Slut for Fictional Men

It took three months for Daryl to muster up the courage to ask you a personal question.

He had plenty of them, but wasn't used to being around anyone but Merle. He knew that you wouldn't berate him for asking questions or make fun of him. Hell, you asked more questions than anyone he'd ever met and you never seemed to be nervous about it, so why couldn't he just be brave for once?

"Why the hell would ya move here?" He'd blurted out, three months into the school year, as you were walking back from school together.

You'd looked about as surprised as he had by the question, but quickly averted your gaze.

"My brother." You reminded him "The one I mentioned before?"

Daryl nodded, brows lightly furrowed.

"Well, he's dead." You said it so casually that his steps has faltered while your eyes stayed glued up ahead. "My mom too."

"Jesus." He muttered, catching up quickly "M'sorry."

"S'alright." You nodded tightly "My dad wanted a fresh start far from home. Not all that fair when he's always out on the road anyway, but hell. Can't exactly go off on my own, now can I?"

"Gonna leave when you can?" He kicked a rock down the road, wondering if he'd ever manage to leave this place.

"I guess I could, now." You shrugged, hands shoved deep in your pockets "It would probably take him a month to notice, but I wouldn't get all that far without a job and some wheels."

"Christ," You snorted to yourself like it was funny "I could set myself on fire and that man still wouldn't see me."

Daryl's eyes snapped up to your face, studying it intently.

"I keep hearing how cool it is that I can do whatever I want, but it doesn't feel all that cool when I'm alone in that house with just my cigarettes and the wind." You rambled, always one to fill the silence rather than sit in it "I look like my mom, so I think that it's hard for him to be around me. I'm not sure if I even want him around though. When he's home, it feels like we're just acting. Joey would lose his mind if he knew I was smoking cigarettes and, a year ago, so would my dad."

"Sorry." You shut your mouth with pink cheeks. "Didn't mean to talk your ear off, It's just been a long time since I've actually had someone to talk to."

"Y'ain't got no friends?" Daryl asked without realizing it sounded mean "See you hangin' around that Greene girl in homeroom."

"I like Maggie." You shrugged "She just doesn't get it. I hear her complain about her family annoying her and it makes me want to shake her sometimes. I'd kill for a family that cared half as much as hers did."

"What makes you think I get it?" He asked, tone edging on hostile.

You glanced at him, then away quickly before answering.

"The bruises." You said it so simply, lighting a cigarette as you walked "They from your dad?"

Daryl couldn't help but bristle defensively. Where the hell did you get off making assumptions like that?

"It's not the same!" you held your hands up, backtracking and knowing damn well you'd crossed a line "Not by a long shot, but I know that not a lot of people would 'get' that either."

"Or maybe, this time I'm maggie, and you're me." You sighed regretfully "Maybe you wish your dad was like mine, and this is all just infuriating."

"I'm just saying, it's lonely being alone."

The second your respective homes were in sight, Daryl stomped off, seething, while you stood on the sidewalk hoping he wouldn't be angry with you for too long.

Unsurprisingly, Daryl was not waiting for you in the morning.

All you could do was sigh tiredly and shoulder your bag, walking to school alone for the first time in a while.

You were surprised to see him already in class when you got to homeroom, sitting in the back row and pointedly looking anywhere but your direction.

You hadn't done it on purpose, but you caught him in your shared smoking spot after sneaking out of gym class half-way through.

You'd both frozen once you caught sight of one another.

Daryl broke first and swiped his bag off the ground angrily, trying to storm off, but unsuccessful thanks to your hand, which had darted out to grip his wrist in an effort to stop him.

"Would you just wait a second?" You snapped, flinching when he shrugged you off roughly.

He didn't leave the small clearing, but stood as far as he possibly could from you, back pressed up against a tree defensively.

"I'm sorry about yesterday." You muttered when it became clear he had nothing to say to you. "That wasn't fair of me. It's none of my business"

"Damn right it wasn't." He scoffed angrily "You think I give a fuck that your dad ain't never home? We ain't friends. I was just walkin' with ya cause I'm headin' this way anyway. I don't need ya stickin' your nose where it don't belong."

"Christ," His tone turned taunting. Cruel. "No fuckin' wonder he ain't wantin' to hang around ya."

"Oh." was all you managed to get out, watery eyes fixed onto the forest floor. "Okay."

"Walk yourself home." Daryl spat before finally stomping off while you blinked back tears.

"You're so lucky that your dad's never home." Maggie groaned, sliding onto the bench next to you in the crowded cafeteria. "Mine is driving me crazy!"

You went stiff next to her, though she was too busy unpacking her lunch to notice.

"Ryan Summers from Biology asked me out to the movies and you know how much I like him, but my Daddy won't let him take me out unless he comes over for dinner with the entire family first." She rambled, sounding exasperated while you struggled to hear over the ringing in your ears. "Isn't that crazy?"

You nodded robotically, setting your sandwich down on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You muttered, packing up your things hurriedly "Just remembered, I've got study group today."

"Study group?" Maggie repeated back to you, eyes clouded with worry. "Since when are you in a study group?"

"It's new." You pushed off the table with a tightlipped, strained, smile "I've gotta go, Maggie, I'll see ya later or something."

Before she could get another word in, you were speed walking out of the cafeteria and right out the doors at the end of the hall, eyes glued to the ground and stinging.

You kept moving until you were at your smoking spot and dropped your bag into to the dirt, ripping your pack of cigarettes from your pocket and trying to light one with shaky hands.

Your eyes scanned the trees for any trace of Daryl and slumped over in relief when you found none. You weren't sure you could take his brash personality right then. Not when your heart was beating out of your chest and your breath was coming out quicker than you'd like.

"Don't be fucking dramatic." You muttered to yourself, blinking away tears as you took a long drag and started to pace "She didn't mean anything by it."

Christ, you were jealous. So fucking jealous of Maggie in that moment that your lungs ached with it.

You'd kill for a family to go home to every night for dinners and Sundays after church. The thought sent you spiralling over memories of your mother's lavish Sunday dinners and the smiling faces around the table.

If anyone was "lucky" It was Maggie.

At least she had a family to complain about.

All you had was a cold empty house and painful memories.

The pit in your chest was back. The one that made your skin itch and your arm tingle where little pink circles lived.

You didn't want to be reminded that you were alive in that moment. You just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.

So, you did.

You walked home and polished off your cigarettes on the way, destined to spend your night alone and wondering if you'd ever feel normal again.

The next morning, you watched from behind the curtains in the hallway as Daryl waited for you out front. You were surprised he'd showed up at all after you'd bailed without telling him the day before and wondered how long he'd waited for you before giving up and walking home alone.

A part of you wanted to go outside and apologize, but your mood hadn't improved much overnight. You still felt hollow and weightless enough to worry that you'd float away if you went out there untethered.

Daryl lasted five minutes before growing frustrated enough to storm off without you.

You'd only been walking buddies for two weeks, and already, you'd ruined it.

You ventured out onto the porch, still in your pyjamas, around noon and sat stiffly on the steps with the your last pack of cigarettes.

It had been two weeks since your father had been home, and you were down to $3 from the money he'd left you for groceries.

Not enough for another pack.

You hoped he'd be back both soon, and never at all.

As if you weren't already miserable, Daryl Dixon had to come stomping over after school, looking annoyed as all hell.

"Great." You muttered under your breath, trying to prepare yourself for a verbal lashing.

"Where the hell were ya yesterday?" He spat once he made it to your driveway. "Left me waitin' on ya like some kinda fuckin' idiot."

"I'm sorry." You sighed tiredly, scrubbing your hands over your face. "I had to leave early."

It was only then that Daryl took a good look at you.

You were wearing pink flannel shorts and a "pen state" T-shirt that looked 3 sizes too big for you. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were framed by dark bags and smudged eye makeup.

"I don't have any cigarettes left." You added, frowning "So, I'm sorry about that too."

Now, Daryl didn't know you all that well. But, even he could tell that there was something very wrong with you. Every interaction he'd had with you up until that point had been full of smiles and teasing on your end, but now, you just looked numb.

He didn't like how uneasy it left him feeling.

"S'wrong with ya?" He asked before he could stop himself, squinting at you.

"Nothing." You shrugged noncommittally, wringing your hands out in front of you "M'just tired."

"Look," You sighed, upset with yourself for already having fucked this up but unable to muster up the emotion to do anything about it. "If you don't want to walk with me anymore, that's fine. I get it, I left early, I'm sure sometimes you do too. It's not like this was gonna make sense anyway."

"Didn't say that." Daryl frowned. It was as though the anger had drained from his body, leaving behind unease.

"I have cigarettes." He muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, and tossed the half-pack he'd swiped off his father's dresser that morning.

You gave little reaction when the carton hit your leg and landed on the steps, moving slowly to grab them. You tucked one behind your ear for later and let a second dangle from your lips.

"Thanks." You smiled softly, handing it back.

Your fingers brushed up against his for the slightest moment as the pack changed hands, and you both jerked away as if you'd been electrocuted.

blinking around for something to distract himself with, Daryl gazed down at your shoes and asked what was weaved between your laces.

"A soda can tab." You breathed, looking down at it with glazed eyes "My brother used to put 'em on all his shoes. Drove my dad nuts."

"He at college or something?"

"Or something." You frowned, seeming to curl inward as you stood. "I've gotta go."

"Am I waitin' for ya on Monday?" Daryl called out before you could reach the door, unlit cigarette still hanging out of your mouth.

You both looked taken aback by the question.

"Yeah." You breathed after a long pause, offering a small smile that didn't reach your eyes. "I'll see you then."

Monday morning, with $200 burning a hole in your pocket, red rimmed eyes and an empty driveway, (Although he could have sworn he'd seen a truck there the night before), you found Daryl waiting outside for you and smiled like nothing had happened at all.

It hadn't taken you long to discover the little smoke spot across the street from the high school.

You'd been informed by a disgruntled looking receptionist on your first day that there was a strict no smoking policy on school grounds. You'd been offended for a half-second to have been pinned as a smoker so quickly, but you could imagine that the chain smoking marathon that had been prompted by nerves that morning had left you smelling like an ashtray.

You'd noticed a couple of kids smoking in the parking lot, but ended up trailing after the few who took off into the trees.

You hadn't done all that well at making friends aside from Maggie, but the stragglers huddled around the base of a large oak didn't seem interested in sparking up a conversation.

So, you'd kept walking.

There was a small break in the trees not too far that you had claimed as your own as soon as you'd seen it.

It felt a little sacred to you. A place to hide in between classes or while you were skipping a select few all together. You hadn't told Maggie about it, not that she would have joined you if you had. She'd been very vocal about her distaste for your growing habit and the fact that her daddy would kill her if he smelt smoke on her.

You'd almost tripped over Daryl the first time you found him in your spot.

He'd planted himself in the dirt, legs sprawled out in front of him, bent at the knee while a lit cigarette dangled from his lips.

"Oh." You'd all but gasped, staggering to the side a few steps to avoid crashing into him, and recovering as smoothly as you could by propping yourself up against the nearest tree. "Hey."

Daryl had stared at you for a moment, somewhere between bored and annoyed as he watched you pat your pockets in search of your carton of cigarettes.

Before you could find it, Daryl was on his feet and holding his own pack out to you.

He'd tried the gas station you'd told him about and had successful in procuring his very own, full pack for the first time. So, he felt like he owed you one. A 'thank you' might've done, but to him, it wouldn't feel like a debt settled. If there was one thing Daryl Dixon hated more than anything, it was feeling like he owed someone.

It was hard not to beam at him as you plucked out a cigarette and glanced down at your lighter to get it lit.

"Thanks," You sighed happily, looking back up and feeling a bit caught off-guard by the annoyance on his face.

"Whatever." Daryl scoffed, quick to take a few steps back and put some distance between you. "You followin' me now or somethin'?"

"I've been out here every day for two weeks," Your arms crossed over your chest defensively "Don't flatter yourself."

"So have I." He grumbled, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush creeping up his neck as he averted his gaze. "Ain't never seen ya out here."

It was quiet for a full minute before you sighed loudly.

"Ya know," the corners of your lips curled upwards. "You and me could be friends if you weren't so grumpy all the time."

"Friends?" The word may as well have been a curse word for the force of which he spat it, looking both alarmed and irritated. "Fuck do you wanna be friends with me for?"

"Well," You frowned, wondering distantly if this boy had any friends at all aside from his older brother, "For starters, we could smoke our cigarettes out here and be civil about it."

Daryl stared back at you, softening, but only slightly. It didn't sound all that bad to him, but he'd dug himself a bit of a hole by being so standoffish out the gate and he wasn't one to back down easy.

"Maybe we could walk home together from school since we're headed the same way?" You continued when it became clear he wasn't planning on speaking. "Eat lunch together if you're feeling real crazy-"

"We ain't eatin' lunch together." He spat with a lot less bite, shaking his head. The thought of sitting in the cafeteria at all, let alone with you, had always turned his stomach. He never had a lunch or money to buy one and he'd be horrified if you noticed and tried to ask about it. Sure, you lived next door and had seen how run-down his house was. Hell, your own house looked a little rough around the edges. But, Daryl couldn't shake the uneasy feeling.

"Alright fine." You agreed easily, nodding with a grin as you headed back towards the school. "So we'll be civil, and meet here after school"

"Don't get your hopes up." He muttered, watching you go.

"Too late!" You called over your shoulder, pausing only to put out your cigarette "My hopes are sky high, Dixon."

He waited until you were gone to chuckle under his breath.

It was hard not to squeal with delight when you found Daryl waiting for you after school.

He'd been toeing the dirt and started walking as soon as he heard you coming, leaving you to job if you wanted to catch up.

You did.

"So, friends then?" You asked halfway back to your street.

Daryl muttered something under his breath that you didn't quite catch, something along the lines of 'Jesus fucking Christ'.

"What was that?" You stopped and held your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun, squinting at him.

The mischievous glint in your eyes made his fingers tingle.

"Said fine." He grumbled, gnawing on his thumbnail.

"Great," you beamed, continuing down the road with a skip in your step.

Daryl didn't say a word, but you felt the mood lighten.

By the time you made it back to Hartley Street, you'd just barely managed to stop smiling like a crazy person.

"Wanna walk to school tomorrow?" You called after Daryl when he kept walking once you reached your front porch.

"Don't push it!" He called back without turning.

He heard your laugh in the distance and cracked the tiniest smile before ducking into his own house.

Despite his grumbling, Daryl was standing outside the following morning, waiting for you.

He'd been up late thinking about it and settled on there being no harm in walking with you if you were both going that way anyway. It would take more effort to avoid walking with you.

At least, that what he kept telling himself.

In homeroom, you couldn’t help but stare when Daryl walked in. 

No hood today. 

He was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

And- Christ.

You felt your mouth go dry as your eyes trailed down his arms. They were toned and straining against the sleeves of his shirt. Your gaze traveled back up to his face where you could clearly see a fading bruise on the left side of his face as he passed, eyes glued to the ground as he walked. 

You wondered if he had any friends or even maybe a girlfriend that Maggie didn’t know about. You sure as hell hoped not on the girlfriend front, but acknowledged inside of your own head that it was none of your business what Daryl Dixon got up to in his spare time. 

A boy sitting in the next row over made a comment that you had hardly heard and snickered to his friend.

You’d only been able to clearly make out the words ‘Dixon’ and ‘loser’.

Your head snapped to the side and before Maggie could stop you, you'd snatched up and tossed her eraser at the boy's head with as much force as you could muster. 

The corners of your mouth curled upwards as you watched it bounce off his temple and fly out of view, hitting the floor with a satisfying smack. 

He, and several other students, including your friend, stared back at you, slack-jawed. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little fucking rude?” You said lowly, glaring at him. 

“I-I Just-” the boy stammered, clutching his head and obviously not used to anyone being so blunt with him. 

“Shut up.” you muttered, facing the front with your arms crossed over your chest just in time to watch the teacher stroll into class, oblivious to your outburst.

“What the hell was that?” Maggie hissed, smacking your arm lightly.

“He deserved it,” you argued, shooting another harsh look the boy's way. “Fucking asshole” 

“Sure, but damn” She shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. “I think you scared the hell outta him.” 

If you’d looked, you would’ve caught Daryl staring intently at the back of your head, unable to decide if he was annoyed by your outburst, or amused. 

There was something in him that liked the attention, although, he’d vehemently deny it if anyone would have made a comment. He’d been seeing you out on the porch more and more and he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t curious. It was a quiet curiosity that had been firmly planted in his chest from the second that he’d laid eyes on you.

He didn’t understand why you were getting into his business.

Why did you care if that guy had something to say about him? He didn’t want it to look like he needed some girl to fight his battles for him, but the look on the kid's face was enough to bring a soft smirk to his own.

On his way out of class, He picked the eraser up off the ground and set it down on your desk while you gathered your things.

Your eyes met and you blinked at each other for a moment.

“Think ya dropped this.” He rasped, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

You smiled and opened your mouth to speak but before you could formulate a thought, he was gone.

You turned to Maggie, who looked just as surprised by the event, and tucked your hair behind your ears with pink cheeks. 

“Oh my god, did you see that?” you hissed, standing. 

“I mean,” Maggie scoffed, following you out into the hall “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him do anything close to smiling.” 

“But that doesn’t really mean anything, does it?” you sighed, hugging your books to your chest “Do you think I should try and talk to him next time I see him?” 

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Maggie said honestly “But that definitely was something.” 

“Right?” you smiled, “I’m gonna do it.” 

Pretty late, a few days later, you saw Daryl walking past your house and away from his own. 

Afraid he’d see you anyway and think you were stalking him or something, you cleared your throat and watched him freeze in his tracks. 

“You want a cigarette?” you asked quietly, just loud enough to carry across the yard without drawing attention. You’d seen him smoking a few times and figured that this was the most subtle way to grab his attention.

Daryl’s eyes darted from your front porch and the orange glow of your already-lit smoke to the road, contemplating. 

The lack of light offered enough cover that you might not see how swollen his face was, but it was a risk nonetheless. He’d been jonesing for a smoke before he’d even gotten home that afternoon, dismayed to find that Merle and his father were both out and struggled to find the resolve to turn your down.

Part of him wanted badly to know why the hell you’d thrown that eraser, but there was no way he could ask you without sounding at least a little interested.

Fuck it. 

Instead of answering, he just joined you on the porch, taking the pack and lighter from your outstretched hand, and sat up on the banister without a word.

“You ain’t afraid of your folks seein’ ya smokin’ out here?” He asked finally when the silence grew too comfortable. 

“No.” you shrugged “Pretty hard to notice if they aren’t here” 

If it hadn’t been so dark you would have seen that your answer had surprised Daryl. You looked pretty normal and even he knew that most people’s parents didn’t leave them alone for more than a weekend. 

He’d seen you smoking outside too many times to write it off as a one-time thing. 

“It’s just me and my dad” you explained after a too-long pause “He works a lot” 

“He work at a fuckin’ gas station or something?” Daryl asked, confused. What the hell kind of job was he working at night?

“No,” you laughed, unable to help yourself. “He’s a trucker. Usually comes home after a couple weeks, depending on how far out he’s got to go.” 

“He buy you smokes?” He rasped.

“God no,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “I buy ‘em at the quick stop on Maple.” 

“The gas station?” Daryl asked with a furrowed brow, turning towards your slightly “They didn’t card ya?” 

“Nope.” you grinned “Never tried to buy your own cigarettes?” 

“Nah,” He shook his head, looking a little bewildered. “Always figured they’d turn me down” 

The movement made his swollen eye visible and you did your very best not to stare.

“Well,” you smiled softly “You should try it sometime.” 

“Not that I mind sharing.” you added quickly, with pink cheeks. 

Daryl didn’t ask any more questions. 

He didn’t thank you for the cigarette either. He just stood and left you sitting there without a word. 

In homeroom the next morning, Daryl sat in the second to last row instead of his usual seat in the back, closer to you. It very well might’ve had nothing to do with the night before, but your mood noticeably improved regardless.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Maggie had asked tiredly from next to you, resting her head in her hands. 

“Nothing.” you smiled softly to yourself. “Just have a feeling. It’s gonna be a good day.” 

Daryl had never been a big fan of climbing into his father's truck with a drunken Merle in the driver's seat.

He'd offered once to drive them home after a party, not having had as much to drink that night as his older brother, and had been cuffed upside the head and laughed at for even suggesting it.

It was a lot easier to just let Merle do whatever he wanted and be glad he had a ride at all. So, Daryl never brought it up again.

The next time he'd been dragged out for a night of drinking with one of his brother's buddies, Merle clipped a post on the way home and the two of them had gotten out of the truck wordlessly and stared at the chipped paint for a full minute. It wasn't a big dent, but the paint was scraped down to the metal and the damage was glaringly obvious.

They'd both caught a lashing for that one, but Merle had been a lot more careful about driving drunk after that night, so Daryl hadn't put much thought into it since.

He'd been a little distracted that night.

The interaction the two of you had in the kitchen at that party, regardless of how short it had been, was plaguing his thoughts relentlessly.

He could admit to himself that you were pretty. That he'd spent a little more time watching you over the last few weeks than was normal.

But, who wouldn't?

He'd spent most of his life without anyone living in the house next door. It was only natural for him to be curious about you.

It wasn't often that people moved into the rural town. Just about everyone he'd ever met had been chomping at the bit to get the hell out of Senoia.

He wondered where you got your cigarettes.

He'd spent the last few years plucking the odd one out of Merle's packs, sometimes his father's if he was feeling brave, but you seemed to always have a pack in your hand.

You were out on that porch of yours smoking at all hours of the night and had to be going through at least a pack a day, which must've cost you a pretty penny.

Where did you get your cigarette money?

If your family had enough for you to chain smoke 24/7, why did you live on his run-down block? There were only three houses out that far in the woods. His, yours, and the burnt remains of his childhood home.

He hadn't actually seen your family.

He'd seen a man the day you'd moved in and there was a truck in the driveway every so often.

He wondered if your parents worked odd hours.

Daryl had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed the figure stepping out onto the road less than 50 yards in front of the truck barreling through the night.

"Merle stop!" He shouted, heart pounding in his chest as he flung his first into his brother's arm.

The elder Dixon slammed on the breaks, jerking them both forward in their seats as the truck skidded to a stop.

The two of them were wide eyed and breathing heavy, blinking at the empty road in front of them.

"What in the goddamn-" Merle immediately started cursing, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Before he could finish his sentence, Daryl was out of the truck and inspecting the pavement, half-expecting to see a body under the still-idling vehicle.

But there was nothing.

Over the sound of the old engine, he could faintly hear what sounded like hysterical laughter, only growing louder as time went on.

By then, Merle had gotten out of the truck and was grumbling under his breath as he followed his brother to the roadside, where you were laying in the dirt, chuckling to yourself.

Daryl was stunned. He’d watched you step out into the road. you must've dive rolled out of the way just in time to avoid becoming a stain of the pavement.

He wondered what the hell was going through your head while you were standing there waiting for the truck to plow right into you. 

“Aw, Jesus Christ.” Merle groaned, clearly annoyed by having to stop “See? She’s fine. Didn’t even hit ‘er” 

“Probably gave her a fuckin’ concussion or somethin’” Daryl grumbled, crouching down to scowl at you and your bloodied knees. 

“Hey.” Merle nudged you with the end of his boot. “You good Doll face?” 

You took a deep breath, trying to stop laughing, and nodded. 

“Well, there ya go.” He gestured towards you with an impatient look.

“You need a ride or somethin’?” Daryl offered stiffly, which Merle made no effort to encourage and instead groaned in frustration. 

A part of him wanted you to say no. He knew full well that it would be awkward as all hell riding back to the neighbouring houses with you wedged in between the two of them on the bench seat.

“Said ya live on Hartley, Right?” 

“Yeah.” you frowned, suddenly looking embarrassed. “It ain’t far, I’m good to walk” 

You pulled yourself to your feet without either of the brother's even thinking to offer you a hand up, and swayed a little, seemingly more aware of the fact that you were outnumbered by two men on a dark street. 

“I’d better go,” you muttered, walking past both of them and their truck. 

Daryl clocked the sudden shift in your demeanour. You'd clearly recognized them for what they were and wanted to get the hell away. He didn’t blame you, if anything, it was the most normal thing he’d seen you do up until that point.

He found himself wondering where the sudden burst of survival instinct had come from after walking out onto the road like that.

You didn’t turn until you were far enough that you'd be able to sprint for the trees if you needed to. When you did, you were grinning. 

“Hey!” you shouted “Y’all really shouldn’t be drivin’ after that much drinkin’. Coulda killed somebody.” 

You chuckled under your breath and veered off into the trees while Merle barked out a drunken laugh, clamping a hand down on his brother's shoulder.

"See?" He gave him a good shove towards the truck "Told ya, she's fine. Nuts, but fine."

Daryl watched you go, shaking his head. 

He sat perched in his window until he saw you emerge from the woods an hour later, following the orange tip of your cigarette up to your porch before falling back onto his bed with a sigh.

You 'd spent a full hour fussing over what to wear before settling on a denim skirt, a black tank top and your hot pink cowboy boots, knowing full-well that they made you look insane.

It had been a point of contention inside your head. Two sides of you going back and fourth, trying to decide if you wanted to lay low and keep any and all attention off of you, or bask in the curious stares like you would have the year before.

You'd stared at yourself in the mirror for half an hour after getting ready, feeling yourself slip back into the numbness that had seemed to consume you whenever you thought about life before losing the two people closest to you.

In the end, you'd had to run the bathroom tap until the water was boiling hot and stuck your hand under it in an effort to shock your system back to normal.

It took two pulls from one of the whiskey bottles on top of your fridge to get out the door once you got a handle on yourself.

The long, dark stretch of rural road seemed endless on the way to the party. Luckily, Maggie had slid a crudely-drawn map across the cafeteria table that day at lunch after you'd adamantly turned down a ride from her older brother, unsure you wanted her to see how run down your house was. You could just barely make out the details in the moonlight.

Maggie was standing out front when you got there and frowned when she caught sight of the cigarette dangling from your lips, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Those thing’s’ll kill ya.” She tsk’ed, only half joking as she pulled you in for a brief, but unexpected hug. 

You rolled your eyes and put it out on the sole of your boot, carefully tucking it back into the half-full pack. 

The girl had gasped loudly and taken an abrupt step back to look down at your feet before you could so much as tuck the carton back into your bag. “I love your boots! Where did you get them?”

“My birthday a couple years ago” you smiled, feeling a slight pang in your heart as you recalled how excited your mother had been to watch you unwrap the expertly wrapped gift. 

It had been clear that she'd seen your smile grow strained. That she'd clocked the stutter in your heart rate somehow. But, Maggie was kind enough not to mention it and ushered you inside instead, excitedly rambling about the promise of free liquor clearly highlighted on the invitation.

Despite having known Maggie for less than a week, you found yourself hoping desperately that the friendship would stick.

The two of you ducked inside the house, glancing around the packed room and sharing nervous, but excited smiles as you took in the state of the party.

There was easily a hundred people milling around the house in various states of intoxication.

The music blaring through the speakers in the living room was near-deafening and you found yourself popping your jaw as you followed Maggie towards the kitchen. 

You were immediately introduced to Lisa, a tall, gorgeous blonde who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else as she sat perched on the dining room table. Despite her initially bored demeanour, she’d enthusiastically greeted you both before mixing up a horrid concoction of liquor and juice that you'd chugged as soon as the cup was slapped into your hand. 

As the mixed drink combined with the dwindling effects of the whiskey you’d had before leaving your house, your nerves fizzled out completely and you felt more at ease than you had in months. 

“Slow down!” Maggie had laughed, shaking her head in mock-disapproval as she palmed her own drink “She pours heavy.” 

You just shot her a toothy grin and took a second drink from Lisa with a shrug, listening as the girls gave you the rundown on the rest of the party goers. 

Within a few hours, you were pretty sure that you could point out every couple in the room and spout a lengthy list of gossip you’d absorbed about each one. You were having a great time and found yourself infinitely grateful that Maggie wanted to be your friend and had invited you in the first place. 

Lisa was a little snarky, but was kind enought to you throughout the night, continuing to play bartender and mixing the three of you outrageously strong drinks.

You were all well passed buzzed and giggling as you played ‘smash or pass’, trying to be discreet.

“I can’t believe you don’t think he’s cute-” Maggie had sounded horrified after you'd ‘passed’ on a boy who had graduated two years prior, but froze as more people came in through the door.

“Oh great” She scoffed “The Dixons are here” 

You followed Maggie’s narrowed eyes to the two newest partygoers, surprised to find the boy you'd seen in your neighbourhood a few times since you'd moved, accompanied by a taller man who had to have been his brother.

Even from across the room, you could see just how blue their eyes were. 

Aside from having ten years on the younger Dixon, the taller of the two had his hair buzzed almost clean to the skin in what looked like a military haircut. His gait was confident and relaxed as he sauntered his way through the crowd, openly leering at girls and roughly nudging any obstacles in his way

The younger one’s hair was just as long as it had been days before, somehow blonde although you could have sworn it had looked brown when you saw him stomping off into the trees. It was hard not to notice the mole on his cheek and the way he hadn’t once raised his head high enough to make eye contact with anyone.

Despite the hair blocking most of his face, from what you could see, he was cute. 

Real cute.

“Smash.” you muttered under your breath.

“I’ll save you the trouble,” your new friend looked horrified by the comment “Those two are bad news. Best steer clear.” 

“Unless you want a joint,” Lisa interjected before taking a large swig of her drink, “Merle Dixon sells the best weed in town.” 

“Yeah,” Maggie rolled her eyes “And god knows what else.” 

“Which one’s Merle?” you asked, still blatantly staring at the brothers who by that point, had made their way to the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. 

“The older one.” Maggie nudged you to break your gaze “Quit staring!” 

“I’m just looking” you rolled your eyes “What about the other one?” 

“That’s Daryl.” Lisa shrugged, “He’s supposed to be in our grade, but hardly shows up to class.” 

“I think they might be my neighbors or something,” you said absently, allowing your eyes to wander back over to the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure I saw Daryl the other day.” 

“I hope not for your sake,” Maggie said seriously, pulling your attention “Everybody knows that their dad’s a drunk” 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Lisa added, watching Merle smack the red solo cup out of some poor kid's hand and start downing whiskey straight out of the bottle. 

Daryl was leaning back on the counter, looking like he really didn’t want to be there, which only made him seem more mysterious.

Maggie and Lisa seemed to have dropped the Dixons as a conversation topic, delving into a detailed account of the previous years grad prank that had been, as Lisa described it, ‘legendary’. You struggled to stay focused, offering halfhearted laughs here and there, fixated on the younger Dixon across the kitchen. 

Eventually, you excused yourself to the bathroom, insisting that you didn’t need them to come along.

On your way back, you couldn’t help but wonder if Lisa had been serious when she’d said that Merle sold weed. 

You’d tried smoking pot for the first time a few weeks before while packing up Joey’s room. There had been a jar of weed at the back of his sock drawer and you had stared at it for what felt like hours before trying to roll yourself a joint. 

You’d used a page torn out of the bible your mother had gotten you as a child, no longer wanting anything to do with god or church. 

If god was so great, how could he have let this happen? How could he have taken your mother and Joey?

The joint was a pitiful thing. Loose and unsealed, no filter or anything to keep you from inhaling chunks of poorly ground bud, which, of course, is exactly what happened. 

You thought you might like it if you had been able to figure it out on your own, and found yourself contemplating if it was worth asking. You hadn’t really enjoyed it the last time, but you’d do anything to outrun the grief you was fighting to keep at bay.

Surely you’d be able to pay him an extra dollar to roll you a joint. 

Your eyes tracked the younger Dixon’s movement in a blatant stare as you took your sweet time getting back to your friends, hoping that, just once, he’d meet your gaze. 

When he did, it had lasted half a second before he was looking away, eyes hidden by his long hair. You frowned, wondering what his deal was. The way the girls had talked about him made him out to be some kind of psycho. Always fighting and abrasive, never one to keep any friends around. 

You just couldn’t help it. 

Surely you weren’t the only person in this town intrigued by his mysterious demeanor. Daryl was a good-looking kid and that whole dark and stormy thing he had going on was beyond enticing. 

You tried not to look so obvious when you went into the kitchen under the guise of pouring yourself another drink.

You'd nodded cooly to the younger Dixon, reaching next to him for a half-full bottle of vodka. 

You’d gotten so close to brushing up against Daryl that he’d caught a whiff of your perfume, flooded with the smell of vanilla as he leaned slightly further from you.

He’d felt you staring throughout the night and wondered why, sneaking glances of his own when you weren’t looking. 

He didn't speak, but he did look back at you. 

“I think we live on the same street.” you continued, filling your cup with two fingers of clear liquor and introducing yourself “I just moved into the grey house.” 

“Daryl,” he muttered, taking a long sip from the beer in his hand. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in your ridiculous boots with slight amusement, well-masked by his scowl. 

If he'd been a bit braver, he might've told you that he’d already known that you lived on the same street. Although, he had not intention of ever letting you find out that he’d been periodically watching you sit on your porch and smoke from his bedroom window. The last thing he needed was for some chick to go around telling everyone he was being a creep.

At least now he knew your name.

When he didn’t make any further attempt to talk to you, you took the hint and wandered off, slightly discouraged, but not before calling a ‘nice to meet you’ over your shoulder first. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head as you downed the last of your drink and tossed the empty cup into the garbage bin across the room. 

Once you cleared the corner, you steadied yourself, lightheaded. 

You’d always had a problem knowing when to stop but figured this was about as clear of an indicator as you’d get. If you stayed any longer, you’d keep drinking and surely embarrass yourself.

You found Maggie and Lisa and said your goodbyes, zipping up your coat on your way to the door. 

“How are you getting home?” Maggie caught you by the wrist as you was leaving, glancing at you with concern. 

“I’m gonna walk?” you answered slowly “Ain’t very far” 

“My brother Shawn is coming to pick us up in an hour, do you want to come with us? I bet he wouldn’t mind dropping you off.” 

“No thanks,” you smiled politely, trying not to look too drunk, and gave her a half nod before turning on your heel. “I like to walk.” 

“Are you sure?” Maggie called after you “It’s really no trouble!” 

“I’m good” You shouted back without turning around “I’ll see you Monday” 

꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who lost her mother and older brother in an accident and is drowning in grief.

꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who is left to live with her never home, truck-driver father, who isn't doing much better and isn't used to actually parenting. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who is uprooted and moved to Senoia Georgia the summer before her Junior year of high school. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who finds herself living in the middle of nowhere, on a street with 3 broken down-looking houses, and a neighbour around her age she only sees in passing. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who quickly grows used to being left at home for weeks at a time with a wad of cash while her father works all over the country. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who picks up smoking less than a week after moving and smokes herself hoarse every night for a week. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who can't get out of bed some days. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who puts her cigarettes out on the inside of her arm when she needs to remind herself that she's real. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who hates being alone but is stuck in a quiet tomb. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who used to love reading, but can no longer get through a paragraph without feeling suffocated. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who's father sees his late wife in her face and can't stand the sight of her when he is home between jobs. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who polishes off whatever's left of the whiskey the second her father walks out the door and crawls up the stairs to hide under the covers. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who is immediately taken under Maggie Greene's wing on the first day of school and finds herself feeling something other than grief for the first time in months. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who can't help but stare at the mysterious neighbour boy.

Legend: ཐི♡ཋྀ NSFW 𐴱 𓆩♡𓆪 SFW 𐴱 𓆩♱𓆪 Angst 𐴱 𓆩✿𓆪 Fluff

✦ Girl Nextdoor!Reader Backstory Headcanons A little context to better understand how we got here and learn what makes our girl tick. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 ✦ Too Cool To Notice You attend a house party to kick off the school year with Maggie, and find yourself intrigued by a familiar looking boy and his older brother. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 ✦ Drunk Walk home On your walk home from the party, you find yourself feeling a little reckless when you see headlights coming towards you. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon x Merle Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 ✦ A Spark in the Silence You can't help but notice Daryl in class and make a split second decision when the kid in the seat next to you has something to say. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 ✦ A Deal made in Ash Following the eraser incident in homeroom, you and Daryl take baby steps towards friendship despite his reluctance to get close. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 ✦ Trust Worn like a Bandage Your neighbour/sometimes friend turns up after a fight in rough shape and reluctantly lets you help tend to his wounds. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 ✦ Nightmare Daryl finds out you've been hurting yourself for months and is terrified that he's going to lose you to your own hand. He has a fitful sleep that ends with him gasping awake and reaching for you in the dark of your room Teenager!Daryl Dixon x Neighbour!Reader 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪