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optimist-pine · 1 month

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Cramps

Summary: Daryl helps soothe you to sleep

Warnings: Menstruation?

Word Count: 551

Era: Between seasons 2 & 3, on the move

It didn't take much conscious effort to pick up on the girls' cycles. When you spend every waking (and non-waking) moment with the same ten people for multiple months, you learn more than a few things. Like how Beth has Maggie to take care of her, and Maggie has Glenn, and Lori, well, she's not in that boat currently of course. But you don't have anyone to fall back on, although, he's sure if you asked Carol she'd be more than willing. Instead, you just dealt and powered through and the others might not even notice except for how quiet you'd get.

Until tonight.

He hasn't let sleep claim him, though soft snores fill the room, mingling with the moonlight. Yours has yet to join, in its place, a frustrated huff slips out as you turn over again. It's the third time. Not that he's counting... He hadn't missed earlier how your hand would momentarily drift to your middle or your back accompanied by pursed lips and tense breaths.

For a moment he tries to imagine what you're feeling, but the closest he comes up with is the memory of a solid punch to the gut. If it's anything like that then it's no wonder you can't just drift off.

In the pale silvery glow, he faces your back just barely making out the outline of your arm rubbing tired circles on your abdomen. An idea begins to tug at the back of his mind; the desire to help - the need to be useful. The itch to do something compels his fingers forward until they bump into the warm exposed skin of your hip. Your back instantly straightens, a sharp pull of air, but his hand doesn't stop. It slides tentatively under your own smaller digits and begins to move on your lower stomach in slow rhythmic circles of its own accord.

You're still, unmoving. What if he's totally just screwed up? It suddenly hits him how intimate this is, how many lines he's just crossed with this one action. You've had plenty of physical contact but most of it's been joking and playful. And sure, you've rolled over into one another in the middle of the night, but that wasn't a conscious decision. That wasn't anything remotely near this. He scoots his body closer to yours. "This okay?" He whispers.

You finally breathe. "Don't stop. Please." The warmth of his hand is the best relief.

His concerns evaporate, thoughts turning to the softness of your skin and the pleased little noise that comes up out of you. Something inside of him is beginning to ache less too. Something he's become so adjusted to that he hasn't even considered what its absence could feel like.

His nose brushes the back of your neck, but your lungs continue their steady, gentle motion. Impressive. You're out like a light already. The chilly air seems to retreat in the comfort of your warmth.

It's the moments like this, as sleep overpowers him, that he feels the guilt creep in. That he's grateful. Grateful that the world fell apart. Grateful that he ended up here, with these people. Grateful that he no longer has to be the man that he'd been before. And especially grateful for the proximity of your heartbeat to his own.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 2 #twd season 3 #optimist pine

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acecroft · 7 months

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THE WALKING DEAD 2.08 'Nebraska'

#twdedit #thewalkingdeadedit #tvedit #the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #andrew lincoln #twd season 2 #mygifs #televisiongifs #cinemapix #useroptional #userstream #the scene that cemented my love for rick

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rickswh0r3 · 1 year

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my favorite bts photos from season two ❤️

#the walking dead #rick grimes #andrew lincoln #daryl dixon #norman reedus #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #carl grimes #lori grimes #shane walsh #jon bernthal #twd #twd season 2

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happy74827 · 7 months

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Only Stitches Can Be Undone

[Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: There's nothing more painful than coming to terms with the fact that not everyone can be saved.

WC: 1909

Category: Angst, Comfort (TW - Mentions of death and gore).

I wrote this during my class and didn't pay the least bit of attention to my professor, so I did not proofread it at all lmao. Still, feel free to reblog and drop a few comments on this piece of work. Daryl has my whole heart

『••✎••』

You still felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you tended to Daryl's wound. The dim light of the lantern was casting long shadows on the walls of the abandoned shed where you had sought refuge. The gunshots from before were still ringing in your ears, and your heart was pounding in your chest. You attempted to take deep breaths to calm down, but it wasn't working.

Daryl was sitting beside you, holding up the rusty lantern so you could see what you were doing. He was covered in dirt and sweat, as usual, but his face was pale. He looked as if death warmed over, but he didn't say anything, not a word. He didn't grunt, fight, or even close his eyes as the "recently scavenged" hydrogen peroxide poured over his knee. His eyes just watched you work, watching your shaken hands as you pulled out your needle and thread from the medkit. It seemed as though he could hear every single heartbeat in your body, every thumping pulse in your temples.

Wiping some of the sweat off your brow with the sleeve of your shirt, you began sewing up the bullet hole that had gone clean through his leg. You couldn't believe how lucky he was to have been shot by a high-powered handgun rather than an assault rifle; at least this time, it hadn't hit any bones. Your fingers moved quickly as you sewed the thick threads together, glancing back at him only once before continuing with your task. You could see the look of pain in his eyes, but he stayed silent. He didn't try to move away, either. In fact, he looked as if he was trying to show you that everything would be okay.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "This isn't my area of expertise…"

He held up one hand and shook his head, keeping the lantern steady while you worked. "It's aw-right," he said quietly. "Just do what you can."

After a few minutes, you finished stitching the wound closed. You gently cleaned the wound with antiseptic wipes, then applied a bandage, taping it securely in place. Once you were sure that the wound was sealed and wouldn't reopen, you sat back on your heels, taking a moment to catch your breath.

"You good?" Daryl asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

You nodded slowly, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look it."

"I'm fine, Daryl." You tried to sound reassuring, but he didn't seem convinced. "You're the one with the actual injury, remember?"

He scoffed, "At least I ain't shakin' like a damn dog shittin' razorblades." Harsh words, but true. The pain must've been getting to him because his voice was growing louder. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, "You've been shakin' like that since we've got here. What happened? Did they hurt ya? Where?"

"No, it's not that. It's just-" You paused, holding your hands up apologetically. "Look, it doesn't matter," you said softly. "We need to get back to the others."

"Guilt? Right?" He was staring at you intently, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "About that girl?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking away from him to hide your embarrassment and avoid his gaze. Daryl had never seen you as weak before; he knew you were capable of protecting yourself, but he'd also known there were times when you needed help. This was one of those times. You wanted to tell him about it, but you also didn't want to burden him. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't pushed her into coming along, then she-she wouldn't have…" You trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"She would've gotten herself killed, anyway," he muttered, turning his head so that he wasn't facing you. "She ain't worth worryin' about."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "She was innocent, and then she died. In front of me. Her blood is on my hands, and that makes her worth worrying about, Daryl."

"Maybe, but you weren't the one who killed her, were ya?" He asked.

You opened and closed your mouth, trying to find the right words to respond. Finally, you just turned to look at him, meeting his gaze with a serious expression.

"No," you admitted. "But that's not the point. How many more times are people going to die on my behalf?"

You forced yourself to look away from him again, feeling a tear run down your cheek. "How many more times does someone get to suffer because of the choices I make?"

Daryl was quiet for a long time before finally responding, "It's not your fault."

"You think so?" You frowned. "Then why did I feel like such shit?"

He shrugged, grunting, "Maybe you're just sensitive."

You made a face. "That's not it."

Daryl was still quiet, giving you the chance to think. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, and he sounded slightly sad, "Listen, none of us knew what was gonna' happen out there. Sometimes things go wrong."

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "I know."

Yet, despite knowing that, you couldn't stop thinking about the girl. She'd been so young, with the whole world ahead of her. Now that she was dead, it felt like a waste of potential. It's a terrible waste. Her smile was a memory now, and her name was lost to time. What little happiness she'd experienced had been taken from her by a monster. A monster that was now beside her, his body broken, bleeding, and dying.

You'd found the girl in a diner, alone and scared. At first glance, she looked like any other frightened girl, but upon closer inspection, it became clear that she was not normal. She was unnaturally pale, her skin almost translucent. Her hair was dark, which told you that she was probably from the South or the Midwest, and yet her eyes were bright blue.

Her eyes had been the first thing that drew your attention, but it had been her smile that truly captivated you. She'd smiled at you, a genuine, sweet smile. She hadn't seemed afraid of you, only curious. When she'd spoken, she'd done so quietly and gently, even though she had no way of knowing how loud she was. The girl had been so genuinely happy, and you could see it in her eyes. She'd been so hopeful for the future.

And then, you've made the mistake of bringing her along. Daryl was against the idea from the start, but he kept quiet once you've decided to ignore his "advice" and take her with you. You wanted to give her the same chance that Rick had given you. You wanted to make sure she had an opportunity to live the life you all were supposed to have.

That didn’t happen as the three of you ended up being ambushed in the woods. Unfortunately, two men decided they wanted to rob the collection of squirrels Daryl was slowly gathering over the course of the trip. So, one minute, you were cracking jokes with the girl as you walked through the forest, and the next, she was gone. Her neck was obliterated, fresh blood soaking the both of you.

You were paralyzed by shock and horror. You couldn't move. You couldn't think. All you could do was stare, dumbfounded, as she started choking on her own blood. You felt arms wrapping around you, pulling you back, but you couldn't turn your head. It was too much. Your whole world had crashed down on you, and you couldn't bear to look at her anymore.

Daryl had pulled you away, covering your mouth so that you couldn't scream. Your back was pushed against a tree, and you did nothing but shake. There was so much pain inside of you. So much anger. And yet, all you could do was cry. You cried and begged. You clawed at his arm, trying to break free, but he wouldn't budge.

Finally, you'd stopped crying, but you refused to let go of his shirt. His grip tightened around you, his hands digging into your shoulders. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, you heard the sound of crunching leaves.

Daryl's voice was calm, cool, and collected, "Stay here," he instructed you softly. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off into the darkness.

A few moments later, he came back carrying the girl. His face was grim, and he wasn't smiling. Her body was limp in his arms, lifeless. He laid her down gently, and you saw the deep gash in her throat, the way her neck was torn to bits and pieces. For some reason, you felt compelled to say something. It was as though Daryl's arms were the coffin, and your words were the dirt. Still, you had to speak because if you didn't, you might never get the chance again. "I'm so sorry."

Daryl's eyes softened for a moment and then hardened once more. He said nothing. Instead, he stepped forward and pushed you behind him. Then, he knelt down next to the girl and closed her eyes. After he covered them with a handkerchief, he pulled out his knife for the final send-off. The quick puncture to the brain ensuring that she stayed where she laid.

Then, he stood up, took a step back, and looked down at you. "Come on," he said harshly, his voice low and cold. Then, he turned around and walked away from the girl's body.

You followed him silently. That's when you noticed the small limp he had and the blood seeping down onto his boots. He attempted to hide it, but his legs were trembling beneath him. You knew instantly what had happened, and you knew getting him to stop and rest would be a near-impossible feat.

Yet, here you were, sitting beside him against the rotten walls of the abandoned shed, watching him wrap his fingers around the handle of his crossbow. The lantern was still lit between you two, casting shadows across your faces as you stared at each other.

Daryl said nothing for several long seconds. He just sat there, holding the crossbow, staring into its depths. Eventually, he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. After a brief pause, he opened them and looked at you, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

"She was nice," he murmured, not looking at you, but you could hear the sadness in his tone. "Didn't deserve to die like that."

You nodded weakly in response, unable to find the strength to speak. "They deserved worse," you managed to say before you fell silent again.

Daryl didn't say anything else. He just remained where he was, holding the bow tightly, breathing heavily. He looked better than he had a few moments ago, but he didn't look well. He still looked exhausted and worn out. But you knew he'd bounce back soon enough. He always did.

As time passed, Daryl slowly started to drift off to sleep. You could tell he hated letting his guard down, constantly bothering his wound just to keep himself awake; however, you knew he couldn't stay awake forever, and eventually, he succumbed to exhaustion. His heavy eyelids drooped closed, and his breathing slowed.

You watched him for a while, a soft smile on your lips as you gazed at his sleeping face. Because now, you had someone to watch over.

Someone you knew you wouldn't let down.

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smalltowngunshow · 3 days

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it’s so upsetting to me that the general public HATES Andrea like I do agree that she is annoying at times but it’s in such a real person way YK like my annoyance with her comes from a place of knowing she can and should be better bc you see how deeply she cares about others and how badly she wants to do good but she can’t bc she is so scared, and how so much of her fear comes from being a woman and the way that she sees masculinity as safety… time and time again she chooses the masculine person who doesn’t care about her over the more “feminine” person (Dale and Michonne) who obviously care very deeply about her. She obviously has some internalized misogyny that most likely stems from before the apocalypse as well as Amy’s death. Despite having very limited screen time Amy is shown to be rather childish in a very girl way, she likes unicorns and mermaids, this in turn with what Andrea has been taught by society her whole life leads her to see femininity as weakness. You see this in her obsession with learning to use a gun (a symbol of masculinity I need to make a post about guns and manhood in TWD bc omg there is sooooo much especially in the earlier seasons) and her coldness towards Dale who, despite being a man is traditionally more feminine (thinking with his heart, is more apprehensive towards violence, a peacemaker) and her betrayal of Michonne, both of these people did nothing but love and attempt to protect Andrea but despite this she still goes for the person that she sees as more safe and masculine (Shane and the Governor). The way that she try’s to secure this safety is also telling of her character, she has sex the with both Shane and the Governor not because she loves them or has romantic feelings for them but because she sees it as securing her safety and a transaction of power. She is such a tragic character because she is a coward up until her death, finally after everything she has done she realizes that she can’t live as a coward trembling in a man’s shadow anymore but it’s to late. Anyway I love Andrea so much and also she’s a lesbian but I could make a whole other post on that….

#twd #twd andrea #andrea harrison #michandrea #twd season 2 #twd season 3 #guys I’m so woke #no one could make me hate u Andrea #Michonne #twd michonne

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sadslay · 1 year

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- THINK I MIGHT LOVE YOU ⋆☆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings - gore (s2 farm era)

you held your hand just above your eyes to block out the sun as you looked up at andrea who was beginning to line up a shot. dale was half way up the ladder, shielding his eyes from the sun as he cautiously looked on. you hadn’t seen a walker in a few days and it was a little alarming to know they were now coming onto the property. while rick and the others stood around the walker, you began to grow nervous, why hadn’t they killed it yet?

“andrea don’t.” dale stressed.

“back off dale.” she muttered as she lied down on her stomach to get a better shot.

“firin’ that thing is just gonna attract more of ‘em.” you murmured. “rick’s got it covered.”

“i said back off.” she spat.

you rolled your eyes as you watched andrea continue to line up the shot. as much as you wanted to climb up there and stop her yourself you weren’t particularly in the mood to get into a fight with her. so you watched on as she placed her finger on the trigger and pulled. as the shot echoed through the field, rick turned back to look at andrea as she began to celebrate her shot as the walker fell to the ground.

“no!” he shouted, “no, no!”

quickly her smile dropped to a frown of concern as not only rick but the others bent down to the aid of what you could only assume was still a walker.

“what on earths goin’ on out here?” hersal yelled from behind you.

as rick and shane began to help the person up, you began to run towards them, wanting to offer any assistance. you could hear dale and andrea shortly following you, running a few meters behind you. as the distance lessened between you and the others, you had realised who she had shot at.

“daryl?” you shrieked as your eyes widened as your run slowed to a jog as you met the others. “is he alright?” you asked, looking up at rick and shane as you walked beside them.

“oh my god! oh my god is he dead?” andrea cried from behind you.

“unconscious. ya just grazed him.” rick noted as he continued to hobble along trying to support daryl.

“i told you not to shoot.” you muttered, earning a glare from andrea.

“but look at him.” glenn said pointing to daryl. “he’s wearing ears!” glenn panicked.

“let’s keep that to ourselves.” rick muttered as he pulled the necklace from daryl neck, throwing it to the ground.

“guys, isn’t this sofias?” t-tog asked from behind the group, holding up the same stuffed doll she had been carrying around since the beginning of all of this.

everyone briefly turned back to look at t-dog as he held to dirtied doll up in the air. but your eyes were fixated on daryl. he was covered in mud and blood making you grow even more worried for him.

after daryl regained consciousness, rick began his questioning. while hersal gave daryl stitches for the wound on his lower torso, rick had laid out a map of the surrounding woodlands. stood behind rick as he continued to question daryl while shane sat in the corner of the room.

“i found it washed up on a creek bed right there.” daryl mumbled, pointing to an area on the map. “she must’ve dropped it somewhere near there.” he explained as he looked up at rick before looking up at you.

“that cuts the grid almost in half.” rick noted, turning back to look at shane.

daryl held a piece of cloth tightly to his head where andreas bullet had grazed his skin. you looked down to his wound as he squirmed from the needle re-entering his skin, again and again as hersal continued to stitch up the wound.

“yeah your welcome.” daryl grunted.

“how’s he lookin’?” you asked, causing daryl to look down at hersal as he began to finish up the stitches.

“i had no idea we’d be goin’ through the anti-biotics so quickly.” hersal sighed as he snipped the polymer string. “any idea what happen to my horse?” he asked, walking to a near by dish to clean his bloodied hands.

“yeah the one that almost killed me?” daryl asked. “smart if it left the country.”

“we call that one nelly.” hersal noted as he turned back to look at daryl. “as in nervous nelly. i could’ve told you she’d throw you if you’d bothered to ask.” hersal replied bitterly.

as rick stood up you took the chance to sit on the mattress by daryl head as he laid flat, presumably still a little light headed from the shots.

“it’s a wonder you people have survived this long.” hersal muttered.

“you people?” you frowned causing rick to look back at you.

“we’ll get outta you’re hair.” rick smiled weakly.

shane stood up and followed rick out of the room. you let out a little scoff as you began to brush a piece of hair out of his face.

“i’ll need to take out the stitches in a couple of days.” hersal mumbled. “make sure it stays clean.” he instructed as he looked as you before leaving the room.

“what a grumpy old bum.” you giggled quietly causing daryl to weakly smile. “yer alright?” you asked quietly.

“mmyeah.” he grunted.

“i am gonna killer her i swear.” you huffed, repositioning yourself so you leant up against the bed head before stretching your legs out onto the bed.

“don’t waste your time.” daryl breathed.

you let out a breathy laugh as daryl began to shuffle himself up onto your chest. you extended your arm allowing him to get comfortable resting on your shoulder.

“we’ll find her.” you whispered quietly, the arm under daryl’s head curled up cradling his head.

“i know.” he mumbled quietly, his tone changing.

you used your other hand to gently pat and stroke his cheek, wanting to bring him some comfort. you knew that he had been so focused on trying to find sophia he barely had a moment to himself. the prickles from his scruffy beard tickled your hands but you didn’t mind. he was also completely filthy, every inch of him covered in mud, dirt or blood but once again you didn’t mind. you had found yourself staring at the small details on his face.

your thumb gently brushed over his cheek, bringing you a sense of comfort. slowly daryl adjusted his head, looking up into your eyes. you smiled warmly causing daryl to smile back. you could tell he was tired, his eyes looked heavy as they slowly drifted away from you as he began to get comfortable again. his head gently nestling into your shoulder, the graze from the bullet now more visible then ever. you gently kissed his forehead before sinking further into the bed, getting a little more comfortable.

“i think i might love you.” i murmured quietly, his breath hitching as the room fell silent.

you looked down at daryl, you could tell he was internally panicking as he laid there frozen. slowly he began to slowly look up. you could feel your throat getting tight and your heart rate increasing as the thought of daryl turning crossed your mind. in fact, the thought of daryl leaving you made you feel ill.

“ye-yer love me?” he asked in a quiet, shaky voice.

you gently nodded your head as you felt your cheeks beginning to get warm.

“i-i just thought i should tell you.” you whispered. “i thought you had turned a-and i just wanted you to know.” you let out a breathy laugh.

“i uh… i love ya too.” daryl whispered, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on your lips.

you leaned down a little, giving him a soft kiss. as you pulled away opening your eyes you had notice daryl relax a little. you gently rested your head on his, careful not to touch his open wound.

“can i spend the night with you?” you asked, shifting your eyes down a little to look at his face.

daryl gently began to nod his head. “mmyeah, course.”

☆𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭☆

⋆ 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 ⋆

#ao3 #aot fanfiction #fan fic author #fan fiction #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x you #twd #the walking dead #twd season 2 #glenn rhee #rick grimes #x reader #fluff #twd fluff #daryl dixon fluff #norman reedus

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bananafire11 · 6 months

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Summary: A small look into the night after the chupacabra episode with Carol taking care of a very out-of-it Daryl.

Warnings: Daryls loopy on pain meds, reference to past child abuse, Daryls scars and mention of injury

Pairings: Caryl, can be seen as either romantic or platonic.

Care

"You've done more for my little girl than her own daddy ever did his entire life."

"..didn't do nothin' Rick or Shane wouldn'ta done."

"I know. You're every bit as good at them. Every bit."

That's what she'd told him before she had left him to himself.

Carol had been horrified by the sight of Daryl all mucked up with blood and dirt, caked head to toe in mud and dry leaves. Blood covering his chin and temple, crusted under his fingernails and fresh bruises forming across his pale skin like black ink across paper.

Even once Hershal had stitched the worst of his injuries and cleaned the majority of the filth off Daryl he still looked like a masterpiece of black and blue. Carol had caught a glimpse of scars, old and new, that covered his back and chest as she'd entered his current room with his food. He had clenched the pale blanket to his chest but she still saw.

It pained her to see him like that because he had gone looking for Sophia. And had still brought her little girl's doll back even amidst the shitshow he must have endured. One step closer to finding her baby.

"Hey," Carol jumped, cocking her head to see Maggie peeking around the corner of the kitchen entrance. The young woman waved her hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Carol sighed, snapped out of her spiraling thoughts. "No, it's ok. Do you need something?" Carol stood up straighter where she'd slumped against the kitchen counter.

Maggie gave her a small smile. "I was goin' to tell you that Daddy sent me to ask if you could freshen Daryl's bandages? He would do it but he's busy with the generator outside. It's been a real pain lately." She fiddled with her tank top's strap.

Carol hummed, "of course. I'll get to it right away."

Maggie nodded, brown locks bobbing with the movement. Carol listened as she exited the house, the old screen door squeaking as she did so.

Carol acquired the medical kit from the kitchen pantry and quietly padded her way up stairs to where Daryl resided for the time being. She reached the old tawny door and knocked twice before entering. The lights were dimmed except for the soft warm glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Carol saw the plate she'd brought him for dinner last night except now it was completely cleaned, the exception being a few spare crumbs.

She hummed, glad that he had taken her advice and eaten. It seemed she were right to assume he'd been starving. Speaking of the man himself, he was passed out in the white sheets, drooling into the pillow. She smiled, he deserved the rest.

But she'd have to wake him in order to tend to his bandages. She'd rather do anything but that, but the wounds he had could easily become infected without proper treatment.

Carol stepped closer to the bed, settling herself on the edge, the mattress dipping slightly under her small body. She gently pressed her palm into his bare shoulder, jostling him just enough for him to wake and not to disturb the stitches on his side.

Daryl groaned into the pillow, shrugging her hand off his shoulder, mumbling something she couldn't quite decipher. She snorted at his stubbornness. Carol leaned forward just enough to be able to call his name, hopefully without startling him.

"Daryl, hey, wake up," she coaxed. Soon enough he scrunched up his nose and his eyes opened to peer over his shoulder at her. His stormy blue eyes were foggy and he made a face at her. "Hey, sleepyhead."

Daryl stared at her for a few moments more before blinking at her like she wasn't real. "Wha'..," his voice was thick with sleep. Carol watched as he furrowed his brows and shut his eyes and she wondered if he had a headache. She figured a bullet to the temple would do that to you.

The bandage wrapped around his head had turned a muted red where he'd been shot. She couldn't see the other bandages but they probably aren't looking too great either.

Carol prodded at his arm, rousing him again and she vaguely remembered Hershal giving Daryl some painkillers. That must be why he was so loopy and out of it. Daryl grumbled and swatted lazily at her hand, trying to brush her off. Carol huffed, he was stubborn as ever.

She needed him to sit up in order to reach all the dirty wraps. She rested her hand on his shoulder blade, ushering him gently to lean forward. Eventually she had gotten him to settle on the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off.

Carol gathered the medical supplies and reached for the bandage around his temple first, gently peeling it off. She couldn't help but grimace at the way the skin had been torn, even cutting through his hairline. Applying some gauze onto a rag, she covered the fresh stitches before getting a new clean bandage to wrap his head.

She glanced worriedly at Daryl's face, trying her damndest not to cause him anymore pain then necessary. His eyes were still glossed over when she finished moving his hair out of the way and securing the wraps.

"How are you feeling?" She prompted, almost smiling at the way he blinked dumbly up at her. He licked his lips before humming in response.

"Like shit," he slurred. Carol couldn't help but but smirk at his thick southern drawl, even more pronounced than usual with the drugs faltering his speech.

"I figured as much," she gestured at the large bandage around his waist. "Can I?"

Daryl turned his head to look at where she was looking, like he couldn't register in his head fast enough to keep up with her. He probably couldn't. Both his hands came up to cover his torso best he could. Carol frowned, "What is it?"

The man's brows tightened into a scowl and his bottom lip jutted out. Carol couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Daryl Dixon was pouting.

Despite the hilarious and admittedly adorable image, Carol knew why he was covering himself. After all, she had seen all the scars littering his body the night before. His shoulders were hunched and he suddenly reminded her of a stray dog, distrusting and wounded.

She slid forward, just close enough so he could move away if he wished. Carol tilted her head towards him, forcing him to make eye contact with her. She held her hand out and touched his bicep, warm to the touch.

"Daryl, let me help you. Please."

His blue eyes widened at the sincerity in her voice. The man peered at the hand holding onto his arm, gentle but firm. Grounding.

Carol held his blue gaze even as he dropped his hands to his lap, fiddling with the hem of his pajama pants. She smiled softly at him, her heart swelling with the fact that he trusted her enough to let her see his scarred skin.

She slowly reached for the material around his waist. Delicately removing it and setting it aside to throw in the bin later. She stood and moved to his left side so she could see the stitching up close so as to not disturb anything and have them tear open. With small precise movements she repeated what she had done with his head. She admired the small freckles that were sprinkled across his skin and the warmth of his thigh against hers while she worked.

She couldn't help but grimace at the impale wound. She lightly circled her gauze-covered fingers around it, careful of the tenderness of the flesh there. She let her nails rub along the small scars that were scattered along the soft skin of his belly. She recognized knife slices and cigarette burns and her heart ached inside her ribs.

She wouldn't dare ask him about them.

Finally the job was done and he was wrapped in clean bandages. Carol humphed with triumph at her accomplishment. Daryl cocked his head at her, tongue just about lolling out of his mouth.

"All done," she announced. He hummed in response, clearly not up to speed with what was going on around him. Carol smiled fondly at him. She stood up and stretched her legs which had gone stiff with time. She leaned around his frame, gathering the off white blanket into her arms. "Let's get you tucked in now."

Daryl huffed at her, "M' ain't a baby." He glared at her through his dark lashes and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Of course not," she carefully ushered him to lay down on his right side, "but you need to rest after all you've done for my baby."

She fluffed up his pillow and pulled the blanket up to his chest. "Still treat'n me like a kid," he grumbled. "Tuck'n me 'n an' shit."

"Well, everyone deserves a little care every now and then. Even tough guys like you," she replied. She thought he was more than tough though. Clever, brave, sweet, even.

He only hummed in response, falling into unconsciousness as soon as he closed his eyes. She congratulated a job well done as he fell victim to sleep he very much needed. Carol leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, small stubble rough against her chapped lips.

He certainly deserved more than a little care.

#fanfic #daryl twd #daryl dixon #carol twd #carol peletier #daryl dixon fanfiction #carol twd fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #season 2 twd #twd season 2 #twd farm era #caryl #daryl and carol #daryl x carol

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fangirloverlode · 1 month

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Pure coincidence I’m sure but the rose Daryl brings Carol in season two is a Cherokee Rose and CAROL’S CAR IS A JEEP CHEROKEE. There’s symbolism in there somewhere I’m just too dumb to find it.

#the walking dead #twd season 2 #daryl dixon #carol peletier

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pinkiscent · 1 year

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im like 10 years late but i started watching twd and my god i need shane to die YESTERDAY he's such a piece of shit and i can't believe people like his character but above all i can't believe i've never seen anyone online talking about how he took advantadge of lori. im not talking about the cdc scene, which made my stomach turn, im talking about him seducing his best friend's grieving wife that is now living in a fucked up world. you CANNOT convince me he didn't gaslight her into a relationship with him with the way he has acted so far. he's not above sexually abusing her so why wouldn't he do this?

#anti shane walsh #the walking dead #twd shane #twd #twd lori #lori grimes #twd season 2 #twd s2

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unhelpfulalienwholovesyou · 6 months

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Watching TWD S2 for the first time and

Shane is such a good villain. I see in theory why some of y’all are ride or die for him. It’s ok if you think he is hot, but idk, man is just so repulsive to me but that’s bc he is such a good villain! At least he is a slut

Also, don’t shit on Lori! She is an interesting character and I like how she is written. I feel like she is trying her best but genuinely not cut out for the apocalypse. Like I get her, that said: she didn’t know what to do with Rick Grimes

Wasn’t her fault, she just couldn’t handle him :/

It happens. Rick Grimes was just too much pussy for her and that’s too bad.

#Lori grimes #Rick grimes #walking dead #twd season 2 #the walking dead

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optimist-pine · 2 months

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Returns

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl finds something in his pack that doesn't belong to him... (ps. it's yours)

Era: Season 2, the farm

A/n: This is a silly little thank you for everyone who's been supporting my writing! If you've liked/commented/reblogged any of my works recently, this is for you. :)

Daryl digs around in his backpack, shoving aside arrow bits and extra clothes in the search for a clean(ish) rag he knows is buried in here somewhere. Ah, there, the glimpse of a red hue must be what he's looking for. He tugs it free, but as he brings it into the daylight it comes to his attention that this piece of cloth doesn't belong to him.

He drops it immediately, head swiveling to make sure nobody saw. But no, he's tucked far away from the rest of the group, not a soul in sight. He gingerly picks up the garment before realizing how ridiculous he's being and shoves it in his pocket. He'll slip into your tent, return it, and get the hell out of there and get on with the rest of his day.

Everyone's either dispersed to other parts of the farm or busy enough completing whatever chores they've taken on to notice him. Even if he didn't already know which tent was yours, it'd be obvious from the plethora of herbs and flowers hanging to dry by the entrance, and the dog-eared foraging guidebook waiting on a lawn chair for your return.

He peers through the screen window to assure himself that you're not around before unzipping the door and stepping inside. A moment too late, he realizes the amount of dirt he's just tracked into your otherwise pristine living space, and curses. Nothing to do about it now he supposes. He squats down, opening your pack and pulling the wayward item out of his pocket.

"Daryl? What're you doing in my-" Your voice makes him jump before your words falter.

His head snaps to you; you're bent down a bit, hands on your hips with sweat dripping down your temple. Your mouth is stuck in a cute little "o" of pure confusion. He's frozen, hand halfway between him and your belongings, lungs stuck mid-breath. He really should say something in his own defense.

"Is that my underwear?" You ask a little more quietly.

"I - uh..." He gapes. He's invading your privacy in so many ways, you're going to think he's a total ass if not a complete creep. And he actually doesn't mind you too much so he doesn't want you to think of him in that way. Not that you think of him at all. But now when you do you're going to hate his guts. "They - uh..." He tries.

"Ohh. I get it." You say, nodding, like this all makes total sense. "I've got something of yours I've been meaning to return, just wasn't sure how to make it not-awkward..." You kneel down beside him, fishing around in a side compartment on your bag. "Buuuut no matter. I believe these belong to you." You hold out a pair of faded boxers that've been rolled up neatly.

"Hey, Rick wants to know if-" Glenn appears in the tent opening and Daryl can practically see the gears struggling to turn in his head as he takes in the two of you so close together, each obviously holding the other's intimates. "Y'know what? Nevermind. Just go talk to Rick when you're done or whatever, okay?" He sighs, walking away.

Daryl wastes no time grabbing his boxers, shoving them in his pocket. You do the same but with more grace, standing to brush off your pants.

You let out a small chuckle, biting down a bit on your lip. "It was so hectic when we left the CDC; must've grabbed each other's stuff then." You step outside and he follows. "Thanks for returning them." You say, stooping to re-zip the tent.

The CDC is such a blur that it takes effort to remember. There weren't enough rooms for everyone and so you'd asked to bunk with him. Even though he was sufficiently intoxicated that night, he'd been lucid enough to appreciate not being alone, your steady breaths in the unsettling darkness had quieted his nerves.

He can't seem to make his eyes stay on you for long, though that doesn't stop your gaze from lingering - he can practically feel every place your eyes land as you study him. "S'no problem." He shrugs.

"Well, I guess I'd better go see what Rick wants..." you sigh, making no noticeable effort to go anywhere.

You're leaving a space for him to say something but he doesn't really have anything to add to that. "Yeah." He replies dumbly.

A soft smile grows upon your lips. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Some of us actually enjoy your company." You nudge his shoulder good-naturedly as you walk away.

He mulls over your words, trying dissect what that last little bit means. You were just being kind, right? He's pretty sure people have barely put up with his company, let alone enjoyed it. Realizing you've already been gone for multiple minutes he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and trudges off, noting that there's at least a few hours of good daylight left to make use of. But those thoughts are still there, nagging, toying with him.

---

A couple of days later, when Daryl returns to his camp after a successful enough trip into the woods, there sits your well-loved guidebook. It's laying on the ground where you must've set it when you stopped by earlier and forgotten it when the two of you headed out. He picks it up, flipping through the bent pages and your frequent notes when he passes one that makes him stop and turn back. Next to chanterelle mushrooms you've scribbled 'Daryl - pair w/ venison' . He hadn't caught game that big since back at the quarry, and even then the geeks got to it first. A small swell of pride rises within him at the thought of you planning ahead in this way, of you counting on him to provide.

The feeling follows him as he settles down for the night. Pulling out a flashlight he figures he might as well see if there's anything he can learn from your book... Or maybe that's just an excuse to search for more of your annotations. He'll have another return to make in the morning, but he can't quite bring himself to mind all that much.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 2 #optimist pine

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