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thesoggyraincloud · 2 years

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Catching her: Chapter 2

Daryl Dixon x OC // Merle Dixon x OC (Platonic)

Season 1-3/ The Quarry

updated

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The Fall had overtaken the city quickly. Within days of the initial terror inside Quinns apartment buildings the government had set up a refugee camp for the victims effected by the roaming infected. Luckily for Quinn she had been too much of a pussy to leave the safety of her home. Since that day, she sat inside her damp flat clutching the wind up radio she had fetched out of her fathers things. Listening. Hoping for anything to signify the continuation of society. Begging to hear the radio reassure her she would be safe. That this would pass.

It never came.

Instead of the comforts of a viable society, she had gotten two rednecks. They had arrived in a whirlwind, one week after the initial incident. And a day after Quinn had run out of food.

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She watched the brothers bicker and chat over the past two hour drive, to what they had informed her was their uncle's cabin. It had been a bewildering sight for Quinn, a bitter sweet reminder her of her own brother. An uncomfortable feeling rose in her chest. It had been easier to be alone.

“What the fuck are you staring at girl?” The younger of the two, Daryl turned to her from the passenger seat. The man scowled for a second before turning back to the road, looking forward with crossed arms.

“Sorry.” Her throat felt raw, the combination of shouting and prolonged silence that had occurred for a week prior meant the sudden new use of her voice felt unnatural.

“So girlie, didn’t much feel like finding any help? Smart hol’ing up like that, pretty thang like you, You’d be dead already without us.” Merle laughed.

The same deadpan laugh that he’d used back in Austin and it rocked through her. he stared at her through the rear view mirror and catching the woman’s gaze, breaking away after a few too many seconds to stare back at the road.

Quinn felt her chest tighten in anger, the thought he had done her a favour by robbing and kidnapping her enraged the woman. It would do no good to anger them though and the facade of peace between the three was just that to her, a facade.

Quinn felt her chest tighten in anger, the thought he had done her a favour by robbing and kidnapping her enraged the woman. The façade of tranquility among the trio felt hollow to her. They possessed food, weapons, and shelter—things Quinn had lost. She couldn't afford to anger them and die from exposure or worse. And so as she had many times before, Quinn attempted to bite down her emotions. Putting on a polite smile and staring back to the mirror. The anger in her eyes electric.

“It's mighty fine that you two were kind enough to take me with you.” The sweet southern drawl was tinged with such venom that even the younger brother had been stunned for a second. Daryl held a smile at the girl's comment, unused to seeing his brother challenged. She had almost regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, almost. It felt good though, Quinn thought.

The eldest Dixon brother was not so amused, turning away from the road to completely face the girl. Neglecting to watch the road in his anger. He was not the type to take such back talk lightly, and to him, it was especially intolerable that a woman had done it. She had made his brother almost laugh at him, humiliation and anger filled his chest. His face flushed the same alarming red shade as her blood deprived hands had done not hours before.

“Now you listen here missy, me an’ my brother were kind enough to take you with us. Don’t mean we’re gonna keep you around if you start acting ungrateful now.” With that he raised an eyebrow and turned back, an alarmed Daryl letting out an inner sigh of relief when his brother's eyes met the road again.

She didn't reply, instead turning toward the large black duffle she had brought with her. She soon found what she was looking for, the sight of small blue pills relieved Quinns spinning mind as she eyed them in anticipation. Checking that the brothers in the front were distracted in their anger, she quickly threw the small pill’s back and washed them down.

Her shoulder rested on the door and she stared out the dirty window and sunk into her seat. She waited for the comforting warmth to wash across her mind. If she were going to be practically abducted and robbed, she’d prefer stay high for it.

Over the next half hour she had taken to destroying the brown leather of the seat in her scorn. Slowly picking a patch of the seat threadbare until she felt the cold stare from a particularly blue pair of eyes.

Sighing loudly she ceased her destruction, staring out to the road ahead. The boys had managed to stay away from the highway, claiming it to be full of what they had called walkers. But she could slowly see it coming slowly into view on the horizon. Lines of cars packed together blocking all chance of escape from the city. People, or walkers, had swarmed back toward the city after the initial outbreak. The infection drove them towards the populated areas, including the refugee centre according to Merle. Who had reluctantly filled the woman in on the little news she had missed since the start. Jesus there was a start now-but does that imply an ending? she thought.

The reality felt far too confusing to confront, far harder especially when she was starting to feel increasingly more intoxicated. The heat in her chest and face building up. A spring of energy bouncing within her stomach, forcing itself up to her chest. Quinn steadied her shaky breath into an even pace to curb the growing nausea, teeth starting to chatter lightly. Tensing her jaw in realisation that perhaps she may have taken too much. Just as the thought had occurred she attempted to push another wave of nausea down. Then Merle swerved towards the side of the road.

Before her eyes could relay what had happened to her brain, a thud and a squelch sounded across the silent stretch of highway. Merle ran down a walker. Her stomach fought its way up her throat, head spinning.

“Stop the car!” leaning forward she grabbed the eldest brother's shoulder,

“Please, I think I'm going to throw up.”

“I aint stopping the fucking car, princess, you’re just gonna have learn to cope with’a lil blood.” He turned to argue further, but upon looking back and making eye contact with the sweaty mess in the back seat he relented and swung the car to the side.

Flinging the truck door open and sticking her upper half out the rusted truck she emptied her stomach onto the road. Blue foam from the pills covered the blood soaked concrete. She wiped her chattering mouth and sat, panting in the hot southern breeze. Thinking about the wasted pill in regret she wonderd if she could find some more in the future.

“City girl here doesn't seem to have shared everything with the class.” Called Merle to his brother in the passenger seat, flicking a cigarette between his fingers.

“What the fuck you gonin’ on about now Merle?” The youngest Dixons eyes widened in surprise when they met her dilated pupils, he wiped his face of expression. Returning to his usual scowl seconds later.

“Just great, shes fuckin’ high.” Quinn internally sneared at his judgement.

“Now girlie” Merle pulled her back into the car slamming the door and walking around to his seat, twisting his body to face her.

“You're not gon’ be staying with us if you don’t hand over your shit.” Pulling his mouth into a thin line at the end of his words, suddenly she felt rather exposed under his stare.

“Thats not fair you asshol-” Merle leaned over the car seat, grabbed her face, pushing his fingers into her jaw and shaking her head harshley. She felt the nails pricking at her skin.

“Might I remind you, that without us, you’d have stayed in that coffin of a flat and been ripped to damn shreds by the dead. So why don't’ you start show some appreciation to your hosts!” His breath was hot across her face as he shouted, fingers pushing in at her skin. He inhaled a sharp breath.

“I ain’t asking for anything much, just that you share whatever you got stashed back there with good ole Merle.” With one final squeeze, he released her jaw from his grip and leant back into his chair. Starting the truck and driving forward causing the open door to slam shut with a loud bang. There was a tense pause in the air as the truck gained speed.

“With all due respect Merle, I'm not parting with- '' The car flew forward once again as Merle slammed the emergency brake. Sending her seatbeltless self careening into the front of the truck at an alarming speed.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, thwarting the near descent out of the front windshield. Turning to catch the eyes of her saviour she was met with Daryls. And as quickly as he had caught her, he pushed her out of his arms back into her seat. She looked back at the brothers in shock.

“Your a stubborn fucking bitch you know that? Should just throw you out and let you starve.” Daryl shouted before Merle had the chance.

“Give me the fucking Pills Girl.” Merle screamed after his brother, chest heaving in frustration.

Quinn relented and shoved her hand into the duffle bag, retrieving only one of the baggies of pills from their box. Throwing them in the direction of the shaved head in the driver seat, the moment of petty vengeance tightening her chest in anticipation. Surprisingly before the baggie of pills could hit its target, Daryl’s hand shot out and caught it from the air like a viper.

“See that wasn't so hard now was it?” Merle teased, starting the car up for hopefully the last time till they reached the cabin.

Her still distorted mind wanted to call out to him with an insult, but her body felt heavy and clammy still. The argument not helping to better her state after puking up the pill, clearly not getting enough out to sober up remotely. This was going to be an interesting few hours. She curled up into the back seat. Preparing herself to wait out the rest of the journey in relative silence, the high buzzing through her veins, keeping her alert and awake.

“Put on your seatbelt.” Daryl Called to the girl, “I ain't gonna catch you If you decide to go through the windshield again.” she couldn't read his expression, but If she had to choose, she’d imagine it was teasing sarcasm. The more probable answer was annoyance, maybe anger.

“Yes Sir.” She replied. Despite her apparent attitude, he was probably right, she decided. Best not to die in a car crash in a world where the dead are walking. Complying with his wishes she pulled the fraying seatbelt belt across her lap and clipped it in. The car fell into silence again, only the faint noise of the wheels against the gravel road interrupting the false peace.

After what felt like hours going through the dense woods of Georgia, Daryl broke the silence to announce to the car that they were almost at the cabin Every mile of wood that past sent her more on edge, going to a remote cabin in the woods with two strange men at the end of the world sounded like a murder plot when it was written down on paper. Luckily for Quinn, she didn't have any paper. The thought made she snort slightly.

“So what's the plan? Hold up in your creepy as fucking sounding cabin like goldilocks and the three bears?” she snarked, Merle started to chuckle slightly. She was surprised by his lack of malice, the laugh being of genuine surprise and humour.

“Well Goldilocks, We’re gonna head north. Darylina the genius here thinks the cold ol’ slow walkers down more, less horde’s. We’ll camp out round er’ til Winter see if he's right.” He said back to her after he finished laughing.

“I never said I thought the cold would slow em down, jus’ that they’d freeze their asses off.” Daryl sniped back at Merle. If the girl had to guess again, and she felt like she was going to have to do that alot with Daryl, she'd say he felt uncomfortable with the spotlight being on him for once.

“Sounds like you were probably right either way. Guessing by the crossbow you boys hunters?” she questioned, pulling her legs under her. Sitting up higher to look at them in the rer view mirror.

“Yea, but you ever need a real hunter, you come to me. Daryl’s too pussy.” He replied, eyeing her from the rearview mirror when he emphasised ‘real’.

“I won't be needing a real hunter, I can do it myself.” She cut back at him, testing the dangerous waters. Bad temperament was in the Dixon DNA it seemed.

“Bet you can't even Skin a rabbit. Leave it to the men Goldilocks.” he quipped back, a smirk visible on the side of his face.

”I've skinned a deer, a rabbit is not too hard. Not really worth my time much tho.” She replied, struggling to hold back her annoyance at her assumed incompetence.

“Where the fuck someone like you learn to hunt?” said Daryl. Turning slightly to look at her in his seat, scowling when he saw her shoes on the leather seat.

“I Used to be in the woods more than the city when I was a kid, family taught me everything I needed to know. ” She stated, looking back towards the window. It was hard thinking about him.

“They teach you shit ‘bout tracking?” He asked her, sitting right in his seat again. Secretly glancing looks at her in the wing mirror.

“Not a lot. Know how to shoot a gun, set traps and the rest of it. Never got round to learning tracking fully.” She answered, the pills only doing so much to mask the amounting emotional pain building within her rib cage, threatening to crack them open under the pressure.

“Well Goldilocks at least you’re not completely useless then.” This time Merle replied, a bitter twinge to his tone. Instead of answering she allowed the car to fill with silence again. A minute passed until a driveway and then a while later a medium sized cabin came into view.

A larger man in a flannel shirt came to greet the group, just as gruff and harsh as the boys. Maybe it really was in the DNA. He called hello to them as they got out of the truck, Quinn stayed back for a second surveying her surroundings. The dense woods gave way to a small clearing, containing the cabin. An older structure, the simple frame was accompanied by a small blue shed. The driveway, a barren dirt road leading to yet another dirt road further up. Quinn wondered if it led to a town, or further into the wilderness.

Daryl appeared at the door, stepping to the side to let her out as he opened the door. Murmuring a small thank you to him and she pushed herself out of the cramped truck, grabbing her bag behind her.

“Who's this Merle? Your new bitch of the week?” The fat older man laughed. He turned to Merle, who had made his way up to the porch, and grabbed his shoulder. Daryl moved in front of her, blocking his uncle's view. Quinn had no idea why but was eternally grateful for the gesture.

“We found her in Atlanta, helped her get out of the city tis’all.” Daryl called back to his uncle, already moving away from her and over to the truck again.

“All right, sorry Darylina.” His uncle was smug. Feeling accomplished after belittling his nephew.

Merle laughed this time, his uncle's smile widening at his nephew's reaction. Daryls face pulled into a deep frown and he stormed past them into the cabin, leaving the girl standing by the truck in his wake. Uncomfortable with the new sets of eyes on her and unsure what to do she contemplated following him inside, but decided against it. Not wanting to venture into his uncle's cabin without explicit invitation, weary of angering her new acquaintances.

“Goldilocks come on over here! Jesse this ere’ is Goldilocks, Goldilocks this is our uncle Jesse.” Merle introduced Quinn and his uncle as she walked up the final stair of the porch.

“Nice to meet you Jesse, My name is Quinn.” She responded, taking a place between them and the door. Shifting awkwardly.

“Small thing ain't you, surprised you made it this far.” The few words felt like an interrogation from him, her stress levels rising the more her instincts screamed.

‘This man felt like a threat.’

“QUINN! Come ‘ere” Daryl called from inside.

“Goldilocks?” she faintly heard Jesse questioned Merle as she headed inside.

Walking into a small living room, mounted animal heads hung over an unlit fireplace. Photos and trinkets littering the large mantle above, she squinted trying to make out the images. Daryl called again, his footsteps sounding from down a hallway. The entrance decorated by the head of a large moose. He appeared through it, his crossbow in hand.

“Door to the right at the end of the hallway s’mine, take the room for tonight.” He grumbled looking down with a taught face.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” she asked him, stepping closer.

“Goin’ on a hunt with Jesse we'll be gone all night, you and Merle are stayin’ here till mornin’.” He answered, heading into the living space and brushing past her.

“I could come and help?” It was an empty gesture, she wasn't sure if she was safe at the cabin but the thought of being in the woods with Jesse was nauseating. He made her hairs stand on end.

“No, aint got no tracking skills. You'd just slow us down.” He gruffed, stepping past her and walking towards the front door. She let go of the ball of tension inside of her chest, feeling it drop to her stomach instead.

“Thank you Daryl, for the room.” She called to him, he just looked back before walking away out into the sun. The girl took one last look in his direction before heading down the shaded hallway.

Daryl's room contained a double bed on the smaller side, it’s metal frame pressed against the wooden walls on the left. The right side contained a large oak dresser, various piles of objects and clothes scattered along it haphazardly. The room smelled musky, hints of the woods from outside wafting through the cracks in the window. It was cleaner than the rest of the cabin, only a light layer of dust sat undisturbed along the window ledge. She placed her bag beside the bed and sat. Confronting reality as she sobered, filled with unease at the thought of the immediate future. Spending the night alone with Merle was not going to be pleasant. With his hostile attitude and ego the size of Jupiter it would be a hard challenge to not butt heads with the southerner.

‘What have you gotten yourself into Q?’

Walking out bedroom door before she lost the nerve to do so, she heard the truck pulling out of the driveway. Tires grinding against the dirt road, the sound gradually fading away. She was alone with Merle and looking out into the corridor provided no sign of the aforementioned male.

Had they left me here alone?

Giving in to curiosity she explored the living room, noting various nicknacks adorning the fireplace. Upon closer inspection, finding a picture, a woman with two boys. Ice creams in their hands. They were smiling, squinting into the camera with large grins on their faces, the smaller blonde boy reaching out for his brother's hand. It was an adorable photo, she had guessed that It was the same two men who brought her here. The juxtaposition between their youthful smiles and innocent faces to the surly hunters she knew seemed almost ridiculous. But the resemblance was there, both having the same eyes as the men she knew.

Hearing Footsteps behind them, she shoved the small photo back onto the mantelpiece and turned to face the noise. Feeling slightly ashamed for looking at such an intimate moment, despite it being displayed proudly in one of the main rooms of the Cabin.

“Can't go off for five minutes without ya snooping through shit that aint yours.” Merle said, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, nervous of the explosion that was bound to happen.

“Sorry, just didn't expect you guys to look, so…so-”

“-Young?” He questioned, raising a brow. .

“Kinda yeah…is that your Mom?” she questioned, pointing behind to the photograph. Merle stiffened for a second and she braced herself.

“Nar’ tha’s Jesse's wife, Lyn.” He replied, reaching behind her to grab the frame. She went to hand it to him at the same time, almost knocking the frame from his hand. He pulled back from like she had stung him, giving a displeased look.

“Where is she now?” she asked, feeling the ground below her turn into eggshells, cracking under the weight.

“She’s prolly’ dead, but she left him. Stupid whore took everything from my Uncle.” He spat, handing the frame to her and walking off towards the door.

“You jus’ gon’ stand there or what?” He called from outside. Placing the photo back down Quinn reluctantly left the safety of the cabin to follow him around. They quickly arrived at the shed she’d seen on the side of the property earlier. Opening the doors they were greeted by a Triumph Bonneville TR6C motorcycle, a 76’ model.

“Nice bike, she's a Triumph right?” she asked, Merle grinned.

“You know bikes?” He questioned, walking around to the side of the bike.

“Kinda, Someone I knew used’ta have one. It’s a good bike.” she spoke, voice tighter then usual. He nodded, eyes staring into her. Then darting away, moving on to opening up the front compartment and shuffling around stuff inside.

“I know it’s fuckin’ in here!” He exclaimed, starting to pull bags and clothing items out of it.

“What on god's earth are you looking for?” she asked, moving closer towards him to peak over at the ever mounting pile of stuff next to him.

“Don’t be fuckin’ nosy, I don’t share my shit with nosy bitches.” He warned, looking at her with his eyebrows raised in an annoyed expression. Before breaking back out into what was becoming his signature grin.

“Oh so you’re sharing with me now.” It came out in more of a sarcastic drawl then the light hearted tone she had meant to employ.

“Bingo baby!” He shouted, pulling out a plastic bag full of… was that meth?

It was.

‘Merle Dixon is offering me meth…Fuck!’

“This the good shit, none of that impure stuff don’t worry Goldilocks.” He had a shit eating grin on his face and if she had to guess almost everything he just said was a bold face lie.

“I’m not doing meth, Merle.” she responded to his excitment with a blank face, trying not to laugh nervously at the situation.

”Besides, I'm not mixing that with my shit, It’ll give me a heart attack.” She added.

“Fine goldilocks, but you’re missing out!” He almost giggled. Almost. Merle couldn’t ever actually gigigle, but that was close enough to it for a man as crazy as Merle.

“Never said i’d be staying sober, hell im not even sober now.” The girl laughed at him, walking after him to the house.

“I’m pretty sure Daryl has yer’ shit Goldie.” He called back while opening the living room door.

“You asked me to share and I did, didn’t mean I gave it all to you. That’d hardly be sharing now would it?” She questioned, pushing him to challenge her. She’d managed to get away without an explosion, as the man had just walked into the house laughing, shaking his head in amusement.

“You smarter than I thought, Goldilocks.” He replied, seating himself on the sofa and digging into his pocket. Revealing a small glass Pipe. Rolling her eyes in disgust she pulled herself to Daryls room. Retrieved two pills and headed back to the living room to join an already high Merle. who was leaning his head back on the sofa, half closed eyes snapping open to attention when he heard her enter the room.

“You know where the kitchen is? I need some water.” she said, Shaking an empty water bottle in one hand and holding up the pills in the other.

“S’the door behind you Goldie” He pointed behind himself and at the white door on the left. Throwing the pills to the back of her throat she quickly chased them with large gulps of water. Anticipation nipped at her feet. Walking back over to the lounge, Merle was busy re-filling his pipe and lighting it.

“You know, You really are missing out. And it’s awful rude to decline your host Goldie.” He smiled as he spoke. The tone shifted from the playful banter before to something serious, challenging.

He pushed the pipe towards her and she swallowed an argument in favour of submitting to her host. Raising the end to her lips Merle flicked the lighter and she inhaled the chemical smoke deeply. Sat back, her head began to spin with Merle’s laughter reverberating through her. She felt her mind fade into a haze of thoughts, and soon enough lost to the stream of consciousness.

—————

A/N:

Hey thank you for the notes on the first two chapters! Hope you enjoy chapter 3 <3 Feel free to point out any spelling or grammar mistakes :D

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d1xonss · 16 days

Note

Daryl with a fem reader who’s love language is physical touch? Like whenever they’re cuddling she’s always burying her head into his side or neck. Or another one is acts of service so imagine when they first came to Alexandria she noticed Daryl was the only one in the group who still hasn’t bathed so she offered to do it for him.. he just sits in front of her in the bath while she cleans his hair and scrubs his body

Soap and Bubbles

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 1.1k

AN ~ I’ve been slacking on requests big time:( But recently I got my wisdom teeth removed and the whole recovery has been kicking my ass, so sadly I just haven’t felt motivated to write anything new. Though I’m hoping this lil oneshot makes up for it and you guys don’t completely hate me lol.

Hope you enjoy! xoxox

He was stubborn. You were persistent. It was like when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. But in the end it was almost painfully obvious who won those battles most of the time.

When the group first arrived to Alexandria; a safe haven that was gifted to you by the grace of God himself, it was no secret that Daryl was one of the first who didn’t trust it. He was constantly tense and on high alert most of the time, when in reality there was never any real danger to begin with. But his thoughts seemed to haunt him, not necessarily because he felt the constant need to protect himself, but because he felt the constant need to protect you.

You were the most precious thing to him, like a delicate flower that he was constantly worried about squishing under his boot if he wasn’t too careful. And just the thought of you being in this unknown place that none of you really knew, it was safe to say it took him a while to even sleep. And it took him even longer to feel comfortable enough to bathe.

After the first few days of getting comfortable in the new community, you couldn’t help but notice that Daryl was the only one who hadn’t taken advantage of the luxury that was given. He hadn’t slept on one of the actual beds, he hadn’t even eaten any of the food that was stocked to the brim in each of the houses. The man just continuously hunted for his own food nearly every single day instead, working for it as if he felt like he had to. And he was one of the last people to use the nice new bathroom that everyone else had been hogging.

It was hard seeing him like this, knowing without even having to ask that he was slightly uncomfortable here. In the end when the place didn’t seem that dangerous, you knew he only really stayed so you had a roof over your head, and that was it. He always seemed to put you first before anything else and it never failed to melt your heart in the best way. But at the same time, you wanted to help him. You wanted to ease him into everything so he could learn to eventually call this place home.

Which is why you ever so slowly tried to coax him into taking a bath. Like a dog who was afraid of water.

“Nah.” was his original answer when you first asked him, that stubbornness really shining through as he put his foot down at the idea. Knowing that he didn’t feel safe enough to be so vulnerable.

But then you offered to help him, and that seemed to change the game as his interest piqued.

So after just a little more convincing, you finally got him into the tub filled with warm water, even adding some bubbles just to make it a little more enjoyable. And although he scoffed at the sight, he clearly wasn’t complaining as he practically melted into the warm water.

You sat yourself behind him as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp as you cleaned it with a fresh shampoo. His eyes fluttered closed at your softness when touching him, even letting out a satisfied groan or grunt here and there just to let you know how much he was enjoying it. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself every time he did so, dragging the process out just a little bit longer upon seeing how relaxed he was.

Your nails gently scratched his scalp every once and a while which you knew he thoroughly enjoyed, loving the soothing feeling you provided as he slowly came to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. His muscles twitched as you rinsed the bubbles out of his hair, feeling the warmth running down his back.

A smile stretched across your lips as you looked down at him, “Feel good?”

He nodded slowly as he let out a long and satisfied sigh, keeping his eyes closed as he was certain he could fall asleep within seconds. “Thank you.” he muttered.

Your face softened at his gratitude, “You’re welcome.” your sweet voice spoke, leaning down to place a kiss on top of his head.

He smiled to himself when he felt the touch of your lips, relaxing even more as you continued on for however long you wished. He wasn’t complaining, nor was he going to stop you anytime soon.

You then ran some conditioner through his hair, being able to run your fingers through the full length of it smoothly as you removed all the tangles. It smelled like heaven and it made his hair feel nearly brand new after not having it clean and fresh in so long. You then took your time washing his body, which to him was his favorite part of this whole thing. Your hands worked delicately, watching the soap run down his arms and chest as the remaining dirt just melted off his body.

A few more cuts were now more prominent on his skin as you continued to wash him, making some kind of mental note to help him clean those when he got out of the porcelain bowl. With being on the road for so long you had no idea how long they had been there, now being thankful you had everything you needed to fix him up. Seeing him constantly putting you before him in every single scenario, you wanted to do the same for him whenever you could. Though he was thick headed and usually refused, he did occasionally like being showered with affection like this.

Once you were done and the water was now a bit colder, you opened your mouth to tell him that he should probably get out. But you stopped yourself upon seeing the look on his face, seeing him finally looking content for the first time in months. You figured a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt as you began to drag your nails through his hair again.

“I love you.”

It was so soft you almost didn’t catch it. But the second his words met your ears you couldn’t help but freeze. He had never said that to you before.

Though you knew he always loved you, showing it in the little ways he knew how, you knew he felt a deep love for you that he couldn’t even describe. His actions speaking much louder volumes than words ever could. But now hearing him admit it out loud, you could feel a warmth spreading through your chest as you smiled, continuing to run your fingers through his hair as if to pretend it didn’t affect you as much as it did.

“I love you too.”

~ Thanks for reading!

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greatfandom · 2 years

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starlessea · 1 year

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Your scent lingered

Drabble: Come morning, you leave behind nothing but crumpled sheets and your scent. But Daryl craves more.

A/N I'm starting a 10-min drabble series where I write something on my phone quick before bed. Here's the first.

Your scent lingered but you never did.

Daryl wondered why that was - why you'd pack yourself up and haul yourself out of town before his eye could crack open to the dawn.

It wasn't a commitment thing. You were committed to a lot of things: him, sex, chaos.

And you always came back.

You were always there when he needed - with fingers of ice but breaths of fire, and a heart a few degrees south of molten core.

But then you were gone. Away with the night and like a fleeting dream come morning.

The excuses would vary. "Supply run." "Weapon maintenance." "Some Alexandrian snob got a blocked drain (again)."

Daryl had grown tired. Tired of waking up tired to an empty pillow and a scent that always lingered.

Would it kill you to once stay for the dawn, to stay in his arms through morning and to only leave once the knocks came at the door?

It probably would. He knew that by now.

The only thing in this world powerful enough to tie you down was a headstone. And even then, he wasn't sure.

So Daryl stretched out his arms over the king-sized, royally pompous bed, and felt his fingertips brush the sheets where you had lain.

Warmth lingered there. But you did not.

And so Daryl spent half an hour more wondering where you had scuttled off to in your usual hurry, and why you'd kissed his chest so tenderly as you dressed near his bedside.

He'd been awake then. He always was when you left. And every time, you'd whisper him a chaste goodbye as though it were the last, and Daryl would struggle to feign sleep - fretting that it might really be.

Your scent lingered but you never did.

Yet that alone was enough for Daryl. Because there would come a day when neither would remain. And on that day, Daryl knew, this world would become a drop more cold.

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lilyevanstan1325 · 6 months

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Leave a comment if you'd like to join my taglist❤️

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OC

A/N: The stories will follow the show's timeline only partially, many characters will have different stories than the original ones.

Some characters, places or events do not correspond to the TV show, I am only granted some "licenses".

I don't own any rights to TWD or its characters, scene or original dialogue.

I own only Summer and the main plot of the story, do not copy or use without permission.

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for every mistake.

Especially the ones you'll find in Daryl's speech.

Writing using a southern accent is something I don't do very well and I hope you can understand me and even help me sometimes.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Warnings: For anyone who has seen The Walking Dead knows exactly how the show works and what kind of crude topics are often shown.

I already warn you that each of my chapters will contain a different trigger that will not be reported at the beginning of the chapter so anyone who doesn't feel comfortable with these topics is better not reading my story.

This story contains mature content, including:

Graphic scene, strong language, gore, death, violence, sex, racism, pregnancy, miscarriage, weapon, drugs, abuse, blood, alcohol, self arm.

Age gap: Daryl is 35 years old and Summer is 24 years old.

Summary: Summer is a sweet, cheerful girl in love with life.

Her parents love her more than anything in the world and she could never imagine not having them by her side.

But then the apocalypse takes all of that away from her.

Nowadays she is only a shadow of what she was.

She was forced to run away from the only man she believed could love and protect her forever.

She finds herself alone and exhausted in the middle of the woods, waiting to die.

But then a mysterious man saves her.

Daryl.

A man with a past full of demons.

Maybe their meeting will decree the survival of the girl and the rebirth of the archer.

Between lies and secrets will they ever find some peace in the end?

Is there still room in this world for feelings like love, friendship and honor?

Or will fears and misunderstandings do nothing but drive them away from each other, allowing themselves to be devoured by their own mistakes?

🔥Moodboard🔥

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13 coming soon

#fanfiction #fanfic #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd family #twd fic #twd fandom #norman reedus #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x original character #fanfiction recommendation #builtforthisworld

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crustless-toast · 3 months

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Screaming Your Name

Here is Chapter 1 to Screaming Your Name! An Oc x Daryl Dixon story! I'm gonna really try to not make the story too cringy and if I am please let me know so I can fix it lol. I hope you enjoy it either way!

I'm a little new to posting on Tumblr so I hope to be able to link all the chapter together properly as I post them. Until then, Enjoy!!

Raven was like any normal person. She worked a boring retail job that paid close to nothing. Just to go home to an empty house, pay bills, eat and sleep. Nothing exciting really happened in her life. She was just different than the average person. She enjoyed the little things. She was more of a glass half full kind of gal. Always enjoying the little things in the world. Unfortunately, the world came to an end. She wasn’t the athletic type but when monsters are chasing you down to eat you alive the only thing you can do is run. Running is what led her to her new life with people she never thought would enter it. She found friends, family, and love. She learned to fight, to face her fears, and to keep pushing forward even through the dark times. Out of everything all she wanted was to get one man to open up to her more. To show him the good that was left in the world. For Daryl Dixon to see there is still hope in the world. That life is still good.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gripping my blanket closer to my body, I shiver as cold sweats soak my body. I don’t know how much more I can handle this. My cold that I've had from the start of this, has turned into something much worse.

What medicine I did have is gone. Finding medicine is close to impossible nowadays. A few Advil here and there, as well as a bag of cough drops can only get you so far. Everywhere I’ve looked has already been picked through. The more populated areas are hard to look through. Too many of the dead filling those areas. I can't look through them on my own. It’s close to impossible.

The summer heat had no effect on my cold body. The warmth just feels like the blanket. The slight breeze just makes me shiver more. If it was a normal day in the old world, people would think I was insane having a thick blanket wrapped around me with the sun beating down on me. But in the old world I’d have medicine and I'd be fine in a few days.

The sound of the dead was behind me and there was nowhere to go. No place to hide. I looked around to maybe find something, but there was only an empty road surrounded by woods. I grip my knife, deciding my only option was the woods.

My legs were getting so heavy. I was having a hard time staying ahead of them. I needed to keep moving but I had to stop. My throat was burning from the sickness and the heat. I need to stop and to drink some of my water. Quickly getting back up. The sun was starting to set and it was getting too dark to see.

I was getting too tired to keep going. My eyes feeling like someone is pushing them closed. I drop my bag, dropping to my knees but I kept a tight grip on my knife. Taking deep breaths that end with me coughing. I covered my mouth with my blanket, needing to keep quiet incase any of the dead were near.

I jump at the snap of a twig not that far from behind me. Looking around, seeing if there was anything up ahead. I didn’t see much, but there was something ahead of me. It was hard to tell what it was exactly. But what light was left I could see something reflecting. Like a window.

Grabbing my bag, I moved ahead, dragging my bag next to me. Not having the strength to pick it up. As I got closer, I could see it was a cabin of some kind right in the center of an open field. Abandoned before the world ended.

Growling was behind me. Staying here was my only option.

Throwing my bag on my shoulder, almost making me fall. I raised my knife and slowly made my way to the cabin. I head up to the steps of the porch, listening closly to see if I could hear anything. So far nothing.

I closed the door behind me, locking it with its old rusty padlock and placed a chair in front of it that was close by. Moving forward once my eyes were adjusted to the darkness. There was another door in front of me that led to the other side of the cabin. I drop my bag, heading to the door to close it as well as put a chair in front of it. In case something comes in I could hear it first.

To my left looked to be some kind of dining room with a table flipped over and chairs thrown all over. As well as the kitchen that appeared to be cleared out with every cabinet opened wide.. To my right I think it was a living room. It was empty with only a couch that looked so comfortable. The livingroom appeared to have a small hall that lead to other rooms. Each was empty with nothing in them but some old furniture that was rusted and destroyed.

Grabbing my bag I made my way to the couch. My body relaxed as I sunk into it. Not caring about the dust. Exhausted from having to run all day.

Reaching in my bag I grabbed my water, but it was empty. Just my luck. I didn’t realize I drank it all already.

My body was so cold. I could see the bottle shaking in my hands. I dropped it, not caring where it went. Gripping my blanket even tighter around me as I lay down, my knife still in my hand. Finally being able to rest my head on something that wasn’t a hard floor. I don’t care that I can feel the springs in the cushions. I was so tired and sick. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more. No matter how hard I fought it. I needed rest so I let myself sleep.

~~~~~~~

A loud bang woke me from my sleep, but I couldn't move. My body was so heavy. I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to see if it was one of the dead or not. I was still shaking to the point where it hurt even more. My bones are sore from, well, everything. My knife was no longer in my hand. I must have dropped it in my sleep.

I could hear footsteps getting closer to me. I opened my eyes just enough to see the sun was up, shining through the windows. A figure walked into the door frame. I can barely make out a man holding something. It was pointed at me.

“You bit?!” The voice was stern, southern and loud.

I close my eyes, not able to keep them opened any longer. “N-no. Sick.”

“Sick, how?”

My lips quiver as I try to speak, “Fr-from a cold. I-i had fr-from the begin-beginning.”

“Is it just you?” He was demanding an answer.

I nod, too tired to answer.

I felt a hand being placed on my forehead. His fingers were cold and rough.

“Ya burin up.”

I grip my blanket closer, “So-so cold.”

I hear things moving around. I couldn't tell if he was taking my stuff or looking around the place. I didn’t care either way.

“My camp has a Doctor. ‘M take ya to him,” Before I could answer him, I could feel his arms snaking under me. He grabs my arm and places it over his shoulder. Picking me up from the couch. With my blanket still gripped in my hands, I wrapped my arms tighter around him. Scared to fall.

“Gonna make me hot,” He says in my ears.

He started to walk. I opened my eyes enough to see who this man was. His face was a little dirty, with some facial hair around his mouth. His hair was short and filled with sweat. His eyes were sharp, looking at everything around him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He looked down at me for a second, and his eyes were a sharp blue that when the sun was shining just right, it made them shine a beautiful sky blue.

My eyelids were getting heavy again so I closed them and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and the morning birds chirping.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Is that Sophia?!” A women screams, waking me up just enough to hear whats going on around me.

“Nah, just some girl I found. She sick.” I hear from above me. The man that was caring me.

“Bit?” Another man spoke.

“Said it’s some cold.” He held onto me tight as he got closer to the people

“Bring her inside. I’ll take a look at her.”

I was still too tired to speak. I fell back into my deep sleep. To a place that was safe.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus #rick grimes #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #oc x daryl dixon

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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Merciless Beauty

Series Masterlist

❧ Media: The Walking Dead // Medieval Fantasy AU ❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Reader Pronouns: she/her ❧ Status: ongoing

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ Spotify Playlist

❧ Synopsis: For ten years, the world has been ravaged by a plague known as the Scourge. The kingdom of Alexandria remains one of the few bastions of peace in a world of death and decay. Keeping the kingdom and its castle closed off from the rest of the world has kept its citizens safe. For you, the princess of Alexandria, and King Ezekiel's daughter, it hasn't been easy. You dream of seeing the outside world again, and when the king invites a local duke and his knight to court, marking the first time in a decade that an outsider has been allowed into the kingdom, you see it as your chance to finally be free. The duke's knight, Sir Daryl, seems to be your only hope, but around the same time of the knight's arrival, trouble begins to break out in Alexandria, with a mysterious group of bandits and outlaws breaching the walls and wreaking havoc. Their leader's threats endanger both the kingdom, and you. Can your loyal knight protect you?

❧ A/N: So this is happening. No one really asked for it, but it's happening.

❤️‍🔥 = smut (18+)

❧ Chapter 1: Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly ❧ Chapter 2: Me, Who Was Once Serene ❧ Chapter 3: The Wound Is Quick and Keen ❧ Chapter 4: Only Your Word ❧ Chapter 5: While Yet the Wound Is Clean ❧ Chapter 6: Through Life and After Death ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 7: I Tell You Faithfully ❧ Chapter 8: The Whole Truth Shall be Seen ❧ Chapter 9: Heal the Injury ❧ Chapter 10: Straight Through My Heart ❧ Chapter 11: You Are My Queen ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Epilogue (coming soon)

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fakesmilesallaround · 2 months

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Willow never thought she'd belong to a group until those two men saved her ass in the alley. After being separated from her brother in the big city, it was up to her to get her daughter to safety- until a sheriff and a pizza delivery guy came along and saved them both. The dead owned the streets of Atlanta, pushing her new group further and further out. As they encounter deadly obstacles and power-hungry survivors, the numbers in her group begin to dwindle, and she finds herself holding on to these people more and more. The struggle to maintain the groups humanity is a constant battle, but as relationships form between these strangers turned family, they're willing to carry each other as they pave the way to a new world.

There's no denying that Willow has a strong bond with the younger Dixon brother. It came as a shock to everyone. They are two drastically different people, yet somehow they understand each other the most. From the moment they met at the quarry camp on the outskirts of Atlanta, their friendship was off to a rocky start. They both had shadows from their past that haunted them, but as their relationship progressed, those shadows were diminished as the flame between them grew. | [ Daryl Dixon x OC ] [ Some smutty content ] [ Slow burn ] [ Episode by episode ] [ Seasons 1 - 11 ]

This story may contain mentions of rape/sexual assault, gore, graphic violence, and self harm. If any of these things may trigger you, please proceed with caution. I value your mental health more than anything. If it ever becomes too much, you are not obligated to continue, and I appreciate you giving my story a try.

500k+ reads on Wattpad.

#daryl dixon #fanfic #norman reedus #the walking dead #wattpad #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc

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one-smuts · 2 years

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You've been a ranch hand with Millies family for years, and are none to pleased when they hired on a new guy for "extra help." even less pleased when he turnes out to be a massive douche bag. an incredibly sexy and charasmastic douche, but a douche none the less. you want him to think that you want nothing to do with him. but the walls at the farm are thin, and you rearely keep track of what your saying when you're in the heat of the moment. that's when the truth of the matter really comes out.

~~~~~~~~

Honestly there is not nearly enough striker smut out there and it is a crime. so let me try to get the ball rollin. reader is Afab and Fem, an imp, and as always, requets are open ;)

"Son of a bitch!!" You yelled as the Hell Hog threw you off. And right as you got an opening too. "I swear to Satan, I will gut you." You growled to yourself as you charged for the animal again. You didn't get very far though. Of course Striker has to show you up, jumping in to "help you out" and slicing the pigs throat easily, stealing your thunder in the process.

"Well that hog was one tough son of a bitch, huh Y/n?" He asked you with his signature mischievous grin. In your mind you always heavily equated him to a con man. He went over to offer you a hand up, but you brushed it away and got up on your own.

"Yea, whatever Striker."

"Well now darlin', you sound pissed! And why's that?" He smirked, cocking his head to the side as if he didn't already know the answer. Ever since Lin and Joe hired him to help around the farm, he'd taken a great pleasure In showing you up whenever he could. Maybe because you were a woman. maybe because he didn't like not being the only farm hand. Maybe it was just because he found you adorable whenever you got angry. Doesn't matter why, really. You just wish he'd knock it the fuck off.

"I had it handled you know." You said, answering his question without answering it.

"Oh, yea. You really had things handled from the ground." He laughed, "really had the upper hand there."

"I only missed my opening because you distracted me!"

"By being so handsome?" He smirked.

"By being so annoying. What were you yellin' about anyway?" You asked.

"I was tryna see if you had the hog slaughtered yet. The answer was no, by the way."

You rolled your eyes as you hoisted the hog onto your shoulder. Being an imp, the damn thing was almost twice your size, and you struggled with its weight. But knowing Striker was just waiting for you to buckle so he could come in and "save your ass" once again gave you the spite needed to haul it into the kitchen.

"Oh, Y/n!" Ms.Lin sighed as she saw you toss dinner onto the counter to be skinned. "Now why in the 7 rings would you carry that in here all by yourself? Wasn't Striker out there to help?"

You sighed and grit your teeth, knowing Ms.Lin met well. You had injured your shoulder a few days back. She just didn't want to lose another hand. "Don't worry Ms.Lin, I'm not made of sugar," You said as you let out a calming breath. "I've carried these fuckers in 1000 times before, I can keep doin it, on my own." You smiled.

She shook her head. "You know, you can accept help, right? It's kinda what we hired him for." Lin said as she crossed her arms and popped her hip.

"Then fire him." You retorted.

"I knew you were gunnin' for my job." Striker laughed as he walked In, "man, you should seen yourself, strugglin' to carry in that piglet." He snickered. "I wish I'd had thought to record it"

"Well, ya didn't scrub." You hoped, "now are you gonna help us skin this thing or what?"

~~~~

“Hey, Y/n? Quick question, what the fuck was that?” Sallie Mae asked you after dinner. You raised an eyebrow as you finished up the dishes and turned to her. “At dinner,” she added for clarification. “What the fuck was that at dinner?” You were still confused.

“What are you-” you started.

“With Striker.” Sallie groaned. Oh, she met THAT.

“That motherfucker kept kicking me under the table!” you burst. “He was tryna get a fucking rise outta me Sallie Mae, and it worked! What kind of elementary school bullshit was that! And then to act shocked when I kicked him back, who the fuck does he think he is?”

“Y'all we’re playin footsie under the table?” Sallie Mae asked as she crossed her arms. She looked unamused.

“What? No!” you protested. “Did ya not hear me Sallie? I said that cocksucker kicked me, it was full blown war under that table!”

“Mmhmm.” Sallie nodded, not very amused. “So you fuck him yet?” She smirked at your shocked face. Maybe you were oblivious to it, hell maybe even Striker was oblivious to it. But everyone else around you two could see a lot of your problems with each other could be solved with a solid hate fuck.

“Sallie Mae, I swear on all that I hold dear, if you were not my best friend, I would feed you to the Hell Hogs right now.” you growled at her, face flushed with either anger or embarrassment. Or, more likely, a mix of both. “Have I fucked him yet,” you scoffed, “Girl, you know I have standards!” you snapped as you walked away from the conversation, tail swishing angrily behind you.

Sallie wasn’t going to let you get away that easy though. She followed you. “Standards, huh?” Sallie laughed, “How’s that been working out for you lately, Ms.Sahara?” she would use your dry spell against you.

“Just fine thank you!” you snapped. “Even if I hadn’t gotten dick in years, I wouldn’t fuck that snake. Motherfucker has gone out of his way since he got here to disrespect me at every turn.”

“Maybe he thinks you have a degradation kink?” your friend offered.

“What the fuck about me screams degradation kink?” you scoffed.

“Your posture.”

“What?”

“People who want respect in bed dont stand like that Shug. everything about you screams ‘call me a slut daddy.’ I thought you knew that.”

You looked at your friend for a long time trying to figure out where she got off reading you like that. “I take offense to that.” you finally said. Sallie smirked.

“You're only offended cause it’s true, huh?”

“Shut up Sallie Mae.” you scoffed as you got to your room. “Look Hun, it’s been a long day, and I’m tired. I’d like to get to sleep.” you told her as you stretched to pop your back.

“Ok, well just answer this for me,” Sallie said, leaning in close to whisper to you. “Honestly, hand to Satan, have you never even thought about it?” She asked. Have you ever thought of it? What a stupid question, of course you had. You weren't too bitter to admit that Striker was an incredibly handsome imp. One that made you blush the first time you laid eyes on him, something not many men could say. Of course you imagined what fucking him would be like. But that was before he revealed himself to be an incredible ass.

“Not even once.” you said.

“Liar.” Sallie called you on your bluff. You rolled your eyes.

“Good night Sallie Mae.” you said as you closed your door in her face. You scoffed as you went over and plopped on your bed. Sallie had a lot of gaul to have that conversation with you. But, She’d had always been like that. It was why you loved her. Still. That bitch had gotten the thought of Striker stuck in your head.

There was no way in Satan's hell he would actually want you, right? If he did, he wouldn't have been such an ass about everything. This isn't middle school, you don't show a girl you like her by pulling her hair. Not that I would particularly mind if he pulled my hair. You thought. Then physically shook your head to get that thought out of it. No! No! Bad Y/n!! You’re only thinking like that cause you’re horny! You mentally chastised yourself.

Fuck, it really had been awhile, huh? A part of you considered dressing up and going out to a bar to try and get out of this dry spell. Then you remembered that you we’re in the Wrath Ring of hell, and that most of the guys here looked like inbred fuckin toads. Not all of em. Striker’s pretty. Fuck, you gotta get laid. Or at least off.

You hopped off your bed and went to your dresser, looking for old reliable. A small bright pink vibrator lovingly named Barbie. You smiled as it whirled to life in your hand. Who needs another imp when you have Barbie? You rid yourself of your torn jeans and got back on your bed, ready to get down to business. Your legs fell apart and you bit your lip as you started teasing your own clit. Involuntarily, an image of Striker entered your head, pinning you to the bed and running his fingers in between your folds. FUCK. This asshole couldnt even let you have your fucking fantasies. Well…fuck it. He’s already here, you already started, and who knows. Maybe it’ll help get him out of your head.

~~~~~

Striker sat on his bed polishing his knife. And no actually, that's not a euphemism. The man was meticulous about weapon care. He heard you and Sallie talking outside of your room, and rolled his eyes to himself. These walls were impossibly thin, and he hated it. Especially having his room right next to yours, it made it hard for him to do any business on the phone. Couldn’t risk it.

He finished cleaning up his knife and put it back in its holster. He checked the time on his phone and considered turning in for the night. Being a farm hand sucked. He was never one for early mornings, but farm work demanded it. It was a not so small part of why he left the wrath ring to become a gun for hire. Murdering people was genuinely easier for him than getting up at 5 AM. He tossed his phone to the side and laid down.

“Striker.”

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of electricity coming from your side of the wall and instantly sat back up. No fuckig way. He’d been working on this farm for weeks now and had never heard this before. He was starting to think you were a prude. He laughed softly to himself. This was gonna be great ammo against you tomorrow. There was one highlight to being a farm hand, and that was getting to fuck with you every day. You were adorable when you got mad, and it was so easy to rile you up. He quickly decided if he couldn’t fuck you, he would just fuck with you and be content with that.

That caught his fucking attention. The last thing he expected to hear from the otherside of the wall was his name. He didn’t expect the effect it had on him either. Something about the way you sounded so desperate for him made his heart race and his dick ache.

“Striker..Striker please-”

Thank fucking Satan for thin and sin walls. Striker made a mental note to personally thank the king of hell for them. He could hear you so clearly, and yet he still found himself pressed against the wall to hear you better. His hand moved to the crotch of his pants. He plamed himself through the fabric to ease some of the pain. “Fuck darlin’” he groaned out, voice just above a whisper. He didn’t realize just how bad he wanted to fuck you until now.

“St-Striker, fuck me! Please! Fuck me-” you moaned breathlessley through the wall. That was in invitation if Striker had ever heard one.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Striker laughed as he made his way to your room. The panicked ‘meep!” he heard as he left confirmed to him that you did indeed hear him. He’d never been more thankful to share a wall with someone. He got to your door and knocked, then turned the knob experimentally. It was locked. You really were inviting him in, huh? He slipped through the door and could help but smile at the scene before him.

You were glowing with blush, blanket thrown haphazardly between your legs to give yourself some sense of modesty. A hot pink vibrator, slick and abandoned, at the foot of the bed. You were looking at him, but couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “Ya know darling,” Stiker said as he approached your bed. There was something dark in his eyes, “If you wanted me that bad you could have just asked. But I do appreciate the show ya just put on for me.” he chuckled.

“Why were you listening to me, you creep!” you lashed out in anger, trying to turn this on him and away from you. He didn’t take the bait. He laughed as he caged you into your bed, face just centimeters away from your own.

“It’s kinda hard not to when the whole farm can hear you begging me to fuck you darlin.” he chuckled softly as he ran a hand down your side. It sent shivers down your spine. “Now, the real question is; didja mean it? Or are you just the biggest tease in this ring of hell?” he asked, causing your face to heat up even more with desire.

“I meant it.” you said before your brain could stop you. Fuck it, maybe Sallie Mae was right. Strikers wicked grin alone could almost convince you of that. Stiker grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Good girl.” he said as he pushed his lips into yours. He tasted like coffee and nicotine. You shyly moved your hands to wrap them around his neck. He crawled onto the bed on top of you, finally releasing you of your kiss. His hands ran down to the hem of your shirt. “You got no idea how many nights I imagined doing this.” he rasped, taking your shirt off of you. His smirk only grew. “Black lace, huh? you really are a whore, aren't ya doll?” He tisked as he easily unclasped your bra and threw it to the floor. “They’re prettier than I imagined.” he praised as he ran his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“Are you going to shut up at any point in this?” you scoffed, finding yourself again as you pushed his jacket off his shoulders. You could feel his sculpted chest under his thin shirt and it excited you more than you wanted to admit.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it darlin’.” He grinned. He let you unbutton his vest and rid him of both it and his shirt.

“Mother fucker.” you whispered as you ran your hand along his toned chest. It was covered in scars, both healed and not so healed. You wanted to know the story behind every single one.

“Like what you see?” He asked. You could hear his tail rattling in anticipation. He was more excited for your approval than he was letting on,

“Very much so.” you smiled, finally finding the courage to look into his yellow green hypnotic eyes.

“Right answer.” he chuckled as his hand moved down your body. You tensed instinctively as he reached your cunt. “Fuck Darlin’, I knew you’d be wet, but i wasn’t expecting this wet.” he purred as his fingers ran across your folds. “All this for me?” He teased, fingers finding your clit with the quickness of an expert. You sheepishly nodded as you realized he’d definitely done this more than you had. “I knew you wanted me.” he said smugly as he began to rub circles into your clit, sending electricity soaring through your body.

“Ya like that, Slut?” the cowboy asked you. You nodded in response, focused on the pleasure he was giving you. Until he suddenly stopped.

“Striker!”

“Use your words Doll.” he warned.

“Yes, I liked it! I liked it so much, I kinda wanna punch you for stopping!” you hissed. Striker launched and continued his movements, much to your relief.

“And that's why you're my favorite.” he purred at you. His thumb had taken over rubbing your clit as his fingers began to work your pussy open. “Even when you’re the one in a compromised position, you never lose your fight.” It suddenly struck him that that was a little too intimate than he wanted to get at that moment. So he switched gears and fully pulled you under him. You gasped as you looked up at him. He was only on his knees on top of you, but he still seemed so much taller. It occurred to you just how much bigger than you he was.

“Ya know darlin’,” he stared as he leaned down to kiss your neck, “Ever since I laid eyes on you,” he began to trail kisses down your body. Your neck, your collar bone. Littering marks down your body, “I’ve wanted to know how you taste.” he groaned as he made it to his destination. Your body was on fire with anticipation. He spread your legs for him and let out a low whistle. “Never thought I’d see a cunt as pretty as yours.” he admitted as he kissed the inside of your thighs. He bit gently, sucking marks into your soft skin. He wanted whoever may be here next to know you were his first. Finally, he made his way to where you desperately wanted him most. He smirked at you one last time before licking at your clit.

Your whole body jolted at his touch, as if it was made to react to him and only him. He sucked at your clit as his fingers began to work you open. “Fuck Striker, how dare you be this good at head.” you groaned as your hands knocked his hat off and tangled into his hair. You could hear him laugh from in between your legs, but didn't really care. His fingers began to massage you from inside, quickly finding the spot that would surely make you see stars. “Fuck!” you gasped as your back arched and your legs tried to clamp around his head. Striker would be the one man you’d been with able to find the G-Spot.

He used his free hand to keep your legs open. “Careful now Sweetheart. You wouldn't want me to stop now would ya?” He asked in the most condescending tone you’d ever heard.

“Fuck, no! No, you asshole, don't stop.” you almost screamed when his fingers stopped moving. “You bitch! What the fuck did I just fucking say?!” you all but yelled at him.

“Say it nicely.” he grinned at you.

“Fuck you.”

“I know you want to Doll.”

“I'm going to kick you.”

“I’ll leave,” he threatened.

“Fuck no!” well that was more desperate than you wanted it to be. “No no! Don't leave! Just…Fuck, please don’t stop Sir! Please, I need you.” you moaned. You almost cried when not only did his fingers start going again, but he added a third.

“Good girl.” he praised, his head dipping back in between your legs. He began sucking harshly at your clit, massaging it with his tongue and tying the knot in your stomach tighter and tighter. Your hands found their way to his hair again, and you found yourself bucking into his face. You felt your body tense and your pussy flutter.

“Striker, I’m Close.”

“I know.” he muttered from between your legs.

“How?!”

“You’re not exactly hiding it sweetheart.” he laughed, picking up the pace ever so slightly, forcing you to forget the argument at hand as your vision exploded with stars and electricity ran through your body. “Fuck, fuckfuckfuck fuck!!” you yelled, your legs closing around his head and your hands pulling him closer. Striker realized he couldn't breathe, and decided that yes. This was how he wanted to die. With his fingers working you through your orgasam as he lapped up as much of you as he could. “Dear fucking Satan.” you moaned as you released the cowboy. Your legs still shook with the aftershock of your orgasam. It had been awhile since you had sex, yea. But it had been even longer since someone made you feel like that.

Striker smiled as he wiped his mouth and sat back up. “Feel good Sweetheart?” he purred to you. You nodded blissfully. He smiled and gently tucked a strand of your hair back. You nodded, your brain still unable to form words. “That's great Doll. We’re not done yet.” he informed you. “Good.” you chuckled, causing him to smile. You watched as he freed himself from his jeans, and couldn't help the blush that formed on your face. Of course, it wasn’t enough for him to just have a pretty face. Oh no, he had to have a pretty dick too.

“Fuck man, how’s it feel to be Satans favorite?” you huffed.

“Isn’t that more of a question for yourself, Gorgeous?” Striker asked as he pumped his dick a few times. He bit his lip as he looked down at your body. He wanted to remember every curve you had. Every scar, stretch mark, birthmark, everything. He wanted to own it. He wanted to own you. He dug his teeth into your neck as he began to push himself into your cunt. You screamed, the mix of pleasure and pain taking over your body as he sunk into your still sensitive cunt. You could feel him sucking a mark into your neck. You knew there would be questions in the morning. You didn’t care.

“Striker, God damn. You’re too fucking much.” you groaned, trying to turn your head to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“You feel so fucking good Y/n.” he breathed to you. “Like you were fucking made for me. Made to be a sleeve for my cock, made to be mine.” he growled. Fuck that alone send ice down your spine. You were not prepared for him to start moving, pumping into you like he was on a mission. He set a brutal pace. Your legs wrapped around his hips to keep up. You clawed into his back, determined to leave marks of your own on him. It was only fair.

His tail tangled with yours as his hand tangled into your hair. “I’ve been waiting for this for way too long” he huffed, “Do you know how many times I thought about bending you over and putting you in your fucking place? Shit darlin’ if i knew it would be this good i would have done it sooner.” he repositioned himself to stroke at the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. It was too much.

You groaned and bit the fuck out his his shoulder, causing him to help, then laugh, but never falter in his thrusts. He was a professional after all. He pulled your hair, forcing you to release him. “Fuck darlin, we bitin’ now?” he laughed, as if he did not just leave a very prominent mark on your neck. “I-it’s only f-fair!” you argused, struggling to make coherent thoughts. He smiled almost softly and tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck to you. “If ya gonna leave a mark on me, might as well go big or go home.” he challenged. He desperately wanted everyone to know what happened tonight. And while the thin walls would assure that for the people that lived on the farm, he wanted the entirety of hell to know.

And you were far too cock drunk to think of the consequences. You buried your fangs into his neck, savoring the hiss of pain he let out. He tugged gently at your hair one last time, before using that hand for support instead, and using his now freed hand to rub almost violent circles into your clit. You let out a high pitched and breathy moan into his neck. He could feel your pussy flutter around him, a clear sign you were close.

“Fuck, you gonna come for me twice Darlin?” he groaned. As if on cue the knot inside your stomach snapped in two and you screamed into his neck, your legs clamping around him as your body spasmed with the heat of your second orgasam for the night. And shit, you we’re fucking gorguous. “Y/n, I’m close,” Striker warned as he realized you we’re not letting him go. “Y/n, let go, I-”

“Cum in me.” you moaned. He did not need to be told twice. He picked up his pace, pounding into your spent pussy before his own orgasam finally overtook him. He rode out his orgasam, shooting red hot cum into your cervix. His best move? Definitely not. But that was a problem for tomorrow Stiker and Y/n. Tonight Striker and Y/n couldn't get over how hot the whole ordeal was. Finally he slowed to a stop. He lightly tapped your thigh and you finally let your legs fall to the bed.

“Shit Darlin’ I knew you’d be good, but..fuck.” Striker laughed, causing you to swell with pride for being the reason he had that reaction. He pulled out, leaving you feeling more empty than you expected.

“You’re a good lay.” you laughed as he rolled over next to you.

“Why thank ya,” he laughed with you instead of at you for once. He pulled you into his arms, and you didn’t protest. He was warm. “So do we go back to hating each other in the mornin’, or?..” he asked, rubbing gentle circles into your hips.

“In the mornin’? Yes. buut I wouldn’t be against this happening again, so I guess we can like each other at night.” you giggled. He chuckled and nodded.

“Alright, I can get behind that. It’s a start.” he nodded, snuggling up to you. You hadn’t kicked him out of bed yet, might as well enjoy it. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at your door, causing you both to panic.

“So Y'all are done feudin’ now, right?” Sallie Mae’s almost jovial voice came from the other side.

“SALLIE I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” you yelled from your bed as Striker laughed his ass off next to you.

#striker helluva boss #striker x oc #striker x reader #striker x reader smut #striker smut #helluva boss #degrade kink #top striker #slight romance #voyuerism #if ya squint #norman reedus #enemies to lovers

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d1xonss · 1 month

Text

Cigarettes After Sex

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+) and a lil bit of angst

✧ Word Count : 5.6k

AN ~ Not a request but I had this idea that I just couldn't get out of my head. Plus I've been in the mood to write something a little spicy since you guys liked the Older oneshots so much. Hope you enjoy!

Your eyes stayed focused on the pages of the book you were reading in front of you in the smoke filled garage, occasionally turning the pages to continue on with the chapter. In the background you could hear the tools clinking around, along with a few curses that fell from his lips when he couldn’t get something just right. Every once and a while you couldn’t help but look up and stare at him for a few seconds, knowing the real reason you came out here to keep him company while he worked.

Over the past twelve, long years you had known Daryl, you still didn’t exactly know what you were to each other. Some would call the two of you friends, and though that may be true, you always knew there was something a little more there than what meets the eye. And you knew he felt it too, but neither of you were willing to admit that out loud. Too hardheaded, you supposed.

It always caught your attention when he left a few lingering touches on your skin, how he embraced you so dearly as if you were the most important person in the world, or even how he occasionally left a small kiss on your forehead. You couldn’t help but think he did all of these things for a reason, as if to ease you into something that he was always terrified of. And hell, maybe he was easing himself into it too.

You always knew he was never much of a romantic person, he never quite showed interest in anyone else the way he always did with you. Though when he finally did open his heart up to a woman named Leah all those many years ago, he got absolutely crushed in the process, leaving you heartbroken for him as you witnessed him go through it all. In the back of your mind, you hoped it would work out between the two of them because you knew he deserved someone that would treat him right. And though that person may not have been you, it didn’t matter, as long as he was happy. That’s all you had ever wanted for him.

However, you couldn’t help but notice ever since he got hurt, he had been slowly pulling away from you. Not in a way that was drastic, but you always seemed to notice the little things. He had completely stopped showing you affection whatsoever which was very out of character for him considering how close you were. All of the little things he used to do that would make you smile, he had brought to a halt without warning. The only thing that he really did now was just a small squeeze on your shoulder, and that’s only if you were lucky.

It frustrated you slightly, not because of his sudden wall he built up, but because subconsciously he thought you would hurt him the same way she did. He was now scared that the same thing would happen all over again. And it bothered you in a way he could never understand. Because after all you had been through together, he still didn’t seem to know you at all.

“Pass me that screwdriver, will ya?”

Your thoughts cut short when he started to speak, absentmindedly nodding your head as you turned towards the toolbox that was placed right next to you. You dug through them for a moment before you spotted the familiar red handle, grabbing it and stretching your arm out to hand it over to him.

He met your hand halfway as he accepted it gratefully, “Thanks.” he muttered with a small smile, the cigarette still dangling from his lips as he spoke.

You nodded before watching him for another moment, tilting your head to the side, “What’re you fixing up anyway?”

He shrugged as his eyes stayed down, “Just some repairs…nothin too fancy.” he spoke, his eyebrows furrowing as he worked.

“Ah.” you muttered with a small nod, going back to your book as you assumed he didn’t want to be bothered while he focused.

Though upon hearing your small mutter, the quietness taking over the space, Daryl subtly looked back up at you for a moment. He knew things had been different, way different than what the two of you were used to, and a part of him felt bad. Mostly because he knew it was his own fault. He had pushed you away when you had done nothing wrong, and he felt guilty for it every single day.

With that in mind, he cleared his throat as he took a puff from his cigarette, “Ya still want me to teach ya?” he asked, his tone growing softer than before.

You glanced up from your book again, seeing the small smile he had on his face as he reminded you of something you had requested a long time ago. You had rode on the back of his motorcycle many times before, but a part of you wanted to learn how to ride all by yourself. And he clearly remembered.

A smile wormed its way onto your face as well as you nodded, “Yeah…yeah I’d like that.”

He nodded in return as he went back to tuning up his bike, “Gotta start ya off slow though. Can’t have ya crashin into some tree the first time ya get on.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself with a roll of your eyes, “Right, we probably wouldn’t want that. But I think I’ll have a pretty good teacher…I’m not too worried.”

His heart swelled, though you couldn’t see, but that comment touched him in a way, “Yeah?” he asked as he looked back up at you.

You nodded again, “I trust you.”

You trusted him. That little comment meant more to him than you could even fathom. It meant that after all the things he had put you through, all the things he regretted, you still loved and trusted him just the same. He couldn’t help but pause for a long moment as he contemplated all of that, how only a few little words could mean the absolute world.

Though when he was lost in his own mind, the cigarette that he now held between his two fingers, slightly burned his skin as some hot ash fell from the tip. He let out a small noise as he shook it off, only now noticing how smokey the space was from how much he was chain smoking with you in the room. He knew you never cared, but a part of him still felt a little bad.

“Sorry.” he muttered as he raised his hand to fan the area a bit, “Didn’t realize how much I hotboxed ya.” he chuckled a little.

You laughed it off as well, waving him off, “You know I don’t mind. Actually I kinda like the smell.”

He raised his eyebrow a bit at the unexpected comment, looking down to the stick in his grasp as he thought about your words for a moment, “Ya never told me that.” he muttered.

You shrugged, “Never really came up I guess. But I don’t know, it’s always kind of been comforting.”

Daryl silently knew what that meant without you even having to explain. And that only made his chest fill with even more warmth than before, knowing he was the reason behind your words. He knew he meant a lot to you, but just hearing you say that his bad habit was somewhat of a comfort to you, it almost made his mindset shift.

You absentmindedly closed your book as you noticed he grew quiet, “You know any cool tricks?” you asked with a smirk.

He huffed quietly with a small smile, wordlessly taking another hit and holding it for a moment before effortlessly blowing it out in small spurts, the smoke forming into little o shapes in the air. You nodded to yourself as you watched him, “Solid.”

He chuckled a little, “Thank you, thank you.” he said as he bowed his head a bit.

Tilting your head a little, you thought to yourself about any more little tidbits he might have experienced, “Have you ever shotgunned it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Who’s askin?”

“Me.” you smiled sweetly.

He found himself chuckling again, shaking his head as a few memories came to mind, “Uh yeah…yeah I have.” he admitted a bit sheepishly, hoping you wouldn’t ask for any details.

A hum passed through your lips in response, opening your mouth to speak again, though he seemed to beat you to it, “You ever done anything like that?”

You scoffed, “Who’s asking?”

But he didn’t answer you. He only stared at you with the same small smile, however, there seemed to be something a little more behind his eyes. Though you couldn’t tell what that was, it intrigued you slightly. “No…” you answered honestly.

“Ya wanna try?”

It felt like your heart had dropped and settled into your stomach, swearing that you heard him wrong. “You’re not serious.”

But the smile on his face only grew a little, confirming to you just how serious he was as he nodded for you to come closer to him, “Come here.”

In all honesty he didn’t know what he was doing, and seeing the shock on your face only made the small pit in his stomach grow further, though he didn’t show it. He couldn’t really think in that moment at all about how this could be perceived, all he knew was that he wanted to be closer to you. Suddenly having a craving for it, having been without it for far too long.

A few beats of tense silence passed before you finally found the strength to stand to your feet, moving closer towards him as he stood tall as well. You tilted your head back a bit as you looked up at him, standing just a few inches away as you almost waited for him to instruct you on what to do next. Because in all honesty, you didn’t know what you were doing.

His eyes traced over your face for a moment, almost wanting to ask you to stand a little bit closer to him, but ultimately he refrained. He knew he couldn’t be greedy with you, not when you were already so precious to him. He only held the cigarette out towards you, watching as your delicate hand took it from his grasp, all while never removing your gaze from his.

“Go on and take a long drag.” he instructed, his voice coming off in an anticipating whisper.

You only nodded your head in response, placing the end of it in between your lips as you slowly inhaled all the smoke it had to offer. Daryl couldn’t help but stare down at your lips the entire time, he studied you in the most mesmerizing way it almost caused you to choke on your own spit. Yet you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it made you grow a little frustrated all over again.

Your heart then fluttered when the smoke filled your lungs, taking the cigarette away from your mouth as you leaned up on your tiptoes to get closer to him. His hand instinctively came up to cradle your jaw as he pulled you even closer to his lips, feeling them barely brush against each other before the blissful feeling would soon wash over the two of you.

Exhaling the smoke, you blew the thick cloud right into his mouth, hearing a quiet groan leave him in response. It surprised you how good it felt, how your skin practically ignited with fire at his simple sound of enjoyment, it made your mind wander to a very dangerous place. His hand didn’t stray away from your face as he inhaled the smoke until he physically couldn’t anymore, the craving he felt only building to a new level as a part of him wanted to taste you. Just for a moment.

But the thought vanished, everything crashing down in an instant as he felt you pull away from his mouth, clearing your throat a bit. His eyes fluttered open to see you standing there awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the two of you had never dared to cross this line before in the past.

“Well, I guess now I can cross that one off the bucket list.” you joked with a small, forced laugh.

“Do it again.”

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his as he spoke with zero hesitation in his tone, not even acknowledging that you made a comment at all. “What?” you asked quietly.

He took a small breath before speaking again, repeating the phrase, “Do it again.”

If you weren’t stunned before, you sure as hell were now as you stood almost frozen before him. To say it was one thing, but to repeat it with such confidence was another. He was serious. What started out as just a suggestion, now turned into something a lot more real.

But you found you didn’t protest. Because you wanted it too.

You then held the cigarette back up to your lips, inhaling it all over again as you were surprised you didn’t cough even once in the whole process. His eyes practically lit up as he saw you repeat the action, mentally preparing himself for the familiar feeling that would hit him all over again. But the thing he couldn’t get past was that he had never felt it before now. He only felt it with you. And it was very surreal.

Your perfect lips parted from the cigarette after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, moving back up to him to exhale the smoke into his mouth once more. The man breathed it in as if he needed it to stay alive, his hands coming up to your arms to hold you in place as if he was scared you would pull away again. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not even if you wanted to. The slightest brush of your lips made your breath hitch, but before you could even register what you were doing, you pressed your lips firmly to his. It almost didn’t feel real.

Daryl responded immediately, instantly bringing you into him as he wrapped his arms around you to hold you closer to his chest. Your hands went up to the sides of his face, tilting your head a bit so your noses wouldn’t clash so much, the kiss intensifying in just a split second. It was like all the years of the built up tension, the built up feelings, were now finally being unleashed after so long of waiting. You supposed before it was never the right time, but now, it couldn’t have felt more perfect.

His tongue moved to run along your lips almost teasingly, begging for an entrance as his hands gripped you even tighter. And you accepted his request, parting your lips for him and feeling his excitement grow as he didn’t take it for granted. His tongue swirled rapidly in your mouth, letting out a groan of pleasure as he tasted your sweetness. You shivered slightly at the low rumble you heard from him, something about it turning you on even more as you had never heard that sound from him before. It was like a switch flipped.

He continued to absolutely devour your mouth, his hands now running down the curves of your body in a slow and teasing manner, taking his time. You gasped softly as you felt your skin almost tingling under his touch, wanting to feel him everywhere. So without thinking, you quickly moved your hands down to his chest as you frantically began to try and tear his shirt off of him. Your fingers worked on each of the buttons, though you couldn’t see what you were doing, it all felt like it was happening so fast you almost had no time to prepare yourself.

But in a fit of panic, Daryl quickly pulled back from your mouth as the feeling of you trying to take off his shirt finally registered in his mind. He still remained close to you, but his sudden actions stopped you from yours, your hands freezing in place as it was clear you had pushed him too far. But your expression was filled with confusion and concern as you couldn’t understand why he looked almost scared to go any further.

He sighed as his eyes remained closed, almost ashamed to look at your face as he gently leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I…I can’t.” he whispered.

Your eyes seemed to widen as it clicked in your mind. He hadn’t done anything like this since Leah. Since he had been burned so badly by her. Since he was left shattered and heartbroken because of what she did to him. He opened up to her unlike anyone else, and she left him. A lump formed in your throat as the realization set in for you, seeing just how scared he was for this to potentially happen to him all over again.

“I can’t do this, I…I can’t lose you too.”

You sighed softly as you shook your head, your hands tilting his face up a little more, “Hey, look at me.”

He simply shook his head, his eyes remaining closed, “Daryl, look at me.” you pleaded quietly.

When he did finally open his eyes, you could see he was starting to tear up, breaking your heart even further. Not only to see how much he was hurting, but how much he was truly terrified to lose you. Although in your mind, that wasn’t even a possibility.

“You couldn’t lose me, okay? Ever.” you whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. You know me…I would never hurt you like that. Never.”

Upon hearing your voice reassure him so sweetly, his tears slowly slipped down his cheeks, watching as he swallowed thickly to try and pull himself together. But you didn’t want him to be embarrassed. You understood more than he probably realized. Which is why you were quick to wipe them away with your thumbs, leaning up to kiss the ones you had missed in hopes to offer him even more comfort.

He shuttered under your touch, quickly finding your lips with his own again as he kissed you deeply, holding the back of your head steady as his lips were filled with passion. You responded to his kiss with hesitance, not wanting to push him again as you didn’t have a clear response to how he was feeling. But once you felt him take your hands, guiding them back up to the buttons on his shirt, you had your answer.

In a flurry of hurried kisses and laughs, nearly tripping over one another as you tried to make it back inside the house, the two of you finally landed on the couch in the living room. Neither of you really cared about trying to make it all the way upstairs, almost as if it was a silent agreement that you were both impatient. You panted heavily as each piece of fabric was being discarded onto the floor faster than you could even realize, yet his hands moved across your skin with such ease and gentleness. The action alone told you a thousand things, and yet he didn’t need to say a word.

You quickly lowered yourself to your knees the second you saw the opportunity, getting in between his legs as he sat on the couch. His eyes widened at your actions, “Aye, you don’t gotta-”

But his words were cut off with a groan as you lowered your mouth to the tip of his dick, darting your tongue out to slowly swirl around and tease him the smallest bit. You knew you didn’t have to, but you wanted him to feel special for once, you wanted him to feel important and loved. And besides, you just couldn’t help yourself as your mouth practically watered at the sight. And the small noises he was letting out as you licked sensually along his shaft, was almost like a reward of some kind.

He threw his head back slightly as his hands went up to hold your hair back for you, feeling you teasingly lower your lips just a little at a time to take more of him in your mouth. It was almost like torture with how slow you were going, but it was also the most enjoyable torture he could even endure. His muscles twitched in anticipation and he was already beginning to sweat, clenching his teeth together all the while.

“Come on,” he muttered breathlessly, talking more to himself than he was to you.

But you still took it as a sign, seeing he had enough and finally lowered your mouth even more to take him further. A shaky moan left his parted lips at your actions, hissing slightly when he felt your teeth barely brushing against him as well, though it wasn’t enough to hurt. Just enough to get his attention. You then began slowly bobbing your head up and down the length of him, swirling your tongue and hollowing out your cheeks to really make him squirm. His hands tightened around your hair in response, another low groan echoing around the room as he basked in the state of pleasure you provided.

His breathing grew heavier and heavier by the second, growing even more sensitive to you as your pace began to gradually pick up, trying to take even more of him in your mouth. You couldn’t lie though, he was bigger than what you had experienced in the past, which made you almost nervous. But hearing what you were doing to him so far, it gave you the right motivation you needed to keep going.

“F-Fuck.” he breathed as the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat, feeling your hands running up and down his thighs as you tried not to gag. Though he felt you struggle a bit, pulling your hair up slightly as if signaling you that you could ease up if you needed, but you didn’t. He felt too good in your mouth for you to want to stop.

Your head then moved a bit faster, taking him as deep as you could as you heard his whimpers and moans, not even trying to hold them back anymore. He wanted to make it known how good you were making him feel, just the sound of it was enough to make you wet, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Your spit soaked him completely, making it almost easier to take him entirely in your mouth as you felt him hit the back of your throat almost every time with each pass.

His breath hitched, “Oh shit,” he muttered as he tried to regulate his breathing, “Ya need to get up here…come on.” he almost pleaded.

And you didn’t need to be told twice, feeling how hard he was now he was nearly throbbing in your mouth, knowing he was close to falling apart. So your lips slowly parted from his aching dick, leaving a few lingering kisses behind before you slowly stood back up to your feet with a smile. Looking at his face now, he gazed at you as if you put all the stars in the sky, as if you painted him the most beautiful sunset you could’ve ever laid your eyes on. Or as if you had given him the best head of his life.

He watched as you wiped your mouth from the spit that nearly dribbled down your chin, quickly reaching forward to pull you in and crash his mouth against yours, licking your lips completely clean. You giggled in response to his eagerness, attempting to remove your thong as it was the last thing in the way, struggling to kick it off your ankles. Though the moment it hit the ground, you instantly moved forward and broke away from his mouth for only a moment, straddling his hips as you hovered on top of him.

The man nearly gawked at the sight of you, “God…” he muttered as if he couldn’t find the words. But you knew what he was getting at, knowing that his actions always spoke louder than his words ever could. And he only proved that further when he lowered his mouth to one of your breasts, sucking gently at your nipple to elicit a small whimper from you.

You could feel his lip curl up in response to your little noises, his hand coming up to gently massage the other with his rough fingers. The scratchiness of his calloused palms made it even better somehow, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine as you lowered yourself a little more onto him in response. He hummed at your actions, encouraging you to continue as his mouth worked wildly along your breast.

One of your hands then moved down to gently guide his tip towards you, running it up and down your slit to gather the wetness that pooled there. Your chest heaved up and down as you were almost overwhelmed with the tingles running through your entire body, nearly causing you to shake.

Daryl’s mouth then dragged all across your skin, leaving a small trail of small hickies along your chest, groaning as you continued to play with him a little. Your other hand came up to run through his hair, tilting your head back a little as you dragged his dick up to circle around your pulsing clit. That seemed to cause you both to gasp, the slow and tormenting teasing beginning to be too much as Daryl quickly removed his mouth from you, his hands moving to your hips as if to position you in the most perfect way he could.

You followed his lead as your hands moved up to his shoulders to steady yourself, feeling him move his dick down to your entrance to align himself with you. And when you finally sunk down onto him, it felt like absolute heaven. A long, slow moan left your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hearing a harsh grunt escape him as he tried to refrain from pounding into you. He knew he needed to take his time, wanting to draw this out for as long as he could as if it were the first and last time. He hoped for more, he prayed for more, but he knew it was never guaranteed.

His forehead fell to rest in the middle of your chest as the two of you basked in the pure errotic experience, slowly managing to move your hips once you were ready. It was slow at first, gradually easing into it as you lowered yourself back down onto him again and again, your hands moving to grip the back of his hair. He groaned as he felt you tug a little at his roots, but in all honesty, he didn’t care. In fact, he liked it.

You moaned softly as you rocked your hips against his, pulling almost all the way off of him before he filled you completely once more. What you were feeling was almost indescribable, not having felt it with any other man you had been intimate with in your entire life. But with him, it felt so different, so incredibly good. Like his body was made for yours, fitting together perfectly like a puzzle piece you had been missing for far too long. And you weren’t the only one feeling like that, with him squirming beneath you, it was just a sign to not stop your movements anytime soon.

You bounced on him at a steady pace as you balanced yourself, feeling his hand travel down to rub slow circles along your clit with his thumb. You nearly cried out in response, your heart racing out of your chest, “Oh fuck…yes.” you breathed as his pace quickened.

“Yeah? Ya like that?” he asked as his face moved close to whisper in your ear, feeling his teeth gently bite down on your earlobe.

Your mouth fell open in response as you gasped, nodding your head frantically, “Yes…yes.” you moaned as you continued to rock against him, feeling your wetness drip all over him with how aroused you were.

“Mmm,” he hummed his mouth traveling down to kiss along your jawline, “You’re doin so good sweetheart.” he breathed as he held back a groan, “So good.”

His praise only spurred you on more, your fingers tugging a bit harder at his hair which caused him to groan, thrusting his hips up into you to match your pace. The sinful sounds that escaped you should never be heard by anyone, you couldn’t even believe you were the one making them. But he was the one to cause all those little reactions, adding something more to push you over the edge. And it was working too, you had felt it ever since you were down on your knees in front of him. The familiar tingling in your stomach was building to the point where it could spill over at any moment.

He panted heavily as he began to suck on the base of your neck, “I love you…God, I love you.” he whispered.

The words threw you off guard for a moment as your eyes widened, but you didn’t stop, nor were you scared to say it back. “I love you too.” you responded breathlessly.

That phrase had gone unspoken between the two of you for years, constantly avoiding saying it to each other for no reason at all. Perhaps it was stubbornness, or just the fear of the feelings not being reciprocated. But for whatever reason, this moment alone brought it out to the open. And it couldn’t have felt better.

Daryl thrusted deeper into you upon hearing your response, causing you to gasp as you felt the string finally snap inside you, releasing your orgasm as your muscles twitched. Feeling you squeezing him, he cursed as he quickly pulled himself out of you in one swift motion, cumming all over your stomach. You could’ve sworn your vision went black for a moment as you slowly came down from your blissful high, not a word being said for a few minutes at least as you both tried to regain yourselves.

His head rested against your chest again, his lips beginning to leave a trail of kisses up your skin as your eyes were still hazy, leading them up to your neck where he nuzzled his face, pulling you close to his chest. You hummed in response, running your fingers through his hair as you thought to yourself for a moment, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Did you…really mean that?” you whispered hesitantly.

He pulled his face back to look at you, his head still too far up in the clouds that he clearly didn’t hear you. The big grin on his face was evidence of that. “Hm?”

You huffed with a small smile, “The whole…I love you thing…did you really mean it? Or was it like the heat of the moment.”

His brows furrowed in concern as he gently cupped the sides of your face, “Of course I meant it. I love you.” he repeated again, as if to make sure you really heard him.

You smiled in slight relief, “Did you mean it?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yes.” you said with a breathy laugh, “I just…wanted to make sure.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, darlin,” he said as he leaned in to rub his nose against yours lovingly, “I’ve always loved ya…my dumbass just took too long to admit it.”

You shook your head in response, “It’s okay. I understand why.”

He sighed quietly as he thought about how much he may have missed out on, how much went down the drain just because he was scared. Not only to have his heartbroken, but to potentially lose one of his best friends if you didn’t feel the same way he did. There was always a risk, but he let the fear consume him, and now he was kicking himself for it seeing how easy it was to be with you. He should’ve always known, and now he felt he was too late.

You quickly noticed his change in his expression and gently tilted his chin up so he’d look at you, “Hey…what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, “M’ just…m’ sorry.”

“For what?” you asked in confusion.

“For not actin on this years ago. For pushin ya away when I was hurtin just because I was nervous about it happenin all over again.” he stopped suddenly to gather his thoughts, “I just feel like I wasted so much time.” he finished with a whisper.

Your face was filled with worry about hearing him apologize for something that he had nothing to be sorry for. It hurt you seeing how much this was affecting him, knowing that the two of you should be happy that it finally happened. Not wanting to dwell on the past.

You leaned in to gently kiss his lips for a moment, pulling away enough to speak, “Well, it’s a good thing we got all the time in the world now.” you smiled.

His eyes slowly filled with a little more hope, “You mean…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I love you.”

He let out a small breath he was unaware he was holding, pulling you close to press multiple kisses all over your face, “I love you too.” he whispered, continuing to trace his lips wherever he could reach, igniting an infectious laugh from you.

It seemed his prayers were answered.

~ Thanks for reading!

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the-name-is-z · 3 months

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SKELETONS | ch. 7

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group encounters some obstacles on the way out of Atlanta, and none they were expecting. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; descriptions of explosion, violence, threat of violence, suicide, entrapment, ethical arguments

Chapter 7 - Outlands

They hopped between buildings on the way out of Atlanta. Rick kept talking into his radio every day, and when Iris asked, he explained that he was speaking to a man who saved his life, in hopes he could hear him.

They decided Fort Benning was their goal, and even though they had to siphon gas along the way, abandon cars, the journey would get harder still. Shane and Iris joined the group in the RV, while Daryl switched to his motorcycle.

It was the first time Iris had left the city since the outbreak. She was uneasy, out of her comfort zone, but comfort seemed to be a concept of the past. Shane was driving Iris crazy cleaning his gun and taking the pieces apart. Though, Andrea seemed to take a liking to him.

“Oh, jeez. Ah, no.” Dale grumbled. Iris turned to see the entire road blocked up ahead, cars flooding the highway. Daryl came back from scouting ahead, having an easier time weaving in between on his bike. “See a way through?” Daryl nodded, motioning for them to follow him.

“Maybe we should just go back.” Glenn suggested, analyzing the map in his hands. “There’s an interstate bypass—“

“We can’t spare the fuel.” Dale grumbled. T-Dog rubbed a hand down his face as they watched Dale weave carefully between the cars after Daryl. It was ominous, all these abandoned cars, all these abandoned lives. A few of the cars had corpses inside, but it was hard to tell whether or not they were walkers.

“Can we get through here?” Glenn asked as they came up to a particularly thin gap. His question was answered with a loud hiss and a pop as something in the engine broke, steam flooding Dale’s field of vision. He stopped the RV abruptly, wincing as it sputtered.

“Damn.” Iris muttered. Everyone filed out of the RV as the others walked over from the car.

“I said it. Didn’t I say it? A thousand times. Dead in the water.” Dale huffed.

“Problem, Dale?” Shane asked, walking around with a shotgun.

“Just the small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of… okay, that was dumb.” He shrugged, looking around as Daryl started to loot the car in front of them.

“If you can’t find a radiator hose here…” Shane trailed off.

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff we can find.” Daryl stated, elbow deep in someone’s trunk.

“I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start.” T-Dog hurried off with a jerry can.

“Maybe some water?” Carol asked.

“Food.” Glenn nodded.

“This is a graveyard.” Lori stated, frowning at their surroundings. There was a long pause as they considered what she meant.

“Then make sure you say thank you before you put a knife in their skulls. They have no use for it, might as well benefit us.” Iris replied, wandering into the fray of abandoned vehicles. Lori scowled after her, shaking her head. Daryl snorted.

“C’mon, y’all. Just look around, gather what you can.” Shane called. Dale stayed and showed Glenn what he was doing, teaching him a thing or two while the others dispersed.

Iris was happy to dump out a duffle bag and fill it with things she liked, clothes, jackets. She found toiletries she collected as well as a few boxes of tampons. Someone was prepared when they left home. She turned as she heard some frantic whispers to see a hoard of walkers heading their way. She swore under her breath, pulling herself underneath a van. She watched as dirty shoes and feet meandered past, the others underneath cars all the way back to the RV.

She spotted T-Dog running between cars, his hand pressed tight to his arm that was bleeding profusely. She swore again. They would smell his blood. And, depending what he cut himself on it could be infected. He could get tetanus. He could bleed out, right there in the street. He stumbled, leaving a trail of fresh hot blood as he made his way closer to the RV.

A few walkers caught his scent, coming toward him as he sat back against a flipped car. Daryl slipped quietly behind one, making quick word with a knife. Iris made to get up, but she watched as Daryl laid the dead walker on top of T-Dog, pulling another on top of himself. They walked past without a second look, and Iris was impressed.

After a few minutes the shuffling had subsided, and she waited for a few more before beginning to crawl out from under the car. She ran over to Daryl, helping T-Dog up and braced on their shoulders. Iris hauled open the door of a welding truck, hoping she was right in assuming it was equipped with a first aid kit. It was, alongside a bag of clean clothing. Iris grabbed a scarf, tying it over the wound as Daryl used his bandana as a tourniquet. They brought him back to the others, who stood by the edge of the highway.

“My baby, they’re after my baby.” Carol sobbed into Lori’s shoulder. Iris followed their gaze to Rick’s silhouette whisking Sophia off into the forest, a group of walkers on his tail. With T-Dog in safe hands, she and Daryl quickly jumped the barricade, going in after him. They followed Rick’s shouting to a creek where he stood by himself.

“No, no, she was here. I left her right here.” He muttered.

“Where’s Sophia?” Iris asked, jumping down into the creek next to him. He was staring into a tree well, shaking his head.

“She’s gone. I left her right here, told her to hide. She’s gone.” Rick explained, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Sure this is the spot?” Daryl asked, examining the tree well. Rick nodded.

“I left her right here.” He repeated. “I drew the walkers off in that direction up the creek.” He pointed.

“Without a paddle— seems where we’ve landed.” Daryl stated humourlessly. Iris raised an eyebrow. Shane and Glenn broke through the brush, scoping the tree line around the creek.

“She was gone by the time I got back here.” Rick shook his head again. “I figured she’d just took off and ran back to the group. I told her, go that way, keep the sun on her left shoulder.”

“She probably got lost.” Iris muttered. “Hard to see the road from here.”

“Hey, short round. Why don’t you step off to one side, you’re mucking up the trail.” Daryl chastised, tutting as Glenn shuffled off of the trail. Iris didn’t see much of a path, but Daryl seemed to know exactly what he was looking for.

“You’d make a terrible Indie.” Iris stated, coming up behind him. He straightened, giving her side-eye before turning back to tracking. Glenn turned to her with a half-grin and she flashed one back.

“Assuming she knows her left from her right—“ Shane started.

“She understood me just fine.” Rick snapped.

“Kid’s tired and scared, man. She had her a close call with two walkers. Got to wonder how much of what you said stuck.” Shane thought aloud.

“We’ve got to consider all possibilities. She can’t be moving too fast, not tired and hungry like she is.” Iris argued.

“We’ve got clear prints right here.” Daryl agreed. “She did like you said, headed back to the highway. Let’s spread out, make our way back.”

“She couldn’t have gone far.” Rick nodded. Daryl pulled himself out of the creek, offering Iris a hand. She took it with a nod, Rick following behind her.

“Hey, we gonna find her.” Daryl assured, Rick nodding with uncertainty.

“She’ll be tuckered out, hiding in a bush somewhere.” Shane mused. Daryl led them down her trail, following her clumsy kid footprints. She’d been going straight, but started to veer off.

“She was doing just fine till right here. All she had to do was keep going. She veered off that way” He mumbled, pointing west.

“Why would she do that?” Glenn asked.

“Walker spooked her, she ran off.” Iris proposed.

“I don’t see any other footprints.” Daryl frowned. “Just hers.” Walkers made messy trails, that was for sure.

“So what do we do? All of us press on?” Shane asked.

“No. Better if you and Glenn get back up to the highway. People are gonna start panicking.” Rick denied. “Let them know we’re on her trail, doing everything we can. But most of all, keep everybody calm.”

“I’ll keep ‘em busy scavenging cars, think up a few other chores. I’ll keep ‘em occupied.” Shane assured. He nodded to Glenn, the two of them making their way back off to the highway. Daryl stood, rolling his shoulders as he led Iris and Rick further into the woods.

It was interesting, to watch Daryl work. He was fast, easily following whatever trail Sophia was leaving. Iris had to fight the urge to call out for her, but even if she was close by, drawing walkers was too risky. They slowed, weaving between trees, leaves and other litter layered heavy on the ground.

“Tracks are gone.” Rick mumbled.

“No, they’re faint, but they ain’t gone.” Daryl corrected. He pointed into the dirt. “She came through here.”

“How can you tell?” Iris asked.

“You want a lesson in tracking or you wanna find that girl and get our ass of that interstate?” Daryl asked. Iris and Rick exchanged a look, the former rolling her eyes.

They continued onward through the forest until the rustling of leaves caught their attention. They each fell into a crouch, raising their weapons. Rick gestured to the noise’s apparent source and they crept forward. They stopped, seeing a lone walker wandering through the brush at the bottom of a small slope. Rick turned back and Daryl gestured to them both to surround the walker. They ran down either side of the slope, Rick drawing it’s attention with a small whistle. It roared at him before Daryl put an arrow through it’s forehead.

They waited for a few seconds to see if that drew out any more, and when it didn’t, Rick leaned down to inspect the walker.

“Sophia!” Daryl called. Iris watched as Rick pried open the walker’s mouth.

“What are you doing?” She asked, recoiling.

“There’s skin under the fingernails. It fed recently.” Rick said lowly. “There’s flesh caught between the teeth.”

“Yeah, but what kind of flesh?” Daryl asked.

“Only one way to know for sure.” Rick said, in a ‘fuck-it’ sort of tone. Iris watched with baited breath as Rick opened its shirt and flicked open a knife.

“Here. I’ll do it.” Daryl offered, stepping over the body. “How many kills you skin and gut in your life? Anyway, mine’s sharper.” He flicked open his own knife and Iris shook her head. Everything was a damn dick-measuring contest.

He cut open its gut, sawing through the muscle and fat and began to loot through the intestines. Rick recoiled, groaning and covering his nose with a hand at the smell. Iris watched as Daryl pulled a handful of tendon and sinew and chucked it aside as if he was carving a pumpkin. He was almost elbow deep in the damn thing.

“Yeah, hoss had a big meal not that long ago. I feel it in there.” He murmured. He ripped at a piece of flesh, pulling out the stomach. “Here’s the gut bag.”

“I got this.” Rick stepped in, slicing open the delicate flesh and stretching it open. He poked at a mushy lump of half-digested something, flicking it off the end of his knife. Daryl hummed in recognition, using his own knife to spear through the skull of an animal.

“This gross bastard had himself a woodchuck for lunch.” He mused.

“Great. Can we stop playing operation and keep looking now?” Iris grumbled, taking a big step back from their cadaver.

“At least we know.” Rick stated.

“At least we know.” Daryl echoed. Iris nodded, using her bandana to tie her hair back as a bead of sweat ran down her neck.

They turned back once the sun began to set. There was no use stumbling around in the dark when they couldn’t see the trail, and none of them would be any use dead in a ditch like that gutted son of a bitch. Rick immediately went to Carol, the dejected expression on her face making Iris feel guilty for not staying out longer.

“You didn’t find her?” She asked, resolve crumbling.

“Her trail went cold.” Rick replied. “We’ll pick it up again at first light.”

“You can’t leave my daughter out there on her own. To spend the night alone in the woods.” Carol sobbed.

“Out in the dark’s no good.” Daryl shook his head. “We’d just be tripping over ourselves. More people get lost.”

“But she’s 12. She can’t be out there on her own. You didn’t find anything?”

“I know this is hard, but I’m asking you not to panic.” Rick consoled. “We know she was out there.”

“We tracked her for a while.” Daryl added.

“We have to make this an organized effort.” Rick said, addressing everyone. “Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I’ve asked him to oversee this.”

“We’re not gonna stop looking, Carol.” Iris assured.

“Is… Is that blood?” Carol asked, looking down at Daryl’s clothes.

“Walker blood, Carol.” Iris said quietly, trying to keep her calm. “No sign it was anywhere near her.”

“Walker? Oh, God.” She sobbed.

“How can you know that?” Andrea asked, frowning.

“They gutted it to check.” Iris said, wincing at Carol’s alarmed reaction. She sat down on the edge of the barrier and Lori rubbed her back comfortingly.

“How could you just leave her out there to begin with?” She wailed, glaring at Rick accusingly. “How could you just leave her?”

“Those two walkers were on us.” Rick explained. “I had to draw them off, it was her best chance.” Carol began to hyperventilate.

“Sounds like he didn’t have a choice, Carol.” Shane said quietly.

“How was she supposed to find her way back on her own? She’s just a child. She’s just a child.”

“It was my only option. The only choice I could make.” Rick pleaded. Iris wondered at how sheltered Sophia must be that at 12 years old Carol was so worried. By the time Iris was 12 she was shopping for her dad’s cigarettes and sewing him up after he got too drunk at the bar and made a few mistakes.

“I’m sure nobody doubts that.” Shane stated. It was unclear from his tone whether or not there was any sarcasm there, but Iris wasn’t blind to the contempt Shane seemed to have for Rick.

“My little girl got left in the woods.” Carol sobbed. Andrea came to her other side to comfort her as Rick walked off, presumably to do some soul searching. Iris walked over to T-Dog to check on him as they all made plans for the morning.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #skeletons #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #thenameisz #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #norman reedus

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weretheones · 1 year

Text

Gone For Good | Part 2

Plot: If the Governor’s brute attack on the prison hadn't been enough to remind you how cruel people could be, this certainly was. (Season 4)

Requested by Anon <3

Paring: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count:  6k

Warnings: massive warnings for attempted SA/mentions of SA, generally disturbing implications/dialogue, swearing, gore, violence. its the claimers scene.

A/N: more protective daryl, but in a slightly different light this time. I hope you enjoy <3 thank you @normanplusdaryl and @theteasetwrites for helping me with this one!! mwah mwah mwah ✨✨

read part one first

———————————————————————

It turned out, even through all the tears and blood, luck had been on your side after all— had, being the key word. Some days, you might not have had much food or a roof over your head but you always had your family.

For the first time since the dead rose, you were alone. Two long days of hiding in some cabin, slipping between sleep and alert consciousness with every creak of the old wooden floors. The flu had taken its toll on you, leaving you an exhausted and paranoid mess for those first few days. It wasn’t until your thirst became unbearable that you finally left those four walls and rickety roof, even if you were still cursed by fatigued and drained of all hope and optimism.

Loneliness was a bitter thing, festering in the pit of your empty stomach and bubbling up with every growl of the dead surrounding you. A constant reminder that there was a newfound lack in your life; something you’d never had to experience before, not until it was brutally ripped away from you. The weight of survival, of your life, sat on your shoulders this time. No backup to fire a much-needed shot. No one to depend on. No one to make you laugh when all you wanted to do was sit and cry.

It was just you.

After you found a precious bottle of water and packed a small backpack of stray supplies, you began to wander. Stuck to the roads. The woods had never been your forte, filled with too many hiding spots and unknowns to find appealing; the thicket of trees provided cover from the dead and the living, true, but it also sent your head spinning with each blow of the wind. You teetered on the edge, blending just within the tree line but keeping the cracked pavement always within your sight.

There was a wide, one-story building just up ahead. It had a slanted green roof with a faded sign above. Two miles back, your toes had started to feel cramped in your shoes, and a mile ago a blister began burning down your left heel, but the image of an animated pig made your stomach roar and your feet pick up speed.

Joe & Joe Jr’s BBQ Shack.

When you were finally close enough to read those washed-out letters, you smiled.

Then, through the quiet air, a muffled cry broke. Your heart dropped. Walkers didn’t cry.

You still weren’t used to this; the prison might’ve fallen to violence and brutality, but its year-long lull of security and peace had made its mark.

Cursing yourself under your breath, you raised Daryl’s pistol in your shaky hands and pushed your back to the wall. The chill of the stone wall stuck to your left cheek while you watched the doorway, waiting for another noise. There was feet scuffling and a sniffle, then a low groan— much too low for the high-pitched whimpers you’d been listening in on. Your eyes snapped up the road to see a man’s approach, dried blood ran down his mouth and neck, and his left foot dragged behind his right.

The footsteps of whoever was inside were getting louder just as the walker trained its sights on you. You dashed behind the corner of the building to hide from them both. There was no doubt that you could hold, load, even shoot that gun at walkers, but after that incident in the cage, you still weren’t certain if you’d be able to use that gun on another person.

Maybe you wouldn’t have to find out, anyway. The person’s footsteps carried into the street, where there was a wet slice and two thumps. Almost as if someone had cut the walker’s head off with a—

Your breath caught. Fingers brushed the side of the building as you hesitantly grabbed the edge and peaked out.

An inch of luck must’ve still been on your side, after all. Michonne patrolled the street with steady steps, her bloody sword still held in hand and the walker’s body left to rot like everything else. A laugh crept up your throat, almost hesitant, like a sob, before you were grinning like a maniac.

“Michonne!”

Recognition quickly replaced the scowl on her face, and after a brief sprint she was gripping the back of your shirt instead of her sword. Her neck was warm against your forehead as you practically collapsed into her embrace. Relief was an overwhelming emotion, you realized, with trickles of tears down your cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Her hand gripped yours as you both pulled back, as if not touching you somehow meant losing you, too.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

“How did you...” Michonne shook her head. “A block was blown up.”

You nodded again, biting your lip. “Daryl got me out.”

Brows furrowed as her trembling smile slipped. The pain in your voice seemed as contagious as that flu. Dread was weighing down her expression, but you could still see the expectant look in her eyes, the patience.

“We got separated,” you confessed, like the guilt was somehow yours to bear.

She exhaled. A moment of pain existed between you, bridged by her hold around your left wrist, by the fierce pound of your exhausted and bruised heart below the padding of her thumb. Michonne’s eyes fell to the ground, and suddenly the weight felt too much to bear anymore, not if you wanted to keep the rest of those tears unshed.

You sniffled and changed course. “How’d you get out?”

An inkling of regret lumped in your throat when her eyes met yours, grim and haunted. “How much did you see?” she asked, cautious.

The end. It was only then that Daryl finally found you and dragged you out of A block, and even then, you spent most of it trying to block out the sight of your burning home or too preoccupied running from the dead. Her expression didn’t soften with your answer, twisting your stomach into a knot as that regret only grew.

She could barely form the words past her shaky voice and deep frown, but when you finally understood what she was telling you— that Hershel was dead because the Governor killed him— you fell to your knees. Michonne spared you the gore, of course, but you still wanted to vomit, and if it hadn’t been for your empty stomach, you might’ve.

Hershel didn’t deserve to die— none of you did. And all because he wanted some fresh air after tending to the sick for days on end— after tending to you. Words of thanks had been stuck in your throat since the night you almost died, but he’d taken a well-deserved leave once that tube left your throat, and there hadn’t been time between then and his last moments for you to see him again. Now, there’d never be a time to share those words with him. More of the tears in your eyes leaked.

Crouched to your level, Michonne’s lips parted again. You weren’t sure if you could handle another crushing loss, not even balanced in the wake of your joy from finding her. Thankfully, this time her words were eager, like the hand now gripping your shoulder.

“There's a trail,” her tone raised with hope. “I’ve been following it.”

The muddy footprints she found seemed promising enough, so you wiped your cheeks with the back of your sleeve and nodded.

An hour later, the tears on your face had dried up and the two of you were searching a residential street. The third house you checked was old and big, with a wrap around porch that Michonne stepped up first. You still had that pistol in hand but it felt useless compared to her steady katana— at least against the living.

By another stroke of luck, neither were unnecessary, anyway. Through the curtains of the front window, you could see Rick and Carl sitting against a couch. Rick’s face was swollen and red. He was beaten to hell, but alive, and Carl sat next to him eating from a bowl with a spoon.

The reunion was filled with laughter and tears of relief— again. This time, Rick’s intense injuries and the unlikely nature of your crossed paths took emphasis. Everyone other than you had witnessed the losses of the final battle against the Governor firsthand and didn’t seem eager to discuss them. After two days of solitude, you were back with your people— at least some of them— and it was a sweet relief.

Even so, your mouth would dry and something would lump in your throat between their bouts of laughter, or the sight of a stray touch of acknowledgement— Rick’s hand at Michonne’s shoulder or adjusting Carl’s hat. Random moments of affection and care had your smile slipping, even if it should’ve warmed your heart— but you couldn’t stop thinking of him.

You missed Daryl.

A few days later, you were crouched by a fire with barely enough food in your stomach to soften hungry growls. It didn’t take long for Carl to finish his portion and head to bed for the night— the passenger seat of a blue truck.

After the run in with those men three days prior, the four of you decided to steer clear of the towns and houses, at least until the dust settled. It had only been by chance that you were about to wake Rick, anyway. You didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if you would’ve stayed in the other bedroom, reading that book when those dangerous men barged inside the home. Or if Rick hadn’t been able to kill that man in the bathroom in time.

Nothing good. You knew that for sure. The way they spoke about Michonne’s shirt and your hairbrush— about claiming the women staying there— still echoed in the back of your head and sent shivers down your spine, no matter how hard you tried to forget it.

Tonight, those shivers were worsened by the cold night.

“One rabbit, four people,” you sighed and kicked another branch into the small fire.

“It was something,” Michonne said.

Rick nodded. “We’ll find more soon.”

The last few days, as desperate and hungry as they’d been, were more lighthearted than expected. The simple reality of being reunited despite a million forces against it made the road a lot more tolerable, in comparison. Healing well, Rick had a glimpse more of hope each day.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hungry.

“I forgot wha’ this feels like,” he mumbled. “The only thing we talk ‘bout is food.”

“Let's hope we’re able to forget again soon.” Michonne tossed a bone, picked clean of meat and cartilage, into the fire.

“Terminus is, what, a day’s walk?”

“Mhm,” Rick hummed. “If they’re takin’ people in, they have to be strong, have a system.”

Michonne shifted in her seat. “How do we know if it's even legit?”

In the woods, a branch snapped. The three of your heads all turned immediately. It was odd— even after months on the road before, and years of this new world burned into your memory, you never could get used to the constant panic that came with the lack of familiar and strong walls. Michonne placed a hand on her sword and Rick stood up with a firm grip on that python. And you waited— prayed you wouldn’t have to grab your weapon, too.

A silent minute later, Rick sat back down, and continued.

“We let people in.”

“So did the Governor,” Michonne raised an eyebrow. There was no malice or contempt behind her words— not for Rick’s judgement at least— but a hint of worry traced each syllable.

“We’ll know when we know. Like always.” You shrugged.

With a half-hearted smile, you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself and stood up. That branch snap had seeded an uncomfortable root in your stomach, and suddenly every brush of the wind along your skin was prickling your skin with goosebumps. If there was any hope of you getting sleep tonight, you had to turn in now, before fear could plague you until dawn. Rick and Michonne gave you brief acknowledgments and put out the fire before you headed for the truck. They’d be turning in later, but soon.

“She’s right,” Rick’s voice echoed behind you. “Hell, maybe this place isn’t even there anymore.”

There was another sound then, slipped between Rick’s whispers of worry and a cold breeze settling over the dark road. A click.

A gun.

“Oh, dearie me,” a low voice chuckled. “You fucked up, asshole. You hear me? You fucked up.”

You spun on your heel, only to be met with three more armed men approaching from the tree line. You knew you were screwed— even before that taunting voice of the man holding a gun to Rick’s head said so— but instinct kicked in, and your hand wrapped around the pistol in your back pocket. Only for that same hand to be crushed in a strong grip that had you gasping in pain. A hand reached into your hair and pulled. Your head snapped back, neck bent until you made eye contact with the fourth man who’d snuck up behind you. He had a blue beanie, yanked down almost to his eyebrows, and a nose that looked like it’d been broken one too many times.

“I’ll take tha’,” he growled and twisted your gun free from your grip, and with a yelp, you reluctantly dropped it. He yanked you down further to pick it up; every movement he made, you made with him. Without much acknowledgement to the gun beyond the click of its safety being turned off, he pressed it to your left temple.

“You assholes thought you’d sit around the fire and have yourselves a nice meal?” The attacker at Rick’s side laughed. “No, sir. Today is a day of reckoning. Restitution.”

The voices blurred, overlapping and muddling together until all you could hear was a muffle of deep tone— something about a countdown. The man tightened his grip on your hair. Just an inch. It made your skin pull, a dull pressure building up at the section he had wrapped around his slimy fingers. Squeezing your fists and eyes shut, you tried to steady your breathing, but the dark welcomed cruel, horrid images of what could be next: Rick’s limp body face-down in a puddle of blood. Carl’s tear-stained cheeks. Michonne’s.

Your eyes snapped open again. Like a relentless shiver, every inch of you shook; your chin trembled with every short burst of breath, and fuck, you could feel the tears pricking your eyes because it really didn’t matter that you couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying. The guns and the wicked grins said enough. You knew what they wanted, what they were here for. To kill. Take whatever— whoever— they wanted.

Then something— someone’s voice— broke through that murky puddle of noise. There was a moment of stillness on that dark road, until you heard it again.

“Just hold up, Joe.”

The plea was almost a whimper. Not from you, Michonne, Rick, or even Carl who was still in the truck, eyes equally as fear-stricken and wide as yours. But it was familiar. The man’s grip on your head was solid, too tight to let you turn and see who it was that pulled you out of that trance. But then he turned to look himself, twisting your neck along with him, and even in the middle of that fire of pain and dread, relief washed over you.

Daryl.

A puff of air left your lungs, something between a gasp and a sigh. Despite all the confusion and terror pumping through your veins, or the racing thoughts of how the hell did he end up here, with these men, you felt a flicker of hope reignite in your heart. Daryl was here, by whatever crazy chance, and even if there was still a damn gun to your head, that meant something.

It did for a few seconds, at least. The moment was soon clouded by the look behind his heavy eyes. The way they flickered across you and the man pressed to your back, then behind, presumably to Rick and Michonne, was almost timid— as if the second he showed a glimpse of anger, or he moved too fast, that bullet would lodge in your skull.

His steps were slow and short, almost like the way he’d approach a deer, but he was much too stiff. Close to shaking with tension as he moved closer, his eyes flashed over you again, that muddled expression of shock, relief, and fear never lost.

One of the men adjusted his grip on a rifle. “These are the assholes who killed Lou, so we got nothin’ to talk ‘bout.”

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothin’ but time,” the leader— Joe— said. “Share your piece, Daryl.”

Daryl gave a slight shake of his head and carefully eyed Joe. “These people… These are good people. You’re gonna let ‘em go.”

Joe scoffed, “Now, I— I think Lou would have to disagree with you on that. I’ll of course have to speak for him ‘cause your friends here strangled him in a bathroom.”

“Ya want blood. I get it.” Daryl nodded, then tossed his crossbow to the ground. As he held his hands out, your stomach dropped. “Take it from me, man.”

You whimpered, soft and barely there, “No.”

Apparently, it was enough to make the hand in your hair slip free and clamp over your mouth, instead.

Daryl’s eyes snapped toward the pleading in your wide eyes, before settling back on the shock in Joe’s. “Come on,” he urged, the muscles in his neck tightening.

Joe’s jaw went slack and his voice wavered, “This man killed our friend, but— but you say he’s good people.” He shook his finger as the confused hurt across his features morphed into anger. His tone hardened, “That right there is— is a damn lie.”

Daryl’s face and hands fell.

“It’s a lie!”

The back of a rifle jabbed into Daryl’s stomach and he instantly folded over. You started screaming, regardless if it was muffled by the firm grip over your jaw.

“Teach him, fellas. Teach him all the way!” Joe yelled out as they dragged Daryl to the side of the car. Another man yanked Carl out of the vehicle, just as Daryl was pushed over its hood.

“Listen, it was me, it was just me.” Rick shook his head, his voice firm despite the panic from seeing his son dragged out and that big man with the depraved smile pressed against him.

“See, that right there’s the God honest truth, not some damn lie. Don’t worry, we can settle this, we’re reasonable men. First, we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then, we’ll have the girls, then the boy, then I’m gonna shoot you and we’ll be square!” Joe erupted into a fit of laughter.

Something cold slipped over you then, and even with all that adrenaline, you felt your muscles begin to freeze with fear.

This couldn’t be happening.

Rick’s eyes darkened. “Let him go,” he muttered, but the rumbling anger in his chest made it sound like a threat.

It was. Rick snapped his head back, slamming against Joe’s nose and a shot rang out. Joe stumbled back, clutching his face, and the cold barrel of Daryl’s pistol slipped away from your temple, pointing toward Rick at the instance of defiance. In a second, burning heat returned to your muscles and you took the opportunity to make a move of your own.

You jabbed your elbow back hard, landing a blow to your attacker’s stomach. With the breath knocked out of him, he folded over and the gun slipped from his grip. Free from the cold barrel of the gun, you dislodged your jaw from his hand and bit down, until you could taste something warm and metallic pooling in your mouth. Blood dripped down your chin as he screamed into your ear. His pain was earsplitting— shrill. The taste— and the thought of it— sickening. Overwhelmed, you accidentally cringed, loosening your bite just enough for him to yank his hand free, marked with the print of your teeth and his bright blood.

Just as quick as the first one had slipped away, another gun was trained on you. This time aimed by Joe himself.

“Jesus, sweetheart. You got on a mouth on you.” He gave you a smirk, painted red from the blood dripping from his nose.

Rick had fallen to the ground, dazed by Joe’s punch and the ringing of that bullet. A low groan broke from him and Joe’s smile fell as revenge overwhelmed him again.

“Oh, it’s gonna be so much worse now.” Joe slammed his boot into Rick’s stomach, kicking him over, without dropping his aim on you.

The man behind had found his composure in seconds and kicked the back of your legs, dropping you to the ground like Rick. Concrete scraped your knees and palms, tearing at the denim and skin as he wrapped a strong forearm around your neck, pulled you up right, and squeezed.

“I got ‘er,” he growled into your ear. A cold blade pressed to your left cheek in place of his— your— gun. “But she ain’t gonna be so pretty once ‘m done.”

Air trapped in your lungs from his fierce grip around your throat, you flailed closed fists backward, but your hits were nothing compared to his tense muscles and firm grip. Feeble attempts to break free, as if a five-year-old was fighting off their much stronger sibling. Then he pressed the blade down, cutting across your cheek and leaving a sharp sting of pain behind.

You gasped out some kind of strangled cry.

The man lifted the blade and shined it under the moonlight, twisting so that drops of blood ran down the sides. “Look at tha’. Ya bleed pretty, too.”

The cut still throbbed with every slowing beat of your heart. Your fists weren’t doing anything, not without sufficient oxygen. He still had a hold around your neck just tight enough to make your vision darken, your heartbeat echoing in your ears, but he wasn’t trying to kill you— not yet, at least.

But fuck, you wanted to kill him.

The sounds of Carl’s desperate cries and heavy punches landing on Daryl mixed with the pounding of your heart.

You wanted to kill them all.

“You leave him be!” Rick growled again.

You could faintly see him stumble, trying to stand up before Joe yanked him to his height, and that’s when a small, but jagged rock in the leaves caught your attention. Right by Rick’s foot, it was too far to reach yourself, but your eyes snapped to the ground in front of you, determined. While scanning the litter of leaves on the pavement, your fists slowed their useless attack, and the man behind you chuckled.

“Givin’ up so soon, sweetheart? Tha’ would be a damn shame.”

His grip around your throat loosened just an inch, enough for you to sharply inhale a much needed breath. He was taunting you, offering you the slack you needed to fight back. But there wasn’t another rock. Nothing more than the pebbles embedded in your knees.

“Come on,” he whined. “’S more fun when ya fight.”

The timing was pristine. Right as he berated you, humiliated you, you saw it. A snapped branch. It wasn’t very long, but it was thick enough and had a sharp edge where it’d broken. You reached forward, flailing your arms in a way that must’ve seemed more like desperation than hope, because the man never yanked you back. Arrogance got the better of him, giving you the reach you needed to wrap your hand around the stick, just as Joe laughed at Rick again,

“What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?”

There was a scream. A gurgle of liquid and choking. Then, someone spat.

Everyone’s heads turned. Joe’s hand held onto Rick’s collar, until his heavy, limp body forced him to the ground. Blood sprayed out of his neck in steady, frequent beats; his heart was pumping the life out of him. That same red was painted down Rick’s chin and neck, sprayed into the air as a chunk of flesh flew from Rick’s mouth. And the man behind you was distracted by it all.

In one hard swing, you jabbed the stick behind you, and when a firm force gave away underneath the pressure, a bubble of relief and satisfaction— fucking gratitude— ripped past your lips in a strangled sob.

A shot fired. The man beside Michonne dropped dead right when you felt a puff of hot air against your right cheek and a stream of warm liquid dripping down your back. You yanked the branch out and repeated the motion— stabbed again. That time, you heard quiet gurgles of blood filling his throat. His grip around your neck slipped away, and with a quick, heavy breath to fuel you, you turned to face him. That wicked grin he had was wiped clean off his face as pure shock overwhelmed his features, and he fell back. You drove the stick into a fresh spot of his neck and watched his skin rip underneath, waited for the blood to pump out of him— just like Joe—, and yanked it free one last time.

Michonne fired again; another shot and another thump of a body.

Then there was yelling. The last attacker alive— the man who’d gone after Carl— spewing threats in exchange for a chance at life.

“I—I’ll kill him. I’ll kill— I’ll kill him!”

“Let the boy go,” Michonne demanded.

She aimed the gun at the man, eyes wide at the sight of Carl’s limp body being held up as a shield. Though her grip on the gun was shaky, she didn’t lower the weapon until Rick’s blade shoved into the man. Then she dropped the gun and wrapped her hands around a shaking, crying boy, instead.

No one needed to see to know what was happening. The repeated squelch of skin and blood was enough; Rick was gutting him.

With every stab, you could feel your vigour drain, your skin become colder. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off. It’s absence left a heavy fog in your mind, dulling that sharp awareness that kept you alive. Lightheaded, you palmed the bloody pavement to give yourself a push to stand on shaky legs.

You slowly turned your back to Rick and his brutal aggression for his son’s attacker. The sight should’ve made you scared, but your expression was slack, lips parted from your heavy breaths and nothing more. You turned to face a bruised and panting Daryl, instead.

Blood splattered up his pant leg from where he’d bashed one of their heads in with his heel. Sprayed across his face from where they’d kicked and punched him. There was a lot of blood on him.

He straightened his stance and stared back at you between heavy breaths.

It was like your legs had a mind of their own; they sent you tumbling forward, arms swung around his shoulders and face buried in his warm chest. Firm, steady arms wrapped around you, his nose brushed against the pulse in the curve of your neck. The realization of him being here— holding you— made you grip the back of his shirt even tighter. Trembling from weakness, even worse than the fallen leaves in the night’s breeze, your hold around his bruised ribs barely made him flinch.

Not long after, the whimpers of that man and the gush of his guts being ripped apart had quieted. With weary steps, Michonne and Carl had gone into the car together. Rick, still covered in blood, had pushed the door closed behind them so soft there was barely a thump. It was odd how quickly the night had quieted once the men were dead. Nothing but the rustle of leaves in the wind and crickets.

It was almost peaceful.

Still, you doubted anyone could close their eyes tonight. The dark welcomed terrifying what-ifs, and with pounding hearts, sleep would be a useless attempt, anyway.

When you finally could, you let go of the bundles of Daryl’s shirt you’d been holding. Peeling off him, your weight fell back on shaky legs. Unsure where to settle, your eyes wandered… across his apprehensive look, the fresh cuts on his face, or the rips of his shirt from when they’d dragged him with every intention on beating him to death.

Heaviness started to swell in your chest at the litter of hurt across him— the drip of blood from his nose and his lip and his brow. The purple and red already blooming around his swollen eye.

Then your eyes fell to your bloody hands, instead, and there was no fog anymore. Only red.

You started to sob.

———

It wasn’t long until dawn broke.

Daryl led you away from that blood-stained road, deep into the quiet woods. With quieter steps than he ever remembered, you followed him to a stream.

The air was moist, filled with the scent of musky, wet soil. You crouched down on a spot of grass and the earth dampened your jeans, but you were much more concerned with the dried blood still caked to your skin.

Daryl glanced over the taut line of your lips and the exhaustion weighing your expression. The thin look you had about you had made his mouth dry. He swallowed. He had always held a sense of hesitancy to touch you, afraid that his feelings might bleed through the touch of skin. Now, regardless of his feelings, he wasn’t sure if it’d be right to.

Not after what those assholes did.

Flashes of last night made his blood boil. The sight of you in Billy’s arms, his slimy fingers wrapped around your mouth and the look in your eye. He’d never seen you like that before, not when you’d been cornered by walkers, not even when the Governor attacked. Daryl almost wished he hadn’t caved in their heads so that he could kill them all over again. Gut them for what they wanted to do— were going to do— to you and the others.

Your chin fell to your chest, red fingers shaking ever so slightly, and he snapped out of it. He’d been waiting to clean whatever physical marks of last night he could off of you, eager to wipe that blood from your pretty skin since the second it stained you. It was the least he could do.

Daryl dipped a corner of his rag in the river, then held out his hand.

“Lemme.”

With a timid, almost simple look, you raised your head. Bruises painted your neck, marring the delicate skin and muscle with hurt. The swollen cut at your cheek had stopped bleeding sometime before dawn, but your sleeve hadn’t done much to clean your skin of the evidence. There were streams of blood down your chin, following the curve of your bruised neck down to the expanse of your chest, from when you’d had to bite the man before he could cause even more damage.

And your shirt... You couldn’t see it, but the back still had marks of that man’s blood, when it pumped from his throat and onto you. Daryl had given you his extra flannel last night to replace the jacket he tossed away with the bodies of those men after it’d been drenched in red. That helped— but the traces still left on you made him shift in his seat.

Beyond his black eye, you could see the guilt and hurt sink into him with every inch of you he passed over. When his eyes finally reached yours, there was a moment of quiet between the two of you. That heaviness bloomed inside you again, although this time, it felt a bit lighter; you could still breathe without slipping into sobs. In a way, that weight felt grounding.

Unaware of his steady gaze holding you down from a million what-ifs and the lingering, nauseating taste of blood in your mouth, he broke away. Chin dipping to his chest and eyes lowering to your hands, now reached toward him.

A few days had passed between now and the prison— maybe a week— but you could swear his bangs had grown longer already. You wanted to tuck them away while he dragged that damp rag, as carefully as he could, across your skin. After there was nothing but a watery smears of pink left, he rang out the cloth and dipped it in the stream again. He reached up to wipe away the blood from your tender neck, across your jaw, then dabbed around the sliced skin of your cheek.

His eyes shifted between you and the wound. “Don’t think it’ll scar,” he muttered, letting the rag fall from your cheek, slowly.

You nodded and finally voiced those words stuck in the back of your throat, “Thank you.”

The air tensed, his shoulders stiff and gaze drawn to the damp soil beneath you. You knew those guilt-ridden thoughts running through his head all too well.

“Daryl…” you sighed.

“Stop,” he practically whimpered. “Dont ya thank me for…” He shook his head. “It ain’t right.”

Reaching out a clean hand, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back an inch. “This isn’t… This wasn’t your fault.”

Daryl’s eyes flashed across you, brief with his lingering apprehension.

“You didn’t put those guns to our heads. You didn’t try to… You didn’t do that,” you whispered.

“I was with ‘em.”

“I don’t care,” you snapped. The tone of your voice slipped into something softer as you confessed, “I only care that you’re here now. With us.” He could barely meet your eye, but in the second that he did, everything started to pour out. “Back at the prison, when you told me to run…” you sniffled, “I— I went to the cages but— but she was— I— and I couldn’t, so I ran and I tried to find you— I tried but you were gone and—“

Daryl mumbled your name because he knew how you got, but you couldn’t stop now.

“I thought I lost you,” you choked out. “I— I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“‘M ‘ere.” He grabbed your hand again, wrapping his fingers in a soft, but grounding hold around you. “‘M right ‘ere.”

You sniffled again and nodded. Composed yourself with a deep breath.

“What happened last night was fucked up, and I’m probably never going to forget it.” You swallowed down the bitter taste in your mouth, waited for that overflowing tear to spill down your cheek, then sharply inhaled. “But finding you? That’s the only thing I want to remember.”

Even with the tears running down your cheeks, somehow you smiled— small and delicate, like you were pleading with him to see what you did, to hear your reason, and it made his heart swell.

He swallowed that lump in his throat, bit his lip, and watched you wait for the pain and guilt to fade from his expression. He’d never be free of it completely, just like he’d never forget that night either, but your tone was so earnest and honeyed that he couldn’t not entertain the idea of a second chance, couldn’t regret the warm comfort that came from your reunion.

You reached your other hand up to place on top of his and squeezed, gently. “We’ll get through it. That’s what you said, back at the prison, and you were right.”

Replaying those words in his head, the right corner of his lip just barely curled— maybe it was that ray of sun, sneaking past the early morning fog and landing on you that made him finally break.

“Always do.”

———————————————————————

A/N: whooooo its done! yay! this fic was a bit more challenging for me, for whatever reason, so im happy to finally have to completed for u guys :)

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

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lilyevanstan1325 · 4 months

Text

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 8

I don't think I'll ever get used to a man like Daryl.

And I'm not just talking about his physical appearance, which damn is absolutely fantastic, but about him as a man.

His personality.

His strong, authoritarian nature.

Every gesture, every word that comes from this man exudes a power capable of putting me in awe, sending my brain into a tailspin.

The first lights of this dawn dimly illuminate his profile.

From the moment I reopened my eyes I couldn't take them off his face even for a moment.

His features are relaxed, soft, beautiful.

His strong arms are folded behind his head, a few strands of hair falling lazily across his forehead.

A light and adorable snore comes from his slightly parted lips, his chest rises gently, his breathing slow and steady.

Daryl Dixon sleeping is a sight to be enjoyed.

I sigh dreamily.

Is there anything this man doesn't do excellently?

I curl further into myself, hands clasped under my cheek and knees pressed against my stomach.

I enjoy this little show that I'm sure is something no one else can boast of having seen.

When I wake up the sky was still dark and my head was still resting on his chest, the scent of him in my nostrils was so strong it made my eyes roll.

I gently moved away from his body, ignoring the voice in my head that instead invited me to decrease the space between us even further.

I just had the burning desire to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck.

But I listened to that little part of my self-control.

And now here I am.

Crouched in a corner enjoying this wonder.

Daryl moves slightly.

Instinctively I move away a little more.

I don't want to make him uncomfortable.

Even though he himself invited me to spend the night in his tent, I fear the moment he wakes up.

Why?

I don't even know why.

Maybe I'm just afraid that the night might have led him to change his mind about me.

About us.

I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth.

I still want to kiss him.

But him?

What about him.

His fluctuating mood is the thing that destabilizes me the most, we practically went from not looking at each other to sleeping hugged in the same tent.

Thinking back to yesterday...

God!

Yesterday more than once we got dangerously close to each other and more than once everything's came to nothing.

What if today he doesn't want it anymore?

If I close my eyes I can still feel his hands squeezing my hips, his breath on my heated lips.

His scent.

God.

I would let those strong, calloused hands do anything to me, I would let his thick fingers explore every millimeter of my scorching skin.

I squeeze my legs tightly, the fire burning between them seems to consume me mercilessly.

I whimper lightly, pathetically.

I sink my teeth into the back of my hand to try to quell my own pleasure.

Can I burn with passion for a man I just met?

This isn't me.

I'm not like that.

I have never been so passionate.

So eager.

So needy.

And this new part of me scares me.

It scares me because I shouldn't feel certain emotions, not now that the only goal of our life is to survive.

I return my gaze to the archer's face.

His very relaxed features soothe my agitated soul.

I could stay hours, days, maybe even years, still like this with him sweetly sleeping at my side.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer” his still sleeping voice whispers.

I gasp violently, blushing.

“What?” I squeak, letting my hair slide in front of my face, trying to hide my growing embarrassment, immediately interrupting all my unchaste thoughts.

Daryl turns his face slightly towards me as his body moves into the same position as mine.

His long legs come closer to mine while he bends one arm to support his head while the other hand comes closer to my face and pushes away my unruly locks with his fingertips.

His blue eyes now alert and attentive have a relaxed look.

“Yer starin’.’S creepy”

A veil of slyness is hidden in his drawl.

He's making fun of me.

He's trying to embarrass me.

I torture my lower lip between my teeth, tormenting it.

“Don't do tha’ or ya'll ruin those pretty lips” he murmurs, bringing his thumb to my lip, freeing it from the torture of my teeth.

My breath gets stuck in my throat.

His gesture sends the part of my brain capable of formulating meaningful sentences into total blackout.

Actually my entire brain.

Trying to hide the passion that this man arouses in me, I decide to respond to his provocations with a little audacity.

“I wasn't staring at you.I was admiring you” I wink.

My lips rub gently on his digit still pressed to my lips.

“Stop” he grumbles, blushing too.

Well.

His own game is turning against him.

I smile satisfied, amused by the blush that spreads across his face as I watch him roll onto his back, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed on the ceiling of the tent.

He seems to tense up, I can feel the tension radiating from his body like waves.

The temptation to touch him is too strong.

Simply too much.

I move closer to him, carefully sliding my hand along his pecs and then back up towards his hair.

Daryl turns his face towards me, his gaze uncertain and his body rigid, almost scared like a cornered animal.

He acts like he expects to get hit every time my hands come near him.

The thought that a human being can be so little related to contact makes me sad.

I have always been used to being hugged, to being loved but for him it is as if all this were unknown.

It's all new to him.

I smile shyly trying to reassure him, trying to make him understand that the one thing I would never do is hurt him.

I push my hand into his hair, digging my fingers into the messy locks and smoothing them down.

A shaky sigh escapes his lips then his body relaxes and his eyes close.

With a little more courage than I had a few minutes ago I approach him, resting my head on his hard bicep.

The archer's muscular arm moves to make room for me so that I can rest my head right next to the junction of his neck and his clavicle.

My hand abandons his hair to move towards his neck, stroking the soft skin behind his ear and finally finding a place on the nape of his neck where my nails scratch his scalp languidly.

Without shame I take a deep breath.

“You smell good” I murmur although more than a murmur the words come out of my lips like a soft moan.

The man's body stiffens again but this time it is different.

His attitude seems to have another nuance.

It's not fear.

It's more like he's trying to tame something bigger.

“Do I make you nervous?” I whisper with my lips pressed to the base of his neck unable to stop.

This sweet torture intoxicates me.

It's unstoppable.

I propping myself up on my elbow and keeping my eyes fixed on Daryl's I move closer to his face leaving a light trail of small kisses along his jawline.

Slowly.

Slowly enough to give him all the time he needed to pull back but that doesn't happen.

Daryl turns his entire body towards me, his arms wrapping around my waist pulling me against his body, his fingers playing on my lower back.

“Watch out, pretty eyes.Ya be careful wha’ ya wish fer”

His low drawl makes me blush.

His voice, still thick with sleep, awakens all my senses.

“You know big boy, I think you have a crush on me”

I wink, curling up against his chest to hide the blush that slowly and inexorably spreads across my face.

A light laugh resonates in his large chest, making the strings of my soul vibrate.

“Ya think?” the archer teases me by letting his long fingers run along my spine.

I nod, nuzzling my head against his neck, my lips finding his chin where they leave a little peck.

“You call me pretty eyes, pretty lips...so…”

He let out a hmph sound.

And I find it adorable.

I giggle as I move away from his body or at least I try because his strong, muscular arms keep me anchored to him.

I barely lift my face in search of his eyes and I find them already staring at me with an intensity that makes me breathless.

Everything is so easy with him.

All so natural.

Where's the catch?

Am I really ready to let him enter in my heart?

But in the end do I still have the time to choose?

Maybe...maybe I'm already in too deep and if he decides to smash my heart into a thousand pieces I'm sure I'd let him do it.

I'm willing to suffer even to have a little piece of him.

“Yer right.Ya pretty little thing, ya look so delicate but I know ya not like tha’.Oh no, ya ain't as sweet and delicate as ya would like to let me believe”

Daryl whispers barely brushing my lips with his.

His attentive gaze is studying me and his words crush my heart.

He is right.

I'm not like that or rather there was a time when I was delicate but it's been a really long time ago.

I had to replace sweetness with strength.

I had to replace the desire for love with the desire to survive.

Now I'm stronger, tougher and more cautious with people.

Distrust has become my dearest friend.

I hid my true nature behind a stronger, stoic demeanor.

A mask that this man seems determined to destroy and I'm ready to let him do it.

“If I let ya in…”

Daryl inhales deeply taking a moment to reflect on his own words before continuing.

“How dangerous are ya, Summer?”

His question makes my blood run cold.

I am not dangerous but my past, my history, is.

And a lot too.

I stammer something incomprehensible under my breath, moving away from his grasp, escaping his now suspicious gaze. Pushing my hands against his chest I give myself a gentle push and roll onto my back to put an end to whatever was about to happen.

I sit there unable to say anything.

Unable to answer his simple question.

Basically he doesn't know anything about me and before getting involved it's right that he wants to know.

But what about me?

Am I willing to answer him?

I already know my answer.

And fuck, this hurts for a million different reasons.

Behind me I can hear the rustling of the sleeping bag under the archer's movements.

His hand rests delicately on my back, making me tremble.

“Tell me who ya are, sunshine”

His short plea is muffled by his lips on my shoulder.

Very cautiously Daryl approaches me, sitting right in front of me, welcoming my figure between his long legs.

The soles of his boots resting firmly on the ground, legs raised and strong arms resting on his knees, his hands lazily caressing my biceps.

Small shivers blossom where his fingers pass.

I feel infinitely small locked in the prison of his body.

I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping them in my arms and risking a glance in his direction.

“Wha’ are ya runnin’ from?”

This is the final blow.

I only have two options.

Lie.

Lying like I learned to do.

Or I could tell him the truth.

Tell him why I'm running away.

What I'm running from.

Who I'm running from.

A sad smile caresses my lips.

Daryl cocks his head slightly to the side, his narrowed gaze busy studying my reaction.

Ready to grasp every little nuance.

I look down at the tips of my boots.

“Do you think it is possible to escape from our past?” I whisper.

The sound of my voice drowned only by the deafening beat of my heart thundering in my ears.

“If I told you I was running away from myself would you believe me, Daryl?”

The man's large hand makes space on my face, finding the perfect fit in the hollow of my neck.

His thumb is a light caress on my cold skin.

His head tilts further in search of my elusive gaze.

“Good luck with this.I've been doin’ this shit my whole damn life”

His words catch my attention like a moth attracted to the light.

His blue gaze, like crystalline water, seems to darken, behind it a veil made of ancient memories and pain.

His past also seems to haunt him.

“It doesn't work, does it?” I smile defeated.

I don't know why this makes me sad, after all I am aware of the fact that it ain't possible to escape from our demons, from our mistakes, yet I always hope that it's possible...

“Listen to me” Daryl whispers, moving a little closer.

Our faces are really so close that I feel like I'm running out of oxygen in my lungs.

“Ya can run, ya can run fer yer whole life.Ya can run fer miles but yer past is here” he murmurs, touching my left temple with the tip of his index finger.

“And here” he whispers, moving his finger towards the center of my chest, pointing it right at my heart.

“Yer past will forever be a part of ya.Yer past is what has shaped the woman ya're today”

His hands gently wrap around my face caressing me as if I were made of crystal.

As if he was afraid he would break me if he held me tighter.

“I dunno anythin’ ’bout tha’ past and I don't give a shit.Do ya know wha’ I see instead?”

His southern accent sweetly envelops my every thought, making my mouth go dry.

My fingers timidly find his wrists, wrapping around them with desperate need.

I cling to him, to his words, as if they were my only hold.

Daryl is the only thing keeping me afloat in this sea of pain right now.

“What do you see?”

Daryl licks his lips.

And then he smiles.

And the world stops.

His face looks infinitely younger.

It's as if all his pain, all my pain, just disappeared.

Nothing exists anymore.

Just me and him.

“I see a strong woman, a woman who defied death to find something else.I see a brave woman, a woman who isn't afraid to take on an asshole like Shane.I see a loyal friend, a friend who puts aside her own shit to help Carol.Summer ya so many beautiful things tha’…God!It pisses me off tha’ ya don't see it”

With my eyes wide open and my heart racing, I don't even realize what happens immediately afterwards.

Daryl's lips crash against mine.

His firm grip on my face is fuel on the fire.

The violence of the contact only fuels the fire inside me.

I get up, kneeling and bringing my body closer to his, our chests pressing against each other with so much vehemence that if it were possible I would melt and merge into him.

My arms wrap around his neck, my hands dive into his soft locks, pulling them hard.

A pathetic moan leaves my lips and Daryl takes the opportunity to slide his velvety tongue between them.

I moan louder in response.

Despite the fervor of the kiss, Daryl's tongue moves shyly as if all of a sudden he isn't so sure anymore.

As if he were embarrassed by his own passion for me.

We both don't know what we're doing and where all this will take us but we can't help but surrender to our needs.

Because yeah, what we feel is need.

A physical need, the need to soothe our pain.

The corrosive need to no longer be alone.

I soften my grip on his hair by sliding my fingers along the back of his neck, giving him sweet caresses with my fingers.

I move my lips delicately caressing his tongue with mine.

Kissing Daryl is like downing a shot of tequila in one gulp.

It burns every sense and goes straight to the brain clouding every thought, every fear, every inhibition.

Kissing Daryl is losing yourself in the oblivion of pleasure.

Suddenly the kiss ends and when my eyelids flicker again, the first thing that strikes me is the man's bewildered look.

He seems intimidated, almost scared.

I tremble as I lower my gaze, suddenly struck by a thousand anxieties.

His strong hands move down my sides and then cling tightly to my feverish skin, his forehead rests delicately against mine.

“It was so bad?” he tries to lighten me up noticing the tension in my body.

I just shake my head with a shy smile.

“Not that bad, big boy” I whisper, seeking his lips again, kissing him once more.

A light and quick kiss.

With my fingers I continue to absentmindedly caress the back of his neck, enjoying this little moment of haze.

Daryl looks thoughtful as his intelligent, attentive eyes probe my face.

“Listen to me, sunshine.If ya don't wan’ to talk ’bout it that's fine but don't give me bullshit.No lies.I hate lies”

Daryl is trusting me and I know I don't want to disappoint him, I can't do it for the simple fact that I would never forgive myself.

I know it's an effort for him too to trust me and I can't betray him.

“There was a man” I whisper, moving my hands towards his chest, holding onto his shirt.

Talking about Negan always hurts.

My cold fingers grip the fabric of his shirt almost angrily as my heart pumps furiously.

“I ran away from him, from his men…I couldn't stay any longer.I don't want to lie to you” I whisper under my breath, looking for his gaze.

The archer looks at me seriously and imperturbably.

“I don't want to lie to you but…but I don't feel like talking about it.Not now.Do you understand that?”

My anxiety is so powerful that I can't hold his gaze for a moment longer so I bury my face in his chest while his arms close around me giving me the comfort I crave.

One day, when I'm ready, I'll talk about him.

I'll tell Daryl everything.

But not now.

Now I need to find myself again.

I just need to find my balance again.

Because the only person I ever lost and need back is me.

Daryl's steady heartbeat helps me regain some self-control.

His silence gives me time to compose myself.

We remain still in our embrace until he pulls away just enough to find my eyes again.

“Did he hurt ya?”

His simple question hides an anger so visceral it scares me.

Even though he has always been sweet and delicate with me, Daryl is a strong, feral man and I am sure that anyone could only tremble in terror if they faced a man like him.

In response I simply shake my head.

Negan never physically hurt me but the pain he inflicted on my soul and heart was pure torture.

That man destroyed my heart and my soul and if he had also inflicted physical pain on me I would have almost welcomed it with open arms to no longer feel that pain inside me.

Daryl inhales deeply.

“Ya safe now and will be as long as I have the strength to protect ya.I will never let him get close to ya.Never again” he whispers.

My heart flutters at his promise.

And then, before I could even think he kiss me again.

This time with more confidence, with more awareness.

He kiss me so hard that I might consider the idea that my lips might become bruised.

And honestly I'm not complaining one bit.

The feeling of his lips on mine makes me arch my back in ecstasy.

I let out a sigh, which I didn't mean to sound so much like a moan, but the archer's lips curl up against my lips.

He seems satisfied and he leans back to give me another smile.

I return a smile resignedly, aware of not being able to control the reactions of my own body in his presence.

Not that he seems to be complaining about it.

“Are you mad at me?”

The archer tilts his head slightly to the side, shocked by my question.

“Wha’?Why should I be mad at ya?”

His tone seems almost amused.

I shrug.

“I do not know.Because I don't want to talk about…”

Daryl cuts me off immediately by crashing his lips against mine, pressing them so hard that I bend backwards until my back hits the hard ground.

I watch him as he leans towards me, placing his hands on the sides of my head.

“Ya don't even have to think ’bout it, sunshine.Ya talk when ya ready and if ya never be ready it'll be fine anyway, alrigh’?”

I nod, smiling and pinching my bottom lip between my teeth.

My hands grab the scruff of his shirt pulling him towards my lips but before I can deepen the kiss a voice makes us jump.

“I hope you're not naked because I already have too much trauma.I don't need to see your ass too, pookie”

I can't resist the laughter that forcefully bursts from my lips.

Carol enters the tent with a hand covering her eyes and a toothy smile.

Daryl huffs, letting his head fall forward.

Still shaking from laughter, I press my hands on the man's chest, pushing him away from me and sitting back down.

“C'mon Carol.Don't worry, we're already done” I smile, pushing my foot towards her boot.

The archer lies down on the sleeping bag, rolling onto his back and then sitting up.

“So…pookie?Really?” I ask amused laughing again followed by Carol’s laughter and another adorable snort from the man in question.

“Stop.Both of you” Daryl grumbles, focusing his icy gaze on both of us.

At first glance he might seem angry but the tips of his ears deliciously red make me understand that he is just terribly embarrassed.

Carol laughs as she sits next to me.

“Why?Doesn't it suit him?” the woman teases him, eyeing the man on the verge of embarrassment.

“Stop” he grumbles again, crossing his arms over his chest and avoiding our amused looks.

“Oh Carol, don't be mean” I scold her affectionately, putting my arm around her shoulders.

“Do you need something?” I ask her.

I can't stop smiling.

And it hits me.

I haven't felt so relaxed, so comfortable in a long time.

These people I just met managed to bring some calm back to my wounded heart.

I will never be able to thank them enough, not even if I lived a thousand more lives.

Subconsciously these people did more than they were supposed to do.

“Yeah.Breakfast is ready.You need to eat.Both of you need it”

My stomach growls loudly at her words.

I forgot the last time I ate.

Between Shane's mess, Sophia's search and the accident I lost track of time and my needs.

“You almost died, both of you.Now you have the duty to get back on your feet.Let's go” continues the woman, standing up and leaving the tent.

“I'll give you five minutes.Hurry up!” she yells before walking away.

I smile again shaking my head.

I have to get used to feelings like kindness and receiving care and attention from others again.

When I look for Daryl I find him staring at me.

His eyes, blue as the ocean, shine with a light I have never seen in them.

His lips are curved in a small smile.

“What's up?” I ask, embarrassed by his insistent gaze.

The archer shrugs.

“Uhu nothin’.Yer really pretty when ya smile.Ya should do this more often”

His half-hearted compliment awakens a sweet warmth in the center of my chest.

This grumpy and unfriendly man is truly adorable.

I scoop near him pressing a light peck on his beautiful lips.

“The same goes for you.You're really beautiful when you smile, pookie” I murmur bringing my lips to his again.

Daryl huffs but doesn't reject the kiss.

I smile against his lips.

“I think it suits you.On the outside you're grumpy like a bear but on the inside you're really soft” I tease him and without giving him time to reply I quickly kiss him again and leave the tent and head towards the camp where everyone else is.

The first to notice me is Shane.

The man stands slightly apart from the others.

He glances at me briefly and then returns his attention to the plate in his hands.

Strangely, his gaze wasn't full of hate as it often is when it's directed at me.

Maybe, since I got shot less than 48 hours ago, he decided to cut me some slack.

Good.

Carol smiles at me and tilts her head towards a chair.

I sit down smiling at the rest of the people.

Rick, Lori and Carl are sitting together enjoying their breakfast.

As soon as Carl sees me he gives me a shy smile which I return with a wink, the boy laughs in amusement attracting his mother's attention.

Lori nods her head a little.

I think she still feels embarrassed about what she asked me to do but the fact that she finally talked about it with her husband seems to have made her relax a bit.

Rick watches her, his crystal clear eyes are an ocean of fear and confusion.

At the moment Lori seems to be fine and mentally I breathe a sigh of relief.

I feel so fucking guilty for getting her those damn pills.

I really hope that the little one is okay.

T-Dog is helping Carol by the fire.

It looks like they are cooking eggs.

Great.

My stomach rumbles again as their delicious scent reaches my nostrils making my mouth salivate.

Andrea is sitting in front of me busy smoothing the large blade of a hunting knife, her sister Amy, sitting next to her, is also observing her carefully, waiting to receive her food ration.

Glenn and Dale are next to each other and both exchange weird looks.

Glenn, unlike other days, seems particularly tense.

Nervous I dare say.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, casting a fleeting glance towards the porch of the Green house from where Maggie is watching us.

Her expression is too serious.

Maybe the two lovebirds had some spats.

Who knows.

My thoughts are interrupted by heavy footsteps.

And I don't need to turn around to understand who they belong to.

Daryl's scent reaches me before his hand gently rests on my shoulder.

“Take it.It's cold today” the man mutters, handing me a blue checked flannel shirt.

One of his shirts.

My heart jumps into my throat and begins to beat in a completely irregular way.

I actually didn't pay much attention to the weather when I left the archer's tent.

Today the gray sky is covered with large clouds and a light wind makes me shiver.

My t-shirt is certainly not appropriate.

Daryl sits down next to me, giving me a brief smile.

I blush as I slip my arms into his shirt, a shirt that is full of his intoxicating scent.

“Oh wow!This shirt has sleeves.I didn't think you had one" I whisper teasing him and getting an adorable amused snort from him in response.

“Thanks” I whisper with my cheeks still burning, resting my head on his shoulder for a moment.

“’S nothin’ ” he shrugs giving me a gentle shove with his elbow.

Our little exchange of effusions ends when Glenn clears his throat a couple of times.

I observe him carefully while he walks back and forth with an agitated pace.

What happens?

It's not like him to behave like this.

Glenn is always sunny, always with that sweet smile on his face, but this morning he is different.

His eyes are surrounded by the hint of dark circles as if he's had little sleep and his lips are curled into a serious line.

Something's wrong, I can feel it under my skin.

“Um, guys” he mutters, nervously running a hand over his chin.

My eyes immediately search Daryl's.

The man returns my gaze with his equally worried look.

He too realized that there is something strange in the delivery boy's attitude.

We both turn our fullest attention to him.

“So…theburnisfullofwalkers” he snorts in one breath.

Immediately ten heads snap towards the barn.

Ten pairs of wide, disbelieving eyes turn their attention back to Glenn.

I feel panic gripping my guts as in a completely involuntary gesture my hand goes to squeeze the forearm of the man next to me.

My eyes full of terror are reflected in the archer's incredulous ones.

His hand gently squeezes my fingers which are unconsciously squeezing his arm.

Unceremoniously Rick and Shane are the first to quickly walk towards the barn.

Everyone else follows them.

Everyone except me.

I feel as if my legs are paralyzed, a general tremor radiates along my limbs.

“C'mom sunshine, everythin’ will be fine” Daryl urges me.

I turn towards his voice and find him standing next to me, my hand still tight on his arm.

My nails are digging little half-moons shapes into his tanned skin.

As soon as I realize this I immediately withdraw my hand, bringing it to my lap and muttering an apology under my breath, my eyes lowered to my knees.

Daryl kneels, bringing his face level with mine, his hands are a delicate caress on my thighs.

From the knee they slowly move up along them and then repeat the same reassuring movement over and over again.

“Hey!Will everythin’ be good, alrigh’?C'mere” he whispers, bringing his face close to mine and kissing me lightly on the lips.

I feel the blush arise from my neck to the tips of my ears.

I look around nervously and then return my attention to the man kneeling in front of me.

“Daryl!Someone might see us!” I squeak in panic.

Daryl huffs in response, standing up and holding out his hand.

I look at his large, calloused fingers and with a trembling hand I accept his hold.

“I don't give a damn ’bout others.Do ya care?” he asks without looking me in the eyes.

Our fingers intertwine and together we walk towards the barn from where we can already hear the agitated voices of the others carried by the wind.

Before we can reach the others I stop, yanking the archer's hand who, looking at me furtively, stops.

“I don't care about others either” I smile shyly.

And it's the truth.

I could never be ashamed of him.

His gesture definitely took me by surprise, I must admit, and for a moment I feared what others might think.

My arrival has already caused several problems and tribulations in the group and I wouldn't want my closeness with the handsome archer to be a further reason for arguments between him and Shane.

“Good” Daryl grunts and I could swear I saw him blush as we start walking again with a determined pace.

I beam at his back while I can't take my eyes off our fingers locked together.

Rick and Shane are facing each other while the latter points a finger at his friend's chest.

“You cannot tell me you're all right with this” Shane hisses out.

Rick's gaze hardens.

“No, I'm not, but we're guests here.This isn't our land" replies the officer.

The sharp tone of his voice seems to make Shane even more angry.

The man takes a few steps away, bringing his hand to his face and rubbing it nervously.

“Oh God.This is our lives, man” he shouts.

From the barn, increasingly insistent moans and growls follow one another.

“Lower your voice” I invite them, pressing me close to Daryl.

The hotter things get, the more the walkers seem to get agitated.

Shane gives me a mean glare but, perhaps seeing me clinging to Daryl's arm, he decides not to say anything to me and simply shakes his head.

I exchange a quick glance with Glenn.

Anxiety seems to be eating him up.

Andrea lovingly wraps her arm around her sister's shoulders, as if she wanted to protect her from what's in that damned barn.

“We can't just sweep this under the rug” the woman vehemently explains her opinion, immediately earning a hint of approval from Shane who immediately after her adds “It ain't right.Not remotely”

Then he starts walking back and forth again.

His body radiates nervousness from every pore, making me more and more nervous.

Next to me Carl squirmed slightly, hiding behind his mother.

Lori grabs her boy's hand and tries to silently comfort him.

“We either got to go in there, we got to do things right, or we just got to go.Now we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time” Shane says confidently but his words clash with the determined frown of his best friend.

Shit.

Would they really want to leave this place?

What if the group decided to head towards Washington?

I can't even think about it...

I squeeze the archer's fingers tighter and his gaze immediately falls on me.

I think he sees the panic all over my face because, reciprocating my grip around my trembling fingers, he whispers “Don't worry.We found a way”

I nod, chewing the inside of my cheeks until I taste the coppery taste of my blood.

What a fucked up situation!

Why would Hersel keep all these walkers imprisoned?

Does he not realize the risk he places his own daughters in?

“We can't go” Rick barks, gesturing nervously.

Of course he can't.

His wife is pregnant and leaves like this blindly without a real and safe destination is unthinkable.

“Why Rick?Why?” Shane shouts with his eyes almost bulging.

But before anyone can respond Carol advances with a determined step alongside Rick and facing Shane.

“Because my daughter is still out there”

Her eyes are full of tears.

How could we ever leave this place without first finding Sophia?

It is an absolutely impossible option to take into consideration.

Unthinkable.

Shane scoffs by burying his face in his hands.

His reaction activates every cell in my body.

I am fully aware that if Shane says the wrong words I will lose my mind.

“Okay, okay” Shane murmurs, moving closer to Carol.

In a completely automatic gesture I let go of Daryl's hand to move closer to Carol.

“Okay” the man sighs “Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility”

“Fuck you Shane!We're not leaving Sophia behind.We're so close” I snap, pressing my hands forcefully on his hard chest, making him move back just a few steps.

Daryl approaches immediately trying to calm things down but now it's open war between me and that piece of shit of Shane.

I put my hands on my hips, daring him to respond to my words.

He snorts in response, rolling his eyes.

“Daryl and I found his doll two days ago”

The man chuckles sarcastically at my words.

“You found her doll.That's what you did.You found a damn doll.You almost died for a fucking doll.Do you understand, kid?” he yells a few inches from my face sending shivers down my spine.

I feel myself being grabbed violently by the arm and before I can understand what's happening Daryl comes dangerously close, screaming too.

“You don't know wha’ the hell ya talking ’bout”

“Man, look, I'm just saying what needs to be said here” retorts Shane.

I feel like my head is exploding so I decide to take a few steps away, leaving the shouting and arguing behind me.

I'm too nervous and too angry that I really could have hit that idiot if I had stayed there a little longer.

I approach the barn door, peering between the boards.

Inside it, dozens of walkers walk aimlessly, grunting and bumping into each other without any logic.

Something brushes against my shoulder making me jump startling in fear.

When I turn around I have Glenn's tired and heartbroken face in front of me.

“Shit dude.You scare the shit out of me” I scold him with my nerves on edge.

“Sorry” he apologizes, lowering his gaze and digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“It seems like lately whatever I do doesn't work out right”

My friend's words make my heart ache.

“Hey” I call him hugging him.

“It's not your fault.We are all nervous.Sorry”

Glenn returns the hug with much more force than usual, burying his face in my hair.

“I had to say it.Even though I love Maggie, you are my family.I couldn't stay silent.You understand me, don't you?” he murmurs in my ear, continuing to hold me in his arms.

Poor Glenn.

I'm sorry to see him so torn between his love for Maggie and his loyalty to all of us.

“You did what you thought was right.Don't blame yourself.Maggie is a smart woman, she will understand” I try to console him.

Suddenly all hell breaks loose behind us.

I abruptly break the hug in time to see Daryl lunge at Shane.

And it's chaos.

The two are pulled back by several hands, each trying to prevent the two men from being able to hit each other.

Without thinking twice I run into the fray, standing right in front of the archer's body, catching Shane's fist right in my face.

I stagger a few steps, feeling a heat dripping from above my eye.

Grunting, while the screams get louder and more excited around me, I put a hand to my face.

A hand that is immediately tinged with a bright crimson shade.

Fuck!

I stagger a few steps, tripping over my own feet and ending up with my ass on the ground.

“Shit” I cough as my back hits the hard ground.

Immediately afterwards some hands press against my forehead but when I try to rebel a voice immediately silences me.

“It's me.Stay still”

T-Dog's friendly voice reaches my confused brain.

The man takes a rag out of his pants pocket and presses it right to my left eyebrow.

I hiss as the fabric touches my broken skin.

"Don't worry.It's the eyebrow, it's normal for it to bleed a lot.A couple of stitches and you'll be as good as new” he grunts as he takes my weight on himself, passing my arm over his shoulders and helping me stand up.

And even though my vision is blurry and I'm currently seeing double I can paint the picture of the situation in front of me.

Rick's arms are wrapped around Daryl's torso as Glenn tries to help calm him down.

Lori protects her little boy with her body, an action that Andrea is also carrying out towards her little sister.

Shane's chest rises and falls rapidly, his body shaking with uncontainable anger.

Carol and Dale try to bring sanity back to the group but they're all too busy yelling at each other to realize it.

“Would you take me to Hersel?” I ask, receiving a nod from T-Dog in response.

I'm too tired and too confused right now to deal with them.

With limping steps we finally manage to reach the porch of the large white house.

A thoughtful Maggie is sitting on the steps and as soon as she notices us and the state of my face she reaches us with a couple of quick strides.

Without saying a word she takes us inside going to call her father.

It's just Hersel and I in the big bedroom.

The man began to sew up my wound without asking any questions.

I think they heard the screams all the way inside the house and Hersel is a smart man.

He knows that we know.

I hiss a little every time the needle digs into my skin.

I wouldn't have minded a little anesthetic.

Or a glass of scotch.

“You don't have anything to tell me?”

His question doesn't surprise me.

The calmness with which he asked it to me makes me understand that it is not the first time that he has addressed this discussion with someone.

And thinking about the reactions of each of us to the discovery of what the barn contains, I can say with absolute certainty that the only one who knew besides Glenn was Dale.

And I'm also pretty sure that the latter has already spoken to the kind vet to ask him for explanations.

I shrug, trying to appear as relaxed and indifferent as possible.

“I have nothing to tell you.This is your house so your rules.The thing I don't understand is how a man of your intelligence doesn't understand the danger of this crazy choice"

Hersel continues his work without answering me.

His blue eyes are fixed on his hands as he expertly sews me up.

I sigh.

Rick is right.

This place doesn't belong to us but we can't leave either.

Not without Sophia.

Not with Lori in this condition.

“Well since you have nothing to say I'll do the talking” I step forward.

Hersel doesn't look me in the eye but nods slightly giving me permission to express my opinion.

“What you're doing is dangerous Hersel.Those things...having them so close won't lead to anything good”

“Those things" the vet promptly replies “are human beings.They're just sick people”

My face contorts into a grimace of confusion.

“Hersel…you don't see things clearly”

It's absurd.

I swear this is the last thing I ever expected to come out of his mouth.

The man applies gauze to my wound and then turns his back on me to rinse his hands in a small basin of water.

“I need you and your group gone by the end of the week”

His words hit me like a slap, making me flounder in confusion.

I stand up behind him, hug my midsection with my arms to try to hold together all the pieces that threaten to fall apart at the idea of finding myself on the road again.

Back in that hell.

“You and I have our differences with the way we look at the walkers.Those…those people, they may be dead, they may be alive, but those people” I say vehemently, pointing with my hand to the field outside the window “Us…us, we are alive right now, right here, right in front of you.You sand us out there and that could change”

Hersel leaves the room without answering me but I can't let him so I follow him.

The man reaches the kitchen, positioning himself in front of the sink, his hands tightly grasping the edge of it.

“I've given you safe harbor.My conscience is clear” he says.

I stand next to the man looking for his gaze.

Meanwhile Rick appears on the doorstep.

I was sure he would come but now I can't let him interrupt us so I stop him with a hard gesture of my hand.

Rick doesn't say a word, remaining motionless on the doorstep, his eyes tired and his pale face.

“This farm…this farm is special” I continue looking for the vet's gaze.

“You've been shielded from what's been going on out there.Maggie tells me that you saw everything happen on the news.Well, it's been a long time since the cameras stopped rolling”

Hersel continues to keep his gaze down trying to move away from me again.

My hand gripping his arm tightly prevents him from doing so.

“Hersel what the world is out there isn't what you saw on TV.Is it much much worse, and it changes you.I know it.What I saw out there, the people I met out there…God!You can't imagine how lucky you are to have met a man like Rick and his people.If you had met my group…just know that you would have wished for death Hersel”

Both men's eyes snap in my direction.

The weight of my words crushes me.

I knew the truth would come out but I didn't imagine that their looks would hurt me so much.

I look at Rick with a million apologies etched in my eyes.

He trusted me and I should have told him the truth first.

But now it's too late.

Now my goal is to convince Hersel to let the group stay and if I have to leave I will be ready to face the weight of the consequences of my choices.

“Please do not…do not send us out of there again” I murmur in a faint voice, now defeated, returning my attention to the only man who currently has the power to choose which direction our lives will take.

Hersel seems closed in his silence, convinced of his decisions.

So with shoulders hunched and head down I walk towards Rick.

When I'm about to walk past him and leave him alone with Hersel, he gently grabs my hand and squeezes it in his, forcing me to stop.

In his gesture there is no anger but a tacit thanks for having exposed myself on the behalf of everyone.

My eyes, dilated with amazement, look for the officer's but he isn't paying me the slightest attention.

He and Hersel are looking at each other, eye to eye, so intensely that I almost believe they are communicating telepathically.

“My wife's pregnant”

Rick suddenly begins, earning a look of pure amazement from the man in front of us.

“That's either a gift here or a death sentence out there.If we were to stay, we could help you with the work, with securing this place.We can survive together”

Rick's words make me shiver.

We can survive.

We can really do it.

This baby will be a blessing I'm sure.

Now everything is in Hersel's hands.

He will decide our fate.

“You can't stay” was his only response.

Rick stiffens and seems ready to retort forcefully, I can feel it in the way his fingers tighten around mine but before he can open his mouth I tug on his arm telling him to be quiet.

“Just think about it, okay?” I ask him politely, dragging Rick away with me out of the kitchen and then out of the house.

As soon as we go out onto the porch I am literally overwhelmed by Daryl's arms.

His arms wrap around my neck, pressing my head against his rocky chest.

The stitches on my eyebrow pull uncomfortably.

I hiss, immediately attracting the attention of the man who lets me go but immediately brings his hands to the side of my face, cupping it gently.

“Ya good?” he asks, studying my wound as if he could understand its extent from under the white bandage.

I nod, smiling faintly.

The argument with Hersel drained every ounce of energy I had.

Rick clears his throat, placing his hands on his hips.

His gaze flies towards the barn, towards Shane.

“I'm going to talk to him”

His worried look doesn't escape that of the archer who goes back and forth between Rick and me.

Our state of mind is certainly perceivable even from miles away.

Daryl lets go of my face and sits on the porch steps, clapping a hand next to him, a clear invitation to take the seat next to him.

I sit down, getting as close as possible and the man, understands my intentions, my needs, lift his arm and welcomes me into his gentle embrace.

“Wha’ happened in there?” he asks.

My gaze goes towards the barn, towards the two men who are arguing heatedly.

I'm more than convinced that Shane won't take Hersel's decision well.

I return my gaze to the archer's worried one.

I look down at my hands clasped in my lap, a lump in my throat preventing me from breathing.

What will we do if we really have to abandon this place?

“Hey sunshine”

“Hersel wants us to leave” I whisper trembling.

Daryl tightens his grip around my shoulders, pressing his lips to my temple.

“How will we do?” I whimper, sniffling.

A thousand fears cloud my heart.

The walkers.

The cold of the imminent winter.

Lori and the baby.

How are we going to survive out there?

I barely made it and I was alone.

How will a large group like ours cope with walkers, starvation and cold?

And then there's Sophia, how will we look for her if we have to leave?

Daryl stands up offering me his hand, which I accept as every time without any hesitation.

I let myself be pulled onto him, letting myself be wrapped in his embrace.

This time the man takes infinite caution not to press against my wounded forehead.

"It'll be fine.As long as we're together everythin’ will be fine”

His sweet words echo in my ear pressed against his welcoming chest.

After a few hours everything around us begins to populate.

The sun is now about to set while, wrapped in Daryl's embrace, all the others gather next to us.

And people seem decidedly calmer.

Glenn and Maggie sit on the steps behind us, smiling lovingly at each other.

I was sure they would clarify.

Glenn and I give each other a brief, knowing look.

Both smiling and above all full of confidence in the future.

Daryl is right.

As long as we all stay together everything will be fine.

Together we are strong.

Andrea joins us flanked by T-Dog.

“Do you know what's happening?” asks the latter.

This last question is followed by Andrea's question about where Rick is.

Carol arrives from the other side of the field, joining us at a brisk walk.

I lift one of my arms, inviting her to come closer and holding her against my side.

“Has anyone seen Rick?He went off with Hersel.We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago” Andrea informs us.

“Rick told me he was going out” Carol replies, frightened.

Is it possible that no one knows where Rick is?

What happened to him and Hersel?

“Damn it.Isn't anybody takin’ this seriously?We got us a damn trail” Daryl gets agitated, freeing himself from our embrace and leaving me with Carol.

Heavy footsteps attract our attention.

Shane approaches quickly, on his shoulders I can recognize the bag full of weapons.

“Oh, here we go” Daryl exclaims reaching him.

I look around with a worried look trying to understand what is happening and only meeting other worried and anxious looks.

“What's all this?” asks the archer as soon as the ex-policeman reaches him.

His haunted gaze sweeps all our faces and then settles on Daryl again.

“You with me, man?” he asks him, pressing a rifle into his hands.

The two men stare at each other intently, warily.

“Do you want to keep your woman safe?” Shane asks, moving his hard gaze to me and then back to the man in front of him.

Daryl's fleeting gaze falls on mine, an indecipherable feeling in his beautiful blue eyes.

I shake my head imperceptibly trying to make him understand how bad this all is but his need to protect me is too strong so looking down with a silent apology he nods in Shane's direction.

“I'm with you, man”

So with a heart full of fear I can't do anything to stop them.

Shane is making a mistake and I can't stop him, especially if I don't even have Daryl's support.

Shane continues to gather support by handing out weapons to anyone who accepts.

Someone perplexed by the speed with which the situation could degenerate tries to respond.

“Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe.But now we know it ain't” Shane speaks with agitation.

Being in charge of these people again seems to fill him with new energy.

He approaches Glenn handing him a rifle.

“How about you, man?Are you going to protect yours?” he asks him.

Glenn exchanges a fleeting glance with Maggie, his gaze full of displeasure but in the end he accepts the weapon that is given to him.

“That’s it” Shane replies, puffing out his chest proudly.

“Can you shoot?”

“Can you stop?” I interrupt him, trying to make him think for once.

I cannot stand still and helplessly witness the destruction of this group.

“Shane please listen to me.I know you don't like me but please try to think about it.If we do this Hersel will make us leave tonight.Please”

The man looks at me seriously, nervously running his hand all over his face, then grabs another rifle and forces it into my hands.

“What about you, huh?Do you really want to show that you care about being part of us?Join us.Protect us”

I don't have time to reply as Carl advances towards Shane.

“We have to stay, Shane”

A breathless Lori comes out from inside the house.

“What is this?” she asks nervously, focusing her dark eyes on the man.

The latter ignores her by answering Carl's statement.

“We ain't going anywhere, okay?Now look, Hersel, he's just gotta understand.Okay?He…well, he's gonna have to.Now we need to find Sophia.Am I right?Huh?”

Shane kneels in front of Carl.

How sleazy is this man?

Using Sophia's name just to gain personal advantage.

I feel the bile rising up my throat.

I slowly move closer to Daryl, searching his eyes.

“We can't Daryl.Please”

The archer doesn't even look at me, his stiff fingers tightened around his rifle.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Lori stand in front of her son.

Sighing resignedly to the archer's indifference, I approach to understand what is happening between Shane and Lori but I don't even have time to take a couple of steps when I hear walkers growling in the distance.

“Oh shit!” I exclaim, trying to make sense of what my eyes are seeing.

Rick and Hersel are dragging two walkers towards the barn with two snare poles, the young Jimmy waves his arms in front of them trying to attract the attention of those two monstrous beings.

Shane launches into a frantic race towards the newly arrived group.

We all start running as fast as we can.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shane shouts beside himself with anger.

Rick grunts with difficulty to hold onto the walker.

“Shane, just back off!” he gasps while Hersel groans indignantly at the sight of the weapons in our possession.

And his words do nothing but add fuel to the fire.

Shane moves as if he were in the grip of pure madness.

“Are you kidding me?You see?You see what they're holding onto”

Around us there is total chaos.

I look for Daryl in the crowd and without thinking twice I approach him looking for contact with his body.

The man in response grabs my wrist and moves me behind him.

His grip is nervous.

Shane and Hersel continue to argue, yelling at each other with escalating anger.

Until the ex-cop stops and pulls a gun from his trouser pocket.

“Hey Hersel, man, let me ask you something.Could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?”

He then fires three shots into the walker's chest.

Each shot resonates in my head, making me grip the archer's shirt tighter and tighter, burying my face between his shoulder blades, my body shaking with shivers.

Shane continues to scream as he fires more shots at the walker.

Until finally I hear one last shot and a surreal silence descends around us.

I move away from Daryl's back.

Shane storms toward the barn.

“Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone!Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us.Enough.Rick, it ain't like it was before!Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it!I'm talking about fighting right here, right now!”

Now the man is out of control as he spits the words with an uncontrollable fury.

We all watch him helplessly while he grabs an ax and begins to break the lock that separates us from the walkers without stopping even with the repeated screams of everyone else.

For my part, I can't move, Carol next to me has a shocked expression.

My hand lets go my grip on the rifle to wrap around hers trying to give her some courage, the same courage I'm trying to muster for myself with all my might.

The situation has now completely degenerated.

“Shane, man, please don't do that!” Rick shouts, drowned out by the shouts of Lori and Glenn who try in every way to make the man reason but it's all in vain.

Shane grunts with each swing of the ax until the heavy metal lock falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Hersel and Maggie are kneeling in the dust, big tears streaming down their faces.

Patricia and Beth have a mask of terror on their faces.

Daryl and T-Dog raise their weapons in front of them ready to eliminate any threat while Glenn looks petrified, his arms hanging lifelessly at his sides.

Everyone else is simply too stunned to even move a muscle.

Slowly the barn doors open and the walkers begin to emerge from them.

A barrage of bullets hits them and even though the roar of the shots is deafening, the only thing I can hear are the subdued and heartbreaking cries of the Green family.

As I watch the bodies go down I can't help but think that each one was someone important to these poor people.

Dale walks past us with a shocked look and his mouth parted in a grimace of disbelief.

When the last shot rings out in the air, Beth's sobs soar with even more desperation.

Shane turns towards the man who is supposed to be his best friend, the two exchange a silent look full of mutual accusations.

Something has definitely broken between the two men.

The sound of shuffling feet coming from inside the barn captures everyone's attention.

The weapons rise again towards the large wooden doors waiting for the last walker to come out so they can put an end to it all.

After infinite moments a small figure appears.

A little blonde girl, wearing a blue t-shirt with a rainbow on it.

And even though I've never seen her I know who she is.

Without wasting time I forcefully grab the woman's hips, closing my arms in an iron grip around her waist.

Carol's scream is heartbreaking.

“Oh God!Sophia!Sophia…” sobbing Carol as she drops to the dusty ground.

My tear-filled eyes meet the archer's pain-filled ones.

The man drops his weapon on the ground, reaching us with two long strides and kneeling in front of us, he wraps his reassuring arms around both of us.

Unable to be strong enough for Carol I let out a soft cry too overwhelmed by the pain.

“Oh no no, Sophia.Sophia” Carol continues to sob.

I see Rick take a step forward and then another.

And another.

Until he reaches Shane's side.

The former officer puts his hand at his side and takes out his gun from his holster, watching helplessly as the girl advances and growls.

For a moment I can understand Hersel.

Even if the one in front of us is just a soulless monster, in our eyes she will always remain the sweetest Sophia, a sweet innocent soul torn away too soon and too violently from this damned world.

A sob shatters my chest, Daryl's hand immediately finds my face, caressing it with a disarming sweetness.

The click of Rick's gun makes Carol jump, the woman squirms slightly as if she wants to free herself from my grip and that of the archer to run to her little girl.

“Don't look” Daryl whispers in her ear and Carol obediently lowers her gaze, burying her face in his chest.

Horrified, I can't look away from Rick's movements.

I see his arm lift and point the weapon right at Sophia's head.

“Summer?”

Daryl's voice sounds distant, muffled, as if I'm underwater right now.

“Sunshine?Eyes on me”

His sweet command penetrates the bubble of pain in which I was imprisoned.

His head drops, hiding his tormented eyes from me.

And I'm sure he's fighting against his own feelings with all his strength to keep from falling apart, because he feels the visceral need to always show himself strong for the others.

Even though I knew it would happen, the echo of the shot makes me jump violently.

The tears now fall from my eyes without stopping.

“We were so close” I stammer between sobs.

“I know baby.I know” Daryl murmurs in a strangled voice, kissing my forehead and holding me close to him.

God, what are we going to do now?

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#daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl smut #normanreedus #norman reedus #norman reedus smut #the walking dead #built for this world #fanfiction recommendation #fanfic #fanfiction #daryl x oc

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fantasyqueen502 · 1 year

Text

Happenstance

Word Count: 1,650

Summary: What if Daryl didn't meet Leah during his time outside of Alexandria's walls looking for Rick? A short story idea that most likely has grammatical errors. Let me know. Feel free to comment, like, and enjoy.

Relationship: Daryl x unnamed Male OC

Rated: PG-13

Brief strong language, brief nudity, mentions of death and injury.

Peering around the brush, goosebumps rose on the back of his neck from the eyes watching him. The shuffling of leaves triggers his bolts. Loading and shooting along the moving bushes, he loaded his final bolt, halting at a dog who barked chaotically. Whimpering when Daryl lifted his bow caused the dog to keep his distance.

The hunter drops his bow. "Dumb dog," he says, marching off. The dog follows him, leaping and jumping to get his attention. After killing a snake, the dog takes it, running away with it. "I'm going to turn you into a coat, c'mere!" He growls. Slowly to a stop, catching his breath. Looking up, the dog waits, tail wagging. Waiting for the archer to catch his breath.

Turning to leave again, the dog whimpers and whines, resulting in the dog getting a mouthful of the archer's vest by yanking on it.

Following the dog through the woods, came to the sight of a man hanging by his ankle. Walkers below were lapping up blood that dripped from his crown. The man giggles, waving his dangling hands inches out of their reach. Taking care of the dead and pacing around the swinging man, a smile was still present on his bright red face. He was surprised he had any brain cells left alive. It looks like he had been hanging for a while—maybe a day or two.

"Duck!" The man exclaims. Daryl flinches, holding his head and looking behind him. The man opens his arms out wide for the dog, who scampers over, leaping up.

Following the rope to the anchor, untying it slowly lowered the man to the ground. The dog barks and leaps about with glee, jumping up onto the hunter and licking his chin, causing the man to grunt in surprise, shoving the dog and spitting the slobber from his mouth. Paying no mind, the canine pads over to lick his master's face. The man groans, his face puffy and discolored.

"Should keep 'im on a leash." The hunter growls, yanking the man's leg, cutting the rope from his ankle, letting it fall, causing the man to wince. "He steal my kill again. I'm killin' the both of ya'." He spat. Snatching up the dead snake, The man laughs as the dog licks under his chin.

The man and his dog trek through the woods. A glimmer catches his eye, and thank God for that. As it was the metal shine of a dagger singing through the air His body acted faster than his mind, his knees collapsing and the dagger pinning the cloth of his shoulder to a thick oak behind him.

The blood left his head gasping at what could have been his death four inches to the right.

"What're you doing here?" the hunter barks, marching out of the brush. He gawks, mouth wide, as the man grabs the handle, freeing his shoulder with ease, not even giving him a second glance.

"I wanted to gift you as a sort of thanks for saving me," he stammered. Extending a handful of berries.

The hunter snares and glances down at the handful of berries. "Elderberries."

"I'd be happy to share..."

"You'd die choking on your own vomit," he grunted, turning on his heel, leaving the man who shutters the berries tumbling out of his trembling fingers at the idea of almost dying if he wasn't so focused on thanking the hunter who saved him and Duck.

Tracking back to his campsite, he was tired and disheartened, marking on the map Xs on areas along the river he had searched. He let out a sigh, fondling the large paper and shoving it into his pack.

Red

He furrows his brows at a small pile of strawberries on a cloth. He huffs, having an idea of the culprit. Scooping up one from the pile, inspecting it, and popping the entire thing into his mouth. He hums, closing his eyes to savor the explosion of sweet flavor.

Untying a dead rabbit from one of his many traps around his camp, dog snatches it. Bowing and hoping to be chased. The dog lures him. The dog barks as he comes to a hill to see his owner waist-deep in the shallow waters. The hunter halts midstep, heat rushing to his face and his heart beating in his ears. Duck barks, startling Daryl as he tumbles forward, ending with a splash.

"Fuckin'," he groans from the ache in his tailbone and the hurt forming in his raw palms, desperately trying to stop his fall. His mud-caked bangs made him completely blind.

"You?"

"Damn it." Daryl hissed.

"Are you okay? That was quite a fall. Is anything broken?" Careful hands cradling under his chin. "I'm fine." He snaps quickly, marching out of the waterhole.

Now dressed, the man picks the debris with a pair of tweezers buried in the hunter's palm.

"Stop your fussing," he scolds, tightening his grip on Daryl’s hand when he tries to pull away.

Daryl finds himself bumping into the man (most of the time it was Dog finding him, luring the man and himself to each other).

He would never admit it, but he didn't mind the company.

"How 'bout you and Dog stay here?" he mumbles, finding his feet interesting. After a moment of silence, he wills his eyes to look at a smile. "Wipe that dumbass grin off your face."

"Is "the" Daryl Dixon asking me to move in with him?" He would grin even wider if it were possible.

"No, I'm tired of saving your ass from a walker, or a cyot, or some gang." He defends.

"And so if I stay at your camp, you'll protect me." He bats his lashes.

"Nevermind." He mumbles as he gathers his weapons.

"C'mon, I'm teasing."

"Hope a bear eats you." He snaps and marches off.

"I knew it! This was a set-up so you can take custody of Duck."

"It's not my fault the mutt likes me more." He answers. "Keep calling him Duck when he’s a Dog might have something to do with it."

"I was willing to trust a pretty face."

“Don't call me pretty."

"But you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Agree to disagree."

He turns, causing the man to stop mid-step. Face blank, he grins up at the Archer.

"You annoy the ever living shit outta me. Yea know that." He says it in his face.

"Yes, but I love you reminding me." He grabs his hand as a sort of safety measure when crossing a mud pit.Daryl couldn't help but smile.

They find an abandoned cabin, and after clearing it out, the man kills two walkers with ease.

"What?" he asks, catching the slack-jawed expression on the usually stoic hunter's face. Brushing the hair from his eyes and cleaning his knife on his pants.

"Nothing." He shrugs.

The man wakes the hunter, who has nightmares of his time at the sanctuary. Holding him close, running his hand through his hair has his strong arms gripping him like a lifeline.

Mornings of making breakfast and talking about their lives before. The man has been an actor in some children's shows for many years.

"The great magician Abra Kadab, very original, I know. I loved the kids."

"What happened?"

"Some paparazzi photos leaked of me and my boyfriend at the time at a bar."

"Why does that matter?"

"It was a very sensitive network. "Think of the kids". He mocks shock and horror.

"Then the world ended, so I hope those bastards are all dead." He shrugs with a smile.

In an abandoned cabin in the woods, Duck lays at the man’s feet as he watches the hunter fill up a bowl of stew in the fireplace. He places the bowl in front of him. Scooting a chair closer to the man.

"You need to put something on your stomach." He pushes the bowl closer. "I want you to take two bites, c'mon."

He stares until the man manages a small mouthful. The spoon clattered into his bowl. He exhales a breath, rolling his shoulders. His completion was pale, dark circles of sunken eyes.

"C’mere," he instructs. Unbuttoning his shirt, a patch on his chest over his heart. Peeling it off to show a perfect bite mark. A simple walk through the woods was something they did every day. The skin around it is beginning to turn pink. The man struggles but stands. Sidestepping from side to side Reaching for his arms, he tugged on them like noodles, but he didn't budge.

"Dance with me." He whines.

"Got bit on purpose. To have me all to yourself." He grumbles.

"I've caught me."

They dance by simply stepping left and right. Daryl kept a secure hold as his grip on his hand and shoulder slipped from time to time.

"Take care of, Dog."

"Thought he was Duck."

The man chuckles weakly. "I don’t think I’ll be around to correct you anymore."

"Don’t," he says, shaking his head. "Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine," he assures, chewing on his lip.

"Yeah," he says, playing along. "We live out the rest of our days in this cabin. Two old men and a dog." He chuckles, his eyes heavy, leaning in to touch his nose with the hunter’s. Daryl chuckles, watching the man closely and finding himself pulled in, his lips meeting the corner of his mouth. Kissing the smile, the man hums, turning his head for a proper kiss.

Duck whines, sad eyes darting from Daryl, striking a pile of dirt and dumping it into a grave. The hunter grunts until the pile is gone, patting the earth flat. Letting a tear fall, staring at the unmarked grave, taking a breath, and looking over to the dog.

"Let's go, Duck.”

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #norman reedus #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x male oc

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hopefulatrocity · 1 year

Text

"Do I really think this much older man is hot or is it just because my dad left me?": a novel by me.

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fakesmilesallaround · 2 months

Text

𝐨𝐧𝐞

"COME ON, LOVE. WORK WITH ME HERE." The woman supported the little bundle against her chest as she barreled down the four lane street, her other hand clenched tightly around her Bowie knife. The little one continued to cry, alerting any of the risen within multiple blocks. With some already hot on their tracks, the woman continued to push forward, her eyes darting to every building she passes, sizing them up and down in search of a temporary safe haven. Though, with the screams and cries of the baby, she knew she needed to go further than her legs could let her to find somewhere to rest comfortably.

The city of Atlanta has never looked so dead. Rusted and broken down cars spread for miles along every road that twisted and turned through the city. Though the city and life as everyone knew it was dead and doomed, nature was thriving. Various flowers, weeds, and trees grew, cracking and slipping through cracks of cement and asphalt.

The world has gone quiet, almost as if it had stopped turning.

The baby let out another cry as the woman tripped over a stray metal car door.

"Shh, it's alright." she cooed at the baby against her chest.

She slipped into a musty alley between two towering buildings, pulling a chain linked gate closed behind her. Her feet dragged towards a dumpster where she fumbled against the wall as her legs gave out. Sliding down the brick wall behind her, she sat next to the dumpster, pulling back the cloth that shielded a majority of the babies face. To her surprise, the tears were dry against the little ones face, and her eyes were wide, staring largely at the woman.

"Good girl." She smiled down at the baby. "I knew you could do it."

She set her knife down next to where she sat before pulling off her backpack, digging through it to find her canister of water. Though the buildings were tall, the sun still beat down against her skin, blistering slowly. She took a few sips before pouring some into her hand, dousing her face and her neck in it, in hopes to cool down. But not to her avail, the water was just as warm as the Georgia air.

They sat for a while, the woman listening closely to the scuffling of the dead's feet that seemed to be surpassing them. A quiet sigh of relief slipped through her lips, only to be sucked back in at loud gunshots that seemed to only be getting closer, soon followed by loud pattering that was heading towards the gate in which she came from. Out of instinct, she covered the a bit more and quickly fumbled for her knife as the gate flew open. A boy about a few years younger than her held the gate open for another man to follow behind, a bit older than the both of them.

"Come on, back here!" The younger boy yelled at the man.

They swung the gate shut, but at the sight of how many risers were at the gate, it most definitely wouldn't hold.

She quickly got up from her spot, and immediately found both pair of eyes on her. The younger boy halted for just a second in his tracks, his eyes full of worry, before ushering her to come along as well.

"That gate won't hold, follow me, now!" His yells echoed in the alley, and without thinking, her feet started moving at their pace to stay with them.

It was only a matter of seconds before they reached the end of the alley. The man in front of her was wearing a sheriff's uniform and had his gun out in front of him as risers started to pile in at the end of the alley, blocking the only exit.

"Let's go, let's go!" The boy screamed as he began to climb a yellow metal ladder.

The man ushered her to go up after the boy as he continued to shoot a few for of the dead before following up after them. She held her breath as she ascended the ladder as the dead were groaning and screaming beneath her. It felt like a thousand minutes to even get halfway up the ladder. Stepping off onto a metal platform, the three of them stood against the railing, catching their breaths. The woman gently bounced the baby against her chest while patting her back to prevent her from crying again.

"Nice moves there, Clint Eastwood." The young boy said to the man, still panting and looking over the railing. "You the new Sheriff? Come riding in to clean up the town?"

"It wasn't my intention." The man responded.

"Yeah, whatever, yeehaw. You're still a dumbass." The boy adjusted his red hat.

"Rick, thanks." The man stuck out his hand for the boy.

"Glenn, you're welcome." The boy shook it firmly.

Taking a last look at the dead beneath them all, Glenn urged them to keep climbing.

"The bright side: it'll be the fall that kills us." He peered up to the many more rungs that they would have to climb. "I'm a glass-half-full kinda guy."

He started climbing again, followed by the woman and Rick behind her. The climbed fast with desperation to get to the top, but too fast. Her foot slipped and her body jolted, though her hands remained firm on the rung above her.

"You okay?" Rick asked from below her.

She swallowed hard, not looking down. Heights were never her strong suit. "I'm fine. My foot slipped." She took a deep breath and continued climbing.

At the top, they hopped down to a structure that connected the roofs of two building, making their way to the other. Running along the new roof, Glenn swung open a metal latch with yet another ladder, but thankfully they would be descending it this time around.

"Back at the tank, why'd you stick your neck out for me?" Rick asked as Glenn began to climb down the latch.

"Call it foolish, naive hope that if I'm ever the far up shit creek, somebody might do the same thing for me. Guess I'm an even bigger dumbass than you."

As Glenn slowly disappeared beneath them, Rick held the latch open for the woman to follow.

"Thank you." Her voice cracked at the heaving her lungs have been doing from the running. Rick gave her a subtle nod before following after her, slamming the latch shut behind him.

They made their way through what looked like an office building, the rooms lined with many cubicles, before they were outside again, descending a few flights of stairs.

Glenn whipped a device from his pocket as his feet still pressed forward at a quick pace. "I'm back. I got some guests. Plus four geeks in the alley."

Their legs quickly stopped at the bottom few stairs as four of the dead turned towards them. Their lifeless eyes grew hungry at the sight of the three of them, and their feet began to drag against the concrete towards them. The woman held up her knife, but as she did, a metal door behind the dead swung open, two men running out and taking down the risers.

Glenn began running again towards the doorway. "Let's go!"

Rick and the woman wasted no time following him in.

The second the three get into a room, Rick was slammed backwards into a couple of boxes, a blonde woman raising a gun to his head. "You son of a bitch, we ought to kill you." She said through gritted teeth.

"Just chill out Andrea, back off." One of the men said.

"We're dead because of this stupid asshole."

The man approached her from behind. "Andrea, I said back the hell off."

Andrea stood for a few moments longer, her eyes welding with tears, before finally backing off, lowering her gun.

The woman stood there beside Glenn, both of their faces full of shock. She continued to pat her baby with one hand and hold her knife in the other, not sure if she can't trust any of these strangers just yet. Her baby let out a small noise, alerting Andrea again.

"Great, and you brought a baby too." She let out a tense laugh. "We're dead, all of us."

"I don't understand." Rick said with confusion, and in response, the man to calm Andrea grabbed him by his bicep and started walking with him, the rest of the group following behind.

"Look, we came into the city to scavenge supplies." He roughly let go of Rick, shoving him forward down a dark hallway. "You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving! You know the key to surviving? Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing. Not shooting up the streets like it's the O.K. Corral."

As they entered what looked like a small retail store, the group faced the glass doors ahead of them. "Every geek for miles around heard you popping off rounds." Another man said.

"You just rang the dinner bell." Andrea said exhaustedly.

Everyone stood in horror as the dead were pounding on the doors, hungry and determined to storm the place to eat. A couple had bricks in their hands, slamming them repeatedly into the glass which began to spiderweb and shatter with each contact. They all began to back up as the cracking of the glass started to echo through the building.

"What the hell were y'all even doing out there anyway?" Andrea spat at the both of them, eyeing the woman first.

"I got split up from my brother a couple days back. Just trying to find him again." The woman said shyly. She felt mildly uncomfortable with sharing much with these people, but she knew the least she could do is answer when spoken to considering they saved her and her little ones lives.

"And you?" Andrea turned to Rick.

He stood firmly with his hands on his hips. "Trying to flag the helicopter."

"Helicopter?" The black man spat out. "Man that's crap, ain't no damn helicopter."

Andrea rolled her eyes.

"Hey, T-Dog, try that C.B. Can you contact the others?"

Ricks eyes darted to the man. "Others? The refugee center?"

A woman beside T-Dog responded, "Yeah, the refugee center. They've got biscuits waiting at the oven for us."

She tensed under the woman's sarcasm. With what little hope she had left in finding her brother, that was the next place she considered heading for, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Got no signal." T-Dog said angrily. "Maybe the roof."

Everyone jumped at a loud gunshot that rang through the building. Confusion grew on the woman's face at the sight of everyone before her not holding a gun. Her body was more tense now knowing there's another person she is about to meet.

Andrea stared up at the ceiling. "Oh no, is that Dixon?"

The group filed down more hallways and ascended more stairs again to get to the roof where they found, the woman assuming to be, Dixon. He stood at the ledge of the rooftop, aiming down a rifle, picking off the risers that walked the streets visibly.

"Morales, calm down." Andrea tried grabbing at the man's shirt, knowing what was about to go down.

"Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?!" Morales darted towards Dixon, who only started laughing at the distraught state the man was in.

"Hey! Y'all ought to be more polite to a man with a gun." A sick smile was on his face as he waved the rifle around.

The woman's stomach turned. She could already tell this man was reckless and dangerous. She holstered her knife and rested her hands gently over the babies ears, knowing the loud echos of the gun shots would disturb her.

"Come on man, you wasting bullets that we don't even got." T-Dog got up in Dixon's face as he stepped down from the ledge.

"I don't take no orders from your kind of people." Dixon spat at him.

T-Dog stepped up more to him, shoving him further and further back. Finally, Dixon had enough shoving and wanted blood. He turned his rifle and nailed T-Dog in the face with the butt of it. Rick quickly pushed past everyone, trying to deescalate the situation, only earning him a punch to the face by Dixon as well.

Rick flew to the ground, anger in his eyes before getting back up again.

Dixon had T-Dog on the ground, kicking him mercilessly before pulling a pistol out and aiming it right between his eyes. T-Dog cowered along with everyone else in the group that watched everything unfold.

"Yeah. Alright," Dixon yelled, spitting on T-Dog and standing back up, holding the pistol out. "We're gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who's in charge. I vote me. Anybody else?" He looked around at the bystanders who looked back at him in fear. A few of them raised their hands slowly, scared about the dangerous man with the gun.

He smirked. "That means I'm the boss right? Yeah. Anybody else?"

"Yeah." Rick grumbled from behind Dixon. As the man turned around, his own rifle was smacking into his face, his body falling to the rooftop ground. Everyone watched in satisfaction as Rick cuffed Dixon's hand to a metal piped, grabbing him by the front of his jacket to sit him up.

"Who the hell are you man?" Dixon said through gritted teeth.

"Officer friendly. Look here, Merle. Things are different now." Rick picked up the pistol Merle once had and unloaded it. There's only dark meat and white meat now. There's us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together."

Merle's face was full of anger as Rick talked to him like a child. "Screw you man."

Rick chuckled unenthusiastically. "I can see you make a habit of missing the point."

"Yeah?" Merle responded, inching closer into Rick's face. "Well, screw you twice."

Suddenly, the pistol was up to Merle's temple. "Ought to be polite to a man with a gun." Rick said, using his own words against him. "Only common sense."

The woman looked beside her at Glenn who still looked horrified at what's going down. "Is he always like this?"

Glenn nodded. "Believe it or not, this isn't even the worst of it."

The woman approached T-Dog along with Andrea, Glenn, not taking her eyes off of Rick or Merle. Leaning down, still supporting her baby's head, she eyed over his wounds. "You alright?"

T-Dog glanced at her for a second. "Yeah." He sat up and spit out some blood that had been lingering in his mouth. "Not the first time some white trash started some shit."

She stood back up and let Andrea and Glenn take care of him as she continued to watch Rick and Merle. Rick had stepped towards the edge of the roof, tossing something over it as Merle screamed behind him.

"Hey! What are you doing man? That's my stuff!" Merle tugged at the handcuffs. "If I get loose, you better pray, you hear me you pig?!"

"Yeah, your voice carries." Rick said as he stood at the far end of the rooftop.

The woman approached his side, looking over the city with him. "You're not Atlanta P.D. Where are you from?"

"Up the road a ways." He finally turned to her.

"Well, officer friendly from up the road a ways, welcome to the big city." She took another glance out over the city before she turned, heading back to the others, though she stopped at Rick's comment.

"I didn't catch your name."

"That's right, you didn't." She turned back around towards him.

"I'm Willow."

Word count: 2,542

#daryl dixon #fanfic #norman reedus #the walking dead #wattpad #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fanfiction

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