HEY! so this is my first ever fan fic, I'm shit nervous so please be kind but criticism is welcome. I defo have plans for a smutty angsty part 2 (yum) so maybe you'll enjoy. Anyway, luvs ya xx I also am very new to tumblr so bare with me. P.S i forgot which characters live in Alexandria so if i got things wrong SUE ME. let a bitch have some fun.

2.3k words

tw: swearing and mean!Daryl

summery: reader goes out for a run for beauty supplies and Daryl gets pissed.

Alexandria had been buzzing for days over Deanna’s stupid party idea. Most people were excited for it; a chance to pretend things were normal again. To wear fancy clothes. To laugh without checking over their shoulder every five seconds.

You thought it was ridiculous at first.

Then you remembered what it felt like to be a woman before the world ended.

Perfume. Lip gloss. Soft skin. Pretty dresses. The little things that used to make you feel human.

So you went on a run.

A dangerous one.

Alone.

You’d practically had to beg Rick to let you take one of the cars, swearing you’d stay close and be back before dark. The entire drive, you kept telling yourself it was stupid, risking your life for makeup and nail polish. But every time you found another unopened bottle of perfume or untouched makeup palette, you couldn’t stop smiling. For once, it wasn’t about survival. It was about feeling alive.

The gates of Alexandria groaned open just as the sun started dipping low.

The second your tires rolled through, you spotted Daryl storming across the street toward you.

Oh, great.

His crossbow hung over his shoulder, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. The second you climbed out of the car, he started yelling.

“Where the fuck ya been?” he snapped in that thick southern drawl. “Ya outta ya damn mind? Does Rick know ya went out there alone?”

You shuddered in hate.

You slammed the car door harder than necessary. “Jesus Christ, Daryl, shut up. S’none of your business where I went.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

“It’s handled, okay? I’m back alive.”

“Barely, probably.”

You rolled your eyes and reached into the backseat for the bags, but Daryl snatched one straight out of your hands before you could stop him.

“What the- give it back.”

He looked inside. His face darkened instantly.

Boxes of makeup. Fake lashes. Nail polish. Perfume bottles wrapped carefully in cloth.

For a second he just stared. Then started breathing heavy through his nose in fury.

Then he looked at you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Are ya fuckin’ serious?” he barked. “Ya almost got yerself killed for this shit?”

You folded your arms defensively. “It matters to us.”

“To who?”

“To the women here! To me!”

Daryl scoffed, angry in the way he only got when he was scared.

“All this so ya can look pretty for some asshole at a party?”

Your expression hardened.

“Excuse me?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice, rough and mean.

“Really are a stupid slut sometimes, y’know that? Riskin’ your neck just to get laid. For a dick to suck. Pathetic.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You have always butted heads with Daryl ever since Rick saw something in you and kept you safe at the prison. But this… Daryl took this too far this time.

For a second, you just stared at him.

Dumbfounded. The words knocked the air clean outta your lungs. Then your face twisted into something cold and furious and something in you snapped.

“A slut?” you repeated quietly.

Daryl’s jaw tightened, but you kept going before he could say anything else.

“You think that’s what this is about?” You laughed once — sharp and humorless. “Jesus Christ.”

The words came out venomous before you could stop them. “God forbid women wanna feel good about themselves just because we do. Maybe if someone actually touched your dick once in a while you wouldn’t be so damn miserable all the time.” 

Something in Daryl’s expression hardened fast.

“Funny,” he said coldly. “Comin’ from someone so pathetic and desperate to be looked at, she’ll risk dyin’ for some lipstick.”

You ripped the bag from his hands so hard a bottle inside clinked loudly.

“You know what’s pathetic, Daryl? The fact that the world ends and somehow it’s still a man’s fucking world.”

His eyes like steel not backing down.

You stepped closer, voice shaking with anger now.

“You all get to keep yourselves. Rick gets to be a leader. You get to be the tracker, the hunter, the survivor.” You pointed toward the bag. “And the second women wanna feel like themselves again, it’s stupid? Dangerous? Slutty?”

“That ain’t what I—”

“No, that is exactly what you meant, asshole.” You shoved his chest in frustration. You knew he was stronger than you but he stumbled a step back anyway. Like he was weak.

Your eyes burned into his.

“We spend every damn day covered in blood and dirt, scared outta our minds, trying not to die. We don’t get mirrors. We don’t get softness. We don’t get to feel pretty or normal or human unless we fight for it.”

Daryl looked away for half a second, guilt creeping across his face, but you were too angry to stop now.

“I didn’t do this for men,” you spat. “I did it because I’m tired of surviving like I’m already dead.”

Silence settled heavy between you.

The wind shifted through the street.

“You know what?” you said quietly. “Fuck you, Daryl.”

You nudged his shoulder as you walked away with the bags.

And for once, Daryl Dixon had absolutely nothing to say.

You turned the corner fast, trying to outwalk the sting burning behind your eyes.

Your grip tightened around the bags in your arms hard enough to crinkle the plastic. The sound of the party preparations drifting through Alexandria suddenly felt ridiculous now — music, laughter, people pretending things were normal while your chest felt like it’d been ripped open.

“Hey!”

Maggie hurried after you, boots skidding on the pavement.

You didn’t stop walking.

“Hey, slow down,” she said softer this time, finally catching up beside you. “ you okay?”

You laughed bitterly under your breath. “Do I look okay?”

Maggie glanced back toward the street where Daryl still stood near the gate.

“Damn,” she muttered. “That looked intense.”

“That’s one word for it.”

You shoved open your garden gate harder than necessary, climbing the steps while Maggie followed close behind.

“He called me a slut, Maggie.”

Her face dropped instantly.

“He what?”

“All because I went out for this stuff.” You held the bags up angrily. “Like God forbid women wanna feel like themselves for five damn minutes without it bein’ about men.”

Maggie stayed quiet, letting you vent.

“He acts like wanting makeup or perfume is stupid because it doesn’t help you survive.” You scoffed, fumbling for your keys with shaking hands. “Like surviving’s the only thing we’re allowed to care about anymore.”

“What a douchebag?!” Maggie huffed. 

She helped you with the bags and set them on the sofa.

Maggie blinked.

Inside were makeup palettes still sealed in plastic. Bottles of perfume. Hair products. Nail polish in every color you could find. Face masks. Lipsticks. Brushes.

For a second she just stared.

“Oh my God…”

You pulled another bag open.

Fake lashes. Jewelry. Skincare. A curling iron you prayed still worked with Alexandria’s power.

Maggie’s mouth actually fell open a little.

“You found all this?”

You shrugged, trying to stay angry instead of emotional. “Drug store outside Richmond. Most of it was untouched.”

Maggie carefully picked up a small bottle of perfume, turning it over in her hand like it was made of gold.

Then she laughed softly, completely stunned.

“Carol’s gonna freak.”

Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth twitched.

“She better.” 

Maggie looked back into the bags again, eyes wide now as the reality hit her.

“You did all this for us?”

You swallowed.

“I just…” Your voice softened slightly. “I wanted one night where the women here could feel normal again. So I can feel me again” you admitted quietly. “Even if it is fake.”

Maggie’s expression softened immediately.

“It ain’t fake,” she said. “Wantin’ pieces of yourself back after everything? That’s human.”

Your eyes stung again at that.

“Ya know, I don’t think Daryl meant all that. Maybe you scared him.” she said rubbing your shoulder

“Well, he still said it.” you sighed. She knew there wasn't much she could say to comfort you so she gave up on the idea of trying.

Instead, she set the perfume down carefully and looked back up at you with a grin slowly spreading across her face.

“Well,” she said, already examining the products, “we are absolutely not wastin’ this.”

You finally let out a real laugh — small, exhausted, but real.

“Maggie.”

“Hm?”

“Rally the women.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“All of ‘em?”

“All of ‘em,” you repeated. “Tell ‘em to come to my house before the party.”

Maggie’s grin widened instantly.

“Oh, this is gonna be chaos.”

“Exactly.”

Your house was loud for the first time since the world ended. Not panicked loud. Not screaming loud.

Happy loud.

Music crackled through the old boom box sitting on the kitchen counter, the cassette tape warbling every few seconds while laughter bounced off the walls. Somebody had found wine somewhere. Somebody else was already tipsy.

The entire downstairs smelled like hairspray, perfume, and burnt hair from the curling iron currently plugged into the bathroom outlet. And somehow the power actually held.

“Oh my God, hold still!” Rosita laughed, yanking Tara back toward a chair while trying to fix her eyeliner. “You move one more time and I’m makin’ you look possessed.”

“I already look possessed,” Tara snorted.

Carol sat near the couch with a tiny compact mirror in one hand and lipstick in the other, looking genuinely stunned.

“I forgot how weird this feels,” she admitted quietly.

Maggie appeared behind her immediately. “Good weird or bad weird?”

Carol smiled softly at her reflection.

“Good weird.”

Across the room, Sasha was helping braid Enid’s hair while Rosita argued loudly that everyone needed winged eyeliner “for morale.”

“You are not touchin’ my face with that tiny weapon,” Michonne warned from the armchair.

“You survived Terminus but eyeliner scares you?”

“Yes.”

You laughed from the bathroom doorway, curling iron in hand. The sound felt foreign coming out of you after the fight with Daryl. For a while, you’d almost forgotten about it.

Almost.

“Okay, who’s next?” you asked.

“Me!” Tara yelled instantly.

“No offense,” Rosita said, “but I’m going first. My hair is a hate crime right now.”

“RUDE.”

The room erupted into laughter again. Music played louder as someone turned the volume knob up. Maggie immediately grabbed your hand, dragging you toward the middle of the living room.

“Nope. Absolutely not. You are participating.”

“Maggie-”

“You started this.”

Before you could argue, she shoved a hairbrush into your hand while Carol held up a dress she’d found in your bedroom.

Your jaw dropped.

“Carol!”

“What?” she asked innocently. “You’re wearin’ it.”

“I can’t wear that.”

“You absolutely can,” Rosita cut in immediately.

“You’ll look hot,” Tara added helpfully.

Michonne looked up from painting her nails. “You kinda have to now. Democracy.”

You groaned while everybody started talking over each other. And for the first time in years, it felt less like surviving. More like a sleepover. Like being women again.

Daryl sat alone on the porch steps outside Aaron’s house, cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

He hadn’t moved in almost an hour.

The sounds drifting across Alexandria made his jaw tighten every time another burst of laughter carried from your street

Women yelling over each other.

The warped sound of some old cassette tape.

Your laugh.

He stared out into the dark, expression hard.

Truth was, you and him had been fightin’ since the day you met. Back on the road, before Alexandria, before any of this almost-normal bullshit.

You thought he was an asshole.

He thought you were spoiled.

First argument happened because you complained about mud ruining your boots.

Second because he caught you trying to wash blood outta your hair with their last clean water.

Third because he nearly got bit dragging your stubborn ass outta a department store after you stopped to grab a stupid denim jacket.

And somehow after that… the bickering never stopped.

You mocked his grunting and his attitude.

He mocked your “princess bullshit.”

You stole his cigarettes once just to piss him off.

He replaced your favorite knife after you lost it and never admitted it was him.

Half the time, neither of you even remembered what the arguments were about.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like hate.

Which honestly just made it worse.

Because Daryl knew exactly when things changed.

It was the prison. You’d gotten sick.

Fever so bad you could barely stand, still trying to help clear walkers off the fence because you were too damn stubborn to rest.

He remembered screaming at you for it. You screamed back. Then passed out twenty minutes later.

After that, he started watching you without meaning to.

Fixing things around your cell block. Leaving extra food near your spot. Checking if you came back from runs. And every single time he almost admitted he gave a shit, you’d say something smartass and ruin it.

Or he would.

Probably both.

Daryl took another drag from the cigarette, jaw tightening.

"Maybe if someone actually touched your dick once in a while you wouldn’t be so damn miserable all the time."

He shut his eyes briefly.

Yeah.

That one stung.

But not half as much as seeing your face after he called you a slut.

Because he didn’t really think that.

Not even close.

Truth was, when he saw those bags full of makeup and perfume, all he could think was how you almost died.

Again.

Over something he didn’t understand.

And fear always came out mean with him. Always had.

From down the street, another wave of laughter drifted through Alexandria.

Then music.

Then your voice yelling something over everybody else.

Daryl’s mouth twitched despite himself.

Still loud as hell.

Still drivin’ him insane.

Hello all! Here’s part 2 yay. Thank you all for the lovely messages and comments on part 1. I didn’t think these scenes were gonna be so detailed so definitely more action(and smut hopefully) will be in part 3. Didn’t think this was gonna be so slow burn damn.

Hope you like it! Luvs ya xx

2.9k words

Warnings: Swearing I think idk

Summary- Daryl is pissed after the argument, you look the bomb.com and get flirted with

~~~~~

The party had barely started and already half the men in Alexandria looked confused.

Rick stood near one of the tables outside, nursing a drink while watching groups of people gather beneath the string lights.

The women had completely taken over. Everywhere he looked there was laughter.

Carol was wearing lipstick. Rosita looked like she’d declared war on every eligible man within a ten-mile radius. Even Michonne had done something different with her hair.

It was strange…But nice. For once.

“You seein’ this?” Abraham asked, appearing beside him with a grin.

Rick huffed out a laugh.

“Hard not to.”

Abraham gestured vaguely toward the crowd.

“Whole damn town got ambushed by hairspray.” Abraham snorted. “Seriously though. They look happy.”

Rick nodded. They did.

Glenn was beside him, smiling as Maggie showed him her freshly painted nails for what had to be the fifth time.

“They still look nice,” Glenn assured her.

“You didn’t even look.”

“I did.”

“You absolutely didn’t.”

Rick couldn’t help smiling. Maggie left to get another drink.

“I think Rosita threatened Eugene with eyeliner.” aaron said replacing her spot.

“That sounds right,” Glenn laughed.

Eugene immediately pointed across the party.

“For the record, I was not threatened. I was aggressively encouraged.”

“Same thing,” Aaron said.“I walked into Carol’s house earlier and got kicked out because apparently I wasn’t allowed to see the ‘final reveal.’”

Glenn snorted.

“Yeah that's carol for ya.”

The conversation drifted naturally toward the topic everybody had been talking about all evening.

You.

Aaron shook his head.

“She really found all that stuff?” Aaron asked.

“Yep,” Glenn replied.

“Whole drug store.”

“Damn.”

Rick shook his head.

“Wasn’t exactly thrilled she went alone.”

“No kidding,” Abraham muttered. “But do the ladies look HOT!”.

A few chuckles followed.

The conversation might’ve stayed there.

Except Aaron suddenly looked past Rick.

Toward the opposite side of the street.

A grin appeared on his face.

“Oh.”

Rick followed his gaze.

Then Glenn.

Then Abraham.

Almost immediately, all four men started smirking.

Because there was Daryl. Sitting by himself.Again.

He was leaning against a porch railing with a beer in one hand, looking thoroughly miserable.

“Uh oh …He’s still sulking.”

“Ain’t sulking.”

Daryl hadn’t even looked up.

Glenn exchanged a glance with Maggie.

“Sure.”

“Ain’t.”

Aaron folded his arms.

“You’ve been sittin’ there all night.”

“Ain’t been all night.”

“It’s been an hour.”

“Same thing.”

Glenn bit back a smile. Daryl shot him a warning look. Traitor.

Rick took a sip of his drink. “Heard what happened at the gate.”

Immediately Daryl’s jaw tightened.

“Don’t.”

“Just saying.”

“Don’t.”

Rick ignored him.

“She scared the hell outta everybody.”

“Exactly.”

“But that ain’t no excuse for how you talked to her .” Silence.

Daryl stared at the ground. The music from the party drifted through the air. Laughter echoed from somewhere down the street.

Finally he muttered,

“I know.”

The answer came so quietly that Glenn almost missed it. Aaron’s eyebrows lifted.

“You know,” Aaron said carefully, “most people apologize after callin’ somebody a slut.”

Abraham winced at the abruptness of the Conversation. Daryl looked like he’d rather let the walkers have at him,

“Ain’t need a damn lecture.”

“Didn’t say ya did.”

“Then shut your damn mouth.”

Rick sighed.

“Daryl.”

The archer scrubbed a hand over his face. Already irritated. Already tired. Mostly because they weren’t wrong.

Maggie appeared beside Glenn carrying two drinks. One look at Daryl told her exactly what was happening.

“Oh good,” she said dryly. “We’re still doing this.”

Daryl groaned.

Maggie ignored him. “You really hurt her.”

His shoulders tensed.

“Know that too.”

The answer surprised everybody.

Including him.

Because there wasn’t even any fight left in it.

Just guilt.

Maggie’s expression softened slightly.

Only slightly.

“She did all that for us.”

Daryl didn’t answer.

“Not for attention.”

Still nothing.

“Not for men.”

His jaw tightened. Because that’s exactly what you’d said. Word for word. And hearing it repeated made him feel worse.

The silence stretched.

“Look,” Glenn said carefully, “she was trying to do something nice.”

Daryl rubbed a hand across his face.

“I know.”

“Then why’d ya say it?”

The question landed hard because Daryl didn’t actually have an answer.

Not one that sounded sane.

Because saying:

Because I thought she’d gotten herself killed.

Because every time she leaves the gates I can’t breathe right until she comes back.

Because seeing those bags made me realize she almost died for something I didn’t understand.

…wasn’t exactly an option.

So instead he grunted.

Everybody immediately knew he wasn’t going to answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Abraham muttered.

Daryl wasn’t paying attention to whatever they were saying anymore.

The words had turned into background noise. None of it registered.

Because you’d just walked out of the house.

For a second, Daryl genuinely forgot how to breathe. The porch suddenly felt too small. Too hot. Too crowded.

You stood at the top of the steps laughing at something Rosita said. The dress Carol had bullied you into wearing fit like it had been made for you. Your hair fell in soft curls around your shoulders. Even from across the street, Daryl could see the effort that had gone into it. The makeup wasn’t heavy. Wasn’t dramatic.

Just enough.

Enough to make you look like the woman you’d been before the world ended. Or maybe the woman you’d always been. Daryl wasn’t sure.

What he was sure about was that he couldn’t stop staring.

“Wow.” Aaron’s voice broke through the fog.

Daryl ignored him. Your smile widened at something Rosita said.

And there it was. That smile.

The one he’d spent all day wishing he’d never taken away.

Something twisted painfully in his chest. Because you looked happy. And he hadn’t been the reason for it.

For once, You looked completely free of him. No arguments. No bickering. No eye rolls. No yelling.

Just happy.

The realization hit harder than he expected.

“You should probably close your mouth.”

Daryl immediately snapped his jaw shut.

Aaron grinned.

“Thought so.”

“Shut up.”

Aaron laughed into his drink.

Across the street, Carol appeared beside you and immediately started fussing with your hair. You swatted her hands away. Carol ignored you and fixed it anyway.

The sight made something unexpected tug at the corner of Daryl’s mouth.

For years he’d watched you fight with everybody who tried taking care of you.

Carol.

Rick.

Maggie.

Him.

Especially him.

Stubborn as hell. Always had been.

You said something that made Rosita throw her head back laughing. Then you laughed too. Daryl felt the sound all the way from where he stood.

And God help him, you looked beautiful. Not because of the dress. Not because of the makeup.

Because for the first time in a long time…

You looked alive.

The thought hit him like a punch.

Suddenly he was back at the gate. Back to seeing those bags. Back to hearing your voice shaking with anger.

‘I didn’t do this for men.’

Back to watching tears gather in your eyes.

‘I’m tired of surviving like I’m already dead.’

Daryl swallowed hard.

Because now he understood. Looking at you standing there surrounded by people who cared about you…

He understood exactly why you’d done it. And somehow that made him feel even worse.

As if sensing it, your eyes lifted.

Across the crowd. Across the street. Straight to him.

Everything in Daryl’s body locked up. For one stupid second he thought maybe you’d smile.

Maybe wave. Maybe something. Instead your expression cooled instantly.

Like he was any other person at the party.

Then you looked away and kept walking.

The smile returned the second rosita said something else.

Somehow being yelled at would’ve hurt less. At least then you’d still be looking at him.

The moment you stepped outside, the noise hit you all at once.

Music. Laughter. Voices overlapping under the glow of string lights stretched between old houses.

Alexandria looked… different tonight.

Warmer, somehow.

Or maybe that was just what everyone was pretending.

You adjusted the dress Carol had insisted on helping you into, suddenly hyper-aware of how it sat on your body. Not uncomfortable. Just unfamiliar.

Like you were wearing a version of yourself you hadn’t met in a long time.

Rosita was talking beside you, but you only caught half of it.

Something about “not letting men ruin a good eyeliner moment.”

You laughed anyway.

It felt easier than thinking too hard.

Carol reached over and fixed a strand of your hair that had already fallen out of place.

“You’re gonna undo all my work,” she said softly.

“I didn’t ask for this much effort,” you replied, swatting her hand away.

But you didn’t really mean it. Not fully.

You felt people watching you as you moved down the steps.

Not in a bad way.

Just… aware.

Like you’d stepped into a version of yourself that existed before everything got sharp and loud and covered in blood.

For a second, your chest tightened.

Then Rosita bumped your shoulder.

“Relax,” she said. “You look good.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I look like I survived a makeover apocalypse.”

“That’s basically what happened,” she shot back.

You laughed again.

Easier. Lighter.

Like you could almost forget the way your hands still remembered holding weapons better than anything else.

Across the street, you saw him.

Daryl.

You didn’t mean to look.

It just happened.

He was sitting with the others, half in shadow, beer in hand.

Not moving much. Just watching.

You couldn’t read his expression from here. You weren’t sure you wanted to. Your stomach tightened anyway.

The memory of the gate flashed through your mind before you could stop it.

His voice.

Your voice.

The word.

You swallowed and looked away too quickly, pretending Rosita had said something funny again.

She hadn’t.

But you laughed anyway.

Because it was easier than letting your mind go back there.

You told yourself not to think about him.

Not tonight.

Not now.

Not when everything was supposed to feel normal.

“You’re doing that thing,” Maggie said, joining you.

“What thing?”

“Thinking too hard.”

You scoffed.

“I’m not.”

Maggie just smiled like she didn’t believe you.

You followed her gaze without meaning to.

And there he was again.

Still watching.

Still not doing anything.

You couldn’t tell what you were supposed to feel about that.

Anger? Relief? Nothing?

You settled on nothing.

Nothing was safer.

So you turned back to Rosita mid-sentence and forced yourself to laugh again.

But your awareness of him didn’t leave.

It just stayed there. Quiet.

At the edge of everything.

Like a door you weren’t ready to open.

Someone stepped into your space. Not close enough to be rude. But close enough that you noticed immediately.

Spencer Monroe. Of course.

He had that easy, practiced smile on his face,like the world hadn’t ended and he was still allowed to be confident in it.

“Hey,” he said.

You blinked, slightly thrown off. “Hey.”

Rosita’s expression shifted instantly beside you, like she was already bracing for entertainment. Maggie, a little further back, raised an eyebrow.

Spencer ignored them both. Or tried to.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before,” he said.

You glanced down at your dress automatically.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s probably because I usually look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”

Rosita snorted. Spencer smiled wider.

“I was gonna say… you clean up pretty well.” There it was. The compliment.

Simple. Harmless.

Still made something weird tighten in your chest.

You weren’t used to that kind of attention anymore. Not soft attention. Not normal attention.

You shifted your weight slightly.

“Thanks.”

A pause.

You suddenly became aware of how many people were nearby.

How many eyes were not-so-subtly drifting this way.

Including his.

You didn’t look. You didn’t need to.

Spencer tilted his head slightly.

“You’re the one who went out for all this stuff, right?”

You hesitated.

“Yeah.”

“That was… pretty impressive.”

You gave a small shrug like it didn’t matter.

“It was just a run.”

“It wasn’t ‘just’ anything,” he said.

That made you pause. Because it sounded like he actually meant it. Not in a flirty way. Not exactly. Just… genuine.

Rosita leaned in toward Maggie behind you, whispering something that made Maggie try not to smile.

You ignored them.

Spencer shifted a little closer—not invading, just settling into conversation.

“So,” he said, “you going to enjoy the party you basically saved, or are you gonna stand here pretending you don’t like being told you did something good?”

That made you laugh. A real one this time..

“Did I save the party now?”

“I mean,” he said lightly, “you brought back civilization in a bottle. So yeah, kinda.”

You rolled your eyes, but your mouth was still curved.

“Civilization in a bottle. That’s dramatic.”

“I’m a Monroe. We do dramatic.”

That got another laugh out of you.

Easier again.

You didn’t notice the shift at first. The way Spencer’s tone softened slightly. The way he stayed where he was instead of stepping away. The way he was looking at you like you were something interesting, not just someone surviving.

You felt it across the street before you saw it. That pressure. That awareness.

Like someone had gone very still.

You didn’t turn. Not yet.

Spencer continued talking, saying something about how Alexandria had needed this kind of night for a long time. You nodded occasionally. Half listening, Half aware of something tightening in your stomach that had nothing to do with him.

Then he offered you a drink. You took it without thinking too hard.

“Thanks.”

And that was when you finally looked up. Not at Spencer. Past him. Across the street. 

Daryl.Still on the porch. Still watching. Completely still now.

The expression on his face was unreadable from here. But something about the way his shoulders sat made your chest tighten anyway. Like he’d gone quieter. Not angry. Not even annoyed. Just… gone inward.

You held his gaze for half a second too long. Something flickered there. You couldn’t name it. Then your expression shifted on instinct.

You didn’t smile.

Didn’t wave.

Didn’t soften.

You just… turned away. Back to Spencer.

Like it meant nothing.

Like it was easy.

Spencer was still talking, unaware of the shift. You laughed again at something he said. It sounded normal. It felt normal.

But your attention wasn’t fully here anymore. It was split now.

Between the conversation in front of you…

And the silence you could feel across the street.

Daryl should’ve left.

The second he saw you walk into the party, he should’ve gotten on his bike and disappeared for the night. Instead, he made the mistake of staying. Now he was miserable.

He leaned against the porch railing with his beer, staring stubbornly into the distance. Absolutely not looking at you. Not even once. Not at all.

“You’re starin’.”

Daryl didn’t look away from the street.

“Ain’t.”

Aaron appeared beside him, following his gaze directly to where you stood laughing with rosita.

“Mhm.”

Daryl took a long drink.

“Ain’t starin’.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Aaron’s grin widened.

Daryl hated him a little.

Then daryls hunter eyes saw spencer monroe making a bee line for you.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Aaron muttered.

Daryl watched him stop beside you.

Watched you laugh at something he said. Watched Spencer smile. Then smile again. Then lean a little closer.

The beer bottle creaked in Daryl’s grip.

Aaron noticed Immediately.

“Uh oh.”

“Ain’t nothin’.”

“Daryl.”

“Ain’t nothin’.”

Aaron looked delighted. “You know Spencer’s flirting with her, right?”

Daryl’s jaw tightened. “No he ain’t.”

“He definitely is.”

“He talks like that to everybody.”

“He really doesn’t.”

Spencer laughed at something you’d said.

You laughed back.

Daryl looked like he wanted to fight God.

Aaron barely held it together. “Oh my God.”

“Shut up.”

“You are jealous.”

Daryl nearly choked on his beer. “The hell I am.”

“You absolutely are.”

“Ain’t.”

“Look at your face.”

“My face always looks like this.”

“That is unfortunately true.”

Daryl glared at him.

Aaron grinned.

Then things got worse. Much worse. Spencer offered you a drink. You accepted.

Daryl straightened immediately.

Aaron noticed that too.

“Wow.”

Daryl ignored him.

Spencer said something else.

You laughed again.

The sound carried across the street.

And somehow that annoyed Daryl most of all.

Because after everything that happened today…

After the fight.

After the yelling.

After seeing you cry.

Some asshole in a button-up shirt was getting more smiles out of you in five minutes than Daryl had managed all week.

The realization sat heavy in his chest.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed away from the railing.

Aaron blinked.

“Where are you going?”

“Need another drink.”

“There are drinks literally behind you.”

Daryl stopped , Thought about it. Then sat right back down.

Aaron burst out laughing. “You were gonna go over there.”

“No.”

“You absolutely were.”

“No.”

“Daryl.”

“Shut up.”

By now Glenn had wandered over.

“What’d I miss?”

Aaron pointed toward Spencer.

“Daryls not feeling this party”

He mouthed very discreetly the word “jealous” to Glenn and he understood instantly.

His smile grew.

“Oh.”

“Don’t.”

Glenn failed spectacularly at hiding his amusement.

Maggie arrived a few moments later carrying another drink.

One look at Daryl.

One look at Spencer.

One look at you.

And she immediately groaned.

“Oh, he’s even worse than I thought.”

“Thank you,” Aaron said.

“Shut up, both of ya.”

Maggie folded her arms.

“You know she’s doing that on purpose.”

Daryl frowned.

“What?”

Across the party, your eyes briefly flicked toward him.

Just for a second.

Then away again.

Back to Spencer.

Back to smiling.

Maggie’s grin widened.

“Oh, yeah.”

Daryl’s stomach dropped.

Because suddenly he wasn’t so sure Spencer was the one in control of that conversation.

And judging by the tiny smirk on your face…

You knew exactly what you were doing.