrect! Please feel free to correct me if they are!):
maldito idiota!: fucking idiot!
amores: loves.
dormilones: sleepyheads.
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#twd daryl#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#the walking dead#norman reedus#norman reedus x reader
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some s1 daryl gifs i made a while back (apologies for quality i really am not a giffer lmao)
#i’ll always prefer later seasons long hair!daryl naturally#but gosh s1 norman was a cutie#the walking dead#daryl dixon#norman reedus#daryl dixon gif
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Y/N: When Daryl comes in... Just know I didn't do it.
Rick: What did you do, Y/N?
Daryl: *Coming in.* Y/N, why's th' house down th' street on fire?
Rick: What!?
Y/N: THERE WAS A SPIDER!
#twd#twd x y/n#twd x reader#x gn!reader#the walking dead#the walking dead x y/n#the walking dead x reader#daryl dixon#rick grimes#x y#x y/n#x reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x reader#rick grimes x y/n#rick grimes x reader
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