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pretty-red-garnet · 4 months

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Snowball Fight

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Alexandria, post Rick • Fluff

Short and sweet Christmasy/wintery oneshot. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!

The winter air was cold, a cloud of smoke came from the warm breath exiting your parted lips. There's a thick layer of snow on the ground. You smile to yourself as you drag your feet, making patterns in the snow as you walk. Daryl grunts in complaint from beside you.

"All this damn snow, ain't gonna get there in time," he says. It's true, the snow did make walking more time consuming and tiring. You and Daryl had wanted to leave your cozy cabin a day earlier, but the snow storm had been too harsh.

"We'll get there," you say, an attempt to ease his worries. You adjust the bag on your shoulder, the wrapped packages for Judith and RJ weighing on your back. "If anything, we'll just miss dinner."

Dog trots in front of you and Daryl, and he turns his head at the comment. His ears droop and his tail pauses its happy wagging. He loves eating at Michonne's, as the two Grimes kids always sneak a few pieces of their dinner under the table for him. You swear Dog understands perfect English.

That's where you're heading now, along with your partner and Dog. The three of you planned to celebrate Christmas in Alexandria with your family, but the snow is causing quite the delay.

Daryl, despite your attempts at easing him, still has a tense twinge to his brow. You smile sympathetically, rubbing your cold fingers on his shoulder. He looks at you, and you sneak a quick peck to his lips.

"Jude and RJ absolutely adore you, if you haven't noticed," you say, stepping in front of him to momentarily halt his walking. "They won't care if you're a little late, they'll just be happy to see you."

Daryl scoffs at your comment, but nods once he sees your narrowed eyes. His hands come up to place themselves on your hips, squeezing the area once. You run your hands up his poncho, folding back the area at his neck to brush your fingers across his skin. You smile at the goosebumps that form at your chilled touch.

"Your hands are freezin', woman." His lip curls and he pushes your hand away. You giggle, but it's cut short by Daryl's lips on yours.

"Since we're already running late," you begin, smiling mischievously and twirling a strand of Daryl's hair. "You think we can spare another few minutes?" Daryl pretends to think before nodding.

"Maybe just a couple," he says, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

"Good," you say, and shove him down into the snow. He grunts from the hard landing, glaring at you from the snow littered ground.

"Really?" He asks, sitting up. He moves to grab your ankle, but you jump back just in time. You laugh, giddy and bright. Dog, excited for the playtime, quickly runs over and jumps on Daryl, effectively knocking him back down.

You take the minute delay to rush behind a tree, kneeling to the ground and packing snow into balls. You keep your head on a swivel, glancing about and waiting for your partner. When you don't hear anything for a minute, you carefully peek around the tree trunk, only for a snow ball to wiz past your head.

You swiftly throw yourself back behind the cover of the tree with a shout. You pick up a snowball and launch it forward. You're pleased by the wet thunk and aggravated yelp from Daryl.

"Oh, you're in for it now," he threatens, a grin clear in his voice. You let out a short and panicked laugh before stumbling up, trying to get away from the hunter on your tail. You don't make it far, as Dog jumps in front of you and delays you enough for Daryl to grab you by the waist, pushing you down into the snow.

You squeal, grinning as Daryl piles snow on top of you. You desperately try to get away, but Daryl keeps your pinned underneath him as he buries you under the fluffy snow. Dog is no better, licking your face and pawing at you.

"Ugh! I knew you liked him better!" You chastise Dog, fumbling to escape his wet kisses. Daryl eventually relents his attack to lay beside you. He's breathing heavily along with you, puffs of white smoke coming from both of your mouths. Dog is tired too, and drops down to relax not far.

"Not exactly what I thought you meant when you asked if we could spare a few minutes," Daryl says, in between his heavy breaths. You giggle, sitting up to lean on your elbow and face him.

"I like to keep you on your toes." Daryl hums, bringing his hand up to the back of your neck. His hand is icy, causing a shiver to run down your back. You lean down to kiss him. His lips are cold and chapped, but you don’t mind a bit.

You pull back and smile. Daryl’s cheeks and nose are red, his wavy hair covered in snowflakes. You comb your fingers through the tangled locks, brushing out the wet clumps of ice. His eyes are half lidded and soft, a lazy smile on his lips.

The Daryl you have in front of you is one that you’re honored to have reserved for you, and only you. Snow kissed, freezing fingers, and all.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fluff #christmas oneshot

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pretty-red-garnet · 4 months

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Brothers Part 2

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry/CDC • Fluff/Angst

Part one can be read here! I hope you all enjoy part two. Oh, and surprise! There will be another part. I went a little overboard so there will be a third and maybe forth(?) part, haven’t decided yet.

✭TW✭ This chapter takes place during the episode where Shane does that to Lori and this chapter puts some emphasis on it. If SA is a subject that bothers you to read about, maybe check out something else I’ve written. My Masterlist can be found here. :)

The drive to the CDC is long. It's filled with some light conversation, but after Jim decided he wanted to be left on the side of the rode, unable to take the pain anymore, you and Daryl quieted. Even then, it was a mostly comfortable silence. Daryl was never very talkative, so quiet wasn't unusual even normally.

Once you and the group arrive at the compound, it's almost dark. It's surrounded by a few walkers, but mostly dead military people, there's even a tank sitting in front. It seemed they tried to fight them off, but failed miserably.

You follow Daryl out of the truck and meet up with the rest of the group. The group is careful to stick together, Shane tells them to keep quiet and close and they do. Carol and Lori keep their kids held tightly to them, muttering encouragements.

Shane and Rick try banging on the large, metal doors of the building. No answer.

"There's nobody here," T-Dog says.

"Then why are the shutters closed?" Rick asks, looking quizzically at the doors.

"Walkers!" Daryl calls out. He sticks an arm out to bring you behind him, blocking you from the dead. He raises his crossbow and shoots the walker.

"You led us to a graveyard!" He shouts, angrily. He pushes you further behind him.

"He made a call," Shane tries to reason, although he himself sounds frustrated.

"It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl yells. Shane shouts at him to shut up, frustrating you even more at his ill-directed anger.

"Rick, this is a dead end." The women begin to panic, and Shane brings up Fort Benning again.

"Fort Benning is too far, Shane. We have no gas, no food," you say. He doesn't say anything, but he sneers slightly in your direction.

The group is about to head back to the vehicles, get out of the open to figure out the next move, before Rick sees movement from the camera sat above the door.

"The camera, it moved," he says, staring up at it. You look up, glaring at it intensely to try and will it to move again. It doesn't.

Your brother argues with him, denies that it moved, trying desperately to get him back to the cars. Rick refuses, adamant that he saw it move, and begins to slam on the shutters.

"Rick, there's nobody there!" Lori yells at him. Rick continues to yell and bang on the doors, resulting in Lori and Shane trying to drag him away. Shane orders everyone to get back to the cars. You step out from behind Daryl.

"Rick, they're right. We have to get out of here," you say, a desperate attempt to reason with him. He ignores you, yells and slams on the door, pleading with whoever's in there to open the shutters.

The group is just about to leave, Rick finally beginning to follow, before the doors open. It's bright and blinding, you cover your eyes to shield them. Everyone hesitates, but slowly begin to trickle in the open doors. It's dark inside the lobby of the building, empty and cold.

"Hello?" Rick calls. There's a man there, gripping a rifle. You slowly move your hand to rest on your gun holster, your cop instinct kicking in.

"Anybody infected?" The stranger asks.

"One of our group was," Rick answers. "He didn't make it." The man seems to nod slightly.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" He asks. Rick takes a breath before answering.

"A chance."

A blood test was the price of admission, the man's way of being positive no one was infected. The man, who's name you learned to be Dr. Jenner, takes you all down an elevator and into another, larger room.

"Vi, being up the lights in the big room. Welcome to zone 5." You look around warily as the lights kick on.

"Where is everybody? The other doctors? The staff?" Rick asks. Jenner looks hesitant to answer.

"I'm it. It's just me," he says. Your heart drops to your stomach and your steps falter. As it turns out, Vi was just a computer. There's nobody, no doctors, no cure, no answers.

"You ok?" Daryl asks. He's been sticking close to you the entire time.

"Yeah, I'm good," you say. He nods unsurely and places a hand on your upper arm.

"Come on, keep up."

Everyone takes their blood tests. Andrea is last, and almost passes out afterwards. Jacqui explains how no one was eaten in days, and so Jenner leads everyone to the dining hall.

Your group and Jenner all sit around a large round table. You eat and drink, the wine slightly numbs the feeling of doom you have in your chest. It doesn't completely rid it, however.

But everyone laughs and jokes. Carl tries a sip of wine and everyone cracks up when he's disgusted by the taste. The boy you considered a nephew's smile helps you to feel something good. That, and Daryl.

"Keep drinking little man. I wanna see how red your face can get," Daryl pokes fun at Glenn, and you giggle. Daryl catches your smile and gives you a little half-smile of his own. He sits down on the chair next to you, tipping— and almost emptying— a wine bottle into your glass.

"You trying to get me drunk?" You ask, teasingly. He just shrugs and gives you one last little pour into your cup. You elbow him and he grins. Daryl looks especially handsome. Maybe it's the wine, or maybe it's the feelings you've tried to keep buried making themself known. Whatever it is, it makes you stare and admire him.

Rick taps his glass and makes a toast to Jenner, and everyone follows. It breaks you from your trance and you glance at Shane, who's sitting across from you. He has a grim expression, and he's staring at you and Daryl with a look of detest. You roll your eyes.

"Here's to you doc," Daryl says, popping open another bottle. "Booyah!" T-Dog and Dale copy his cheer and you laugh, leaning back and taking a large sip of your drink.

Shane brings down the celebratory mood with his questioning, asking Jenner what happened with all the other doctors. Jenner's answer is just as much depressing, as he explains many other doctors decided to 'opt out,' as he put it. Everyone gets quiet after, and so dinner is finished off quickly.

When everybody is done, the doctor leads your group to the living area where there's room for everyone to sleep. Jenner is talking but you're mostly tuning him out.

"Hot water?" Glenn's excited tone brings you back to reality.

"That's what the man said," T-Dog says, both of them sharing matching grins. You let your own slip at the thought of a nice, scorching hot shower. It seems everyone thinks the same, they all rush to their own room.

"Enjoy your shower Dixon, you need one," you tease. He grunts, turning away and heading into the nearest empty room with a bottle of booze dangling from his fingers. You can see the slightest smile on his face right before he closes the door.

You take the best shower of your life. The steam fills the small bathroom as you stand still, letting the hot water spray on you. You sigh happily, trying to forget the horrors of the world for just a minute.

You eventually turn it off, step out, and wrap yourself in a fuzzy towel. You get dressed quickly and decide to take a trip to the rec room. You had spotted a bookshelf when walking by, and you used to enjoy reading a lot.

You hear voices as you get close. You furrow your brows when you make out the voice, a panicked Lori. You rush to the door and push it open quickly.

"Get your hands off of me!" She yelps. Shane has her pressed against the table, his hand between her legs as she desperately tries to push him away.

"Shane!" You screech. You slam the door behind you, making your way to him in three quick steps. You grab the back of his shirt and yank him as hard as you can, using all the night you can muster to throw him to the wall.

He stands there against the wall, in a stupor with a hand to his scratched neck. It seems Lori took a chunk out of it, three long scratches are present there. She still leans on the table for support, shaking and terrified.

"What the fuck?" You say in a rage. The man in front of you was once your brother, but now it's like he's a stranger. His eyes are dark, his nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily. You don't recognize him. He tries to leave but you stop him.

"Y/N, just let him go," Lori pleads, her voice sounds teary. You glance back at her, and the distraction was enough for Shane to sidestep you and get to the door. He opens it swiftly and bumps into the doorframe on his way out, right before shutting it closed in a bang.

"Lori..." you say, walking up to her. She's still half-sitting on the table, tears in her eyes.

"Please don't tell Rick," she says. You sigh.

"He should know." She shakes her head vehemently.

"You don't understand, me and Shane were—"

"I know," you cut her off. "But that's not an excuse for what just happened." Lori puts a hand over her mouth. You walk over and grab her in a hug. She returns it, squeezing you tightly.

"He was just drunk," she says. You rub her back. "Thank you."

"Of course," you say. She pulls away and wipes her tears, taking a breath to compose herself.

"Please, Y/N, don't tell Rick," she repeats. You just nod. She nods back and leaves you alone, standing in the middle of the room.

Your head spins and you feel like you're in a nightmare. Like what just happened couldn't possibly be reality.

What would've happened if I didn't come in? Would he have raped her? No, of course not. It's Shane. He's my big brother, he would never do that to somebody.

You're reeling, struggling to comprehend the events that just took place. You're sure they'll be burned into your memory forever. You take Lori's spot, leaning against the table and rubbing your eyes. Hoping— praying— that this is just some awful nightmares cooked up from stress and anxiety. That you'll wake up, warm and comfortable and next to Daryl and—

Daryl.

That's who you need. Your best friend who despite being icy and snappy to everyone, always had a small soft spot for you. Who wasn't good with words, but always tried his best to comfort you. Who let you sleep in his tent when you were scared, even though you and everyone else knows how much he values his space.

The one who lately made your head fuzzy and heart skip beats.

You get up from the table and speed towards his room. You knock quickly, wrapping your arms around themselves. The air around you is cold, although your certain it's just the shock. Daryl answers quickly, a confused twinge to his brow and a liquor bottle hanging from his hand. You're quick to snatch it and take a sip.

"Want some company?" You ask. He shrugs but nods, moving aside to let you in.

You sit on the small couch, waving Daryl to sit next to you. He doesn't, instead preferring to sit on the floor, leaning his back on the couch. He sits slightly to the side of you. If you move your left leg, it'll just barely brush against his shoulder.

You take a big swig of the stolen booze, handing it off to Daryl once you had enough. He mumbles his thanks and takes his own drink of it before placing it on the ground. He leans his head back against the cushion, letting out a sigh.

"I saw something I wasn't supposed to see," you say quietly. You don't want to think about it, but your mind is still whirling.

"What did you see?" He asks. He tips his head back slightly more to look at you. You sigh and shake your head.

"Nothing— I don't want to talk about it now." Daryl nods, slowly. He was never the one to prod, you appreciate it. You just want to forget, at least for now. Maybe deal with it in the morning, or maybe even the one after that. Just not now. You pluck the bottle from the ground and take a long drink before letting it hit the floor again with a thunk.

The next moments pass in a comfortable silence. Daryl's eyes have slipped shut. He looks so content, comfortable, maybe the most you've ever seen the man. It seemed like he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but not right now.

You're tipsy, maybe even more that tipsy. Almost drunk would be more appropriate. You feel the familiar heat under your cheeks, your brain slightly foggy.

Even in your state, you can't help but admire the sleepy Dixon in front of you. You've always known he was handsome, but it seems over the course of the day, the realization of how handsome he is hit you like a freight train. But handsome wouldn't be the word to describe him in this moment; cute would be. Maybe even adorable, even if you'd never imagined the words 'Daryl' and 'adorable' would ever be in the same sentence.

The temptation to touch him swam around in your sluggish head, and you can't deny it. You carefully, slowly pick up your hand, moving it forward until it meets his hair. You caress him softly, hoping that he's sleeping and won't feel it.

Luck isn't on your side. Daryl opens his eyes and picks his head up, turning to look at you, confused and surprised. Your mouth parts but words refuse to come out. You think he's going to leave, maybe curse at you, get angry. He doesn't do any.

He just stares at you. He looks startled, almost scared. Puzzled as to why you would touch him so softly. Like a loving touch was completely foreign to him.

He doesn't move, and so you bring your hand up again. You move your hand towards him deliberately, slowly, although your fingers tremble slightly. Daryl looks like a cornered animal, fearful and confused. His eyes jump from your hand to your face.

And then, your hand makes contact. Your shaking fingers card their way into his hair, smoothing down the ruffled strands. He relaxes after a few seconds, his eyes flutter and a serene look overtakes his face.

Abruptly, Daryl put a hand on the couch cushion, pushing himself up swiftly. He comes in close to you, his face barely an inch from yours. He stays that way, his teeth bite into his cheek, a nervous tick.

One hand stays rested in his hair, the other rises to his jaw. Your fingers stroke the scruff there. You bite your lip, nervous and anxious at what's to come.

It's like you're both in a trance. You stare into his eyes and it's like you have tunnel vision. The whole world falls away, the only thing that matters is Daryl and his baby blue eyes and the way he's looking at you. It's intense and intimate, terrifying.

Daryl moves impossibly closer to you, and suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp in surprise against his mouth, but take no time to return the passionate kiss. Your hands find purchase interlocked on the back of his neck.

Daryl's hands find their way to rest on your shoulders. They tremble and nervously skirt from your shoulders to the back of your neck, unsurely. His knee nudges between yours, resting on the couch.

You lean back, pulling Daryl forward to the point he's nearly on top of you, but not quite. His kisses become more feverish, his hand tousles your hair.

Your hands slide from the back of his neck to his chest, further down until they're fiddling with the hem of his shirt. One hand sneaks under his shirt, making contact with the skin on his upper hip, fingertips just barely grazing his back.

And then he flinches.

He pulls away from you like you'd burned him with a hot iron. His lips unlatch from yours and leave you reeling and confused. He takes quick steps backwards, breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" You ask, standing slowly and shakily. "Daryl—"

"Go," he says, face turned down.

"Daryl, I-I'm sorry, please—"

"I said go!" He yells, making you flinch. "Just fuckin' go."

"Daryl, please, just tell me what I did wrong." He looks up at you, an expression you've never seen on him before marks his face. He looks like a scared kid, conflicted and confused. A mix of emotions in his eyes you can't even begin to understand.

"Just fuckin' go," he repeats, lower, before turning his back on you and pacing. You nod jerkily, even though he can't see it, and swiftly make your exit.

You slam the door to the room you had claimed. Your hands run anxiously through your hair before coming down and rubbing a streak down your face. You pace around, breathing heavily. Tears burn at the back of your eyes, your throat tightens and bobs.

What the hell just happened?

If your mind was spinning before, it’s absolutely whirling a million miles a second now. It seems your entire world was just flipped upside down. First Shane, now Daryl? Did you just lose your brother and best friend all in the same hour?

And what was Daryl’s problem anyway, he kissed you. Did you do something to make him uncomfortable? Was your hand sliding under his shirt too much?

Whatever it was, you’re sure yours and his relationship will never be the same. You’ll never look at your brother the same. Everything was crashing and burning. Maybe to everyone else, the world had ended when the dead began to rise, but yours had just ended tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff

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pretty-red-garnet · 5 months

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Cracked Lips Give The Best Kisses

Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader • Prison • Fluff

Thank you so much for the request @cant-help-simping! I really enjoyed writing this one, so I hope you like reading it. Also, I know I have one more request, but I’m writing a part 2 to Brothers and having wayyy too much fun. So that’ll probably be out first lol.

Daryl was an observer. He was always looking, even if nobody noticed. That was especially true when it came to you, his partner, his lover, his light. 'Girlfriend' never seemed like the correct term when it came to you. It was too simple, not strong enough to define the bond he has with you.

One day, when he was lying next to you in your shared cot, he had confessed to you that you were the one good thing in his life. That you're the light in his life that keeps him going. It made his stomach flip, being so open and vulnerable to another person. But then, you smiled so brightly and beautifully. He makes sure to call you sweet names all the time now, even if it makes his face flush and his throat dry.

Daryl's always watching, and as of late, it seems his light is dimming. You've been busier lately, more responsibilities. The prison was thriving after taking in the people of Woodbury, and that was thanks to you and the council you were apart of. You helped to plan runs, scout places to check, devise ways to keep the fence secure and walkers away. You were pretty much wherever people needed help. You're always a holler away.

And it's taking everyone out of you.

Daryl could see it. How drained you are at the end of the day. Or how you almost never have time to join him on hunts or supply runs, because you're too busy planning the next one. How maps and planners took up too much of your side of the nightstand. Perhaps the most obvious detail to Daryl was how your lips had been in even rougher shape lately.

Your habit was one of the first things Daryl noticed about you. Even back when he first met you at the quarry, your lips always seemed to be bitten and cracked, even though you always had some flavored lip balm sticking out of your pocket.

It seemed to happen most when you weren't realizing. When your head was stuck in a book, or when you were thinking deeply and zoning out, your fingers would always make their way to pick at your lips. Your fingers would run over the cracked skin until they were bleeding and blood was clinging to the underside of your nails.

They were bad on the road, after the farm had gone up in flames. It was a dry winter, undoubtedly making you lips even more rough. The stress of everything made you resort to picking at them even more. It was a nasty, viscous cycle. Daryl had always made sure to give you chapsticks when he found them in gas stations.

You, and your lips, got much better for a short time. The short time of peace, after the battle with the governor, but before your responsibilities began to pile on and drown you.

Even now, your picking and biting at your dry lips while laying in bed with him. There's a fresh sore right in the middle of your bottom lip, and you absentmindedly pick at in as you write notes in your planner. Daryl can see fresh blood droplets form, quickly sticking to the skin on your thumb.

"You're doin' it again," Daryl says, quietly not to disturb others that may be sleeping in the nearby cells. It's late now.

You don't answer. Your brows furrow and you let out an aggravated sigh as you scratch something out on your planner. Daryl huffs, gently pulling your fingers from your lips.

"What?" You ask. You look at Daryl beside you, and you almost look like you just remembered he was there.

"Pickin' at your damn lips again." He swipes his thumb over your lip, gently and lovingly. You smile and kiss his thumb lightly. "Have you been usin' that chapstick?"

You hum and smile sheepishly at him. Daryl huffs again, narrowing his eyes.

"Well I finished one, and I had another but I gave it to Beth." You shrug.

"You gotta stop puttin' everyone else before you," he complains. You scoff and playfully poke his side.

"Look who's talking." He rolls his eyes. "Mr. 'I'm immune doing anything for myself' Dixon." He nudges you with his elbow.

"Yeah, yeah smartass." He plucks the planner from your hands and lays it on your side table, ignoring your annoyed 'hey!' "Time for sleep. You can work more tomorrow."

You sigh again, and open your mouth to argue, but you can’t when Daryl yanks you down the bed by your hips. You giggle when your head meets the pillow, staring up at Daryl towering above you.

Daryl leans down and kisses your lips softly, not wanting to irritate what he is sure is already a painful set of lips. You hum into his mouth, pulling him onto you further by his shoulders. Your fingertips caress the scars on his back, but he doesn't mind. He leans back and looks into your eyes.

"I love you," he says, lowly. His fingers brush against your cheek, his callouses slightly scratch at your smooth skin.

"I love you, too," you say, smiling as bright as the sun.

Daryl gets up from the bed slowly and carefully, trying his best not to wake you. It's early, the dim light of the early morning sun can ever so slightly be seen through the curtain that's working as a door to the cell.

Daryl gets dressed quickly and quietly. He's just throwing on a shirt when he hears you stir. He pauses and looks at you just in time for you to open your eyes. They're bleary and you rub them and look at Daryl confused.

"Where're you going? It's early," you ask, voice quiet and sleep ridden.

"Run. I'll be back in a few hours," he says in a whisper, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You smile, nod sleepily and settle back into your pillow. Daryl's lip quirks at the sight, and turns towards the cell door.

"Wait," you say, sounding more awake. "You don't have a run today. The next scheduled run isn't for three days from now." Daryl juts his chin towards the nightstand.

"Check your planner." You eye him scrutinizingly and sit up, grabbing your planner from the table. You flip open the book to the correct date, narrowing your eyes when you see the written notes on the page.

"Really?" You ask, turning the book to show Daryl. On the planner, below your neat and concise letters, is anything but your handwriting.

In a messy, chicken scratch like scrawl, is two words. 'Supply run.' No notes next to it, no details, not even a location. Just Daryl's messy handwriting. The difference in handwritings and planning details on the page is more drastic than night and day.

"Where are you really going?" You ask again, your brows furrowed in a questioning manner. Daryl shrugs.

"Like your book says." You click your tongue at him. If your eyes were any more narrow, they'd be closed completely.

"Uh huh," you hum, crossing your arms. "Are you cheating on me? Is it a hot date you're going on?" Your tone is teasing, a smirk on your lips.

"Yeah, she's a real looker, too."

"I bet." Daryl hums and takes a seat on the bed, making you curl your legs up for him to have room.

"She's real sexy," he begins. "Slick, too. She makes my heart race, and she's got this great body." Daryl sighs. "Only thing, she's pretty loud."

You look confused. Your mouth is slightly agape, the small cuts on your lips on full display. Suddenly, it's like something hits you, and you tilt your head at him.

"Daryl," you start, a slight sigh after. "Are you describing your bike to me right now?"

Daryl's lips pull to a smirk. You shake your head, a smile bursting to your face. You laugh and smack his shoulder lightly, pushing him off the bed.

"You're ridiculous!" You exclaim once he's off the bed. "Ok, go on your hot date with your bike." You giggle again, getting cozy under the covers. Daryl bends at the waist to give you a long kiss to the cheek. He pulls away after a moment and smooths your hair back.

"I'll be back soon," he says, standing completely and taking a step towards the door.

"Be careful," you say, tired eyes already starting to shut.

"Always am."

Daryl's back at the prison a few hours later. As it turns out, the items he was trying to find proved to be quite difficult to locate. He refused to go back empty handed, so he made a few extra stops. By the time he made it back, the sun was just beginning to dip behind the tree line, the sky an array of pinks and oranges.

He clutches a brown paper bag under his arm and makes his way to you. He makes a quick pit stop to the area of the cell block that's used as a kitchen, handing off a couple small items to Beth.

The girl is playing with Judith on the floor, who's laughing and fumbling with Carl's hat. Beth smiles brightly at Daryl and gives him her thanks. He just tilts his head in a quick nod and climbs up the stairs to your shared cell.

"Daryl!" You exclaim. You're standing in the middle of the small room, probably just paused from pacing. "Where have you been? God, I was worried." You briskly walk to him to grab him in a strong hug.

"'M sorry," he mutters into your hair. "Thought I'd be quicker." You nod into his chest before pulling back.

"Where were you?" Daryl retracts his arm from around your back to retrieve the brown bag under his arm. He hands it to you with a shy half-smile.

You grab the bag, a puzzled look on your face. It's a small, brown paper bag, the kind used by pharmacies for giving out medication. Except this one has a large, tacky looking red bow stuck haphazardly to the center to hold the bag closed.

"What's this?" You ask. Daryl shrugs.

"S'for you. Open it up," he encourages. You look at him with an adorable little frown. He nudges the bag. "Come on."

You give him one last glance before finally opening the bag. You push back the folded top and peer into it, your mouth parts. You look up at Daryl with a shocked expression.

You move to your bed and pour the contents out on the mattress. The center of the mattress fills with the gifts. There's lip balms, glosses, oils. Lip masks, sugar scrubs, hydrating ointments. They all come in an array of flavors, and some are even tinted.

"Daryl... I don't even know what to say," you mutter, in shock staring at the pile of lip care items on the bed. You turn to him, a huge smile on your face. Daryl shrugs, embarrassed by your reaction.

"Don't gotta say nothin'." You shake your head, rushing to him to throw your arms around his shoulders. He returns the embrace immediately, smiling into your hair.

"You didn't have to do all that," you say, pressed against his chest. "But thank you." You lift your head to look into his eyes.

"Welcome." You brush your hand through his overgrown hair, pushing back the strays that obscure his face. "And I gave some to Beth already, so don't be givin' those away."

"Ok," you say with a little scoff. "Deal, I won't, I promise." You bring your fingers down to caress his cheek before pulling away.

You pick through the pile before snatching up a lip oil. It's clear, and it smells like vanilla. You put some on, rub your lips together, and smack your lips dramatically. You turn to Daryl with a big grin.

"How does it look?" You ask, puckering your lips teasingly at him.

"Looks great," he says, a smirk forming. "But I'd rather see how it tastes."

You roll your eyes, but the smile playing on your shimmery lips shows you aren’t annoyed in the slightest. You oblige to Daryl, stepping over to him to plant a big, loving, sticky kiss to his lips.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff

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pretty-red-garnet · 5 months

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I have been getting so many kind words on this fic and just… thank you so much! I don’t know that anyone really understands how much they mean to me. I had such a difficult time writing it and it feels nice that people actually like it. I am so glad you enjoyed this fic! Again, thank you.

Oh, and there will be a part two. I am in the planning stage now. :)

Brothers

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry • Fluff

This took so long and I am not happy with it at all. I am so sorry to the anon who requested this! I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just could not figure out what to write for this request. Again, so sorry. I hope to get back into writing more soon!

Chaos. Everything was complete chaos. Gunshots, groans of walkers, the kids screaming in panic, Shane shouting orders. A rifle thrown in your hands, fingers trembling as you took shots, walkers falling to the ground. Lori, Carol, and the two kids were hustled into the RV, and you stood guard by the door.

Rick and the group came back from Atlanta suddenly, yelling and shouting and putting more guns in more people hands. Your eyes kept flicking to your brother, Shane, as he took down geeks. Everything was going so fast and your head was spinning.

And then, silence. It was eerie, how so much panic and chaos could turn quiet so shortly. The once bustling camp enjoying a fish fry now was now nearly half the size. The earth beneath your feet was covered in blood, some red and fresh from the people, some was almost back, the walker blood.

Andrea dropped down to her sister and let out a cry, and that's when you finally turned away, opening the door to the RV and letting them know it was clear. A hand dropped to your shoulder and you flinched, the tips of your fingers brushed the knife at your waist before you realized.

"You good?" Shane asks, and you give him a jerky nod. He pats your shoulder once more and parts from you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and survey the camp.

There's bodies everywhere, both human and undead. You can't stand looking at it, you can't stand Andrea's cries as the background noise. You turn on your heel and begin walking away, towards the woods. Maybe it wasn't safest, but you needed a breather away from everything. They were beginning to stab the brains of the dead, and you couldn't watch them put down the people you once considered friends.

You sit heavily on a overturned tree, the rifle you swung on your back makes a metallic noise when it hits the wood. You sigh, bringing your elbows to rest on your knees as you bury your face in your hands.

You're only alone for a moment before you hear footsteps and you shoot your head up, heart racing and eyes glancing about before you spot Daryl. You huff out a breath and take your eyes off him, hastily brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

"You're getting sloppy, heard you from a mile away," you tease, your voice teary. Daryl scoffs and plunks himself down on the trunk beside you.

"Didn't wanna scare you." You nod, because you knew he had purposely made himself known. You'd been hunting with the archer enough times to know he was never sloppy.

"Did my brother send you?" You ask, still staring down at your shoes out of embarrassment that he'd seen you like this. All teary eyed and pathetic looking.

"Nah, too busy starin' at Lori and Rick," he says. It's your turn to scoff now. "You alright?"

"Yeah," you answer, risking a little glance at the man beside you. He was biting his lip in a way that made you believe he was worried, so you force a little smile. He doesn't look convinced.

"No Merle?" You ask. Daryl shakes his head, breaking his gaze from yours. "I'm sorry." Daryl throws you a little glare out the corner of his eye, but it lacks any sort of real anger. "I am."

"Sure," he says, sarcastically. You narrow your eyes and bump his shoulder with yours.

"Ok, I know me and him weren't exactly besties," your emphasis on the word makes Daryl give you an exasperated look. You just smile. "But I can still be sorry, I know how much you care about him." Daryl hums. "Besides, I don't think anything will take down that man. I'm sure he's fine."

"Yeah, probably," he says with a huff of air escaping his lips. You're both quiet for a moment, and Daryl eyes you worriedly. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," you say with a shrug. "Just... worried. About everything."

"I get that." You get silent again, and Daryl starts to bite and pick at the skin on his thumb. "But you don't gotta be."

"I don't?" You ask, brows pulled forward and looking at Daryl intently. "Why's that?" Daryl shrugs and decides that the ground is more interesting than looking at you.

"'Cause I'll always look out for you," he answers, quietly. You smile and place your hand on Daryl's shoulder in a gentle manner. He flinches just a bit before turning his blue eyes to you. He has a soft expression on his face, the one that's reserved for only you

"Thank you," you say, in a sincere and soft way Daryl's never heard directed at him before. He nods, shakily. "I'll always look out for you, too."

"I know," he answers, standing up. "Come on, ain't safe out here."

You aren't completely sure when the unlikely friendship of you and Daryl began. A cop and a loud, brash redneck wasn't exactly an expected duo. Although, you do know a much different Daryl than most. A much kinder, softer version of himself, one he keeps locked behind a very tall, very solid wall.

You're sure the only reason Daryl has shown this side of himself to you was because you're the only one to treat him like a person, not like some ticking time bomb. Not like some untamed animal or uncontrollable being, just a person. You had shown him a kindness he wasn't used to, and even after a few attempts at keeping you at arms length, you're closer than ever with the man.

You’d admit that maybe your feelings for the man weren’t completely platonic. But that’s to be expected considering you spend so much time with him. He’d taught you some hunting tips, so you hunted with him most days. All that time together, it wasn’t a complete surprise that a little crush would form.

Daryl leads you back to your tent, avoiding the mess of the dead loved ones. It seems most have agreed major cleanup can wait until morning, and have returned to their reserved tents. Dale stayed on watch, mostly for Andrea's sake, just incase she wouldn't be strong enough to take out Amy, you assume.

Daryl lingers at the opening of your tent. You have a unsure, nervous look to you. Your hands wring and fumble with themselves, and your bottom lip in firmly in place between your teeth. He's not fond of your anxious presence.

"I don't want to be alone," you whisper. You grimace, eyes screwing shut briefly before they open again. "Sorry, that makes me sound so pathetic." You let out a breath of air that's supposed to resemble a laugh, but it falls short. "I'll be ok, I'm not even really alone anyway. Shane's tent is right next to mine—"

"Wanna stay with me?" Daryl asks, before he can even think. The words just escape him, embarrass him, and he's about to take it back before you answer.

"Would you mind?" Daryl wants to say absolutely not, of course he doesn't, but what comes out is a grunt and a shake of his head accompanied by a shrug. Daryl turns towards his tent and juts his chin at it.

"Come on." You follow behind him to his tent. His and Merle's are beside each other, both farther from everyone else's tents. They have their own small fire pit and some tree stumps for chairs. Not far behind is a string of cans, a perimeter for the campsite.

Daryl leads you into his tent, holding the flap open for you to climb in behind him. It's small inside, some clothes and spare bolts for his crossbow laying about. A thick blanket is splayed out to act as a barrier from the hard ground. It's Daryl's turn to be nervous and fumbling, watching you take in the small space.

"Cozy," you say with a smile, laying down on the blanket. Daryl hesitates, sitting near the closed entrance and as far as possible from you. You frown. "Lay down. There's room for both of us." You pat the spot on the blanket beside you.

Daryl's eyes flick from yours to the space beside you. He eventually obeys after seeing your unrelenting gaze and lays down beside you, kicking off his boots and keeping them close.

You watch as Daryl does so. His muscles are tense, even as he lays down. He's stiff as a board, arms crossed on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling of the tent. He's ridged, and you feel the tension radiate off his body in waves.

"Am I making you nervous?" You ask, a teasing tone to your voice. It’s mostly to cover up your own anxiety over being so close to him. Daryl scoffs and turns his face away from you.

"Yeah, right." You laugh softly, and Daryl feels a smile twitch at his own lips at the sound. "Just ain't used to sharin' the covers, better not be a blanket hog."

"I'm not, I promise."

It gets quiet, both just laying beside each other, sleep not catching up with either. The gears in your head spin at a million miles a minute, and Daryl glances at you every few minutes, his own thoughts racing, until finally, you speak.

"Do you ever think..." you pause, and Daryl watches you carefully. "That you just aren't good enough? No matter what you do?" Daryl's brows furrow. Where did that come from?

"Plenty," he replies. "Have I ever thought you weren't good enough? Nah, never." Daryl adjusts so his arm is resting behind his head, he keeps his gaze straight to the ceiling even as he feels your eyes burn into him. "Where's this comin' from?"

"I don't know." You shrug. "Been thinking about it a lot lately. About if something happens and I can't save Shane, or Carl. You." Daryl's heart flips.

"Took out a lot of walkers today," Daryl says. "I think you'd be right there if anyone needs your help."

"I'm not strong enough."

"Stop," Daryl snaps, he whips his eyes to yours.

"I'm not. I'm not my brother, and I'm not like you or Rick. I'm not strong, I'm not meant for this." Your voice grows weaker as you go on.

"You're a cop, you helped people, right? You took out, what? Ten walkers all on your own? I saw you." You let out a humorless laugh, tears spring at your eyes.

"The only reason I became a cop was because Shane did," you admit. "I felt like I had to follow him, to do something."

"Don't matter." Daryl's brows furrow. He isn't sure where this is all coming from. Sure, he'd seen you seemed to always be behind Shane, following whatever he said to do. It bugged him a little, how he always bosses you around. He didn't think it ever bothered you.

"It does matter," you say with a scoff and sit up. Daryl follows, slowly sitting up next to you. "I was never meant for it. I could barely even take statements sometimes without wanting to cry."

"Just means you care 'bout people." You shrug.

"It means I'm weak." Daryl shakes his head and nudges you with his elbow.

"Ain't weak. And you ain't pathetic, neither." You hang your head.

"I wish I was like Shane, he's strong, he helps people."

"Yeah, well I like you just like this," Daryl admits, even as he feels his face heat up.

"Yeah?" You finally smile, shyly, turning your head just slightly to peek at Daryl. Daryl clears his throat and lays down, turning his back to you.

"Ain't saying it again. Go to sleep." You laugh, actually laugh, and lay down.

"I like you just how you are too, Daryl," you mumble, before sleep finally overtakes you.

Everyone is up early the next morning, you suspect nobody really slept. You had kept waking up every hour, and Daryl was still up staring at the ceiling when you'd glance at him. Footsteps and movement around the camp began right when the sun came up, and you and Daryl followed right after.

Everyone is bustling around now, burning the walkers and burying the dead, as Glenn had insisted. It isn't long before panic shouting is heard from Jacqui.

"Jim got bit! Jim's bit!"

Even more panic, angry shouting from Daryl, and arguing ensues. Daryl wants to kill Jim right then and there— which earned him quite the glare form you— thankfully it quieted him down a little. Rick wants to head to the CDC for a potential cure, and your brother is adamant Fort Benning would be the best bet. You were little ways away from their discussion, chatting with Carl.

"Y/N, what do you think?" Shane asks, suddenly. You sigh and take a few steps closer, away from Carl. You were hoping they would just figure it out and leave you out of it.

"Well," you begin, and Shane's slight narrow of his eyes doesn't go unnoticed. He wants you to go along with him. "I'm sure if there's a cure, Fort Benning would know. They are military, must have doctors."

Daryl scoffs, and you glance to him in surprise. He holds your gaze, but you can't place his expression. Your brows knit in confusion.

"There you have it, Rick," Shane says cockily, breaking you from your trance. You look away from Daryl.

You walk away, leaving the boys to argue further. You honestly don't care where you end up. From the looks of the city, there's nowhere safe, not the CDC, and not Fort Benning. It doesn't matter to you where they decide to go.

"Hey," Shane says, approaching you where you're taking down your tent. You drop the pole you're holding and stand up straight. Shane has a pissed off look on his face.

"CDC then?" You ask. His expression darkens.

"You could've had my back a little," he whispers angrily, getting closer to you. You turn away to hide your rolling eyes. You return to your task.

"I don't care where we go, Shane. It's all the same to me." He grabs your upper arm, not tight enough to hurt, but it's enough to pull your attention back to him.

"Yeah, as long as you get to follow your boyfriend, right?" You narrow your eyes, reeling away from Shane slightly out of shock. His face is close to yours. "Saw you come out of Dixon's tent this morning."

"So what, Shane," you say, yanking your arm from his grasp. "You aren't my father." He exhales heavily through his nose.

"Stay the hell away from that guy," Shane demands, his finger coming up to point at your face. You set your jaw, a fist balls at your side, and you smack his hand away from you. And then, for maybe the first time ever, you don't just do whatever your big brother tells you to.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Shane."

You drop down heavily into the truck's car seat. Daryl glimpses at you from the drivers seat, and he looks at you questionably. You don't say anything, instead glaring out the passenger window so viscously, Daryl's surprised it doesn't shatter.

"You ain't goin' with Shane?" He asks. You scoff.

"No," you answer, shortly. Daryl shrugs, mumbling an 'ok' and starting the engine. He takes off towards the CDC, and you continue your angered glare.

"So, you got your own opinion on this whole thing, or do you always just follow along with whatever your brother says?" Daryl suddenly asks, making you whip your eyes to him. He's staring straight to the road, and you scoff loudly.

"Oh, that's really something coming from you," you say sarcastically, letting out a sharp laugh. "You followed your brother around like a lost puppy, but I'm the one always going along with my brother? Bullshit."

You regret bringing up Merle as soon as you finished your sentence, but anger is clouding your judgment. Your frustration at Shane mixed with Daryl's unwarranted comment is just about too much to handle.

Although you feel a twinge of guilt, Daryl's comment was ridiculous coming from him. He always would follow his brother around, do whatever he said to do. He never even seemed to care whenever Merle went on racist, sexist, something just plain mean tangents, even if Daryl never agreed or joined.

But still, Merle was his brother, no matter how awful, that you understood more than anything. Shane was one to ruffle a few feathers too, and you understand better than anyone how oppressive it can be to forever be in the shadow of an older brother. Never getting your own opinion, or word in, forever just following along.

"You're right," Daryl says. You turn your head to him quickly in surprise. He doesn't face you, his eyes looking at the road in front of him. "I've always gone along with Merle, no matter how shitty he was, or what trouble I'd get in."

"You're right, too," you admit with a loud sigh, your anger fizzling at Daryl’s sincere tone. "I've never really done, hell, even said what I've wanted. I always just followed what Shane's doing."

“Think it’s about damn time we do what we wanna do,” Daryl says, after a few moments pause.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right!” You exclaim, smiling brightly. “Screw Shane!” Daryl laughs, and you turn your head to fully look at him.

He’s biting at the skin on his thumb, and he gives you a small, crooked grin when he notices your eyes on him. The sun cascading through the window of the truck makes him glow, and you can’t help but think that he looks just beautiful. His bright blue eyes sparking, how his light brown hair looks almost blonde in the yellow light. You’d never noticed just how handsome he is.

“The hell you starin’ at?” He asks suddenly. Your face flushes violently at being caught ogling, and you whip your face towards the window.

“Nothing,” you fumble out, he just hums an unconvinced noise of acknowledgment.

You bite your lip harshly to stop the grin that threatens to split your lips. You sneakily take another glimpse at Daryl, taking in his calm expression, the way his eyes narrow to block out the brightness from the sun.

Maybe it was just a crush, or maybe you’re head over heels in love with him. It doesn’t matter now. All you know is that Daryl understands you like no one ever has, and you aren’t letting that go any time soon.

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

681 notes · View notes

pretty-red-garnet · 5 months

Text

Brothers

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry • Fluff

Part 2