#awkward daryl

Daryl had just jogged up the stairs in the cellblock and was surprised to find you sitting on the edge of his bed like you were waiting for him. He slowed, caught off guard, and watched as you stood up, your eyes fixed on him. “Hey,” he drawled. “I was wonderin’ where ya got to but—wasn’t expectin’ ya to be up here. Everybody else is still out in the yard ‘round the fire.” You nodded. “I know.” You gave him a long look and for some reason he felt like his skin was prickling with electricity. “Do you want me to leave?” you asked. He shifted nervously and shook his head vaguely, his heart pounding as he tried to figure out exactly what was going on here. “No. Not unless ya wanna...” he drawled, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “I don’t,” you said softly.  Daryl gulped. “Is—everythin’ alrigh’?”

You nodded, and he watched one corner of your mouth curve up in a smile. “Yeah. Umm—I just wanted to ask you something.” “Alrigh’.” Why was his heart beating so fast?

Better just go for it. You’d waited up there so the two of you could be alone. “Do you have feelings for me?” He looked frozen for a moment. Stunned. “Because—because I have feelings for you. And I need to know if this is one sided and I’m imagining things or reading into things I shouldn’t be or—” “Ya ain’t,” he interrupted suddenly.  “Oh,” you said, grinning. “Good.” He ducked his head and nodded, but he couldn’t help smiling to himself. This was.... unexpected. “Ya were waitin’ up here for me just to ask that?” You nodded. “Mhm. And to do this...” You hurriedly crossed the space to him and hesitated just a moment, just long enough to take in the look in his blue eyes, before you crashed your lips into his. He kissed you back tentatively at first, like he was still a little unsure. But when you looped your arms around his neck and leaned into him it was like it kindled a need in him that he finally allowed himself to give in to... and he kissed you back hungrily.

Chapter Summary: You spend every waking hour of the next day hoping for Daryl back, you don't know if you'll be mad, sad, scared or happy when he returns. But when you are notified of his return, and you find out he's hurt, things go a bit further, or should I say a base further?

Category: Friends to Lovers, Mild Smut, just a good ol’ time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut, swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter 4: I trust you.

“Carol,” You yelled getting her attention.

She smiled back, a sympathetic look, but endearing and all knowing. “I heard what happened last night with you two.”

“Did he tell you?” The inquiry slipped immediately from your lips.

“On his way out he did,” the corners of her mouth pulled back into a smile, and she patted your shoulder.

“Out?”

“Went on a run, early this morning. Daryl stopped and talked to Carl and I on his way out the gates.”

“What did he say happened,” You begged, wanting to know the true reason he’s left you high and dry last night.

“Not very much, most was implied.” She held her arm out, guiding you to a near by table. You both sat together, and pried on the other’s interactions with the elusive conversationalist.

From what you gathered, he left this morning in a hurry, and he left mad. Mad at himself for fucking it up with you, whatever he thought it was. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing in detail, but he didn’t take much water and nearly no food. He should be back today, based on Carol and Carl’s sleuthing.

Prompt:  A very awkward Daryl trying to surprise me with something for Valentines Day could possibly end up smutty

Requested by @cherieann-2001

Fluff, Awkward Daryl, (809 words)

Daryl had been pacing along your porch for the past forty five minutes. You hadn’t let him know you’d spotted him, you’d just sat quietly reading your book until you could no longer take the heavy sound of his footfalls or the anticipation that swelled in your chest every time he hovered in front of the door.

Folding down your page and resting your book on the coffee table you decide to take matters into your own hands. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t even notice you standing at the open door until you began to speak. “Are you coming in or just wearing down my porch?”

“Huh?” his ears are burning red as he glances your way while trying to take a casual lean on the porch railing and almost falling over it instead.

You bite back your laugh at the way he tries to recover his fall, after all you don’t want him to run away and with the way his eyes are darting about he’s obviously considering it. “Well are you coming in or not?” you say with authority. You’re realising that waiting for Daryl to make all the moves would take you a hundred years and you don’t have the years or the patience.

With a shrug of his shoulders and his eyes firmly fixed on his boots he mumbles, “if thats what ya want…”

He’s hopeless! He might be able to track a wild boar, build a fire with nothing but a stick and shoot a target further than you could spot one but when it comes to taking the big hints you’ve been laying in front of his face ever since you’ve known him he’s like a blind man with his hands tied behind his back.

You turn back into the house smiling to yourself, leaving the door open and praying he follows you inside. He does. He follows you to the kitchen where you place the kettle on the stove, making you both a cup of sweet tea as Daryl fidgets with his fingers and shifts on his stool like he’s taken a seat on an ants nest.

“Are you okay?” you say, sliding his mug of tea in front of him, desperate to know exactly why he’s been hovering outside your house half the morning.

He looks right at you, his blue eyes wary, his adam's apple bobbing in one hard swallow as he thrust his hand in his pocket rummaging around. For a heartbeat you think he’s going to give the heart of a squirrel or something equally barbaric but what he pulls out is gold, at least it looks gold from what you can see all scrunched up in his fist.

You smile, excited butterflies dancing in your stomach, for you? He’s got something for you?

Daryl clears his throat, “ya said.. Ya know… you like uh… here.” Clumsy fingers thrust your present into your hand and the feel of his skin on yours enough to make your heart skip a beat.

It's a necklace, a dainty pink butterfly pendant on a chain so fine it's barely visible against your skin. It's perfect. A wave of warmth fills you from top to toe as you imagine him seeing this somewhere out in the world and thinking of you, bringing it back for you.

“I love it!” you smile, pulling your hair over you shoulder and fastening it around your neck all the while imagining Daryl having the finesse to do it for you instead. Maybe next time. “What do you think?” you say, elongating your neck.

“You’re real pretty,” he blurts, his ears turning even redder as he panics, knocking his cup of tea all over the counter and scrambling off his stool like he’s going to bolt straight out the door.

You hook your hand around his bicep, with any other man you’d make him do the chasing but with Daryl you do what you’re sure he never will no matter how many signs you give him. You kiss him, right on the lips, your hands sliding behind his neck with a sigh.

Daryl's hands rest awkwardly on your shoulders, his tongue barely escaping his mouth like he still isn’t sure.

“Relax,” you tell him and it's now or never. If you want this man then you can’t be subtle so you say it plain, “I want you Daryl. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

The way he looks at you changes, you can almost see the shyness floating from his eyes like a butterfly on the wind. He doesn’t say anything, he’s not a man of words and you don’t need him to be, he grabs you like you belong to him and kisses you like you’ve been wanting him to. Hard and rough, taking control like you’re the wilderness waiting to be explored.

Thank you for reading!

Tagging:

Haven’t made one of these in forever.

AN- I haven’t posted this anywhere else yet, this is just a short, fluffy/angsty unpacking of what might have happened after Daryl rescued Carol in season 3. I haven’t seen that episode or written for Caryl in forever so sorry if I got any facts wrong. This was written for fun an I hope you enjoy. 😊

“Easy now, easy.” Daryl coaxed in a husky voice. “Just a little at a time.”

He was sitting on a bed in a cell in their prison home, his back leaning against a wall and a very dehydrated Carol propped up against his chest. He had his arms around her, and was holding a bottle of water for her to drink, having her take little sips.

He wasn’t sure if the physical contact was absolutely necessary. He also wasn’t sure if it was more for her benefit of his.

She had been missing for three days. Was it only three days? It felt like months. After the walker attack was over and he could not find her, a heavy sort of feeling settled deep in his gut and seemed to grow heavier by the hour, like all of his insides was slowly filling with sand. Sitting with the others and not seeing her face, not hearing her voice, her absence seemed to grow, throb and ache.

When he was searching the prison with Carl and found her knife, the heavy, sinking feeling in him swelled into a shaking roar, and it was all he could do to stay calm and press on. But then he heard the noise. The sound of a walker, or so he thought. It made sense to the tracker, the walker outside the door with Carol’s knife stuck in its throat, the walker just on the other side of the door. It could have been her. She lost the fight, got bit, made it just behind the door where she faced her own death and turned alone, with no one to comfort her, no one to kiss good bye, no one to hear her last words, and no one to stop her from turning into one of those things.

These ugly, poisonous thoughts clawed at Daryl terribly. He couldn’t bear the images that came to mind, or facing the reality that they might manifest before him when he opened the door.

It took him a few minutes to collect himself. He tapped into his anger to give him strength, he thought of Merle calling him a pussy, he thought of his old man taking the switch to his back again and again, he thought of how he and Carol shared that abusive past, and the darkest thought of all, how he failed to save her. How he failed to save Sophia. He took all his anger and he burst through the door, ready for anything but what he found.

His Carol. Alive!

Weakened and in need of succor, but alive. He had to touch her to make sure she was real. Real and breathing. The heaviness in his gut vanished in an instant and seemed to take all of his ballast with him. He scooped her up eagerly but carefully, and was scarcely able to tear his eyes off her long enough to make the walk down the corridor and back to the others.

But he managed to make it back without tripping over anything, carrying Carol in his arms, savoring the feel of the weight of her body, knowing she was real, alive and unturned.

He called out to Carl to get him some water.

“Easy now, not too fast.” He soothed.

She hadn’t had anything to drink in three days, but Daryl knew if she chugged water too fast it would just make her body throw up.

He wasn’t sure if she could sit up on her own, that’s why he propped her up against him, so her back was pressed into his chest. That and her poor exhausted body felt cold, even in the Georgia summer. That and Daryl just needed to touch her, needed a constant somatic reminder that she was with him.

She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she relaxed into him, enjoying the feeling of his heat radiating against her, her trust in him complete, she allowed herself to take comfort from her rescuer. Her hand curled around his in gratitude. He smiled beside her and gently stroked her hand with the course pad of his thumb.

They stayed like that for a long time, Carol leaning against Daryl, Daryl giving her small but steady sips of cool water and quiet words of encouragement. At times Daryl ventured to caress the length of her arm, or he would even dare to lean forward and lightly nuzzle her head, his untrimmed hair tickling her neck.

After she had enough to drink, she fell asleep in his arms, still exhausted from her ordeal but recovering in the arms of the man who loved her, her breathing long and slow and peaceful.