This But With A Reader Who Didn't Really Celebrate Birthdays/has Bad Experiences From Past Ones.

*throws this at you because I haven't been writing*

UGH Connie, my beloved<3 I know the show has barely just introduced you but I don't trust them stay safe out their soldier 🫡

Something something yadda yadda where Daryl has Dog and you also have a dog but where he was expecting you to also have a large breed like a husky or a german shephard, you have a demonic chihuahua.

"What. The fuck."

"What?"

"Why-" he sighs, running a hand through his hair and watching as their two dogs meet, hoping they don't start a fight. "When you said you also had a dog, I kinda thought it would at least be more... practical."

You give a playful scoff, crouching down and cupping your chihuahua's face affectionately as if it didn't look like it would viciously bite the next person or thing it saw. "Practical? They're perfectly fine, aren't you, *mi perrito*?"

Daryl watches you with an amusing mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance, his own dog sitting tall by his side as if mildly offended at having met the much tinier creature.

Okay I hope you don't mind but I'm gonna continue this because- uh- yeah ':]

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"Heyyy, so...~" You slide to sit beside Daryl, watching as he started up a fire to cook the salmon you had... caught. The fish was still cold from the water of the river, its body motionless as it sat upon the wooden stump in use as a table.

"This might sound dumb-"

"You always sound dumb."

"Okay, shut up, first of all," you huff amusedly, shifting on the log and lightly bumping the archer's shoulders. "Let me speak. I, uh, don't know how to gut a fish."

Daryl glances back at you with a not-so-subtle skepticism, his lip twitching up a split moment. "So y'know how to grab a fish like a wild bear, but y'don't know what to do with it after?" He scoffs, looking back to the fire kindling.

"..no. Am I supposed to?" You roll your eyes, ignoring the small flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks darker. "I just never had a reason to learn."

"Where'd'ja even learn to grab a fish like that, then? For fun?" The man hums with a low chuckle, the kindling catching spark and soon building to a proper fire.

You clear your throat, a beat of quiet passing in the air. Your lack of response makes Daryl look back at you a second, before giving a huff of laughter.

"You're *joking*," he teases, a part of him waiting for you to tell him you really were joking.

"Look, growing up was weird. Boredom does some stuff to'ya," you say defensively, but can't help but smile upon seeing the usually closed-off man laugh.

"'Kay, fine. C'mere." Daryl moves closer to you, pulling out his knife as the fire warms the two of you. That, plus the way your blood rushes when his knee lightly hits yours. You brush that off, however, forcing your attention to the archer now explaining how to clean the salmon.

"So first, t'chu oughtta scale the fish- y'take yer knife, n'just go against the flow of the scales. Comes off real easy most times. Then y'cut off the fins-"

You watch with a curiosity alike that of a child, the glint of metal and fish scales catching in the firelight, popping brightly as if also interested to watch the demonstration.

"-'n when'ya gut it, yer gonna cut from the anal fin to a few inches from th'mouth. Y'remove the intestines 'n shit from there."

Your eyes trace the way Daryl's hand moves so easily against the fish, the practiced precision of his movements a subtle sublime you find in him. The cuts are clean and quick, but you can tell he's trying to slow down so you can understand the process. It makes you fluster, shifting in your spot on the log right next to the archer. The world seems to grow hazy and peaceful, quiet overtaking you two as you simply take in what Daryl's teaching you. You can hear the soft, repetitive click of grasshoppers and the occasional pop of the firewood. The river that flows ever-so-strong a distance away, the whisper of leaves brushing against each other in the wind. It takes you a second to come back when Daryl huffs, adjusting himself almost embarrassedly.

"Hell you starin' for?"

You blink before flushing and realizing you've been staring at the man's face for probably a few good minutes, quickly distracting yourself with a nearby tree that was rather interesting now that you really looked at it-

"Wha- n-nothing. Pft."

Quiet wraps the two of you once more like a used wool blanket, awkward but nice in an odd sense. Daryl moves the cleaned fish over the fire to cook, and while the air seems strained, he takes his seat beside you again. The way his knee hits yours could easily be a coincidence, but it feels too deliberate to be so, biting back a small smile in trade for a soft chuckle.

Imagine you're out with Daryl needing some food and you come across a real nice river and you go 'I know how to fish!!' And instead of actual fishing like with a rod or whatever you use you straight up just jump in the river and grab them. It's efficient somehow but he just stares at you like

Short drabble from this :p

You don't notice him for quite a while. The occassional rustle of overgrown grass from the wind and a distant crackle of water falling unto the rocky shore below it had faded into a calming soundtrack as you thought. An embarrassing amount of time, really, until Daryl lightly nudged your shoulder, worried how you weren't blinking for a concerning amount of time.

You blinked a few times before looking at him. You watched how he faltered a moment, an awkward beat, before he spoke.

"You okay?" His voice was still that rough southern you were used to, but still held that edge of softness that spoke better than anything words could.

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes flickering back to the hazy moonlight. Breathing felt heavier in your chest, as if a boulder was tight against your chest. Not as if you were about to cry. More so... a long fought-off tired feeling. It was an uphill battle.

"I'd be lying if I say 'yes'," You finally admit, a failing attempt at a smile catching your lips a moment.

Hazy mornings grew to hazy nights, unable to remember what you did in-between the passing of time. You did something, you're sure. At least, you think are you. You can recall... hm. Not much. A few passing words. Blood of the walkers, staining your hands before being washed away in the river you and Daryl always passed by on your runs. The rustic, mucky colour that spelt of both blood and dirt swirled in the coursing water for seconds before dissipating into the quick pace of the stream.

You let out a tight breath, willing away emotions that so rudely clinged onto you like mosquitos in the summer. It felt worse, how it wasn't a need to cry or be angry, either. It tightened your lungs and made breathing feel like a labour, and sleep sounded of the finest wine- a perfect ailment, though unobtainable in your situation.

Daryl's knee tapped yours, words stuck in both your throats, but not needing to be said. He was there, and he saw you. The same way the sun rises unto flowers neglected each morning, the same way the moon glows in the comfort of night. Simple, but relevant.

And that was really all you needed.

Daryl with a partner who gets depressive episodes but not like crying all the time or laying around they just go silent. And like. Everyone's concerned because what do you mean you went quiet? No no no, the excitable guy over there? You've got the wrong person.

Still going on runs and pulling their weight where they stay, but just. Silent. Lingering a bit too much.

And Daryl doesn't know really what to do with it. He can barely healthily deal with his own emotions, comforting someone else is a big bite to chew. But he still tries. Maybe just staying with them. Nudging them with a water canister or some spare food to make sure they're eating and drinking, even if they're too zoned out to realize they're doing it. Staying by them, a mutual dampened air that's bittersweet and tainted with unspoken complications. But it's better, not being alone. It helps.

Please draw your oc x canon please be unashamedly loud about it please post it without embarrassment please make dramatic emotional edits of them please indulge yourself

Good ending- he begins to smoke less and less bc he sees his partner starting to smoke as well, and he lowkey feels bad about that. Or maybe he tries to stop because the smell of smoke reminds his partner of bad experiences/bad parents or something else

Im sorry but- Price probably stank so bad.. from my experience encountering many cigar smokers

Even worse if he wears cologne, the smell mixed with each other with the worse way possible

Id need him to bath

Wildflowers

Pairing- Daryl Dixon x GN! Reader

Summary- Quiet memories and flowers

TW- none really, curses once or twice

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The pair looks across the open field, memories flooding back of when they had first met- you, half-dead all on your own, but alive. And Daryl, his crossbow pointed to your head and his eyes guarded as they always were. You both just stood there, tension crackling in the air as one waited for any sublte movement from the other. Your breath had caught when he shot, of course expecting the worst from this strange, roughed-up looking man. A muffled thud and rustle of grass behind you convinced you to breath again, noticing- wow. You weren't dead [somehow]!

It was quiet now, the air stinging with a sharp cold and the rotting smell of walkers that had passed through the area.

Despite the almost dead air, the sight was a needed break from the crumbled buildings and long-forgotten cities and towns you'd see every day. Wildflowers- pops of yellows and hazy blues grew with an enviable freedom, and the sun caught on the tips of the dense grass. The earthy scent in the air was noticable, subtle touches of wild mint and freshly watered grass. As if the world hadn't gone to shit. As if folks weren't dying everyday in horrific ways.

"I thought you were some fallen angel when I first saw 'ya," you tease quietly, the soft hush of wind a soothing whisper for peace, even if fleeting.

"I thought you were alrea'y dead," Daryl responded gruffly, his eyes on the horizon.

You give a soft chuckle. That was fair. Your body was caked in mud and blood- both yours and of walkers. Being all out on your own, focused on the slightest shuffle of feet that could mean life or death, you weren't exactly putting a lot of effort into lookin' pretty.

"Still," You continued, your eyes following the other's to the fading sky. "Why didn't you shoot me then?"

Silence once more draped the pair like a weather-worn blanket. You glanced at him, trying to figure out why he didn't answer. Did he just not hear? Was he ignoring you? Or maybe he just didn't have an answer?

You didn't get a response, as Daryl then began making his way back to the grazing horses you two had arrived on. You blinked, unsure if to be slightly offended or just sum it up to Daryl's odd personality, though followed him anyways. It's not smart to be out at night.

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A/N~ agrhagrgabsg haii! Thank you for reading! This is my first fic, so... wow! I got unneedingly nervous posting this.

I'm not entirely sure if this is just a drabble or the start to a fic, because, to be entirely fair, I am winging all of this [as I'm sure many of us are]. I also was trying to add images, but I couldn't figure out how to make them smaller. Sorry chat 😔. Hopefully more works like these soon, though [and taking less time]!

Okay, hear me out: Kyle Pick-Up Artist Garrick. In the sense that he is an expert at dates. Has the routine down to a T. Could become one of those douchey pick-up artists on TikTok, but he’s really doing this for the ladies, okay? Raising their standards and all.

Offers to pick you up. Shows up with a bouquet of flowers with soft colors and pastels—whites, light pinks, and light yellows. Tulips, baby’s breath, peonies. When you open the door, he’s gonna whistle lowly and exhale a huff of laughter. "Sorry, I just… wow. You look amazing." Picks out one flower from the bouquet and places it behind your ear.

Holds the elevator open, opens the door to the car—because he isn’t an amateur. Hand on your thigh, but nearer to your knee because he’s a gentleman, but he still wants you to know how much he wants you. Practiced, occasional glances at you in the rearview mirror, followed by a bashful-looking away when he sees you notice.

Pulls out the chair for you. Holds your hand the entire dinner. Maybe his ankles are brushing yours. Makes you laugh the whole time. (So what if he uses the same jokes? That’s between him and the staff at his favorite restaurant.) Feeds you his dessert with his spoon, and then licks the spoon clean.

Waits for you to go to the bathroom to pick up the check. If you don’t go to the bathroom, he’s gonna pretend to instead. You ask him about the check, and he refuses to elaborate further. Just has a lopsided grin on that beautiful face. Infuriating, really. Wraps his jacket around you so you don’t get cold. Lifts you up princess-style if you say you’re too tired to walk in your heels.

Pulls you in for a chaste, soft goodnight’s kiss at your door. Hand on the small of your back, arms bringing you closer, almost in a hug. Groaning softly into the kiss. He knows exactly the angle at which he needs to tilt his head, exactly the amount of tongue he needs to be using.

Steps away politely, but his big brown eyes look up at you. Of course, you ask him to come in. How could you not? He’s such a gentleman. And he comes in, and he backs you into a corner softly until you sit. Kneels and takes your heels off, kissing his way up your leg. He can almost smell it on you.

The night goes exactly the way he wants it to, with your clothes on the floor of your bedroom and you in his arms.

What a shame you can’t find him when you wake up in the morning, right?

Had this idea for a while now-

Reader joining the group in season 1 or 2, and yeah everything's okay and stuff but they like. Do not trust Rick. At all. Not because he's a bad person or anything personal, but he's a cop. And they carry really bad experiences with officers/enforcers of law. And Daryl just gets that, yk. Trauma bond n stuff. Like maybe they have a shared experience trying to call the cops for help but it only made their situation worse.

Still not over this

“For johnny” GHOST ENGRAVED