The Walking Dead || Daryl Dixon.
────୨ৎ Pairing; Daryl Dixon x Female!reader | no mention of reader name.
Setting; no specific season or era.
Warnings; none really. Just dad Daryl being a sweetheart to his daughter and a menace to his wife.
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────୨ৎ Author’s note; inspired by the lovely user @angelwings-crossbowstrings and her post. I hope you don’t mind, I had to write a little something 🥹
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"WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA WAS IT TO BEING HER?"- I hissed through clenched teeth, my boot driving into the chest cavity of a walker with a sickening squelch. I twisted, narrowly dodging an arrow that zipped past my ear as another walker slammed into my left side.
"S'no one to watch her" Daryl muttered, his voice low and rough, eyes scanning the remaining walkers like a hawk. "I ain't letting nothin' happen to her."
"There was, you just don't trust nobody," I shot back, jamming my knife into a deadheads skull. "And tell me why I couldn't stay an' watch her?". Daryl snorted, shaking his head "cause I ain't trust nobody round you neither. Some asshole might try makin' a move."
A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. There it was, Daryl denied it every damn time, but jealousy ran through him like blood. "Daryl," I said, grinning. "I just had your baby. Ain't nobody trying to hit on me. And even if they did, you really think I'd let 'em?"
For a moment, we stood there in the store, more walkers far enough away that we could afford the pause. He knew I could handle myself. Hell, I’d proven that a hundred times over. But knowing it and accepting it were two different things.
Daryl always wanted to be there, to put himself between me and anything that might hurt me. To be my stubborn, knight in a battered leather vest.
His mouth opened, probably ready to mutter some half hearted excuse, when a sound drifted from the bundle strapped against his chest. The swaddle blending in perfectly with his shirt. A bright, bubbling giggle spilled from our daughter, soft and squeaky, the kind of laugh that sounded like pure sunshine. It burst out of her in little hiccuping peals, so full of delight it was impossible not to smile.
Daryl froze and I laughed harder and nudged his arm. "See?" I said. "Even she thinks you're ridiculous." Another giggle answered, and Daryl rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
A lone walker lurched towards us from behind. It was too tall for my knife to reach cleanly, and being a short ass suddenly felt like a serious disadvantage. Without thinking, I grabbed the axe hanging from Daryl's belt, spun on my heel and brought it down in a clean arc. The walker dropped instantly, its head splitting apart before it even hit the ground.
The second it fell, Daryl slapped a hand over our daughter's eyes. She immediately squirmed beneath his grip, cranking her neck to peek around his fingers. "Don't look at that, Bean."
I stared at him in disbelief, "Oh, so you'll drag her into this?" I threw a hand towards the small herd shuffling towards us. "But that's where you draw the line?"
I stared at him again, expecting more. But, Daryl just stood there, meeting my gaze for a second, his jaw working like he was trying to find words and gave up halfway. Instead, he looked down at our daughter. A faint smile tugging at his mouth as he brushed a hand over her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Unbelievable." I muttered under my breath.
"Nah." He smirked faintly.
"Shit," Daryl hissed, eyes flickering between the small herd and the patch of ground where we stood. "What?" I asked, knife still planted in my hand. "Outta arrows." He jerked his chin towards the bag behind us, gesturing for me to grab him more. I nodded, sprinting over towards the tactical bag we always dragged along on runs. Though, ever since Bean came along, the damn thing seemed to of doubled in size.
"Why is this bag so fucking big all of a sudden?" I grunted, digging through layer of supplies. A growl sounded nearby. I shoved aside what I think was a blanket, a bottle and what looked suspiciously like a stuffed rabbit. "Daryl," I yelled. "Where the fuck are your stupid arrows?."
"And why the fuck are there nappies and nappy cream in the weapon bag?" He glanced over his shoulder for half a second, looking genuinely confused about why it was a problem. His crossbow lay abandoned besides him while he drove his knife into a walkers skull. "S'practical, useful." He said simply.
"Useful for what? Fighting nappy rash?" Another walker lunged. Daryl yanked his blade free and buried it into the next one's temple. "Bean needs 'em."
"This is a weapons bag!" I snapped.
"S'also a Bean bag," he said, tilting his head "Found my arrows yet?"
I stared at the chaotic mess of nappies, bottles and ammo shoved into the bag. "Jesus Christ," I muttered moving more things around.
Daryl smirked, "try next to the applesauce."
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Previous short - Shower, Daryl Dixon (smut).
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