𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐 & 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒. lana del rey. leonard cohen. the cure. fleetwood mac. french existentialism. arctic monkeys. crosby, stills, nash & young. bikini kill. sabrina carpenter. surrealist prose. the beatles. billy joel. the smashing pumpkins. tír na nÓg. patti smith. beach house. dostoyevski. bob dylan. simon & garfunkel. kafka. kate bush. hermann hesse. enya. jane austen. mazzy star. ethel cain. leo tolstoi.

𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑚𝑠 & 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑤𝑠. the walking dead. norman reedus' filmography. the outsiders. gilmore girls. notting hill. 10 things i hate about you. x-men. stranger things. the office. knives out. batman. brooklyn 99. friends. watching the detectives. good will hunting. haikyuu. brokeback mountain. one piece. 27 dresses. the fountain. jjk. i'm not there. mona lisa smile. little women. the breakfast club.

It was his first time being seperated from you in months, and if he's being honest with himself, he thought he'd handle it better.

Didn't think it would be this upsetting, especially knowing you're safe behind Alexandria's walls, enjoying the comforts of civilization. Constantly thought about you — what you were doing, if you were alright, whether you missed him as bad as he did you. Barely could think straight, actually.

Nah, they'd have to work out something else in the future, he thought as he stepped into the hallway, carefully placing his crossbow in its spot on the floor. Maybe you'd just have to come too next time. His boots thumped on the wooden floor as he made his way into the living room. But before he could ponder on it for longer, his eyes fell onto you.

Oh... Something tugs at his heart, it cramps together painfully at the sight of you. Sunken into yourself, legs pulled against your chest. Tense. A pillow clutched tightly against you. You were asleep, lying on your side, messy hair spread out like a halo against the couch cushions. His eyes softened at the sight.

It was barely evening, but you had closed the curtains. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a dim golden glow across the room. You never sleep in the afternoon. Something obviously isn't right.

Daryl stepped closer instinctively, but the sudden motion must have startled you. With a small noise, you flinched, head jerking up as you took in the sight in front of you. The arm that had shot up to protect yourself limply fell back onto the cushions. You slumped back into the sofa, a tired expression on your face.

"Shh... 's only me."

You try to smile, but your lips quiver and the sight damn near breaks his heart.

He's next to you in a hearbeat. Shrugs off his leather vest in a fluid motion, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Now, he's only in his worn plaid shirt. It's dirty, sprinkled with dried walker blood in some places and mud in others, but you've never minded that. Right now, this is more important.

Daryl sits down on the sofa and engulfs you in his big arms. Instantly, you melt into his touch. A soft sound slips out of your lips, and he feels the tension in your body give away. His hand comes up behind your head to pull you closer into him, he's hugging you so tightly that everything else fades away like background noise. For his comfort or yours, he isn't even sure. Just knows that he missed you, and he's so glad to be back with you.

Something clearly happened while he was gone, but he doesn't press. You're like him in that regard, keep things locked inside, figuring them out on your own. He knows that you know he's ready to listen anytime.

Instead of questioning you, he toes off his shoes. "Hold on."

You pull away, and when your eyes meet his for a split second, he's shocked to discover that they're entirely devoid of light. There's a dull sadness shimmering below the surface. You look terribly exhausted, and Daryl curses himself for leaving in the first place.

He pulls his legs up so he's sitting sideways on the couch, leaning against the armrest. Motions for you to come lie between his thighs. And then he pulls you back against his chest, cradling your body. One hand rests on your shoulderblade, idly drawing circles into your skin. The other comes up to the small of your back, holding you snug against him.

You clutch his shirt, face buried in the skin of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like earth, cigarette smoke, sweat and something so distinctly Daryl that the hug immediately has a comforting effect on you. It feels so good to have him close again, everything else seems small in comparison. And you're still feeling tired to the bones, but he just holds you through it, chest rising and falling rhythmically beneath you. His heartbeat is steady, and it's calming you down.

Daryl presses a featherlight kiss into your hair. The tension in your shoulders melts away, and something in your heart breaks open. Quietly, a tear rolls down your cheek.

He feels it. Nudges your shoulder so you raise your head. His heart breaks at the sight of your puffy eyes... he hates seeing you sad like this. And knowing he wasn't there to prevent it.

His thumb comes up, brushing over your cheek. Daryl's voice is low, cracking slightly in the silence of the dimmed living room.

"Hey... s'fine. 'm here now, a'right? Yer okay."

You give a small nod. It's not very convincing. You sniff, and another stray tear rolls down your cheek. He leans in a bit and then, before you realize it, he's kissing the teardrop away, lips brushing just below your eye.

It feels vulnerable, such a tender gesture. He's cradling your face with both hands now, placing yet another peck on your other cheek. Then your jaw. Both eyelids, right as they flutter closed. His greasy hair tickles against your skin, and you can't help but smile. He's being extra sweet. Another one your nose...

Daryl stops just short of your lips. Your eyes have fallen closed, expecting a kiss. But he halts, and you feel his breath fanning across your jaw. Glance up at him, and he seeks your gaze. His eyes are soft, impossibly so.

When he speaks, it's a deep rumble in his chest. "I got you. Y'know that, yeah?"

And then, his lips land on yours. Gentle, it's barely more than a brush of the lips. You smile against his mouth, and his shoulders visibly relax at the sight when he pulls back to look at you.

Daryl huffs, pulling your head to rest against his chest again. "... Scared me there for a second."

"Sorry," you whisper into his shirt.

"Don't gotta be." A beat, then, hesistantly, "Ya wanna talk 'bout it?"

He's deliberately careful with his words, not wanting to put pressure on you. There's a certain anxiety in his voice that you pick up on, as if he's scared he somehow caused your sadness despite being miles away.

You shake your head, giving his waist a small squeeze. Not your fault.

"... Anythin' ya wan' me ta do?"

God, he's sweet. Looking at you so attentively. You know he's ready to get into a fight with anyone who might've made you like this.

You look up at him, giving him a small, tired smile. "Just... hold me a little longer, please?"

Daryl's jaw tightens. Fuck, he really wishes he could do more. Shoot an arrow through whatever inconvenience had the audacity to make you feel like this, but it seems more complicated than that.

He knows you'll tell him about it eventually, when you're ready. Right now, you just need him to be there for you. And he won't let you ask him twice. So he just nods and gives you another kiss. You sink into him, and his heart warms at the sight.

"Always."

That's why he stops torturing himself by staying away at all cost. He’s still not talking, though. Wouldn’t ever consider telling you about his suffering either — no, nothing could be further from his mind. Good thing he isn’t a big talker naturally, so it goes by unnoticed, or so he hopes.

Daryl follows you around, now. Not in a creepy way! He just figures if he can't stay away anyway, he might as well devote his time to protecting you if necessary. Though it is questionable whether you really needed an escort on the way to the pantry and back.

Plus — his newest hope is that maybe exposure will make that weird feeling go away. If he spends time with you constantly, he might become immune, right? He ain’t a doctor or anything like that, but he’s pretty sure that’s how it works.

… It’s not how it works. At least judging by his personal experience. Daryl still can’t control his pulse, nor stop his palms from getting sweaty, and that’s not even mentioning the painful pang of jealousy shooting through his heart whenever you’re laughing at something someone else said. Stupid Glenn or whatever. Like, the guy had a wife, why did he have to get all close with you on top of it? Daryl almost never made you laugh. Not that he’s been trying. Collecting your smiles, yeah, but he doesn't possess the arrogance it would take to want to be the reason for it.

He’s content just watching you from afar. Or from close by. Anything as long as it involves you, really.

But yeah, he still gets jealous. And he honestly hates himself for feeling that way.

It’s so not an appropriate reaction, and it hurts, and he doesn’t ever want to make you uncomfortable. He literally has no right to feel like that when he hasn’t even talked to you in a week!

So he buries the hot anger and insecurity coiling deep in his gut. Tries really hard to forget all about it. But he doesn’t know how, and it’s infuriating. Daryl hasn’t ever been ina situation like this before. He has no idea how to stop the spiraling thoughts or the daydreams. Not that he minds the daydreams in particular— No, fuck, scratch that, he’d be happy if he at least managed to actually want to put an end to it.

Because no matter what he tells himself, he doesn’t really want it to stop. Doesn’t really want to ban you from his mind… It’s such a lonely place without you.

Tries to convince himself that alright, if that’s what it takes, he’ll just keep it this way. Indulge in fantasies as long as it keeps him satisfied, keeps him from making hopeful thinking a reality.

Only, well, he’s not satisfied. Nothing can cure him from this strange new hunger gnawing at his flesh, leaving him starving even worse than a couple of days without food.

In fact, it’s even become easier to get by without supplies for a while, because, yeah, you’re constantly on his mind. It’s a nice distraction. Yet another reason to jusitify indulging in daydreaming, he tells himself. It keeps him alive!

… Daryl probably wouldn’t be able to stop even if it was killing him. Everything is connected to you. That flower at the roadside? You would love the color. Shame that he can’t pick it to show you later, ‘cause you’d get all sad about it being dead and torn out of its home next to the grass. That tree over there? Would make a good place to watch out for walkers from above. He could climb it. Woud you climb it if you were here? Are you okay with heights? Which way up would you choose, this branch or the one next to it? Like — it doesn’t even make sense anymore at this point. Not everything is correlated to you!

It’s just that, ugh… To him it is.

He can’t escape it.

The longer he thinks about it he begins to believe that you’re the only way out of this infuriating infatuation, too. If only you’d tell him off, he might act on it. Yeah, if it was your voice crushing his hopes instead of his conscience that might actually have an effect!

If only you knew about it. Daryl wishes you did, you’d have to for this scenario, but then again, he wishes you didn’t because he doesn’t want to lose you. Fuck, he doesn’t even have you and he still fears losing you.

Damn it, put him out of his misery already!

Only problem? He’s not ever gonna tell you. He’d rather take on a horde of walkers instead of making the first step.

Which, yeah, that’s really fucking stupid. No way you’re going to find out on your own, right? Also, he probably wouldn't be able to survive long inmidst a whole horde. And if he was dead he’d be losing you for sure.

This is all so stupid. It honestly has him considering if he should make you angry at him on purpose.

But… man, that isn’t working either.

Because you did not bat an eye when he just — stopped speaking to you. Nor did you look affected in any way when he began following you around like some lost puppy. You’re so — so fucking calm about this while he is panicking inside during any interaction and for the rest of the day, reliving it in his head.

No matter how offputting he tries to be on purpose by giving in to his whims and acting like a lovesick creep… you don’t seem weirded out at all! Yesterday he brought you a skinned squirrel, just laid it down in front of your cot while you were sleeping and… Fuck. He was so sure that was the final strike but instead, he just woke up to the scent of cooked meat and you preparing breakfast for the group all cheerfully.

Daryl felt defeated, yeah, mostly because he couldn’t help that wave of giddiness that washes over him, almost drowning his heart. But then again, there was another smile for his collection.

He rubbed his eyes groggily, still dumbstruck by the fact that you had just... accepted his little offering. Blinked once to make sure this was real, and then your eyes met his over the camp. He swore he could see them softening right then. But of course, something else caught your attention right at this moment and he was left alone with the nagging thoughts again.

You knew, right? That it was him? The chance that anyone else would have given you that squirrel is very low. Plus, even though it was skinned already — he’s a gentleman, you see, no need for you to get your hands bloody — there was still a hole visible where he had impaled the animal on his arrow.

It’s then that Daryl realizes, begrudgingly, that he wants you to know. It felt good having his action acknowledged, overwhelmingly so.

And when he watched you gently handing a plate to Maggie, eyes flickering over to him yet again for just a second, he can’t help but wonder if you’ve known about his little crush this whole time.

… 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑.

But then, there was you.

You came into his life so suddenly, so unprompted and without reason that he didn’t even pay any attention at first. Too dazed and caught up in his self pity to realize that this was different. That maybe, there was something for him in this life after all, something good that wasn’t drugs or riding.

And he wouldn’t have, that he knows, if it hadn’t been for you showing him. Forcing him to see what this could become, almost violently, with a power he didn’t think you possessed. Not that gentle soul, way too innocent to even get caught up in those circles you navigated with ease. A ray of light inmidst fistfights and black eyes.

Too caught off guard, Daryl didn’t even get a chance to fight it. To grab something to hold onto to stop him from falling, hard. He was slipping, hands reaching out desperately, but they caught nothing. Then — your hand.

Again, he only blinked in disbelief, because he hadn’t fallen into the dark abyss he feared, but it didn’t make a difference. He was still down bad, and that in spite of standing in the same place. Holding your hand, too.

You just had this way about you, he began to learn as time passed. This way of taking all his fears away somehow. It was… strange, really. He didn’t think there were people like you. Didn’t think that there was anyone capable of making him feel like this, either.

… Happy. Yeah, that’s what it was. And you were the reason for it. Huh.

With you by his side, it was like nothing could stop him. Not even the apocalypse. No, quite the opposite, it was like with the dead walking, he finally had something to offer to you in return. Protection, his survival skills earned with scars and sweat. Not that you had ever complained about what he gave you. Being beneath you was only something he worried about, never you; for in Daryl Dixon’s arms, you were right where you wanted to be.

Yeah, this was good. This was a type of love neither of you ever expected to experience. It was breathtaking in the best way, that one where you didn’t even feel you needed air to live if you had his kisses instead.

Daryl was content with the way things were, more than that.

Yet, that day at the prison, everything changed and you managed to surprise him once again.

Pregnant. You were pregnant. He wasn’t sure he heard you right at first. But surely, that was what you had said. Repeated it when he stayed silent, at a loss for words.

A million thoughts raced trough his head at once.

Ah, so that’s why you were acting so strange the last couple of days. It explained a lot. For a minute there, you had him worried. Thought you’d led him here to that secret spot behind the cellblock for something else. If he didn’t know any better, and if it wasn’t for the years of whispered promises and forevers, he’d think you were going to break up with him.

He felt glad at first, but the relief was immediately overshadowed with reality catching up. You were going to have a baby. He couldn’t believe it.

Lori was still fresh on his mind. The way they had taken care of her, done everything in their power to keep her healthy all winter, under the worst possible circumstances. The way Rick had looked at her, the way they had been prepared as best as possible, with prenatal vitamins and Hershel and — and the way it hadn’t made any difference. How this was still the end of the world, and they had dug another grave that day.

Daryl stared at you. Into your eyes, pictures and memories of that time flashing trough his head. But you brought him back to the present, without even saying anything. No, it was that hesistance shimmering behind the colors in your iris. That… holding back. You looked insecure in a way he hadn’t ever seen on you before. And it hurt, god, it hurt, because it made him realize that you had been cautious on purpose. Scared of his reaction, possibly.

He couldn’t take it. You had every right to be, you knew him, and that’s why you brought him here, to a place away from everything else. Why you had waited until this very moment to tell him.

Daryl knew you were right, but suddenly he felt the strong wish you had told him as soon as you had found out yourself. Because with one glance into your eyes, your own worries were laid bare. And he hadn’t spent all those years living beside you to fail to understand that you where thinking about Lori, too.

So, without saying a word, he pulled you into his arms. Something broke, the tension, and finally, you sobbed, face buried in his shirt. And Daryl? He just tightened his grip around you, one hand coming up to hold your head, as if trying to shield you from the whole outside world. He was shaking. There you were, just beside the fences where walkers snarled and it reeked of decay, desperately holding onto each other, hoping it would keep you from being pulled down into the abyss after all, rotten hands clawing at your feet, but you stood upright, steadied by each other’s presence.

It did.

It really did. Time continued to go by as if nothing had changed at all. And yet, between you, something had shifted.

Nobody knew at first. There was still the thought of an abortion looming in the air, it was just too early to tell them. Neither of you had made up their mind.

Yeah, you thought of Lori… but then again, there was also that image of Daryl, eyes glowing as he held baby Judith for the first time. And Daryl remembered the way it had felt, her tiny fingers wrapping around his, and he just couldn’t help that warm sensation blooming in his heart.

Ultimately, he wanted you to decide. It was your body, after all, even though the risk would be lasting heavily on his shoulders, as well.

Daryl knew you had wanted children before the outbreak. It made sense, you were that kind of person. It would suit you perfectly, any kid would be lucky to be raised by you.

And yeah… he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about it himself back then. Of course, it was mere fleeting thoughts, what-ifs, nothing more. The memory of his dad still too present; those scars on his back began to burn whenever he thought about it for too long.

He was terrified of being a father. Before you, it had never been part of the equation. Hell, there was no fucking equation, he was alone and convinced it would stay that way.

But then again… after only one month of knowing you, Daryl was sure that he could never deny you anything. That conviction only settled with every single one that followed.

And it was still the same, even now that the world had gone to shit. He realized it only a few days after you had told him. Spoke to you about it. And his eyes softened when you confessed that you just… just couldn’t bear to lose another person. If it had been someone else, he’d have had half a heart to remind them that there was no person. Just a clump of cells, a mistake if you would. A moment of thoughtlessness.

But he would have been lying. Because right there in your stomach, something was growing. Not a person… more than that. A whole damn future.

So he told you that instead.

Still, nothing had been officially decided. It just… became a point of understanding between you that you would have it. And the pair of you remained convinced of that, even when the prison fell and with it, the idea of a life as the group had previously entertained it.

It didn’t matter, because your and Daryl’s future was right there inside of you.

With how protective he became, it wasn’t long until the others found out. He’d been possessive before, glued to your side to take out every walker that dared take a step towards you. If that hadn’t been bad, it was most definitely worse now. There was this almost manic glint in his eyes, burning like fire. You were to only one capable of bringing him back, calming him down a bit in his paranoia.

All in all, you knew Daryl well enough to understand that he was very much in his right mind, even though his actions may have proven otherwise. He was just focused. Dead focused on keeping not only you, but the baby alive as well. No time to even think about whether this was the right decision after all.

Which was a good thing, because you knew about his fears. About his own childhood and the way he had looked at Carl after the boy had lost his mother.

It was all good. He was right to become your protector like that, it wasn't excessive, no exaggeration in the world you were living in. With the way you had morning sickness now from time to time or how you got weak if you went without food for too long. It almost never happened, though: Daryl was there after all, and he always managed to get you more than enough. You almost had to force him to take his half of the squirrel, because you truly couldn’t eat another bite and he needed the energy just as much as you.

“But you’re the one eatin’ fer two.”

“And you’re the one providing for three!”

That shut him up alright, though he grumbled something along the lines of you doing just as much as him.

In a way, keeping you and that child alive was a way to cope for Daryl. He had something to do — it mattered. The world may be crumbling all around you, but something pure and healing was growing inside of you, and it was a little bit because of him, too. There was more to reality than death, rotting and decay.

It felt good to know that. And sometimes, he allowed himself to dream for just a minute, of the future. He wasn’t in those daydreams, mostly. It was only… you. You and your daughter, or son. He liked both ideas equally. How you would hold them in your arms, coo at them and that cute giggle he was sure you’d make. He wondered if it would do those too, crawling just like Judith was learning to right now.

It kept him going. That, and the way you kissed him thanks everytime he killed a walker before it could get to you. The way you squealed when the baby kicked for the first time, and how you immediately led his hand to your stomach to show him. The way he had something to protect, and you let him.

Even though you both know that you could have gotten that walker easily.

It did keep him going, yeah. Daryl wouldn’t have minded continuing on like this, even though ultimately, he knew it wouldn’t work out. On the run constantly, without home and safety. He didn’t want you to give birth right there on the roadside. Good thing that there were still some months to go.

Still… it was a harsh blow having this taken from him.

Alexandria. He should have been filled with relief at the sight of the gates, the houses, the steady roads and well-kept front yards.

Still. To Daryl, it was a painful confrontation.

With white picket fences and a life he never got to live.

Alexandria is, yeah, pretty safe. It’s what they always wanted to find, what Rick dreamed of and Hershel was so sure they would build someday. It’s good, real good.

He should be happy about it. Hell, he is. Or at least, he felt immense relief the day they stepped behind those walls. And yet… it’s not the whole truth.

Daryl feels terribly guilty about it, but a big part of him wishes Aaron had never led them to the safe zone.

It’s stupid, really. The town is perfect, actually. There’s enough food to last years, and guns, even though most of the people here don’t even know how to use them.

Canned spaghetti and what, chocolate chip cookies? Wine… you’re not drinking any, of course, but that’s only a small part of the generous buffet laid out at this pretentious welcoming party.

Now, Daryl doesn’t mind cookies. Not like he loves eating raw meat, anyway. But… you hadn't even looked at the squirrels he brought back from outside, yesterday.

And that’s what gets him. It doesn’t even make sense, but… Well, obviously, Alexandria takes better care of you than he ever could. He hates himself for even thinking that, but it’s frustrating.

It’s like… all these past months he has lived for you. To protect, to hunt, to provide — that had been his first goal everyday, hell, that was his expectation of the future. And he was really good at it, too. It wasn’t easy, no. But he made it work. Brought back enough food to keep up your health. Even managed to scavenge a fucking jar of pickles once, when you craved them, from some cabin in the woods cupboard. Always gave you half of his portion, even though you insisted he should finish it. It was alright. He knew his limits. ‘Cause there was really only one — you, keeping you alive. He’d starve if that meant you would live, but he was also aware of the fact that you kinda needed him right now and forever, so death wasn’t an option.

Of course not. You were too damn good a team.

Daryl noticed how it got more difficult right before they met Aaron. How quiet you got suddenly… Jaw clenched tight, he saw that the situation was hard on you. It physically hurt him to see you like this. Dragging yourself along the road, determined but exhausted. The morning sickness had really set in now, too, and you got dizzy more often.

He did everything he could to lift your spirits, despite the worry gnawing at his heart. Walked next to you, one arm slung around your waist, supporting your body. Gave you piggy back rides even though you protested, and that got a smile out of you. But he felt it fall against his shoulder, felt the effort it took you to hold on.

You were fine now.

Daryl knew that, though his heart hadn’t fully caught on yet. His instinct was still to hover around you, ready to save you if something happened — but nothing happened. This wasn’t the dark woods with snarling corpses all around, this was Deanna’s house.

This was a party, even though his flight instinct could have fooled him.

Nevertheless, he was watching. Observing, from the corner, making sure you really were as fine as your glowing eyes and the laughing suggested. Surrounded by a couple of Alexandria women, happily chatting away.

You looked pretty. As always. Stunning, as if you were made for cocktail dresses and social gatherings. Everything suited you.

Daryl felt uncomfortable. Like… he didn’t belong here, in his muddy boots and the scruffy leather jacket. Frustrated, he took a sip of his beer. The only good thing at this party, except for your smiles.

“You’re staring again.”

His eyes shot up. Hadn’t even seen Carol approach, too caught up in his own thoughts.

Carol. She, too, seemed to fit right in. Hell, it was her who brought the damn cookies. Strange, truly. It was like everyone had become a different person overnight.

Slowly, his gaze drifted to you again. He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Carol probably saw right into his head, anyway. And there really wasn’t any denying just what — who — he spent this whole evening looking at, either.

He felt the sofa dip as she sat down next to him. “Having fun, pookie?”

A huff. Very funny. He probably radiated frustration. Would hope the Alexandrians knew you were together, otherwise this would look kinda creepy. Woud, if he cared about impressions.

He felt Carol’s eyes on him, didn’t like it. How she assessed him with one glance, always looking right through him. If it was anyone else, he would’ve felt uncomfortable.

“… She is.”

Daryl turned away from you across the room then, instead focusing on the woman next to him. “S’pose.”

And then Carol tilted her head, in that way that always made him yield and drop the act.

His voice was gruff, barely above a grumble. “Ain’t blamin’ her. Got all these new friends ‘n shit.”

“You jealous?” Her eyes bore right into his, so he looked at his knees instead, picking at a loose thread in his jeans.

“Nah.” It was the truth. Why would he be, when he knew you were happy? You deserved to have some fun. Last weeks had been exhausting for everbody, but they were straight up hell for you.

“But you miss her.”

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. Contemplating. Did he? You were right over there, after all. “Ain’t missin’ anyone. Just… making sure she’s alrigh’.”

“Why don’t you go over and ask her?”

He looked up, then. Shot Carol a meaningful look. “… She’s busy.”

Carol just chuckled, and right now, he didn’t like that sound. It was like she knew something about him he didn’t. “Oh, Daryl… I’m sure she’ll make time for you.”

He scoffed. “Don’t need ‘er ta.”

She raised a brow. “Why haven’t you spoken to her all evening?”

A shrug. He was looking at the floor again.

“Well even if you don’t miss her, I’m sure she misses you. You were glued together for months. Didn’t leave her side. She must feel lonely, now.”

Daryl jerked his head into your direction, “That don’t look lonely to me.”

You were still smiling, sitting there with a glass of cranberry juice in your hands, nodding and smiling at something one of the ladies said.

“Pookie… You really want to believe that, don’t you?” Carol shook her head, a sympathetic glint in her eyes.

His head snapped back, frowing at her. “Ain’t just making that shit up. She’s happy, she deserves a break from everythin’ else.”

A pause. “You mean from you?”

That silenced him for a moment. He meant… the world out there. Not himself in particular, but now that he thought about it… Yeah, sure.

“Maybe, I dunno.” He averted his eyes, didn’t want to face her now. Too vulnerable.

Carol’s voice grew more quiet, then, gentle. She leaned in a bit, forcing him to look at her. “Daryl, she’s gonna have a baby.”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah, I know.” As if he didn’t think about that constantly. He was scared shitless, even more so now that his coping mechanism — keeping you alive out there — was taken from him. No routes, scavenging, plans to take his mind off of things. No, he was just… thinking. Imagining the future.

He was really excited to hold it in his arms. Maybe it’d be like Judith. So small… Tiny enough to lay stretched out on only his forearm, reaching from elbow to palm. And he’d cradle it, he’d never want to let go. Cause it would be his, not someone else’s.

Though secretly, he hopes it’ll be just like you. With that glowing smile he loves… Nothing like him, hopefully. What he likes even more is imagining you holding it. He can see it clearly… And as soon as that day comes, he might just look away lest his heart explode.

… If that day comes.

Lori never got to hold Judith in her arms.

If he never got to hold you again, he isn’t sure the baby could make up for that. He already loves it more than anything else, but if he lost you… Daryl isn’t sure he could do that to the child. Maybe he’d have to ask someone else to raise it, then. Because seeing you in the baby everday… It would be so painful. His heart is already breaking just imagining it. He’s not sure he could bear it… And he wouldn’t have the kid suffer from that. No… he’s probably not gonna be a very good father anyway. If he didn’t have you to help him, he’d fail for sure.

“Daryl.” Carol’s voice pulls him out of the darkness his thought were spiraling into with a rapid pace. She’s gripping his shoulders, looking into his eyes. Smiling, genuinely, not fake like she did when greeting Deanna earlier. “You two are gonna have a baby. That’s a good thing!”

He suddenly feels tears burning behind his eyes, but he blinks them away, confused at his own reaction. His voice cracks slightly as he speaks. “Wasn’t a good thing for Lori…”

Carol’s eyes soften. “It’s not gonna be like that.”

He exhales. “How d’you know that?”

She pats his shoulders comfortingly, then pulls back. Motions to one of the women surrounding you. “See that lady? Green dress.”

He grunts, “Yeah.”

“Well,” She glances at him from the side, triumpanthly. “She’s a midwife.”

“A midwife.” Daryl’s speechless. He knew that there was a doctor, surgeon or something, but that guy seemed a little off somehow. Father of two boys, and still so… cold.

“You know what that is?”

He shook his head, voice low. “Yeah… ‘Course I do. Just didn’t…” He trails off.

Carol smiles knowingly. There’s a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “Well, what did you think they were talking about?”

Daryl just shrugs, but for the first time in months, he feels confident. Or at least — not as scared. Like maybe, he likes Alexandria way better than he thought he did.

He sinks back into the cushions, shoulder bumping against Carol’s. The beer can rests on his knee, long forgotten. Instead, his eyes find you over the crowd again. Their favorite place to rest.

Warmth floods his heart, as he watches how animatedly you talk to that woman in the green dress. About what, he isn’t sure. Doesn’t matter, though.

You’re happy. That’s all he cares about.

“It’s gonna be different, Daryl. It is.”

The get together stretches way into the night, becoming, well… A full blown party, actually. There’s liquor being poured, music, dancing even. Maggie and Rosita seem to be having the time of their life, dragging other people onto the “dance floor” which is actually just the middle of the living room, now empty since Abraham has pushed the furniture to the side.

He doesn’t care for parties, never did, though this is unlike any he’s ever been at. A grown-up party, one could say. For rich people. Very different from the ones Merle used to drag him to when he was younger. There was beer at those too, just, well, it wasn’t as popular as other drugs being offered.

Today, Daryl has only had one beer and a few cookies, but he feels intoxicated anyway. Gets like that just from looking at you. You’re not dancing, maybe because you’re not drunk, you only had juice the whole time. Instead, you’ve been talking to Tara for a while now. Standing a bit on the side, apart from the others.

He feels relieved somehow, knowing you’re not completely been claimed by those Alexandria women. It’s — incredibly reassuring to know there’s a midwife in their midst, but still, he’s glad to see that you’re still with your old friends, too. Makes him feel confident he’ll be able to drag you away, soon.

He loves seeing you happy, but you should get some sleep! Rest, for both your and the baby’s sake. And yeah, okay — maybe for his, too, cause he’d rather have you curled up against his side in bed right now than spend his time here with all the other people.

Daryl’s been quietly waiting until what he thinks is an okay time to ask you to leave. But to his surprise, you make your way over to his corner a good half hour before that.

As soon as he realizes you’re walking towards him, his legs begin to move. He doesn’t even think about it, just makes his way through the crowd and meets you halfway.

Wordlessly, right in the middle of the dimmed, noisy room, he slings his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. You bury your face in his shirt, simply breathe for a moment. He physically feels the tension in your shoulders melt away. Just holds you like that for a while, grounding, until you pull away slightly.

And finally, he sees you smile again. For the hundredth time this night, and still, it has his heart beating out of his chest just like the first time all those years ago.

Your voice is soft, and you lean up to whisper into his ear so he hears it inmidst the loud thumping of the music. “Take me home?”

Home. Warmth floods his heart at the word, the word you use to refer to the house you’ve been assigned. He didn’t believe he’d ever think of Alexandria as a home.

He was a fool. A complete and utter idiot.

Lacing his fingers through yours, he nods. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he starts walking, pulling you through the crowd. There’s people left and right saying goodnight, see you tomorrow, so nice getting to know you, and you wave at every one of them, kindly return their greetings, but he just keeps on walking until the door finally falls shut behind the two of you.

The sky is dark, the calm, cool breeze a stark contrast to the stuffy air inside. And it’s so, so quiet.

You exhale. Step a little closer so you’re leaning into his side, then. “Way better, huh?”

Daryl nods. Yes, infinitely better. Having you close again, and the noise far away. This is how he likes it best, and suddenly the thought occurs to him that even if it weren’t for Alexandria, he’d be fine if you were standing next to him like this.

His arm comes up and slides around your waist. You take his free hand and lead it to your stomach, so it’s resting right against the faint bump.

Quietly, “I think it’s gonna be a girl.”

His eyes, formerly mesmerized by the sight of his fingers splayed across your tummy, come up to meet yours. “Why?”

You smile. “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

His eyes soften. “Mhm. I’d like that.” He rubs gentle circles across your skin, so careful, so terribly tender your heart warms.

“Let’s get going?”

He hums, hand coming up to take yours again like it’s second nature. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The town is quiet, only your footsteps echoing through the empty streets. It still feels safe. And Daryl lets his guard down for the first time in a long time. Relishing solely in the feeling of your skin against his, and the way you hold his hand tightly like you don’t want to let go.

“She kicked again today.“ Your soft voice breaks the silence.

Daryl looks so excited, it’s really cute. Who would have thought the tough hunter could get so excited about small things! Except for you, of course. You’ve known him for years, and seen him giddy about many silly things.

“You hurtin’?” His brows furrow as he looks at you, squeezing your hand.

You giggle like it’s cute that he’s worried. “Aww… no. It’s not painful kicking, more like… I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. Julie told me that’s a good sign. Babies get excited about stuff that happens in the outside world, as well… She must’ve liked the cranberry juice!”

Daryl nods, listening attentively. As if filing away all that information for later and like he’s already plotting to bring you bottles full of that juice for breakfast tomorrow. Even if it’s not something he’ll find outside, hunting.

“She that midwife in the green dress?”

You look up, surprised. “You heard?”

He shrugs. Bites the inside of his cheek, footsteps heavy on the gravel. “Carol told me.”

And then, a big smile stretches across your face. “Isn’t that totally amazing? I was so glad they had a surgeon, but now a midwife, too! Alexandria is really the best thing that could’ve happened to us.”

“’m glad too.” Daryl’s eyes soften as he looks at you. And for the first time in the couple of days you’ve been here, he feels like it’s true.

Like you’re right.

Like Alexandria is really the best fucking thing that’s happened to you in a long while.

And like there’s gonna be a future.

Daryl hasn’t quite adjusted to everything, no. Not to the sheltered people who haven’t seen the horros of the new world. Not to the fact that spaghetti is something he can have everyday now. Not to the squeaking door leading to the porch that he still has troubles opening, while you figured it out on first try.

But you just laugh when he fumbles with the lock, before motioning for him to step aside and demonstrating the trick with the handle again.

That... that's what makes him so confident that things are gonna work out, Daryl thinks as you playfully bow in a gentleman like manner to lead him inside. He scoffs and shakes his head at your antics, but he knows you saw that small smile on his lips.

You, not the fact that there's a midwife. Or a surgeon. Or cranberry juice and chocolate chip cookies. Just... you. The way you believe not only that everything's gonna be alright, but how you believe in him, too.

Like he isn't useless all of a sudden, now that you're not fighting for your life anymore.

Like it doesn't matter that you've got everything you need to survive right here— Or, better even, like you never stayed with him for the mere sake of survival at all.

He knew that, of course he did. And still! His heart is overflowing when you pull him inside and close the door behind you. When you flick on the switch and the hallway is illuminated, and it's all clean and he places his boots next to your shoes on the floor.

When you shimmy out of your dress in front of the bedroom dresser, putting on one of his tattered sleeveless shirt instead. He tells you you looked beautiful tonight, you smile and say this is way more comfy. He raises a brow at that, cause he doesn't even know why he still carries that thing around in his bag at all. It’s torn on the side and there's holes in it, but you insist that it reminds you of the time at the quarry. Back when he was still a grump with a temper and poorly concealed, overwhelming devotion to you, and you were just as perfect as now.

He tells you that you look beautiful in that, too, that you always do, be it in a fancy dress or in his old shirt that's just scraps at this point. Crosses the room in two strides and kisses you, all while realizing with amazement how far you've come. That his past self, when he first met you all this time ago would've never thought he'd ever get to taste your lips, and that he'd probably have ran if he knew that he was gonna get you pregnant someday.

... And that he'd have come back the next day, a little sheepish but ultimately surrendering to the sheer happiness that idea brought to him. Apparently, he wasn’t all that different now, Daryl thinks as he lies down next to you, pulling the covers up and making sure you're tucked in well and warm as you shut the lights.

He's still a little scared. But maybe... maybe that's a good thing. He bets his father wasn't all that worried about becoming a good dad. If he was, he would've had to be so disappointed in himself that he might've been motivated to change up his way of parenting.

Daryl is anxious to do better than that.

Staring at the dark ceiling, the fear is just beginning to set in — but then you move. Let out a sleepy sound, mumbling something incoherent before you turn around and snuggle into his side, one arm splayed over his waist. His breath hitches, heart beating before he carefully, so as not to wake you, reaches out to slide his own arm around your shoulder, one hand behind your head to pull you even closer, resting comfortably against his chest.

You begin to snore softly, and he smiles into your hair. All worries forgotten in an instant... Because you're here, and he's not gonna lose you. And what can go wrong if he's got you right by his side?

Gently, his other hand comes up between your bodies... Resting on your stomach. Maybe she'll kick again tonight, he tells himself and tries to keep his excitement at bay. He'd like to feel it.

Really, he's just looking forward to the day he gets to meet her in person. To holding her, and seeing you cradle her in your arms. It's that simple. It's gonna be the happiest day of his life — if it weren't for every other equally blissful day he's got to spend with both you and her.

He won't mind if he doesn't feel her kick, Daryl thinks as he drifts into slumber. His hand stays right in place, though. No... He just wants the baby to know that he'll be there, and he's not ever gonna leave.

Daryl blinks once, trying hard to forget about the visual of your swollen lips he’s blessed with everytime he pulls back. She just kissed you this morning, man. He really shouldn’t be this desperate for another, it’s barely been two hours. Daryl groans on the inside when he realizes that the reminder doesn’t help at all. Because now he’s reliving the way you looked in the tent, the tired smile you manage to wear right after waking up… How sweetly you pecked his lips, his eyes fluttering open just in time to witness the sheer beauty of you, unwound. He’d been awake for a while, actually. But, well, you kinda ruined mornings for him — he used to get up early and spend his time hunting or something. Now, he refuses to leave the tent before you’ve woken up to give him a good morning kiss.

Fuck… this really is bad. It’s not like he should have to depend on that one, like, there’s also the little inbetween kisses whenever he does something sweet for you… The goodbye ones whenever you’re apart for anything above ten minutes… Those heated ones whenever you pull him away from the group for a moment, to “catch a breath” when in reality you’re doing the exact opposite… Short ones just because and, of course, the goodnight kiss. God, he loves the goodnight kiss.

Maybe a little too much, actually. Daryl is trying hard not to dwell on all of this too much, but he just can’t help it. Michonne has chimed up, there’s evidently some important decisions being made, but he just doesn’t have it in himself to care. All those different types of kisses, and yet, he wouldn’t be picky if only you were to cross the distance between you right now and — give him one. Any would do. Daryl likes them all equally, but he needs one or he’ll honestly go insane. It’s like, he’s lived years and years without them and now, in a matter of weeks, you’ve got him addicted. Though he probably was done for the second he first felt your lips on his forehead that first time, back when it was still a "platonic" relationship, as if he hadn't planned out his whole future centered around you already. It’s maddening. Like, somehow he’s lost all sense of proportion. Doesn’t really care about anything but you anymore, or maybe he just loves you so much that everything else is overshadowed. Even such important things as survival. Or less important ones, like what people think of him.

Generally, he hasn’t even changed that much on the outside. He still is the reliable, rugged hunter the group got to know, just a tad distracted, maybe. Or so he hopes. Realistically, he comes off as, well, very distracted. Uncharacteristically so. Like he said — he wants, needs to kiss you so badly that he looks downright stupid. With that lovesick expression on his face, soft eyes and all that crap. You’ve put a spell on him, he’s bewitched! But he’d never ask you to lift it. If that’s even possible. No, he’s enjoying himself far too much. Whenever he does get to shove his tongue down your throat, that is. He’s in heaven, just like that. It’s absolute bliss and not only due to the contrast between fighting for his life and kissing you. It would be bliss even if he’d been the happiest man alive before, as well. That doesn’t matter though, ‘cause he is, right here, right now, in your arms. Happier than ever and happier than he thought possible.

Daryl has long accepted his fate, without struggling at all. Yeah, he may look dumb staring at you and your lips all day, but that’s pretty much his default state now. You see — if only thinking about making out gets him like this already, nobody would seriously expect it to be any better when he’s kissing you, right? It’s worse, actually. His jaw goes slack the second you lean in, arms hanging down his sides uselessly every fucking time because he just can’t believe his luck, even after all these months. It takes a moment, but then he’s arrived mentally. All yours and eager to please, savoring each kiss like it’s the last. Partly because it could be, yes. But mostly because he just can’t help it. Okay, so what if he looks stupid. It’s endearing! In your book, that’s called being in love.

And in love, that he is. Desperately so, and he’s not used to it in the slightest. He’s overwhelmed, in a good way, and it shows. You never mind, not for one second. Instead, you just throw your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, pulling him closer in a way that makes him forget people might be watching and seeing him fall apart by just your kisses. Or that’s the effect you would have, if, well… If in Daryl’s eyes, you wouldn’t be the whole world already.

𝐼'𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡𝑠! 𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 & 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 🤍 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

It took a while, took countless walkers, gunshots and arrows and flesh being ripped apart, but at some point into this new reality, Daryl’s own world shattered as well. His view of himself drastically evolved, and consequently, he saw the whole universe in a different light.

Somewhere along the way, surviving on pure grit had turned into holding onto life for a cause. Maybe it wasn’t the world that had changed, but he himself. It would certainly explain why people acted so different around him all of a sudden… He couldn’t believe it at first, but they actually looked up to him. Being used to either insults or pure avoidance, it baffled him when it began. All these people who had been something — counting on his protection.

Had it started before or after he changed? Impossible to say. Only thing that matters, it’s true.

Daryl just couldn’t get used to it. Still isn’t.

Truly, it doesn't matter much. Not when the only opinion he cares about is yours, anyway.

Come to think about it, he’s pretty sure you’re the reason he became a different person. Better? Maybe. He wants to be the absolute best man he can, for you deserve much more than simply Daryl Dixon. Even if he can't be what you deserve, he’ll make sure to come as close to it as possible.

If someone asked you, you’d deny that he changed at all. Insist that he simply began to see who he really was as of lately. That he’s always been this good, just didn't know it.

He’s sure that’s not true, because y’know, he was there. What he can't deny though, is that you have always looked at him like he was worth something.

God… that’s only one of the reasons he loves you. That you really believe in what you say about him. Daryl knows you do, ‘cause he’s tried to change your mind — show you the truth — more than once. Gave up on it, eventually. You made him, with sheer force of will.

This is the happiest he has been in all his life. This meaning right here, right now, in love with you.

Yet, it’s also the cause of all his dread and misery. Because Daryl is absolutely terrified of losing you.

Everyone has that fear about someone, sure. Or they have lost them already. But, you see, it’s different for Daryl. Because he has never had anyone like this. No one who held such an incredible power over him that they could make him — do anything.

He loves you overwhelmingly, and in that same breathtaking way, he fears losing you.

Can’t seem to forget about the danger lurking behind every corner even for a second, not like the others do. It’s constantly on his mind. He won’t let himself take a break of it.

To cope, he just tells himself that he’ll do anything to protect you, then. He takes that vow very seriously. It’s what keeps him from losing his mind, a cause, being devoted to your protection.

Doesn’t leave your side, ever. Even when you’re going into the woods for a moment to yourself. He will give you a little bit of privacy, turn his back maybe, all gentleman like, but it’s really almost nothing. Not a high price to pay compared with your death, he finds. And it’s convincing.

You think it’s charming, actually. He’s right to act this way, even if to some people, it might seem a little obsessive. Daryl is not very vocal about his love for you. He’s never been that way. Instead, he proves it with actions. And that’s how you know his devotion to you runs deeper than simple affection. You’re his person. It just is that way. He realized slowly, but the more he felt that it was you, it was always gonna be you, he acted like it, even if he couldn’t put a name on it yet. It started with small things, but grew bigger and bigger until eventually, he understood, and by that point it had taken over his whole life: his love for you.

The world has become a dangerous place. You both know that. There are no excessive, sappy declarations of adoration because you're both aware of what you’re getting into. And really, facing a horde isn’t all that different than hiding behind fences, because there could be a walker sneaking up on you anytime. Nowhere is safe. Except... right there, in his arms.

Daryl can’t handle being confronted with the thought of losing you, because it’s something he constantly has on his mind already. Not really in words. There’s no constant lingering thought like “Oh no, I might lose her.” Instead, it’s constantly present in his actions toward you. The incredibly aware way he lives, always on the lookout for danger. How he takes care of you… The way in which he loves you proves that it would destroy him if you were taken away.

He’s devoted to you, and only you. He protects a lot of people, sure. Cares about many, some in a special way, like Carol. But she is like him… she doesn’t need him to be there at all times, even though for her, he would. He watches out for her, yeah. Just like she does him. He loves her, too. But you, he loves in a different way.

In his mind, the ideal would be to melt into you and fuse into one person. That would make everything easier. Actually, he already sees the two of you as one. Of course, it’s out of the question whether you can fend for yourself. However, protecting you isn't something he has to think about, it’s more of an instinct at this point, it’s protecting himself. That’s why he jumps at any sign of trouble. Why he pulls you onto the bike behind him like it’s second nature. Doesn't need to tell you to hold on tight — you already know.

Protection is a little different with the two of you, actually. He knows very well that some people prefer to have their loved ones stay back, at the camp, where it’s safe. Rick made this whole point about Carl not going on runs a while back, and everyone knows that Aaron can't stand the thought of Eric being anywhere else but behind the walls of Alexandria.

That really threw him off at first. He gets the sentiment, understands that his friend wants his partner to be safe. That’s natural, sure. Hell, he’d give anything to know that you were out of danger.

But what no one seems to understand is… there is no safety anymore. Walls may create that illusion, but it’s merely that — make-believe. A charade, so people won't lose their minds. He’s okay with that, but he never believed in it. Knows what it’s like out there… And that’s the same way in here, exactly the same way.

Knowing you do, too, is what soothes him. You get why he can't have you stay behind in Alexandria. You don't mind being joined at the hips, glued to his side out and inside of the town.

Wherever Daryl goes, you follow. If it’s for your sake or his, he’s not quite sure. The latter, probably. He knows that you can see the frantic fear swimming behind his eyes. Loves you even more for never complaining even when his measures seem a little over the top. For instance, even now, in your shared house in Alexandria, he hasn't stopped following you to the bathroom. It’s a habit, one he can't seem to give up. Whenever you’re gone even just for a moment, his mind begins making up scenarios of everything that could happen… It’s terrible.

And he’s never told you about it outright. Worries it might come off as weird, too much. To most people, it probably would. But you accept it, it’s like you already know. Because truthfully... you’re the same way. Keeping close to him when he’s leading the way through the woods, right in his tracks. Or the way you smile back at him when he’s following you through Alexandria, a bit grumpy because he’d rather it were just the two of you. Doesn't care for the other people. But still — he’s right behind you. Trotting after you like a guard dog while you cheerfully make rounds trough the town, greeting every single person. You take comfort in knowing he’s there. He knows because you reach back to hold his hand, pulling him to your side. Squeeze it reassuringly, and it makes his heart beat out of his chest. He doesn't even mind the bustling of the community all around you anymore, no. When has he ever cared about anything else when you stood right beside him?

Daryl has no idea why you love him this much, really. Why you put up with him whe he is like this, the only thing he has to show for being adoration. And maybe his crossbow skills. But, he’s not complaining. Not at all. He feels honored, and maybe a little undeserving.

Taking care of you in return comes naturally. He wouldn't dream of leaving you behind, ever. No, he thinks it safer to be right by his side on a dangerous mission than staying back: in fact, he makes sure of it. You’re safe with him. He’d die for you.

He would, he really would, it’s a fact that he doesn't even take pride in. No proof of his love, not in some sappy romantic way. Actually, there’s nothing romantic about it at all. It’s just — a truth, simple as that.

It’s the kind of love you share. Unconditional, plainly that: true. Nothing frilly or pretty about it… Because more often than not, it brings despair. There’s no butterflies, but crimson blood pulsing trough your veins. His skin hasn't been ripped off, not yet, and still, his innermost is laid bare to you, in all it’s twisted glory. There’s nothing beautiful about flesh and bones. Nothing at all. Why should there be? It’s nothing anyone ever gets to see, except the walkers when his time has come.

At least, that’s what he used to think. Nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming intimacy of having you know exactly what it looks like. That is the price to pay. It would be uncomfortable if it were anyone but you. Strangely, your gaze he doesn't mind. He never would. It’s bearable because he knows that the same blood curses through you. Knows the confines of your soul, the off putting paleness of your bones. He’s seen you, and you’ve seen him, and you’ve discovered that you're the same. Two hearts made from the same emotion. Devotion so strong it could rip him apart, but he doesn't see anything strange or disproportional about it because yours is just as overwhelmingly powerful. Soothing, yes. To know that it’s real, it’s really love, because you know him in and out.

He would die for you without hesitation. Just like that, sacrificed. But he would mourn it, mourn the loss of livigng next to you because it is the most blissful he has ever felt. And it would be painful — not the teeth gnawing at his flesh, not the desperate attempt to breathe when his lungs are failing, but knowing how you’d be hurting when he’s gone. To imagine you burying his body... how alone you would feel. He can't be sure which emotions exactly would bring tears to your eyes, of course. But he knows, he just knows. Because he would feel the same if you were to be taken from him. If the you were dead, there would be no sense in staying alive. He fears it might be the same for you... And that’s the other reason Daryl takes you with him. Why you gladly accompany him on every single run. If you are to leave this world, then it will be together, hands joined for eternity.

Maybe you have already melted into one. Everything seems to point at it. Your death would be his demise, as well.

Daryl never thought he would find a love like this, and yet he did. Now, he doesn't know if he should be happy about it. He is, more than ever, and it feels absolutely wonderful. But at the same time, you have revealed to him the terror of love. The danger that comes with it. He is untethered to earth, spinning in space, no gravity left to hold him. Only connected to you — you, you alone have become his universe. In his arms, you feel at home. But he wishes you didn't have to give up the whole world to be with him. He gave his up in a heartbeat, he never had it to begin with, nothing could rival his love for you. And yet, it is with regret that he realizes he has become your world. Because Daryl Dixon is not enough to be everything for you. He never has been. And yet... there is nothing he can do about it. He couldn’t hold back, couldn't keep away even if he wanted to. Not only because he needs to be near you. No, distance he could bear, for your sake. He can’t, because he knows you love him just as deeply as he does you. And for nothing in the world could he bear to bring despair upon you.

Daryl is not in control. Control has long since slipped from his grasp. What really overwhelms him is that he doesn't care. Detached, because the only thing that matters is you, and it has been like that for a long time.

In that way, loving you has saved him. He finally found a reason to live. Didn’t even think he needed one anymore, but it turns out he always did, he was always waiting for this. Now, he could never leave this earth, even though it’s not his anymore… He would never bring that upon you. But the real surprise is — he doesn’t mind. Not as long as you’re here with him.

Sure, it was nice to not worry about starving every other minute. But in all honesty, he would have preferred that, would have went back to it in a heartbeat.

Because now, they were shutting out the dystopian outside world behind their little iron walls without even batting an eye.

And Daryl realized that in some sick and twisted way, he had actually been thankful for the apocalypse. It’s crazy, he knows. Might be good at runs and surviving, but it’s not like he enjoyed being on the verge of death all the time. Nah. Was just already used to not being comfortable in his own life, that’s all.

It’s just that for the first time in his life, he had a purpose — and it was thanks to the undead taking over the world, believe it or not. He mattered. People relied on him for protection, they actually cared, something would have changed if he just disappeared from the face of the earth.

Now, immersed in this weird game of playing pretend, he wasn’t so sure it would anymore. The forest was his element. Not some suburban town with houses like mansions in a neighbourhood he wouldn’t have set a foot in if he’d gotten paid for it years ago. Where people would have given him disdainful looks, or, at best, pitiful glances; as if that wasn’t worse.

It made him uneasy, walking trough Alexandria with his crossbow slung across his shoulder, wearing his tattered leather jacket. Like everyone was watching and secretly condemning him for dirtying their streets with his muddy boots.

He didn’t belong, just like before.

Though it was completely different, Daryl feared that this would be the prison all over again. Because damn, these people really were more vulnerable than they actually were aware of. Prison had been the opposite, but it fell in spite of it.

Most of all, he feared that you might slowly realize that you didn’t need him anymore. No walkers in immediate proximity he had to shoot before they got to you, no rabbits to kill so you’d have something to eat.

It was questionable whether Daryl Dixon was a good boyfriend at all, but he certainly was better out there than in here. In here, the vast distance between the two of you became even more obvious. You weren’t like him, no… you fit right in. As if you had lived here all your life.

Nearly took the air out of his lungs when he saw you clean and in fresh clothes for the first time; he’d forgotten what you were like in the beginning. Of course, you kissed him like you used to. But still. He stiffened, ‘cause it felt like he was dirtying you and he really, really wanted this to work out for your sake. You deserved it. Deserved to be accepted into a community like you didn’t have a weird dirty biker boyfriend at home.

Daryl was really worried about all these things when the group first settled into Alexandria. But just like with everything else, you… you made everything seem easy again.

Hugged him tightly that very first day even though you’d just showered and he was still covered in dirt. Didn’t let go even after he grumbled something about your new clothes getting all stained again. Held him until he melted visibly into your arms, coiled muscles relaxing finally.

You had him sleep next to you after you’d been assigned one of the houses, and — even though he was still wary about that whole good-hearted civilian thing — he had to admit that it felt nice. Sleeping in a real bed, in a room bigger than the whole trailer he lived in before the outbreak. And again, you let him settle in at his pace. Curled into his side, snug against his body. He went to bed in his grimy old clothes that night, and you just — didn’t mind. Simply washed the duvet each morning until he was ready to take a shower.

Smiled at him after he emerged from the bathroom that day. Told him he was handsome when he sheepishly adjusted the collar of the slightly too small dressing shirt you’d found in the closet. You must’ve known he felt weird in those stiff, office-appropriate pinstripe slacks though, since in the afternoon he found his own clothes lying on the bed, neatly folded and still warm coming out of the dryer. The leatherjacket, his old pair of jeans with holes in them… No comment when he immediately wore them to dinner that day and put the other clothes back into the closet. Just a quick kiss on the lips, a giggled “Looking even more handsome now, Daryl!”, and that was that.

God, if he had you by his side, he could get used to anything, it seemed.

Though the thing that really did it for Daryl was this other little routine you established: reading to him. You’d begun back at the prison, when he brought you an old copy of “Pride and Prejudice” he’d came across on a run. He knew you liked reading, so he immediately thought of you when he saw it.

Thoughtful actions like this soon melted into book talk, little conversations he held cherished in his heart where you chatted on and on about literature while he worked silently, and he listened. Naturally, it would awaken his own interest in those books you liked so much. And since you already got all giddy merely about him wanting to know exactly why you loved Jane Austen, you impulsively offered to read it to him, and that’s how his favorite pasttime was born.

At first, he was mainly just listening to your pleasant voice, but soon, he grew actually invested in the story. When you got together, this little ritual only became more important to the both of you.

And now, that’s something he actually liked about Alexandria: it’s huge library. You discovered it during the second week of your stay, and boy, did your eyes glow when you excitedly told him all about it. You went back there the next day and carefully selected an array of novels you wanted to show him. Some you knew, some you didn’t. The one you started with that same night, reading the first chapter aloud to him in bed, just before going to sleep, was one you didn’t know, though you’d heard about it. Some famous murder mystery, Agatha Christie he thinks? Sherlock Holmes or whatever. Something easy to take our mind off everything else, you’d said.

It was even more endearing to read a book with you for the first time, he quickly found. It was adorable how invested you got into the story, awaiting plot twists and sharing your theories with him. You usually sat on the grass in the front yard while he fixed up the broken motorcycle Aaron had found in his garage. Stopped sometimes to admire his expert hands working on the engine, just for a little while.

“You really know what’s wrong with it just by taking it apart?”

“Guess so.”

“Wow! When did you even learn all that? I couldn’t do it if I had a guide with pictures! Were you a mechanic?”

“Nah. Jus’ picked up on some things, ‘s all.”

“Still. You must be a technology genuis or something!”

That got a huff of a laugh out of him. “Ain’t no genius.”

“Sure you are! Basically built that bike from scratch, and you look super hot while doing it too.”

He stopped answering to such comments a while ago, gave up on changing your mind. Just looks back at the machine, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. No matter how hard he tries, you’re just dead set on believing he’s a good person. It’s like that with everything, and it’s been like that from the beginning.

He doesn’t even have it in himself to argue anymore, not when your voice was so cheerful and you went back to reading the story to him all happy and carefree like you hadn’t just made him blush.

God, he loved you. And everything that came with it, like this mystery story and the reading to him. This is what made him feel a little more normal about himself. If it hadn’t been for you and fucking Agatha Christie and what not he probably wouldn’t have even tried (and to his surprise, succeeded) at settling into Alexandria.

Fucking bugs him that he lost that privilege now.

And over such a stupid thing, too!

There wasn’t really all that much different about this morning.

Really! He swears! Only, well, he got up a little earlier that day because he had an idea for the engine and he just couldn’t fall asleep again without checking if Aaron had the part he needed in his garage. And, okay, by “a little” he means four o’clock in the morning.

Yeah, that was his initial mistake. He knows you don’t sleep well when he isn’t beside you. In fact, whenever his warm body is missing, you toss and turn, plagued by nightmares.

It’s terrible, and one of the reasons why he always makes sure to cradle you to his chest so you get a good night’s rest. That and, he just has to be close to you or else he’ll go crazy. He’s pretty sure of that. Came close to it more than once, with Alexandria and this dumb job system keeping you apart for a good portion of the day. It feels weird, seperation, after being glued together for survival for months.

So, of course he wasn’t planning on staying away for a long time. Not at all, not when it already caused a painful pang in his heart that he had left at all. Daryl never wanted to be the reason why you were suffering.

Just, well, one thing led to another. And even though he felt more guilty with each passing second, there was nothing he could do about it. Turns out Aaron really did have the part he needed but Daryl also woke him up as he made his way to the garage. And ‘cause well, now Daryl was already there, Aaron politely inquired if he could maybe fix the sink while he’s at it. He’s so handy, after all. And of course, Daryl couldn’t really say no after the couple had done so much for him, so he obliged right then and there.

It took longer than he anticipated, but he managed. It’s just that, right as he was making his way back to the house, the only thought on his mind being his bed and you lying in it, stupid fucking Rick had to stop him. Damn “constable patrolling duty” or whatever led to him roaming the streets at seven o’clock when most people were only just getting up.

Daryl was already grumpy at this point, but he’d never cross Rick. Man was a little paranoid abut the whole Alexandria situation, really. Sure, Daryl didn’t trust the walls, but he wasn’t all that wary about the people. They were good men and women, he was sure of that. You’d made friends already and for most of them, it’s obvious that they won’t do no harm.

Yeah, not to Rick. And ‘cause he’s the leader, and Daryl owes him, and he has a history of going a litte, well, crazy sometimes, Daryl agrees to have a talk.

… Only he didn’t think said talk would stretch well past noon and include long discussions with Carol, too. And then that whole gun storing thing, ugh. Normally, he’d like to be involved and gladly share is opinion, but right now all he can think about is that you’re waking up without him. And that he’s not home to bring you a cup of tea to your bedside and you’re not giving him a sleepy good morning kiss to thank him. His thoughts drift off and to that excited face you made when you realized the kitchen came with a kettle. Such a simple thing compared to the other luxuries and yet, that’s what you’re still most excited about. Man, sometimes he thinks you—

Wait, now they’re adressing him again.

God, he wishes this was already over.

Next time he sees you that day is after lunch. You had cooked for him and were in the process of reheating the pasta when he stormed into the house, boots thudding on the wooden floors.

“Daryl?” You’d called out, sticking your head through the door.

He seemed to be in a bad mood, though you weren’t sure why, since you only knew that he’d been gone the whole morning.

Now he was stomping through the hallway, violently hanging his jacket onto the rack.

“Huh? What're ya starin’ at?” He was basically growling at this point. This happened sometimes.

Though confused, you knew he wasn’t angry at you. Probably just had a hard day. You’d come across Aaron earlier and he seemed really thankful, going on and on about… his sink? You inquired what exactly had happened and then, surprised you didn’t know already, he told you that Daryl had fixed his sink at five o’clock in the morning. You were stunned initially, but it explained a lot.

Not where he was the whole rest of the morning, but this became clear when somene knocked at the door. You were going to answer it, but Daryl was faster.

It was Rick. “Daryl, I forgot to ask earlier. Have you fixed that motorcycle yet? I really need you to go on a run next week, can you do that? You know I don’t trust—” You heard them whispering from the kitchen. Ah, so that's where he spent the morning then.

You heard the door slamming shut, and Daryl calling out a gruff, “M’gonna work on the bike.”

“Wait, Daryl! Aren’t you hungry? I made you some pas—” He wasn’t listening. Didn’t even answer. Trough the window, you could see him stomping towards his makeshift working space in the front yard.

Sure, you knew he must be stressed since the bike isn’t all that close to being finished yet. Still, it wasn’t nice of him to ignore you like that all day even though you just wanted to help.

Made you wanna teach him a little lesson that might just take his mind off of everything else that was going on, too. Lately, everyone seemed to want a piece of him. But you did too! Might be fun to show him just what it felt like to be ignored… Oh, you had a good idea already.

Still prepared a plate for him and brought it outside, though. You loved him, after all, even if what you’d be doing next would make it look a little different.

God, you really wanted to see his face afterwards…

Yeah, it was his fault, definitely. He knew that.

He shouldn’t have ignored you, not after wanting nothing more the whole day than to be with you. It was stupid to act like this, really. Sometimes he didn’t even know why he did the things he did if not to punish himself. You’d been so sweet too, cooking spaghetti for him. He insisted that he didn’t like it and that he would go out hunting again soon, so there’d be some real food — but that was bullshit, of course. And apparently, you knew that. Knew him way too well, actually.

It wasn’t right of him to be this dismissive, he knew that, too.

But did he really deserve this?

You knew he was sorry, even though he’d become all grumpy and didn’t want to admit that he was in the wrong.

Yeah, he was certain you knew all about it, ‘cause you must be doing this on purpose. There just isn’t any other explanation. It’s maddening.

Daryl didn’t think you could be so cruel, perched on the wooden railing, sitting pretty and seeming completely immersed in the book you were reading. The book you had been reading to him throughout all of last week. The book you had promised you’d finish together. Hot anger curled in his gut.

He didn’t think you could be this cruel… He should have known better. Because just now, as he was stepping back from the bike and wiping his hands with the oil-stained rag, he caught your gaze. Only for a second, but that glint of amusement flashing in your orbs was enough to convince him of your true intentions.

Yeah, you were definitely doing this on purpose. That concluded it, even if it weren’t for the exaggerated surprised gasps and loud laughter you let out every few pages, leaving him yearning to know what it was that you found so funny.

“No way!”

“Oh my God.”

“I knew it!”

You were taunting him, right there in the middle of Alexandria. Worst thing was, nobody passing by would have even realized. To an outsider, it might have looked like you were just enjoying your book. While he was standing in front of the porch all pouty for no reason.

Man, he was steaming. Must have looked stupid glaring daggers at you while you pointedly ignored him. It annoyed him that you were continuing without him like this wasn’t your thing, but what he hated even more was the fact that he was so worked up about it. You really had him wrapped around your finger, damn it.

And he wanted to know who the murderer was!

He was this close to wiping the mocking smile off your face. No, wait, he was already making his way over to where you were sitting, heavy boots thudding over to the front porch.

“What d’ya think yer doin’, huh?” He spat, crossing his arms over his chest as he came to a halt right in front of were you were sitting, staring you down.

He was sure you sensed how offended he was. And yet, you had the audacity to fucking smile right into his face.

“Mhm? Isn’t it obvious? I’m reading, silly.” With a tsk, you shook your head at him, like you were thoroughly amused at his expanse.

“Y’know what I mean, damn it.” He grumbled, still not making any sign of giving in.

“No, Daryl, I don’t. You’re not very vocal, you know. Starin’ at me from across the yard all afternoon. You haven’t even made any progress on the bike.” You tut, head tilting nonchalantly. You were observing his expression, which quickly changed from agitated to embarrassed.

He overplays it with a grunted, “How would’ya even know that?”

You smile again, this time almost pitiful. He’d feel bad actually if he didn’t know you were just messin’ with him. “Oh, I know. Can’t exactly work when you’re looking at me the whole time. I’d be flattered if you didn’t look so angry. Like a child who had his toy taken away.”

He caves, then. Averts his gaze, muttering something unintelligible.

Your eyes softened, “What was that?”

Daryl looked up, face contorted into something close to a pout. “… Y’were readin’ our book.”

“And that’s a problem how?”

He nearly growled, then. “Ya promised we’d finish it together!”

He glared at you, and it looked too cute. A giggle bubbled out of your lips, and you let your mask fall. Though he seemingly hadn’t realized it yet.

His face grew warm and his brows furrowed, “What’s so damn funny, woman?”

You dropped the book then, laughing softly. “I’m sorry, that was too far.” Jumped off the railing and stepped a little closer to him.

“Huh?” Poor Daryl didn’t even know what was happening. He looked taken off guard, confused even, standing there lookin’ all tough like he didn’t know what was going on.

You smiled up at him kindly, then. “Hey, I was just messing with you.”

Daryl huffed, frowning at you. “Yeah, quit actin’ like I dun know that. Ya were readin’ it out here on purpose so I’d see.”

“Not exactly.” Bashfully, you opened the book on the page with the bookmark. Turned it around to show him, and you saw his eyes scanning the first few sentences. He looked more confused by the second. Finally, he glanced at you again, a big fat question mark written across his face.

A wave of warmth washed over your heart. Cute. You smiled, putting the book down before adressing your boyfriend again. “That’s where I left off.”

Daryl scoffed, “Nah, ya didn’t. Tha’s where we left off."

And then, suddenly, it dawned on him. His blue eyes widened for a split second, before he huffed, looking visibly relieved. His voice was low when he cleared his troath to speak.

"Really?"

You giggled, taking a final step so you're standing right in front of him. "Huh?"

He shook his head, the hint of a gruff smile on his lips. "Did ya really spend the whole afternoon pretendin' to read jus' to rile me up?"

"Did it work?" You asked innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

Daryl just grumbles, not wanting to admit just how affected he'd really been by your little charade.

"I'll take that as a yes." And then you grin up at him in that adorable way, and he almost forgets that he was angry on the spot. It's completely wiped off his mind when you wrap your arms around his waist in a gentle hug, apologetic even.

"Sorry." It's quiet, whispered against his neck.

His breaths fans over your hair, and he returns the hug, holding you close. "Nah. 's me who's gotta 'pologize. Shouldn't have ignored ya earlier."

You peek up at him then, eyes teasing. "No, you shouldn't have. Gonna do it again?"

He's flustered, wrapping his other arm around you to press you tighter against him so you won't see him blushing. "Nah."

"That's what I thought!" Your voice is muffled by his leather jacket, but he can feel you smile against his chest.

In a moment of weakness, partly because he's still baffled you spent this whole time just gauging for his reaction and partly because he loves you, he presses a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. Your grip around his waist tightens then, and he suddenly feels stupid for even thinking you'd finish that story without him in the first place. When you know how much he likes it when you read to him and that he's still feeling a little lost in front of this huge house that you've got all to yourselves.

You part from him, then, but only to give him a kiss. He returns it, silently telling you that he's not angry.

When you pull back, you smile at him. "So, wanna find out who's the killer?"

Though morning the loss of your lips against his, he gives a reconciliatory nod. "Mhm, sure."

He thinks that he's really lucky when you cheerfully walk over to the railing to grab the book, leaving him standing on the porch. You've already begun going on and on about your newest theory that you've apparently spent the afternoon constructing. You reread a couple of the latest chapters and are absolutely sure you found the vital clue.

Daryl just watches and listens attentively, mesmerized by you once again. You take his hand then and pull him inside, promising to read him the last two chapters as long as he takes a shower first.

And suddenly he doesn't even mind that at all, not when he knows you're shuffling around in the kitchen making that herbal tea you always have before bed. Especially not when he knows that you're pouring two cups as always, and that one's reserved for him.

Domestic, that's what this is. He hasn't really had it before, but he's pretty sure that's the thing. And he knows now that all this time, all his life, he missed something he didn't even know he could have.

Stupid, really. Thinkin' he might not manage to feel at home in Alexandria when in reality, he already does, 'cause it's true what they say, all that crap about "home is where the heart is".

His heart belongs to you now, and he doesn't even miss it.

𝑊𝘩𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝘩𝑒, 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒'𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑡.

That realization hits as he sees you braid your hair one morning. He’d been on a run the day before, ran into some trouble at the deserted town. Consequently, it was already dark when he turned in, and he’d headed straight to bed. Hadn’t had time to tend to his bike yet, so he got up early to make up for that.

Stupid thing had some kind of an engine problem, there must be something wrong with the tank. Somethin’ to take care of before the next run, before it became a real danger. Yesterday he made it back to the prison, but if that happened again, he might not be this lucky.

The thoughts and plans swirling through his head go quiet at once when he catches sight of you on the stone steps. Sitting with your back turned to him, idly taming your long curls. He stops in his tracks, unable to tear his gaze off of your body. Your hands weren’t moving right now, though, instead holding the half-finished braid as you were focused on something on the meadow.

His eyes follow your gaze and he catches a glimpse of a rabbit. Mhm… weird sight. He didn’t think it possible that it had come past the fences and, well, the countless walkers lurking behind them. It should be long dead, and yet… it was just hopping around without a care in the world.

He huffs, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Leans against the door, arms crossed, observing. That rabbit reminds him of you. It would seem impossible to a stranger that you of all people had made it this far. Seemed way too innocent for that, easily distracted as you were. He bets you would not hear him coming right up behind you if he chose to do so, too caught up in watching the rabbit. Cute, that hypothetical stranger might think. Still cute if he knew, just like Daryl, that you were a force to be reckoned with and had earned your place inmidst the survivors just like everyone else.

The rabbit disappears in a bush. Would make a nice lunch. He’d never think of killin’ it though, not after catching a glimpse of your happy smile as you went back to braiding.

Daryl figures this would be a good moment to move on, or else he’ll get stuck here watching you until you notice him, and that wouldn’t be ideal. So he pushes himself off the wall and walks past you, heading to the shed where he kept his bike.

Nods curtly as he walks past you on the steps. You flinch as he passes by — just as expected, you were too lost in your head to notice him ealier. But then, you look up and his gaze brushes yours and that alone might actually be enough to have him blushing. ‘Cause you’re smiling at him like that again. So infuriatingly sweet… And he’s almost out of danger, almost down the steps when he hears your soft voice.

“Good morning, Daryl!”

He stops in his tracks, hesistant, turns around again and mumbles a rushed “…Mornin'.” Walks away faster than before because he fears you might start a conversation.

… It’s been like that for a while now. He can’t really trust himself around you anymore. Doesn’t really know when it started, or what’s different about today, because it’s definitely gotten worse since yesterday — and since last week and the month before.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you braid your hair before.

Truthfully, he knows you come out here at dusk to take care of it pretty much everyday. He’s not stalking you or anything! It’s just, he wakes up pretty early and sleeps outside the cells, so he notices stuff. You’re the first one up and you leave your cell at the same time every morning. He hears you shuffle around trying to be quiet, so… he usually can’t keep resting knowing you’re out there. In case a walker makes it over the barricade after all, or something else happens, anything; you catch his drift. So he’s bound to follow you outside eventually, pretending to have work to do. It’s not a lie, he usually finds some tasks that need to be taken care of.

Seeing you fleetingly in that calm moment you take for yourself is merely a perk.

God, it always is. No matter where he is while the rest of the prison is still asleep, the shed, the fences, whatever — he always makes sure he can see you from there. Not in a creepy way. He just likes to know you’re alright.

And it’s strangely comforting that you have that little routine, that you’re there doing the same thing at the same time everyday. He admires your persistance.

Really, ‘cause if he had hair as long as yours, he’d just cut it off. Only gets in the way when you’re fighting walkers. He’d think it impossible to actually take care of it like that.

At the beginning, people had still tended to such things as appearance. He remembers that back at the quarry, some had cut their hair. Daryl didn’t. Honestly, he already used to just keep it short and out of the way before everythig went to shit, never cared much about it at all. Now, he downright ignores it. There’s more important things to focus on.

Not in your world, apparently. You made life the prison have countless routines. Which is good, right, ‘cause they might be able to stay there for a while. Forever, Hershel insisted, but he wouldn’t be so sure of that. Even if so, all caution shouldn’t be thrown into the wind.

Maybe he clings to it a little too much, though. It’s what he ponders on now, crouching down beneath his mud stained bike, trying and failing to focus on the engine. You seem happy in this place, and on top of that, you seem to truly believe in it.

It’s enough to make him work even harder to make it a place worth living in.

Daryl gives up on fixing the bike completely now — there’d be time for that later. Instead, his gaze drifts over the meadow to the cell block you were still sitting in front of. The braid had turned out beautiful. Well… your hair was always pretty. But since the prison, you had put more time into it. Yeah, he noticed that.

It had been nothing but simple, practical braids for a while now, all during winter. Lately though, you wore your gorgeous curls in such elaborate hairstyles he’d only ever seen in magazines. Daryl didn’t even know there were multiple types of braids, or maybe he just never paid attention before.

Yeah… that’s it, probably. You make him notice things he’d never ever care about if they weren’t connected to you.

Deep down, he knows what was different today. Of course, he knew it from the beginning.

Just yesterday, you’d shyly approached him as he was prepping the motorcycle for the run. It was supposed to be a quick sweep, they knew the nearby town well by know. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just, well, scouting for things worth coming back for. Maybe check out the couple of shops they hadn’t entered yet, see if there was anything left in there.

Asked him if he could look for some hair care products while he was out. And you looked at him so sweetly too, with that shy smile as if you were actually expecting him to tell you off. It had become his main goal the second you asked, of course you didn’t know that. Meanwhile he didn’t want you to get your hopes up since, well, he didn’t know shit about beauty products (also, it was possible that he wouldn’t find anything of the sort). Just gave a gruff “Yeah”, but your eyes immediately lit up.

And then, well, that got him even more motivated. The run stretched and at some point he’d been out hours longer than he planned, but he was dead set on fulfilling that wish of yours.

As fate had it, he actually did find a bunch of stuff he thought might be what you were talking about. Fancy shit, shiny ‘n all after he dusted it off. And a spare hair tie, too. Maybe you’d like that. Since you only had one left after losing the rest during the winter.

God, he hoped he had picked the right thing. If not, that was a fucking waste of time. He grew more anxious by the second on his trip back to the prison. It was distracting, dangerously so. It’s a pattern, really, has been developing for some time now: you, occupying his thoughts.

That night, it led to him overlooking a group of walkers on the road until it was too late to turn around. Shit. Not really that much of a problem, but he had to hit the brakes real hard until they were screeching. Could feel something snap in the engine, but he couldn’t deal with that right now. Hastily grabbed his crossbow and took care of the walkers.

As he returned to examine the bike, he realized that something was in fact broken, but it was only a minor problem. He’d tend to it later. Or… tomorrow, one glance at the dark night sky told him. Driving home was still possible, anyway.

After that momentary distraction from whether or not you’d like his findings, he went back to worrying. ‘s why he staggered to your cell before going to bed… The curtain, serving as a makeshift door, was pulled close, so you were probably sleeping. Not wanting to disturb your slumber, he placed the things in front of your cell.

You must have heard his shuffling around. Right as he turned aorund to head to his own cot on the stone floor, the curtain was pulled back, revealing you, still in your day clothes. Must have been reading or something.

Before he could say anything, your eyes dropped to the bottles he had carefully placed on the floor. Your eyes lit up immediately. Flickering up to his nervous ones, you gave him a giddy smile, and a wave of calm washed over him.

Clutching the precious bottle of hair oil to your chest like a treasure, you thanked him profusely. Apparently, it was the exact same brand you’d used before… Daryl thought your happiness excessive at first, but you seemed genuinely grateful. It got him a little flustered, so he just waved it off and trotted off to his bed.

Now, leaning against the bike and watching you from afar, your careful movements, how blissful you seemed, the pink bottle standing next to you on the stone step — he understood. This was what was different… Seing how serious you were about this. How something small like this made your whole damn day, judging from the giddy look on your face.

Knowing that he caused it…

Fuck, he might be in deeper than he thought he was.

In all honesty, Daryl would have been absolutely content dwelling on his small victory for the whole day.

However, fate had other plans. He’d been busy repairing the bike, it seemed like any other day in the new prison community. It was strange, after spending the winter on the run, constantly on the verge of starvation. He doesn’t yet know what to think of the whole community thing, either. Reminds him of this Woodbury place, and his memories of the town were anything but fond. The people there… how they cheered when he and Merle were shoved into a group of walkers like it was some sick and twisted form of entertainment…

He knew it wasn’t like this now. Though he recognized some of the faces, that he did.

In his heart, he knew that this was a good thing. People cared for each other.

Today, this was proven again. Yet, everyone would have preferred if it had happened in some other way. There was a breach of security in one of the cell blocks, near the infirmary. Only one walker, and they secured the passage afterwards, but it was enough…

The screams came first, children who had been playing in the yard. Of course, he went running towards it. So did Rick, Carol… everyone, really. But they were too late, again. No children had been harmed, but one of the men. Maimed right there in full sight of the helpless community.

He heard a shot ring trough the air, faintly recognized that it had come out of Glenn’s direction, but his eyes were fixed on you. Breathless from running so fast, arm hanging limply down your side as you clutched your gun, motionless.

You looked devastated.

Most people were, as a grave was dug and the body buried that same day. But they were used to such occurences by now, though they had become rare as of lately.

With you, it seemed different. The light in your eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, melancholic shimmer.

Daryl couldn’t shake the visual all day. Worked up the courage to see if he could do something, ‘cause he itched to see you smile again. It made him straight up uneasy, worry gnawing at his heart to see you this wistful.

It might not be his place to look after you, but you see, he was genuinely concerned. It was such a harsh contrast to your happiness in the morning! A small, stupid part of him hoped he could make you feel better somehow. He tried hard to fight it, ignore the impulse, but it was in vain.

So, he found himself right in front of your cell that evening. Most people had gone to sleep early, not in the mood to have fun after what happened. Your curtain was half open, though.

Daryl cleared his troath before coming closer, fighting his nerves.

“You, uh… y’in there?”

No answer. Growing worried, he pulled the curtain back and stepped inside.

What he finds makes his troath go dry instantly. It’s… it shouldn’t, really. But it’s you, and he’s never seen you like this.

Daryl stops dead in his tracks. Can’t tear his gaze off of you, actually. You must have noticed him going still in the doorway, since you turn around. The motion makes your wild curls bounce, cascading way over your shoulders. His eyes trail down to the tips of your open hair, stopping at your hips.

Fuck… That’s a new kind of pretty. In their free, untamed state, you look like a completely different person, actually. Or rather: like that part of you that has survived on pure grit. This is why you’re still here. This is the woman that saved his defenseless ass when he was cornered by a walker, shooting the corpse straight through the head. With his crossbow, no less. He’d thought you were badass back then, but now you look the part and more.

You look like a warrior angel.

He should probably say something now. Feels your eyes burning into him, a silent question. Finally, he looks up.

“Your hair.” He croaks.

Tilting your head, you wait for him to go on. “Mhm?”

Daryl feels his face flush. He feels like he’s burning up all of a sudden, though the stone walls of the prison make it a shadowed, cool place.

Clears his troath, then mumbles, “… ‘s different.”

God, why can’t he be normal. Could’ve said anything, complimented you even, because you clearly deserved one or a hundred. Instead, he’s just, what… stating the obvious? Smooth, really.

To his surprise, you get a little shy. Look away as if you can’t hold his gaze, “I know. It’s messy. I just… leave it like that when I sleep. It’s more comfy.”

Is he imagining things or are you blushing a bit?

Anyway, he doesn’t know what to say. So he just stays silent and stares at you.

However, you seem to grow more nervous with the second. The bashfulness seems to have turned into offense, and your brows furrow as you glare at him from where you’re sitting on the bed.

Crossing your arms over your chest, “You know, some people actually care about their appearance. Not everyone can walk around all— dirty and muddied with old blood clinging to them…”

It stings. It shouldn’t, ‘cause that shit has never bothered him, but it does. Because you said it.

He shifts in the doorway, debating on whether he should leave. He huffs, “… Didn’t mean ta-”

You interrupt him, lips pursed. “Do you even know how much time it takes to do my hair everyday? Huh? Well, a lot, actually. It’s exhausting! And I know it’s not the same thing, but it makes people feel normal. Not like you coming back from some hunt or run or whatever looking like you lived in the woods for years. It makes them uncomfortable, don’t you get that? It’s so…”

Your voice trails off.

Daryl has not interrupted you once, just listened you go on and on with your rant. If it hurt him, he doesn’t show it at all. His face seems to be made of stone, not one muscle moving. The mere sight of him makes hot tears burn behind your eyes. It’s not his fault, he… You wish you could disappear right now. What had gotten into you?

You didn’t mean any of the things you just said, so why did you feel the need to say them?

Daryl observes your change of emotion. You seem… deflated, all of a sudden, sunken into yourself. Because of him? A clump forms in his throath, and he feels hot guilt flare up in his gut.

Then, a broken sob echoes in the small cell. It rings in his ears. That might just be the saddest thing he’s ever heard… and all the insults you just threw at him are forgotten in an instant.

He’s next to you in a heartbeat. Leaning over your crouching form, a hand hovering just over your shoulder. “Hey, uh… You alrigh’? Didn’t mean ta… yunno.” You look up at him, eyes sad and watery. Run a hand over your face, then sigh. The sound damn near breaks his heart. “Daryl, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said all that.”

He gulps, finally deciding to gently rub your shoulder. “’S okay. Know I ain’t some pretty sight. Jus’ didn’t think ya cared ‘bout that. … If ya wan’t me ta, I’ll take a sho—” You shake your head violently, a tear rolls down your cheek. “No, don’t. I really didn’t mean that. It’s just… with what happened today… I felt so useless. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

His heart softens. And then he does something he never thought he’d have the courage to do… He sits down right on your fucking bed and wraps an arms around you in an attempt at comfort.

To his immediate relief, you lean into the touch. Shaken by another sob, you cling to his shirt, face buried in his shoulder. “Shh…” He rocks you gently. Feels tears wet the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn’t care about that, either… though it’s a hundred times worse than blood ever could be.

His voice is a deep rumble in his chest, vibrating against your cheek, “Y’ain’t useless.”

Your grip on him tightens, then. Your sobs have died down, too. He takes that as a sign to continue.

Clears his troath, “’N fer the record, ya hold this whole damn place together. Smilin’ an’ bein’ sweet ta everyone ‘n all that. … With the hair stuff, too.”

A weak, defeated laugh.

“Nah, ‘m bein’ serious. Ya’ve done more fer this group than y’know.” He hums, grip losening. You slip out of his arms then, pulling back to look at him.

Your eyes are red and puffy. Makes something in his chest hurt real bad. He attemps a smile, though it probably comes out as more of a grimace. He’s not good at this stuff.

You breathe slowly, eyes softening. “… You know I don’t mind the dirt, right?”

He looks away, down at the floor. Offers a gruff “Mhm”, nothing more.

You reach out, touching his arm. Persistant. “Really. I don’t, not at all. Clean or dirty, doesn’t change how much I like you.”

The depth of what you’re feeling flies straight over his oblivious head, too caught up in keeping his feelings at bay to even consider that they might be mutual, but he picked up on the sincerity of your words. Looks at you again, this time you smile.

Daryl doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to. Instead, you fall into his arms again. You’re not sad anymore, this is something different. You just hold him, and he holds you, one hand gently tangling in your curls and stroking your head.

His voice breaks the silence after a long time has passed. “Coulda worn ‘em like this all the time.”

You smile against his bicep. “It’s so messy though, don’t you think?”

“Nah. ‘s pretty.” Good thing it’s dark in your cell, because both of you blush at that.

He might feel your heart beating a little faster, though. If he does, he keeps quiet about it. Instead, he stays perfectly still, breathing quietly, steady. He’s not going anywhere. He’s still there, looking at the dark ceiling, solid as a rock next to you as you drift into slumber at his side.

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed. The mattress is cold beside you — he must have left a while ago. A pang of guilt makes your heart convulse, as slowly and torturously the events of last evening come rushing back. You bite your lip, staring at the dark ceiling. Why did you have to say these things? It’s not like you’re the only one affected by the death of that man. You didn’t even know his name, and still you took out your frustration on Daryl.

Daryl, who had done so much for you. Probably the person you trust most out of everyone in this prison. Scratch that, he’s the person you trust most in the whole world.

And he wasn’t even angry. A vivid memory of the way he stood there resurfaces: just taking every word you threw at him. He looked like a kicked puppy.

Even though he forgave you on the spot, you don’t feel right about it.

Another apology would feel stale, but you still felt the urge to do something. Mhm, you would apologize to him every day from now on if it meant he’d believe it someday.

… Maybe he’s outside already. A quick glance out of your cell reveals some stray rays of morning sunlight shining trough the barred windows. You know that he gets up early like you, and as you step behind the makeshift curtain-door you see that his cot by the officers watchpoint is empty.

It doesn’t take much more to make up your mind. The tiredness vanishes from your bones and quietly, trying not to wake the others, you taper to the exit.

It’s really early, barely dusk. You’re about to close your eyes and take in the quiet, pleasant atmosphere in your little morning ritual when you halt in your steps at once, going still.

It’s him.

You don’t know what to say. Barely have time to take in the sight of him, right at the steps of the cellblock, fiddling with something. Around him are your hair supplies, scattered chaotically on the steps. He’s holding your precious wooden brush, there’s two hair ties, and next to him, the oil he brought back yesterday.

Before you can say something, he jerks his head towards you. Lets out a defeated grumble, as if you were interrupting him with something. He gets up, resignated, and looks up at you from the bottom of the stairs awkwardly.

“… Yer awake.”

You nod hesistantly.

A hint of something flashes in his eyes, gone before you can put a name on it. He clears his troath shyly, averting his gaze. “Thought I could fix yer hair t’day. Since it’s so much work ‘n all… You jus’ lean back and let me do it fer ya.”

Warmth floods your heart. He is… He did that for you. Not angry, he still wants to make you feel better despite everything that happened.

Still feeling a little bit guilty, you walk down the first few steps, leaving only one in between the two of you. It leaves you on eye level with him, a weird position. You’re used to him towering over you.

From here, the anxious glint in his eyes is even more obvious.

Nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you answer. “Are you sure?”

Relief flashes over his face. His voice is steadier as he grunts, “Yeah. Wouldn’t’ve offered if I wasn’t.”

You smile happily. “I… Okay!”

Without further ado, you plop down right there in front of him on the stone stairs.

He blinks once, shakes his head. Huffs, then he steps behind you and sits down, too.

This… mhm. This was not how he imagined it to go down. He thought you might protest but… you seem thankful. Makes him feel proud, but at the same time, he’s absolutely panicking.

He just hadn’t planned that far yet! And now, having only just escaped your expectant eyes, with your back turned towards him… You’re right there. You trust him with this.

He clears his troath. “Uh… Ya gon’ tell me what ta do?” He blushes a little bit, feeling all clumsy all of a sudden. Good thing you can’t see his face right now.

A soft laugh rumbles trough your body. Daryl relaxes instantly. “Mhm. I’ll show you.”

And then you turn around a little bit, and he’s mesmerized by your warm smile. Doesn’t care that you can see him now, all caught off guard and at a loss, which is so uncharacteristic for him — no, not when you look at him like this.

Especially not when you take his hand in yours, the one that’s clenched around your pretty hairbrush, and lead it towards your head. You demonstrate the motion like that, and he feels a little stupid ‘cause he probably could’ve figured that out by himself but then again, he doesn’t ever want to hurt you on accident.

You let go after a while. Turn around again, and he inches a little closer. You sit between his thighs, and he’s dead focused on detangling those pretty curls. It’s easier than he expected. Still, he’s extra careful not to tug too hard. His fingers are impossibly gentle as he runs them through your soft hair… It feels really nice. You close your eyes, getting lost in the sensation.

Daryl, meanwhile, is fully immersed in the task at hand. He’s begun braiding now, copying the motion he’s seen you perform every morning for weeks now. Only, well… it turns out looking just a little off somehow.

He curses under his breath, undoes a part of the braid again only for it to turn out exactly the same on second try.

Still gives it his all, concentrated up to when he ties it in the end. He leans back to take in his work. Yeah… it’s a little different. He hopes you won’t mind.

His voice is deep and rumbly when he speaks up again. The sun has fully risen now, it took him a few minutes to get the hang of it. “I uh… ‘s done.”

You turn around, smiling. “Thank you, Daryl.”

He lets out a strangled laugh, “Yeah, don’t gotta thank me. Ya haven’t seen it yet.”

He expects encouraging words, you undoing the braid right there to do it again yourself, everything, but not that giggle. “Let’s see it then!”

Doesn’t expect the way you grab his hand and pull him up, nor that you don’t let go of it as you run up the stairs and lead him to the rundown lavatory, where you stop at the mirror and look at yourself.

He’s nervous, shifting on his feet as you take in the messy result of his work. His worry is gone the moment you turn back towards him. Your eyes are earnest, and there’s a glimmer in them that makes his heart do a strange flip.

“… It’s perfect.”

He bites his lip, a little confused ‘cause he knows it’s anything but. Your hair always looks beautiful, yeah, but his attempt at putting it in a simple braid didn’t come close to the elaborate, fancy hair styles you’re used to.

Yet, you surprise him once again. The bathroom feels smaller after your quiet confession, but he loses all sense of time and space when you take a step towards him and give him that look. You’re smiling, but in a soft, whimsical way he hasn’t ever seen before.

He loves it. But what he loves even more is the way you stand on tiptoes, reaching up to press a small, lingering kiss to his cheek. Daryl tenses up instantly, body going rigid as his skin burns where your lips brushed against it. You’re still looking at him, and he couldn't avert his gaze if he tried to, mesmerized by your eyes. Your hands are holding onto his forearms, but he doesn’t even realize it, still feeling the ghost of your touch.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered, only for him to hear, but it pulls him out of his trance. Daryl blinks, trying to think of something to say, but he can’t come up with anything.

You don’t seem to mind. Your eyes soften at his silence. And then, you walk away, braid swinging, a light bounce to your step, leaving him dumbfounded, standing right in the middle of the bathroom.

Daryl can’t think about anything but that kiss for the whole day. You’re occupying the entirety of his thoughts and it’s worse than usually. And he doesn’t even mind. Keeps quiet the whole day instead, pondering on what to make of the gesture. Why did you do that? Do you also get this strange feeling whenever you stand close to him? Like nausea, but in a good way. Did you really like the way he did your hair?

Even though he doesn’t find answers for the first two questions, he’s pretty sure about that last one. When he sees you again at lunch in the yard, you’re still wearing the braid. He expected you to have changed it up right after you left, so he’s incredibly flustered when he sees you haven’t. Carol must think he’s sick or something, he didn’t even dare look into your eyes when you filled his plate.

But he’s observing you when you’re not looking. It warms his heart, how you interact with the other people. It’s as if you’re healed again — not a trace of that crying woman he rocked to sleep yesterday to be seen.

You’re yourself again, even if the messy braid makes you look a little different.

And you’re so pretty. Though he has to admit, he thought you looked breathtaking with open hair, wild curls untamed.

Which is why he feels extra lucky when he catches sight of you again that night. After avoiding you for the better part of the day, still unsure of what to make of the new dynamic between the two of you. He’s still thinking about it, can’t stop actually, even though he should sleep. Everyone else has gone to their respective cells, he’s stretched out on his cot at the side, overlooking the room. Lost in thoughts, he doesn’t even hear the soft padding of footsteps approaching.

But then he sees you. Wearing your sleeping clothes, an old tattered shirt and worn pants. Daryl sits up quickly, propped up against the stone wall, staring at you.

Your hair is open. Must’ve been on your way to bed, then. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and he gets a little lost in tracing singular curls with his eyes.

You stop just short of his blankets, a little bashful. Your voice is quiet, as to not wake the others. “I just wanted to say thank you again.”

He hums, “Said tha’ twice this mornin’.”

But your shake your head. “Not for that. Well, also for that, but I was talking about last night. I didn’t mean to lash out and I, uh… I hope I didn’t keep your from sleeping.”

Ah. “Nothin’ ya gotta thank me for.”

“Yes, I do. You stayed until I fell asleep. And I know I apologized already, but I want you to know that I really didn’t mean what I said.” You look at him, and Daryl realizes that you still feel bad about the things spoken then. Sure, it had hurt in the moment, but he believed you the first time you insisted it wasn't how you felt about him.

He nods. Eyes softening a little. Did you think he was mad about that? Really? When he can’t imagine anything nicer than having you fall asleep in his arms. Except for waking up next to you, maybe. But he didn’t want to overstep.

“’s okay, really.”

You still don’t look convinced, but a little less guilty, reassured. Can hear it in your voice when you say goodnight. He looks at you as you retreat to your cell, wild curls bouncing with every step.

Mhm… he’ll just have to prove it to you again, then. Work hard to convince you. Your glow is back, and he needs to keep it that way. Won’t stop at anything.

And just like that, he’s waiting for you in front of the prison again the next morning. It becomes a routine, him doing your hair. And with every day, you smile wider at him when it’s done.

Also, he still gets a kiss on the cheek everytime he does it, so. That alone would be motivation enough to keep going! But it makes you happy, too. That’s what does it for him. Everything else is just a perk.

His hands still tremble. And he’s scared of fucking up and it looks messy the first couple of times — but you still tell him it’s perfect just like that first morning.

He’s beginning to think that you’re perfect. No, scratch that, he knows you are.

You were when he first met you back when you were a skittish, shy woman that couldn’t kill a living thing.

You were when you realized that this was reality now, and that to live, one had to take life.

You were when anger and gried clouded your senses and you let out all of your frustration on the undead.

You were when you used his arrows to shoot a walker that cornered him, when you saved his life like it was something worth saving.

At the same time, you were when you kept the group alive by not protecting but nourishing them. Perfect. You were truly perfect in every sense of the word, in every state of mind. You were perfect when you tamed your curls and perfect when you left them wild and open.

Or maybe it’s just that to Daryl, you’re the only ideal worth protecting. Something golden, something purely good inmidst danger and ruins. Maybe it’s not “you were perfect when” but “he loved you when”, ‘cause he did! He always has.

There’s sides of you he doesn’t know yet, and in his eyes, that makes you all the more perfect. Your beauty is not limited to vision, it’s transcendent.

And you trust him enough to reveal it to him, and he falls harder every single fucking time, merely because you were already perfect before and he was already on cloud nine, and he didn’t think he could feel with even more intensity but you always convince him otherwise.

It’s like with the hair. Such a small thing, yet so meaningful.

He’s honored every time you allow him near you when it’s not done, when you’re your most vulnerable self, unwound. Proud that you let him do it, too, because it’s your special ritual. It helps you live in this reality. Daryl knowns now that it doesn’t come as easy to you as he thought it did because you make everyone feel at home.

This is a battle too, one he didn’t witness before but now pays extra attention to.

It’s he who holds on to that spare hair tie, now. Because yeah, he’d always stop to braid your hair if you asked him to. In the morning, in the evening, on a run. No matter the danger, either. It’s always dangerous now, everyday, everything. He doesn’t do it because he wants to help you accept reality, or pretend this is normal. Not because he’s ever enjoyed norms: no, he adapts quickly, doesn't even blink when devouring a piece of squirrel.

But he wants you to feel just right, put together, at all times. He wants to protect your bubble. Because it isn't really one… it’s just a way of seeing things. Your way of living.

He’s overjoyed anyway whenever you leave your hair open.

You’re beautiful. Love grows wherever you go, but it’s not because of your hair, it’s because of you. Because you love wildly even though there isn't much left to love. You make it feel worth it in spite of that fact, and, following your example, Daryl begins to fall in love, too… Only it’s not with the world.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

Daryl hasn’t been this close to someone in a long while. He hasn’t been this close to someone and liked it in forever.

Naturally it would get him excited. He’s been starved of emotional intimacy, it makes sense that he’s hungry for it.

It’s not that he’s controlling with how he stays glued to your side and doesn’t budge. No, he would never want to suffocate you with his presence. It’s just, well, he feels lighter when you’re near and he isn’t as bothered with other people. (Of course, he wouldn’t mind if it were only the two of you all the time. He likes having you to himself so he doesn’t have to hold back his affection.)

Quite the opposite. It doesn’t matter that people can see him following you around because he always does. He resembles a lost puppy, ingrained on his person. Eager to follow your every command and please, because he wants to make you happy. Trailing behind you whereever you’re going, crossbow ready to charge, claiming he’s on the lookout for walkers. …But his eyes aren’t on the bushes, they’re on you, mesmerized, so much so that he barely manages to not crash into you when you come to a halt to look at something at the side of the road. You saw that? No you didn’t. (Please don’t tell the others.)

As if they don’t already know. If it was bad when he just had a crush on you, it’s now obvious to anyone in a five mile radius that Daryl Dixon is terribly gone for you.

It embarrassed him a little bit at first, but he could care less now. Back then, the was mainly worried that someone would notice him pining for you and you’d find out somehow. Turns out, you finding him out was the best thing that every happened to him — because it led to this.

He still holds back when others are around. Well, a little.

On the rare occasion that you have some time alone he’s all over you. Not in a sexual way, he just… he just wants to be near you! It’s still a very real possibility that you won’t have forever to enjoy each others presence with death looming behind every closed door and out in the open. There’s no time to waste.

So he’s gonna hug you. Better be ready for it.

Even though he hasn't much solid healthy relationship experience, he’s annoyingly good at it. It might be because he’s thinking about you constantly. Or because, well, he’s not only looking to give you a hug but also to selfishly satisfy his deep need to melt into you and have you as close as possible.

He uses every opportunity he can get to do so.

Basically the second everyone else is gone, you’re pulled against his broad chest. Arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you close. Ocasionally, one of his hands comes up to hold your head with a gentleness he didn’t know he possessed, brushing your hair while your head rests against his collarbones.

It’s unbelievably grounding. The quiet intimacy of it, how it feels like a refreshing silence in a world full of movement, danger and loud noises that make your pulse race. His is only slightly elevated right now… a consequence of your closeness. Your whole body is pressed against him and you trust him, you trust him enough to turn away from the world and close your eyes, he can faintly feel your slow breath fanning across his old, sleeveless shirt.

You can hear his heart beat reguarly, and it’s more comforting than you would have ever imagined. Before the apocalypse, it might have been a nice fact to note while cuddling, but now… It pushes away all of your nightmares that you thought were burned into your mind, haunting you daily. Images of him, glass eyes, bloody, immobile. Or worse, moving, but not consciously. Rotten, decaying right in front of your eyes.

It all bleeds into the background when his body is surrounding you. His heart beats, steady, against your ear, he’s alive, alive and keeping you safe from danger both real and imaginary.

𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘩𝑒’𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛. He knows you know he’s not watching the darkness around you. He has a habit of getting caught up, mesmerized with you, which is dangerous at times, but now… now he’s allowed to. You trust him in spite of, maybe even because of it.

He knows you know he’s not on the look-out, but he also knows you know that he is helplessly, hopelessly, blissfully in love with you. He has never said it before. Those confessions don’t come easy to him. It’s moments like this, when he’s wrapped around you, and your arms are slung around his torso in a tender caress of his back, that he feels like he could.

He might say it right now, in this very second. I love you. I love you… Ugh, I love you more than I love myself, more than I love this life. I would follow you right now if you chose to put an end to it, even though I’d prefer following you into a fight — I’d simply follow you anywhere. No one has ever made me feel like this. There has never been anyone I would blindly follow, but you… you would smile and hold my hand if I were to do so.

Thoughts like these race through his mind, every time. He doesn’t say them out loud, still doesn’t dare to. Maybe because it would make it even more real, and he isn’t sure if he could deal with an even stronger infatuation. It’s so new to him, such uncharted territory that he refrains to figuring it out in his head first. He’s always been like that. It’s comforting, in a way.

There’s always the lingering doubt… That he might be too forward. In deeper than you are, because you’re breathtaking, and he was always destined to fall harder.

Even now, Daryl holds back. It might seem like he’s head over heels and overly affectionate… It probably does. But he holds back, for your sake.

And yet, deep down, he knows he won’t be able to for much longer. Not because it’s tiresome, wearing him out, no. He’s headstrong and stubborn, he could and has pushed back emotions since forever. No, you’re the reason. Aren’t you always? Cause and end for his every action.

Yes, but you also hold a power over him that’s foreign and a force to beckon with. He would follow you everywhere but if you told him to stay, he would, no matter how much it pains him.

Similarly, even though he used to be dead set on never letting you see that he’s fallen for you, you coaxed a confession out of his lips months ago. Similarly, he tries to not kiss you like some desperate touchstarved loser whenever you are alone, and with a single smile, you convince him otherwise every time.

He always caves sooner or later. The emotions are too strong, they’ve long since overtaken his mind and eliminated each restraint.

Still, it takes a while every time. It may be his instinct to give into the pull and love you all over, but he doesn’t feel worthy of it. He needs to know for sure that you want it, want him, want him at all and want him still. Once you show him? He lets the walls crumble down, but he will, for your sake and out of a painful habit, rebuild them every time you part.

He won’t say it (…yet), but whenever you kick them down with your sheer determination, there’s a glint in his eyes that is stronger proof of his love than words ever could be.

Daryl tries to win you over, but really, it’s you wooing him. The part of him that’s doubtful, the part that hides behind scars and resides deep inside his pulsing heart. He doesn’t make it easy, but worth it. Oh, how he makes it worth every effort to tear through his restraints… Simply by loving you more genuine than anyone ever has or could.

So no, this man is not going to make a move on you first.

But once YOU do? (Unmistakably?)

𝐻𝑒’𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟. (He is, regardless.)

Once you finally make him understand that you want the same thing, he still feels a little bit insecure. You found a nice place, just around the corner of the cellblock. Safe from walkers, far enough from the others as not to be interrupted.

He's tense anyway. You can feel the strain in his muscles when you put your hands on his shoulders. Threatening to snap any second and move quickly, either to run away or fight and protect you. That won't be necessary though. It took some convincing, but you got him to put his crossbow onto the ground and stop looking out for possible threats.

How? Well, it wasn't all that difficult. Turns out, pushing him against a stone wall and stepping real close has him putty in your hands in no time.

It's a good thing there's fences, because your face is very distracting. If there had been a walker approaching the two of you, he wouldn't have noticed it until it bit him, maybe not even then.

Daryl is still nervous, you can see that. Unsure of where to put his hands, he awkwardly places them on your hips. Is that too straightforward? A million thoughts rush through his head. You give him a soothing smile. He tries to return it, but ends up just grimacing.

Deciding to end his misery, you lean in and give him a gentle kiss on the lips. He's a little bit relieved when you don't do anything more immediately. Those are a safe ground, he's used to having you kiss him like that. And yet... they always leave him wanting more.

You haven't moved away, instead hugged him a bit closer. God... it feels too good to have you this close without the fear of being caught. He was worried he'd overwhelm you, but you seem at ease. If he's being honest with himself... It's he who is in over his head. You're so close and you smell nice... He can feel your heart beat against his chest, smaller body pressed into his.

You left him space, but it doesn't take long for him to act. His warm hands stroke your back, then he places one in the nape of your neck, carefully tugging on your hair. You lift your head that had been resting against his leather jacket, and before you can say anything, his mouth is on yours.

It's a chaste kiss at first, like the one you gave him. Not hesistant, not really, but careful. He isn't sure how far you were willing to go but when he doesn't feel you pull away, he feels confident enough to continue. Parts his lips slowly, experimenting a little bit. He angles his head slightly different then, making it easier for you to reach him. You open yours too, allowing his tongue to slip inside. It feels amazing. Daryl wishes he'd done this sooner, 'cause apparently, you don't mind him being out of practice.

No, even better, you seem to actually enjoy it, arms around his neck, pushing him back into the cold wall. What really does it for him though is the little sounds you make. They're pretty, like everything about you. Quiet, but not shy. You like what he's doing and that motivates him a lot.

He wants to hear it again. Parts from you for a split second to catch his breath, then dives in again, and it's messier this time. His lips slant against yours, a little dry and rough just like him and he licks into your mouth. It's a stark contrast to the earlier restraint but you're not complaining, no. You're far from it as he bites your lower lip, not quite enough to make it bleed, resulting only in a small sting.

A strand of his hair falls into your face, tickling your cheek, but you don't mind, not when he's kissing you like this. It probably looks like he's eating your face off. He's clumsy but eager, nose bumping into yours. His stubble is scratchy but it feels good against your skin, this is fun. Your smile into the kiss.

His hands come up to your face, cupping your jaw carefully, as if to make sure you won't pull back. You couldn't if you tried to, with the iron grip he has you in. Good thing you don't want to. Instead, you match Daryl's enthusiasm, kissing him hard. You press him into the wall, caging his body against it. If someone saw that... No, you probably wouldn't even do anything about it. Wouldn't have it in you to care and stop, it feels way too good.

Meanwhile, Daryl is ecstatic. He hasn't ever felt this good just kissing anyone! Actually, he used to not even like it very much. Maybe that's because he didn't know you back then. He is the one that's overwhelmed now, overcome with passion. His chest rises and falls quickly, he pulls back for a second, allowing you both to catch your breath. He takes in the sight of you, and it's almost enough to have him do something else to you on the spot. You look incredible, lips swollen from the kiss, eyes hazed over with want. He probably isn't any different. And then you give him that smile, the one he dreaded back when you weren't together because it made him forget about that fact. Now, it's his favorite thing in the world (apart from kissing you).

His eyes soften, thumb stroking your cheekbone. He's glad you got him him to try this. Though you're gonna have to deal with him wanting to do it all the time, now. His heart warms at the thought. He leans in to kiss you again, not as gentle as in the beginning but just as loving. Before he can deepen it, you pull back slightly, just enough to flash him a teasing grin.

"You're really getting better at this, you know!"

"Shut up." He swallows your giddy laugh, pulling you into his arms.