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i found a recording of me singing
except it has every audacity filter on it and has been taken up an octave.
i love it
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: violence/gore, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Consider this to be The Walking Dead as told from the reader’s perspective, meaning that some parts of the show will be cut out and replaced with different things. A lone ellipse (a ‘...’) signals a scene change. Three tildes (‘~~~’) signify a scene change/POV change. Okay, let’s start!

A Walk Among The Dead
009.) “Stupid Boy”
Daryl Dixon
Season 2 Episode 8 & 9: Nebraska & Triggerfinger

You had collapsed to the ground, looking at Sophia’s body. Margo had run up to get a better look, covering her mouth with her hand to stop the cries from escaping her mouth. “So… Sophia!” She fell next to Carol, who had hugged her tightly. Your gaze shook as you stared at the body.

They had Sophia all along…

They had Sophia locked inside this barn all along…

It was all their fault…

You stood up after a moment, walking away and rubbing your eyes. If you stared at her any longer, your mind was going to break. That little girl… She was your friend. And now she was dead.

Like Amy. You couldn’t protect Amy either. You smacked the side of you head, trying to fight off the strange voice that whispered in your ears. You had nothing to do with Amy’s death. You had gotten there after she was bit.

Sophia didn’t even have someone there with her when she turned. Carol took off, leaving Margo crying by herself. The child stood up shakily, falling beside Carl and Lori after a few steps. You knew you should go and comfort her, protect her, but you’re mind was floating elsewhere.

“Sissy?” You kept walking. “(F/Name)? Sissy?” You could hear her standing up, trying to get to you, but her legs were too wobbly for that.

Sophia was dead.

Sophia was dead.

That little girl that you took care of was dead. That little girl that looked out for your sister was dead. That little girl that called you a friend was dead. That little girl, no, Sophia, was dead. And you had been out searching for her, surviving on a hope, on a dream, of finding her. Of finding Sophia.

Your gaze went dark, and you have no recollection of returning to your tent and moving it… Moving it far away from everyone else. You couldn’t dare to be next to them. You’d break. You’d snap.

So with shaking hands, you pulled a blanket around you, staring at nothing. You didn’t even realize Margo had come in to cuddle with you, crying all the while.

When you came to, you remember sitting on a log and biting your nails. Daryl was standing over top of you, glaring down at you. He didn’t say anything, only grabbed your arm and pulled you up. You stared at him.

“Don’t ya go gettin’ depressed on me.” He pulled you along, “If yer no’ strong fer yer sister, who’ll be?” You nodded blankly. He stopped after a moment, turning to look at you. He stopped after a moment. “Don’ be like Carol. Don’ do this.”

You blinked; you had never heard him sound so desperate before. Then, you nodded, trying to put more emotion in your face. You had to be strong. You had to be strong… Your lip quivered, and you bit it in hopes to stop the movement. You had to be strong. You had to be strong.

You sat beside Margo, arms wrapped around her tightly as she cried. “Shh, shh, baby girl, it’ll be okay… It’ll be okay… Sissy’ll protect you…” She nodded, crying harder. “Sissy’s got you. I’ve got you.” After a moment of hugging her, you turned around and found your drawstring bag. You pulled out her pistol, a small revolver, and handed it to her. She blinked up at you with red eyes. You nodded. “So… If anything like this happens with you… You can protect yourself.”

“It won’t happen with me, sissy.” You nodded, running a hand through her hair. She forced a smile, “I’ll make sure I’m alright. I’ll be with Carl when I’m not with you. We’ll protect each other.” You smiled and pat her head.

“We’re gonna be okay.” You pulled her into a hug, pressing her head into your shoulder. “We’re gonna be okay.” You repeated the mantra. “We’re gonna be okay.”

You had been sitting with Daryl, who was sharpening arrows from sticks, when Lori approached you two. “You two going on a honeymoon?” You shook your head and flipped open Margo’s Poe book, and the hick remained stoic. You had barely been able to get three words out of him (those three words being ‘go fuck yerself,’ but hey; you win some, you lose some). “Listen, Beth’s in some kinda catatonic shock. We need Hershel.”

He didn’t look up, “Yeah? So what?” You almost smacked him, but he had made it very clear to you with his silence: if you wanted to stay, you had to be quiet.

Lori crouched beside him, “So I need you to run into town real quick and bring him and Rick back.” You blinked at her request. What was Hershel doing in town? Why did Rick go after him? Hadn’t the old man nearly gotten your group killed? He stopped sharpening to glare at her. “Daryl?” After a moment, he returned to sharpening.

“Yer bitch went window-shoppin’; ya want ‘im, fetch him yerself. I got better things ta do.”

“What’s the matter with you?” She turned to look at you with wide eyes, then looked back at him. “Why would you be so selfish?”

“Selfish?” He stood up angrily. “Listen to me, Olive Oyl, I was out there lookin’ for tha’ lil girl every single day. I took a bullet n’ an arrow in the process. Don’ you tell me about me gettin’ my hands dirty!” You looked down. He had a point… He had done a lot for the group. “Ya want those two idiots? Have a nice ride.” He sat back down. You detected the hint of remorse in his voice, “I’m done lookin’ fer people.”

After a second, she took off. He stopped to glare at her form before turning back to his arrow. Quietly, you stood up to follow her. He grabbed your hand before you got far. The look in his eyes said ‘stay,’ but the frown on his face suggested that he just didn’t want you to make noise. You walked back over to the log you had been sitting on and picked up the book, reading over it carefully, trying to memorize every word. But you found you couldn’t with the intimidating presence he exuded.

You looked over at him, then away, then back at him, then away again. You looked back once more, only to see him glaring at you. “Wha’?”

“Um… nothing.”

“It obviously ain’t nothin’. Ya keep lookin’ at me like I’m a bearded lady er a midget.” You almost laughed at that, but managed to rangle in your giggles before they could slip past your mouth. You smiled, though, before stepping up and moving to sit in front of him. He squinted down at you. “Wha’ do ya want?”

You pressed a hand against his cheek. For some reason, you could tell that he was upset. That he needed comforting, even if he would fight it tooth and nail. You moved the hand to the back of his neck, rolling up onto your toes to meet his lips halfway. He didn’t move or respond; he only sat there and let your lips touch his, as if he didn’t know what to do.

“She’s dead.”

“She is, Daryl.”

“She’s dead.”

You nodded.

“She’s dead.” He pressed his hands against your cheeks, making you look up at him. “She’s dead, so why do I give a fuck?” You pressed a hand against his.

“Because you care. About Sophia and Carol. About Margo and me. About everyone in this group. You actually give two damns about us. About them.” You squeezed his hand before standing up. You walked away.

You heard a soft, “Stay.” You looked over your shoulder, seeing him sharpening the sticks. He glanced up at you, locking eyes with you for a mere second, before looking back at the arrow-in-progress. You smiled and sat beside him, staring off into the dying sun and whistling whatever came to mind.

After a few more moments, he put the knife and finished arrow down, looking over at you. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, giving him a half-smile. He nodded once before turning his gaze to the sun. “Y’know, I think it’s almost winter.” He nodded again. With a sly smile, you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. “Maybe you should keep more warm?”

He was caught off guard by the comment, leaning back to stare at you. Then, he smirked. “More than willin’ly.” You laughed and looked back at the sun, which had already set quite a bit in the time you two had talked.

“I should go get Margo.”

“She’ll come when she wants.” You nodded, but stood up nonetheless. She would need to come back soon. He grabbed your hand, “She’ll come when she wants.”

“Well, I want her here now.” He sighed, letting go of your hand and allowing you to walk away.

You had met the child halfway across the trek back to the main camp, and you lifted a brow at the plastic in her hands. She looked up at you, “I wanna sleep by myself tonight.”


“Sis,” she never called you just ‘sis,’ “I wanna sleep by myself tonight.” She was wearing her long hair differently. Instead of it sitting straight down her back, it was pulled to the side, her bangs mixed in with the ponytail. “And tomorrow, we’ve got to help Mister Hershel’s daughter, Beth.”

“What happened to Beth?”

“She collapsed. She’s in shock.” You nodded, crossing your arms. So Beth was in shock… You hadn’t associated with the girl much, but she seemed nice enough. You’d have to go offer her some help tomorrow.

While you disliked the idea of her sleeping by herself, she was going to be right next to you and Daryl. After a moment of silence, you mumbled, “Have your gun?” She nodded, lifting up the edge of her shirt to show you that it was tucked in the waistband of her pants. A habit she picked up from you, no doubt… You’d have to get her a holster. You pointed over to the spot beside his tent. “Go start setting up. I’ll be over in a minute.”

You continued your trek to the main camp, eyes widening when you saw Lori peeling out of the farm. You ran to chase after her; no, no, she wasn’t going alone! You followed her, but the car was much faster than you were. She was long gone by the time you reached the end of the dirt path.

You looked over your shoulder fearfully, but when you saw a few people mulling around, you shook your head. She must’ve told them. She must’ve told them that she was leaving.

With a sigh, you turned on your heel, ignoring the stares you received.

Your small group sat around a fire Daryl had made, a silence overtop of you like a blanket. He had caught some squirrel (and you mentally promised yourself that you’d be a vegetarian in your next life), and it was cooking over the fire (albeit slowly).

Margo looked at you after a few moments, then down at her long hair, which reached just past her mid-back. She picked a large chunk of it up, examining it before letting it fall back down. “Sis?” You glanced over at her, eating a peach you had acquired from Glenn the day before. The juice dribbled down your chin, but you were in a metaphorical heaven, so you didn’t really care.

“Yea-huh?” you responded before crunching into the peach with your teeth again. You kept your gaze on her as you chewed, and she fidgeted with her hands. You rolled your eyes and said, “Spit it out, Margie.”

She inhaled before quickly saying, “I want my hair cut to my shoulders like Sophia’s.” You blinked at the request. She circled her hands around each other, “I just… I feel like long hair is a danger, and that we could end up getting grabbed by Walkers with it, and, and… And I wanna honor Soph.” You looked over at Daryl, who sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You shrugged your shoulders; you didn’t see anything wrong with the request.

Extending your hand to the hick, you said, “Gimme your knife.”


“Gimme your knife. Or one of them. The one with the smoothest blade; it’ll cut through her hair easier.” He stared at you for a second, but you flexed your fingers in a ‘give it to me’ gesture, “We don’t have all day, hick charming.” After a moment, he leaned down and pulled out a blade. You nodded, motioning for your sister to come over and sit in between your legs. She did as you instructed, and you bit into the peach before taking the knife from Daryl and setting it beside you. “Gotta hair tie?” you managed to get out from around the fruit.

She nodded, pulling one off of her wrist. You took it and maneuvered your hand so that it slapped against your wrist. Then you picked her hair up, wrapping the hair tie around it at just above her shoulders.

“You sure you wanna do this, kiddo?” you asked around the fruit, picking the knife up off from beside you and setting it against her hair. She nodded once. “Okay.” And with a quick flick of your wrist, the knife was through her hair, just underneath the hair tie. Her hair fell off in a thick clump, scattering over her back as it landed on the ground.

The hair tie fell out because her hair was short, and you picked it up off of the ground. She turned around, lifting a hand to touch her short hair. Then she nodded. “Good. Good.” She ran her fingers through it, nodding again. “I like it. I…” She started to shake. “I like it…”


“Sophia’s dead.” With that, she wiped her eyes and walked to her tent, leaving you and Daryl sitting alone.

It was a while later, after you were certain Margo had fallen asleep, that Carol came running out to your little camp. “We can’t find Lori, and the others aren’t back either.” You blinked.

“Lori’s… Lori’s not back?”

“That dumb bitch must’ve gone off lookin’ for ‘em.”

“She… didn’t tell you? She didn’t tell you she was leaving?”


You pointed to the hick, “She asked him to go--”

“But I’m done playin’ errand boy.”

“So she went. I saw her leave. I thought she… I thought she told you.”

“And you two didn’t say anything?” He went back to poking the fire, and you stared at the ground. She walked away at your silence, then glanced at the two tents. She walked back over to you. “Don’t do this. Please. I’ve already lost my girl.”

He stood up angrily, stomping into her face. “Tha’ wasn’t my problem neither.” He stomped away, leaving the woman with you.

She looked at you, “Please, (F/Name). Don’t do this. If not for me, for the group, then for Margo.” You looked at the ground intently. “Please. Please.

You shook your head, “I just need some time, Carol. So does she…” You looked up at her. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, walking away quickly. You looked back at the ground. “I just need time…”

You heard him scream at Carol from inside your tent. You hugged your knees, pressing you  head into your legs.

“If ya spent half yer time mindin’ yer daughter’s business instead o’ stickin’ your nose in everybody else’s, she’d still be alive!”

You winced, moving your hands to cover your ears in an attempt to block out the noise.

“Go ahead.”

Even with your hands overtop your ears, you could hear his yelling.

“Go ahead and what? Man, jus’ go! I don’ want you here!...You’re a real piece o’ work, lady. What, are ya gonna make this ‘bout my daddy er some crap like that? Pfft. You know jack. Yer afraid. Yer afraid ‘cause yer all alone! Ya got no husband. No daughter. You don’ know what ta do with yerself. You ain’t my problem! Sophia wasn’t mine! All ya had to do was keep an eye on ‘er!”

He… he was upset. He was upset and angry and frustrated and confused. You could hear it in his voice. You didn’t know why. The vibrato? The raise in tone? The emotion… the lackthereof?

When you heard the soft hiccup in Carol’s voice and the sound of her footsteps receding, you knew that she had left.

He unzipped the tent and crawled in. “You’re a dick…” you murmured. You scooted away from him when he laid down beside you, curling into a ball on yourself. “You just… you just hurt Carol. You hurt Carol.” He remained silent, “If this is how you’re going to act… Sophia wasn’t yours, yet you risked your life for her… Margo and I aren’t yours, either. Are you going to care for a while, then explode on us when we do something wrong?”


“I don’t believe you.” You heard the rustling of fabric, then felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your ball apart. You didn’t speak, wanting to believe that he cared. But, with that statement, your beliefs were dwindling. He was only going to care for a while. Use you then lose you. “Tell me what’s different, Daryl. How we’re any different from that little girl you looked all over for. Tell me that you’re not going to care for a short while, then explode.”

“I ain’t. I ain’t.” You shook your head. “Damn it, (F/Name).” You looked at your hands, ignoring how he tightened his grip on your waist. “I care ‘bout ya. You and yer lil sister.”

“For how long, Daryl? How long will you care? Until we’re no longer of use? Until we’re a burden?” You scoffed. “I bet you won’t care two days from now.” His grip tightened.

“Don’ you fuckin’ do this.”

“Do what, Dixon? Tell it like it is?”

“Don’ you fuckin’ tell me how I’m gonna feel. Don’ you tell me tha’ I won’ care.” He buried his head into your neck. “Yer sister… You… I…”

You shook your head, “No, you don’t care.”

His jaw tightened. “I do.” He let go of you, turning on his side. “If ya refuse ta know tha’, then fuck you.”

Your body shook, and you covered your mouth with your hands, trying to hold the sobs in.

You refused to leave the tent. Even after Margo begged and pleaded, you refused to leave. To face a world where it was you and your sister and no one else. To face a world where every hope you had was crushed. To face a world where the man… No, no… To face a world where the man you loved didn’t care.

You rubbed your hands over your face, pushing back your hair in an attempt to clear your mind. Your breathing had long ago evened out despite the fact that you continued to cry. Your eyes stung every time you blinked.The snot that dripped from your nose made your skin hurt. Your lips were cracked and painful. All in all, you were having a very shitty day.

He had left before you had woken up, his bags pushed to one side of the tent. You looked over at them, all neatly yet messily place, and laughed mockingly (more at yourself than anyone else). “So I guess that’s it, huh? I was right…” You looked down at your own things, a few bags and some blankets. Your self-deprecating smile fell into a frown. You had just enough stuff that you wouldn’t be impaired if you decided to leave. You could make it, just you and Margo. She had some gun training under her belt…

You tapped the side of your head and forced a smile, “I’d have to say goodbye, though. Can’t let Dixon have one over my head. Give Carol a hug… Give Carl a hug… Give Lori a ‘good luck’...”

You hadn’t realized the shadow that fell overtop your tent until someone hit it. With a scream, you jumped back, rolling over on yourself. “Yer not leavin’.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Dixon, make me piss myself.” You shrugged your shoulders and rubbed at your eyes, trying to get rid of the residue on your skin.

“Yer not leavin’,” he repeated.

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Nah, ya don’t. But I ain’t gonna letcha leave.”

“You can’t stop me.” The tent was unzipped, and he stepped in. You turned your head and shut your eyes, “You moved your stuff. You don’t care anymore, right? That’s what it means. We’re not a family. We’re not people you care about anymore. We’re just those two girls you picked up.”

“I moved my stuff so tha’ there’d be more room.” You cracked an eye open, staring at him from the corner of it. He had crossed his arms, staring down at you.

After a moment of silence, you hesitantly asked, “...for what?”

“So I can take ya.” You turned to him and tilted your head. Had he really just said what you thought he just said? He moved quickly, pushing you against the floor of the tent and gripping your wrists. “Ya asked me ta prove it…” He leaned down, pressing his head against your heart and setting it there, listening to your heart beat rapidly. “This how I prove it.”

009.) Stupid Boy [Daryl Dixon x Reader]
oh shit lemon next chapter
fuck yea
get ta right me that pr0nz
in other news, margo is slowly developing as a character. :'3 my baby's growing up.
kinda short but you know

Picture's from here:…

The Walking Dead(c)AMC
Daryl Dixon(c)AMC

A Walk Among the Dead: Table of Contents

tell me if you see anything wrong?
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
WARNING: Self-harming!Reader

You had only met your father at the start of the shitfest Dale liked to call “the end of the world.” Your mother, in all her wise, beautiful glory, had decided that it was time to tell the man you existed to the world. Sixteen years, she had been hiding you from him. Sixteen years. And the day she drives you up to see the man in her bright blue sedan, the world goes to shit.

Good job, Mom. Ten outta ten.

But that had been, oh, what? A few months ago? Now you were on a farm with a barn full of Walkers, your dad had a gaping hole in his side, and you were fed up with the world and contemplating whether or not to blow your brains out. Great. Just great. Now your mom was dead and all you had left was your hick father.

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t doubt for a second that you were his. It was probably your great personality. You had gotten it from him. That and your eyes. The piercing blue color… Well, you were kind of glad that’s all you got from him. Your mom had been one hot lady, you swear to God. You were glad you got her curves and round face.

You were sitting beside Carl and Lori with a rather thick book on your lap. You had long since forgotten its title, and you were far too lazy to flip it to the front. You thought it might’ve been pre-calculus, what with all the long algorithms and problems in front of you, but again; too lazy to check. You noticed the glances the brunette kept sending your way and, finally, you sighed and looked at her. “Can I help ya wit’ somethin’, Lori?”

She sheepishly looked away, but shook her head and looked back at you. “Daryl’s… really your dad?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Guess so. A lil pissed ‘bout tha’. Wish he’d been in my life sooner, but ‘ey. Whatcha gon’ do when yer ma didn’ want ya ta grow up like a hick.” You looked back at the book, deciding to finally get off your lazy ass and learn for a change.

“You’re just… you’re nothing like him, yet so much like him at the same time.” You shrugged your shoulders again; you had heard enough of that shit from your mother when she was alive. Every time you did something wrong? ’UGH, you are so much like your father!’ Was a wonder why you had the cuts up and down your wrists.

With a quiet sigh (all those bad memories coming back to haunt you with one little comment), you picked the book up and nodded to Carl, “I’m gon’ go see if Rick er Shane need some help. Ya comin’, lil man?” He looked over at his mom with wide eyes. Ever since you had arrived on camp, you had treated him like a younger brother. He was everything you wanted in one, anyways. Quiet but sweet, with a mature personality and a young face.

Lori smiled at him and nodded. “Just stay in (F/Name)’s sights, okay?” He nodded happily, standing up and following you to your tent, where you dropped the book off. You father laid in there, not bothering to look up from his book to greet you.

Finally, you crossed your arms, “Didn’ realize ya knew how ta read.” That got him; he looked up and glared at you before throwing the book at you. “Wow, fuck off. I’m jus’ puttin’ my pre-calc book in’ere.” You had yet to connect with your father emotionally, always putting up a guard to protect yourself. When your mother had been alive, all she had done was rag on the man. You figured he was the definition of asshole. You moved around the tent for a second, looking underneath some blankets for something. “Uh…”


“Where’s my pistol?” You picked up a blanket, hoping for it to come clattering down and accidentally shoot the man in the knee… is that bad? and hit the ground. You frowned when it didn’t happen. “I need it. ‘Case Rick er Shane send me off ta look for Soph while yer recouperatin’.”

“I let ‘em take it.”

“YOU WHA’!?” You turned to look at him angrily. “Tha’s my grand-daddy’s gun, the one he ga’e me when I was ‘leven! You let ‘em take it!?” Your eyes welled up with tears; your grandfather had died when your were twelve, thirteen days before your thirteenth birthday. It was the last thing you had of him. He was the only one that ever really cared about you; your mother was too busy doing drugs or hitting it off with a new guy to care about you.


You bit into your cheek, feeling the hot tears welling up behind your eyes. Not having the pistol was going to give you a panic attack. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out, not bothering to zip up the tent. The Walkers in the barn could eat him, for all you cared.

It was later that night, when you had slipped off as you usually did, that you let yourself cry. You were on the outskirts of the farm, high in a tree so no one could find you. They were soft cries at first; a few tears dripping down your face. Then, as you thought more and more, they grew into sobs that shook your entire being. It was times like these that you were glad carrying a knife was the norm anymore.

Slowly, you pulled the serrated hunting knife out (another gift from your grandfather) and pressed it to your skin, relishing the feel of the points digging into your skin. Your mother had always berated you for the cutting, the scratching, the self-harming… But she would never understand that it was the only thing you could control.

It was the only thing you could control in this new world, too. You didn’t saw at the skin, or take the point of the knife and drag it across; you just pushed the points further into your skin.

You nearly fell off the side of the branch when a rock whizzed past your ear. You held the knife up in defense, looking around you frantically. Another rock whizzed by, and you looked at the ground. There, in all his beat-up, masculine glory, stood your father, another rock clutched in his hand. “Whadaya want, dude!? Fuck off, can’ ya see I’m busy!?”

“Ya call cuttin’ yerself busy?” he responded, lowering his hand.

“Uh, yea. I do.” You lowered the knife at this point, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt down. You had gone particularly deep with this excursion… You could tell from the throbbing in your wrist. You hadn’t shown anyone the scars on your wrists. With a sigh, you began to climb down the tree. When you reached the bottom, he stood there, glaring at you. You glared back, sneering at him. “Whadaya want?”

He seemed at a loss for words, searching your face for a second. Then, he smirked. “Really my kid, huh?”

“We can’ do a paternity test, so I’d say yea. What. Do. You. Want?”

“I came to check on ya.” You blinked at this. The man who had told you he could care less about what you did… Checking on you? You stared at him for a second, a questioning look on your face. “Don’ look so surprised.”

“No, no, I’m ‘llowed ta look surprised, ‘cause ya told me ya couldn’t care less ‘bout me. Told me I was Ma’s prob, not yers.” You placed your hands on the sides of your hips, “Wha’ changed?” Without a word, he grabbed your arm and pushed your sweatshirt sleeve up. You freaked at that; no one had ever seen your scars.

“Ya think none of us notice when ya sneak off, n’ why ya have ta change yer sweatshirts er’ry night? Ya think we don’ notice the blood?” He looked down at the scars on your arms, moving a finger up to trace of the thicker ones. “No daughter o’ mine’s gonna deal wit’ depression… not ‘lone, at least.” You stared at him again, feeling your eyes water.

Your mother… Your mother had always told you you were overreacting… That you were a drama queen for being sad all the time… You bit into your cheek and slapped his hand away. “I’ve been jus’ fine so far. Why should I take yer help?”

“B’cause depression’s shit n’ no one should ‘ave ta deal wit’ it. My dad… Yer grandfather… He dealt wit’ depression. Went ‘bout it all wrong. Drank himself blue.” Piercing blue eyes looked into piercing blue. “It ruined ‘im. I ain’t ‘bout to let it take ya down, too.”

“I ain’t drinkin’ myself ta death.”

“Nah, but yer cuttin’. Which is worse.” He mimicked a cutting motion over your wrist. “Say ya fucked up one day… Went too deep. Ya’d be dead in minutes.” He took his own cutting knife out of its holster, slicing a sleeve of his shirt off. Then he wrapped it around your wrist, pulling it tight so as to stop the bleeding. “I know I’m shitty at showin’ that I…” He swallowed and looked away, “Tha’ I care. But ya… Yer all the family I ‘ave left.” He lowered your wrist before setting a hand on your shoulder.

You were crying, “Ya don’ care…”

“Yea, I do. Yer my daughter, n’ I gotta take care o’ you. I ain’t gonna let ya continue wit’ this shit alone."

You looked away, rubbing at your eyes vigorously. “F-fuck off!”

He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “The firs’ thing we’re gon’ do it fix tha’ mouth o’ yers.”


“Yer gonna get my help, whether ya like it er not.” He smiled, “And watch yer mouth, sunshine.”

Here's what we're gonna do: Black Friday. That's right; November 28th, 2014, at 8:00 P.M. Eastern Time, we will have our Skype Q&A session, since a few of you are interested. But here's the dealio: my internet has always broken on Skype calls with more than six people (including myself). So... that means you have to reserve your place in advance. The first five people to confirm this get the spots, and there will also be a waiting list incase one of them have to drop out.

You wanna spot? Note me your Skype name, and I'll tell if you get the spot or if you're on the waiting list. :D Good luck, friendos~! ;3
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes, violence/gore, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Consider this to be The Walking Dead as told from the reader’s perspective, meaning that some parts of the show will be cut out and replaced with different things. A lone ellipse (a ‘...’) signals a scene change. Three tildes (‘~~~’) signify a scene change/POV change. Okay, let’s start!

A Walk Among The Dead
008.) “After You”
Daryl Dixon
Season 2 Episode 6 & 7: Secrets & Pretty Much Dead Already

He woke up with a start, eyes frantically searching the room. He didn’t remember what he had dreamed, but it had been something frantic, judging from how fast his heart had been beating. His eyes fell to you, who slept beside his bed, head resting on your arms. He waited for his heart to calm before he reached out to touch your shoulder, your eyelids fluttering open to stare up at him sleepily. “G’morning,” you said with a tired smile. He nodded, trying to sit up. He hoped you didn’t notice his shaking hands. You sat up, looking at him worriedly. “Don’t take it too fast. You’ll bust the stitches.” He rolled his eyes and looked around the room.

“Them’s my clothes?” You looked to where he pointed. You nodded.

“Margie brought them in earlier this morning. Said she knew you’d want to change as soon as you woke up.” He nodded, and you stood up to grab them. “Sit up, I’ll help you get them on.”

He clicked his tongue, glaring at you. “I ain’t a kid,” he huffed.

You smiled, “Well, until you’re all better, you are.” You pulled his shirt off of the clean jeans before twisting your mouth. “Lemme go get a washcloth.” You set the shirt back on the pile of fabric, then walked off to the bathroom, and he heard the running water for a few seconds. You walked back into the room, a rag in your hand. You bent down to be level with him, touching the warm cloth to his face. He jolted in surprise. You held his face in your hands. “You’ve got blood and dirt all over you. Lemme get it.”

“I can do it myself!” He pushed you away, and you squinted at him. He reached for the rag, “Gimme it.”


Gimme it.” He glared at you.

N. O. No.”  You crossed your arms, sticking your hip out to the side and biting on the inside of your cheek. After a moment of you staring contest, you looked down. “Just… Just lemme do this, okay? I gotta make sure you’re all here.” He grunted, rolling his eyes and looking away.

“I’m all here. Ya can see me.”

“I know, but… I was scared, yesterday. Usually you’re back in a few hours. You were gone for most of the day. Then Andrea thought you were a Walker… I freaked.” You pressed the rag to his chest, cleaning off the blood. You almost scrunched your face in disgust; you had kissed this filthy skin the previous night. Now you probably had ebola or something. But, you managed to keep your gaze down, focusing on his chest. “As I said yesterday; I give two damns about you, Dixon. Maybe even three.”

You tossed the dirty rag to the floor once his chest had been cleaned off, walking back over to the chair and picking the shirt off of it. You stepped back in front of him, lip trembling. He could’ve died out there, and your group wouldn’t have known. He just would’ve been missing. You dropped the shirt on the side of the bed, setting your hands on the back of his head and pulling him into your chest.  “I was scared, Daryl.” He lifted a hand up to touch your arm.

“Well, I’m back, so there’s no need ta be scared, now is there?” You nodded, and he pulled his head back to look up at you. “Yer actin’ like a baby. I though’ I told ya ta man up.” You wiped at your eyes, which had started to tear up, and pulled away. You picked the shirt up, then set to work on helping him pull it on.

You sat in the tent, Margo playing with your hair. You leaned your head back so that she could have access to all of your long hair. “Can I braid it?” she asked.

“Yea, if you want.” She smiled, moving up to sit beside Daryl, who flipped through a book Andrea had brought him. Her chubby fingers tugged at the hairs by your forehead, pulling them back into a thick strand. “Make sure to overlap them properly; I don’t want three big pigtails.”

“I know, I know, sissy.” She pulled hard at one pesky hair, then said, “They’re going down to the range today to practice shooting…” You knew that tone in her voice. The tone she used when she wanted something. “Are you going?” You nodded. “Then… then can I go?”

“No,” was your short answer.

“Hey.” You both looked at the hick, who had set the book on his chest and was looking over you two. “She should learn. Make ‘er less of a liability.” You frowned.

“I promise I won’t do anything bad with it. I just wanna learn how to shoot so I can protect myself and everyone else on camp. I’ll be responsible... besides… Daddy was gonna teach me after school started.” You blinked; that was the first you heard of that.

“Are you lying, Margo Elizabeth?”

“No! Daddy really was! He said you started when you were ten!” You sighed, then turned to her. She kept a firm grip on your hair. It just felt wrong, having her learn to shoot. Is this what your mother felt when she and your father had the disagreement over you learning to shoot? Wrongness? But… They had a point. She needed to learn to protect herself.

“If anyone on that shooting range gets hurt ‘cause of you, you won’t see a gun ‘till your ninety.” She nodded. “It’s not a toy, Margo. You need to treat it like what it is; a weapon.”

“I got it, (F/Name).” She moved your head, pulling more hair back and twisting it into a braid. She pulled a rubber band from her wrist and wrapped it around the end. “There, it’s done.” She turned to the man, “I think she looks good with all her hair pulled outta her face.” You felt naked without your bangs, so you pulled a few strands out. She smiled.

He waved his hand, “I guess.”

Shooting was only fun because you got to watch Margo and Carl point and shoot at the bottles.You took the pistol your father had given you and lifted it up, pointing it at the bottle. You shot it once, and the red bottle exploded in fragments of glass. You lowered the gun, glancing over at your sister, who was struggling to keep her hands from shaking. You got down on a knee, wrapping your arms around hers and steadying her hands. “Okay, now look down the barrel.”

“It’s hard, sissy.”

“It’s like math, Margie. It’s just an equation.” She nodded, and you let go of her hands. She closed her eyes and inhaled, then her eyes snapped open and she popped a round off. It was a little shy of the bottle, but close enough that all she had to do was readjust her hand and shoot again. The clear bottle exploded in shards of glass.

She smiled widely, turning to you and smiling. “I… I did it! I shot the bottle!” She turned to Carl, “Did you see that!? We’re just as good as the adults!” He nodded excitedly, lifting the pistol back up to his gaze and shooting it at another bottle. She mimicked him, pointing the gun again. She missed occasionally, but was able to get the hang of it. You pat her head.

“Good job, kiddo.”

When you returned, Daryl was outside of the tent, sitting at the table and eating in something that looked suspiciously like squirrel. You stuck your tongue out as you clicked the safety on Margo’s pistol into the ‘on’ position, sticking it into a drawstring bag (the one Glenn had given to you from his last run into town) and pulling it shut.

You sat beside him after a minute, looking at the plate in front of him. You had called it; cooked squirrel. Delicious. Margo had run off to talk the day at the range over with Carl, so it left you all alone. “You clean your wound off with alcohol yet today?” He glanced at you, then nodded. “Good. Take the antibiotics?” He nodded again, sucking juice off of his fingers. “And where did you get the squirrel?”

“A tree.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny. Very good. Wow.” You smacked the back of his head, “Seriously, smartass, where’d you get it?”

“From a tree. I shot it with an arrow.”

“When you were s’posed to be laying down? Resting?”

“Never said I got outta the tent.” With that, he pointed at the tent, and you frowned when you saw duct tape over the side of the fabric window.

“You shot a squirrel…”


“Through the side of our tent?”


“Daryl, what the legitimate fuck?” He smirked. Your frown widened. “I hope to God you don’t ever do that again. Because you’ll forget to duct tape it, and then we’re all Walker bait.” You stood up and walked away, crossing your arms as you did so.

That night, as you laid on the ground (you were trying not to jostle Daryl, since you moved while you slept), you heard him mumble your name underneath his breath. You looked over at him, and he was looking at you. “What? Are you awake?” you asked quietly, trying not to disturb the snoring Margo.

“Yer shiverin’.” He jutted his chin forward in the direction of your body. You looked down at your arms, seeing the goosebumps on them. You nodded. “C’mere.” You shook your head, and he squinted at you.

“I move too much while I sleep. I could end up making your wound worse.” He rolled his eyes at that. You closed your eyes, thinking the conversation was done. You opened one when you heard the rustling of fabric, then opened both when he laid beside you. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Yer cold.”

“I’m fine.”

He wrapped an arm around you. “No, yer not fine. Yer cold.”

“Well, if someone hadn’t shot a squirrel through our window, I’d be fine.” He smirked at that. You sighed when you realized he wasn’t going to let go of you. You turned over to wrap your arms just below his chest but above his wound. You pressed a kiss to the fading red mark.

He set his head onto your shoulder, pushing your tank top’s strap out of the way with his nose, kissing the skin there. You shuddered when you felt his teeth on you, biting into the junction of your shoulder and neck gently. Your head thrashed into his chest at the feeling. It was like pain and pleasure, all in one. You bit into your lip, tilting your head to the side out of instinct. He pulled away after another moment, his tongue licking over the spot. You let out a garbled moan, biting your lips harder to try to keep it in.

He pressed a kiss to below your ear, “What, (L/Name), can’t handle a guy kissin’ that spot?” You pushed him away, face bright red and breathing labored. You had never been bitten there before. It was hot.

You nodded. “It feels weird…” You looked at him from beneath your eyelashes, and he looked away, rubbing his forehead.

“Goddamnit.” You blinked up at him, and he sat up. You sat up with him, tilting your head to the side. He grabbed you by the braid, pulling your head back and placing his lips against your throat. You fell back onto the ground as he dragged his lips down, to the top of your tank top. He growled and moved one of his hands to push up the fabric, pulling it so it was off of you.

You blushed; this was going fast. You weren’t going to be able to keep quiet. Margo was in the tent. But, oh God did it feel good, the way he pushed your thighs apart to lay in between them. He let go of your braid, instead moving to hold your hips in place, since they kept moving up to touch his.

He moved a hand to slide up your stomach, over each of your ribs, over your clothed breasts, and it rested against your collar bone. He traced over the protruding bone with his fingertips before moving his hands back down to your waist.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, trying to kiss him, trying to touch him. You could only feel his hands on your hips, nothing else. You needed to feel him. It was instinct you were running on.

You leaned up further, raising a hand up touch his chest, trying to undo the buttons on his shirt single handedly. He let go of your hips to undo them, his shirt fluttering to the ground. You pressed your lips against his, sucking on his lower lip and gently biting it. He groaned, moving his hands to grope your chest through your bra. You pulled away to stare up at him with flushed cheeks and a bruised mouth.

Your hips pushed up to press against his, grinding against him. He grunted, leaning down to press his lips against yours again while his hand moved around to your back and unhooked your bra. Your mind finally clicked back into place, and you frantically listened for Margo’s snores.

There was a steady inhale, then a snore. You looked up at him with wide eyes, “She’s in the tent.”

He groaned, “So?”

“I don’t feel right… doing this with her so close.”

Daryl leaned down, pressing his mouth against your earlobe and sucking on it. “But ya want it.”

You let out a shaky, “Y-yeah.” He smirked, and you frowned. “Don’t look at me like that, Daryl Dixon.”

He whispered against your ear, “I could always eat cha out.” You blushed and scooted out from under him, grabbing your shirt and holding it to your chest. Your cheeks were a bright red, your eyes reminding him of a deer caught in headlights.

“You-you’re not in the condition for that!” You clipped your bra back behind you, pulling your tank top back on. Then you grabbed a blanket and pulled it overtop of you. He grabbed you and pulled you close. “G-goodnight, Daryl Dixon!”

He kissed your earlobe once more, enjoying the way you tensed up and how your cheeks flushed an even darker red. So you were sensitive there… Making sure his mouth was right by your ear, he said, “G’night, (F/Name) (L/Name).”

He watched as you covered your face with the blanket, trying your hardest to slow your frantic breathes.

The following morning, you sat around the campfire, eating eggs off of a plastic plate. Margo was chomping on her own portion, smiling at you happily. You smiled back, ruffling her hair as you ate. It was a relatively peaceful morning among your group.

That is, until Glenn stood up.

You all looked over at him as he said, “Um, guys?” You tilted your head. He looked around your group nervously. “So... the barn is full of Walkers.” You blinked, then looked at Margo, who was staring at the boy with wide, frightened eyes. You looked over your shoulder, at the barn.

Rick stood up, then Shane, then Daryl. You grabbed your sister, nearly knocking the plate out of her hands, and picked your drawstring bag up. Then, you quickly made your way to the barn.

Oh fuck, there were Walkers in there. You could hear them. The moaning, the groaning, everything… You hated that sound… You wanted those things in the barn dead. Your hand slid back to your bag, and you could feel the outline of your father’s pistol. Daryl knocked your hand away.

Shane walked away from the barn angrily, “You can not tell me that you’re okay with this.”

“No I’m not, but we’re guests here. This isn’t our land.”

The hick spat, “This is our lives!”

“Lower your voice.” You glanced at Glenn, who was looking around worriedly.

“We can’t just sweep this under the rug.”

“It ain’t right. Not remotely. We’ve either gotta go in there, we’ve gotta make things right, or we’ve just gotta go.” Shane was pacing around, then pointed to the barn. “Now we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Fort Benning for a long time now.”

“We can’t go.”

“Why, Rick, why?”

Carol spoke up, “Because my daughter’s still out there.”

Shane rubbed his hands over his face, “Okay. Okay, I think it’s time that we all start to just consider the other possibility.”

“Shane! We’re not leaving Sophia behind.”

“I’m close to findin’ this girl! I just found ‘er damn doll two days ago!”

“You found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did. You found a doll.”

“You don’ know wha’ the hell yer talkin’ about!”

“I’m just sayin’ what needs to be said! You get a good lead, it’s in the first forty-eight hours!”

“Shane, stop!”

“Lemme tell you somethin’ else, man. If she was alive out there, and saw you comin’, all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears ‘round your neck, she would run in the other direction!”

Daryl went to punch the cop, and you grabbed him before he could do anything, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare pull this shit, Daryl!” He went for another swing, but you grabbed his other arm. “DON’T FUCKING DO THIS RIGHT NOW!” you screamed.

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” At the little girl’s screams, your group fell quiet. “Just… just shut up!” She was shaking. You walked over to her. She grabbed your hand. “We need… We need to kill those things, sissy. They’re gonna eat us.”

Rick pushed Shane away. “Now just lemme talk to Hershel. Let me figure it out.”

“What are you gonna figure out!?” Shane screamed.

“If we’re gonna stay, if we’re gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land!”

Dale stepped up, “Hershel sees those things in there as people. Sick people. His wife, his stepson.”

You turned to him as Rick asked, “You knew?”

“Yesterday, I talked to Hershel.”

“And you waited the night!?”

“I thought we could survive one more night! We did. I was waiting until this morning to say something, but Glenn wanted to be the one.” You let go of the hick’s arms, and he rolled his shoulders and glared at you. You glared back before looking away and crossing your arms, sticking your nose into the air. They continued arguing, but fell silent when the Walkers in the barn slammed against the door. You stepped in front of Margo protectively.

“We need to do something about this,” you turned to look at Rick, “now. They’re scaring the kids.”

He nodded, “We’ll see what we can do.”

You sat across from Lori and Carl at the table, Margo beside you, doing some algebra. After a moment, the boy looked up at his mother. “Does Shane think Sophia’s dead?”

She hesitated for a moment before saying, “Shane’s… just scared.”

“Of the things inside the barn?” Margo said.

You nodded, “Mhmm.” You poked her face. “I’m a little scared, too.”

They looked back down at their work, but Carl muttered, “I’m not leaving until we find Sophia. And I don’t wanna go even after that.”

“Me too. I don’t wanna leave the farm. It’s scary out there. For the first time in a long time… I feel safe. Even with those things in the barn.” She scribbled down an answer. “We’re not leaving, right?”

You looked at Lori, unsure. You thought you were staying, but you had heard the whispers among camp. “Well, we’re not leavin’, kids. Now finish those problems.”

“I just think she… She’s gonna like it here. This place, it could be a home.” Lori pulled her son into a hug.

After a moment, Carol came running up to you. “Daryl’s angry at me.” You turned to look at her with wide eyes.

“What?” You stood up, setting a hand on the table.

“He was going to go off and look--and, and I told him we didn’t know if we were gonna find her, and that he needed to heal and--” Her voice cracked. You pat her shoulder. “He took off. I don’t know where to, but…”

“Don’t worry.” You smiled at her. “He’s probably off doing something dumb. I’ll find him.” You pat her shoulder again, rubbing it encouragingly. “And we’re gonna find her. I believe we will.” She nodded and forced a smile of her own. “Mind helping Margo with the last of her math homework while I got find hick charming?”

“Not at all.” She shakily sat down, patting the young (blonde, brunette, blackette, etc.) on the back. “What are you doin’, sweetie?”

“Some algebra. Then I’m reading some works by Poe.”

You had found him by his bike, cleaning it with a rag. You leaned against a tree and stared at him for a second. “You’re angry at Carol?” He remained silent, rubbing at a particularly heavy spot on the paint. You crossed your legs at the ankles, staring at his face. He looked up after a moment.

“I don’ have ta explain myself to ya.” You rolled your eyes, kicking off the tree to walk over and crouch beside him. He looked at you, and you looked back, both of your gazes even. “I don’ and I won’.”

“I’m not expecting you to explain yourself. I’m expecting you to stop being a dick. Carol’s fears are rational. She’s scared she won’t find her daughter.” You poked him in the chest, “You need to start realizing that people don’t think we’ll find her. You need to start understanding that there is doubt among our group.” You looked up at him evenly, then stood up. “You need to stop being a dick to everyone, Daryl.”

He clicked his tongue, “How do ya do it?”

“What?” You turned to look at him.

He glared up at you, grabbing your hand. “How are ya so stupid?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Years of practice.” You tore your hand from his, “Now go make peace with Carol.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

You were sitting in your tent a couple hours later, having been dismissed from cooking duty early for finishing cutting your portion of the food and getting the water to a boiling point. You stared up at the fabric ceiling… I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. You could hear the crunching of grass outside, but chalked it up to Margo coming to find you.

You were surprised when you heard a gruff voice, “I apologized.”

“Good for you, Dixon. I’m proud.” You looked over at the fabric opening, seeing his shadow overtop of it. He didn’t leave after a few moments, like you expected him to. Then, you heard a sigh and footsteps fading away.

He had walked away.

You jolted out of your little nap at the sound of gunshots. Your first thought: Margo!? You stood up and dug into your drawstring bag, pulling out your father’s pistol. You were out of the tent before your mind could process what was happening.

You followed the sound of gunshots down to the barn, where you saw Walkers. You had your pistol to your face in no time, aiming at a Walker and shooting. You glanced over your shoulder to see Lori in front of Margo and Carl, the little girl watching with wide eyes.

You continued to shoot at the Walkers until they all laid on the the ground, dead. Then you turned to see Hershel breathing heavily, his eyes glazed over. You forgot; he saw these things as people.

Your head shot around when you heard faint growling.

Then you heard Margo’s loud cries.

Carol’s sobbing came next.


And you saw the little girl--no, the Walker, stumbling out towards you.

With one last shot, Sophia was on the ground.

Your hopes of staying on the farm laid there, too.

i found a recording of me singing
except it has every audacity filter on it and has been taken up an octave.
i love it


soxxymoxxy's Profile Picture
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
Ugh, I was SUCH a twelve-year-old! Time to reintroduce myself.

Hi, the name's Soxxy, or, as I'd rather be known, Pickles. I'm a student writer, aspiring to be one of the best known fanfiction authors out there. I used to write for homestuck, but now I write for a variety of things. (Mostly anime, anymore.) If you're wondering where all my old stuff has gone, check out the Old Stuff folder! Otherwise, enjoy my page! :3c


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Journal History


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VoidDiamondDragon Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2014  Student General Artist
Hi I'm Void,I was reading some of your homestuck x readers and I loved them,SO! I was wondering if you take requests,could you write male vriska or male terezi x reader that would be great thx~ :D
Xerriasorsw Featured By Owner May 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist

You got hugged Komari and Rin (Snug) [V1]
Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)

1- You can hug the person who hugged you!
2- You -MUST- hug 6 other people, at least!
3- You should hug them in public! Paste it on their page!
4- Random hugs are perfectly okay! (and sweet)
5- You should most definitely get started hugging right away!

Send This To All Your Friends, And Me If I Am 1.
If You Get 7 Back You Are Loved!

1-3 you're bad friend
4-6 you're an ok friend
7-9 you're a good friend
10-& Up you're a great friend
Crazy-Croc Featured By Owner May 6, 2014  Student General Artist
Happy Birthday!!! :party: cake: :donut:
JaneWeller Featured By Owner May 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday dearie! Fun cake Free Avatar - CupTardCake birthday cake :flowerflirty: 
UnluckyAmulet Featured By Owner May 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday~!
PatchiAtchi Featured By Owner May 6, 2014  Student General Artist
Happy Birthday~~ :iconsnugglyplz:
Randomkid122 Featured By Owner May 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday Soxxy!
catkinzs Featured By Owner May 6, 2014
Happy birthday, love!
alaskajones Featured By Owner Feb 17, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Escuse me, i ma e a requst on the 50 idiots, ha e youseen it yet.? Becase i find the 50 states thing cool
PurplePony42 Featured By Owner Dec 25, 2013  Student Traditional Artist
Hello soxxy im purplex and i would like to request a story... Could u plz write a "(any homestuck charater u feel like) x (a charater that looks a bit like this)?

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