Daryl Dixon Imagines

As It Should Be

By thepokyone on Tumblr

When the apocalypse had first broken out, you had been certain that your asshole of a boyfriend wouldn't last more than a few weeks. Granted, you didn't think you would last for more than a few weeks either, but somehow the both of you were still alive. Unfortunately. It was mainly because of you that he hadn't died yet, since you were the one that had to clear buildings, hunt for food, and find supplies. It was a thankless job, according to your boyfriend, who was an abusive, sorry excuse for a human being that you couldn't get rid of despite your best efforts.

You were more scared of him than the walkers. The walkers, at least, were predictable. Your boyfriend wasn't.

Things improved when you and Troy, your boyfriend, joined a rather large group of survivors. "For protection," Troy said. "Nothing more. So stay away from these people."

That was easier said than done, of course. You found friends among several of the women, namely Carol and Andrea, and would often help them around the camp. You even formed an unlikely kinship with Daryl Dixon, a rough-looking redneck whom you quickly realized had a heart of gold.

Since you were an adept hunter, you often went off with Daryl on hunts. Troy didn't like it, but you argued back that the two of you couldn't do nothing and expect to be allowed to stay. You had to contribute. Reluctantly, he agreed, though not without you garnering several bruises on your arms as a result of that argument.

Because you and Daryl went hunting so often, the two of you grew rather close. By extension, you formed a friendly relationship with Merle as well, and the two brothers ended up being quite protective of you. You, in response, found yourself falling for Daryl, and falling hard. Despite his rough exterior, Daryl was everything Troy wasn't: kind, brave, protective, and he never, ever laid a hand on you.

You were out on one such hunt today, you and Daryl tracking a herd of deer through the forest. It was blisteringly hot, even in the shade, and despite the old and new bruises that currently speckled your arms you made the decision to roll up your sleeves before you overheated.

"What the hell happened to you?" Daryl asked, eyes fixed on your arms. You were certain you heard concern in his tone.

"Doesn't matter," You muttered, readjusting your grip on your gun and refusing to meet his gaze.

Daryl refused to drop the subject. "Did somebody do that? Was it that piece of shit Troy, has he been putting his hands on you?" You had no answer, and he gave a scoff of disgust. "He's dead. I'm gonna kill him."

"Daryl, can't you just leave it?" You pleaded.

"Like hell I will!" He exclaimed. "Nobody should be beatin' you up, least of all that lazy ass that ain't done nothin' to deserve you."

"It could be a lot worse than this," You muttered, motioning towards your arm.

"A lot worse than that? You got bruises all up and down your arms, and who knows where else. I don' see how it could be much worse than that."

"It's my problem, Daryl, I'll deal with it," You snapped. "Why do you care so much, anyways?"

Daryl stared, the look on his face clearly stating his confusion as to why you would even ask such a question. "You're a friend, Y/N, why the hell wouldn't I care? Merle would do the same thing."

Your eyebrows scrunched together. "Yeah, but Merle wouldn't spout off about me being with a guy who doesn't deserve me, either."

"Ah, dammit," Daryl groaned. Then he kissed you, mouth warm and gentle against your own. You all but melted in his arms, relishing the feeling of something that you had only dreamed about. All too soon, he pulled away. "Make sense now?"

"Yeah," You said, breathless.

"Figured showin' was better than tellin', anyways," He said gruffly. "It don' change what he did to ya'. I'm still gonna kill him."

You bit your lip. "Daryl... I don't want you to get kicked out or something because of me."

"I won' be, the group needs Merle and I," He said. "And Shane wouldn't let that shit slide, either."

You relented. This was a chance to be rid of Troy, permanently, and be with the man you truly loved. "Alright."

Daryl smirked, and it was only once you returned to camp that you realized Daryl wouldn't be going against Troy on his own. "Merle! Hey, Merle!"

"What is it, baby brother?" Merle drawled, taking the string of squirrels you handed him. "Nothin' wrong, is there?"

"Unless you count that dick Troy hittin' Y/N as alright, then yeah, we got a problem," Daryl snapped.

"Oh, he's a dead man walkin' now!" The older Dixon snarled, grabbing his gun.

The two men stormed in the direction of Troy, who could be seen bickering with Shane in the distance, while you trailed behind them.

"Hey Troy!" Merle shouted, causing both Shane and Troy to turn.

"What the hell do you want?" Troy snapped. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of a conversation?"

"I'm sure he won' mind that we interrupted," Daryl said.

"'Specially considerin' you hit your girlfriend, you piece of shit," Merle finished.

Shane turned on Troy, punching him square in the nose. "Back off, Shane, he's ours," Daryl said, shoving Shane aside. By the time Merle and Daryl had finished with him, you figured it probably would have been more merciful to kill him than to send him away looking like that, but Troy didn't deserve mercy.

"You're safe now," Daryl said as you bandaged his knuckles. "He'll never hurt you again, I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you," You said gratefully, the two of you kissing again. Merle gave a wolf-whistle, and Daryl pulled away to give his brother a scathing look. You were finally safe - relatively, anyway - and everything was as it should be.