So Stereotypical Man Knows How To Fix Stuff, Yeah? Like, Helping If The Washing Machine Broke Or The

*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 🫡

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

Sex pollen this, mpreg that, how about he gets a period huh. What's he gonna do then. Imagine blorbo getting fucking blasted or some shit and its like- a 30 year old man getting his first period. What. Huh. Why does it hurt so much. Why's he so mad and sad and fuck :[ he doesn't know what to do. What is this.

“What’s the point of a relationship if you don’t want kids?”

Idk, how about COMPANIONSHIP

A LIFE PARTNER

Wow i love moths so much <3

I didn't do it at 12 am sharp 💔

Anyway

It's here

Hear me out.

Wait. No. Pipe down and listen.

Its getting to be that time of year again. Where the sun might as well be just five feet away. Y'know what that means. Falling asleep in the sun. Also. Fics about it.

Guys.

Alexandrian era, with Reader being apart of or being in a solo traveling band. Trading songs and tales for a night under a roof. Madelyn Mei type songs. Yaelklore type songs. Yk yk???

BARD READER :0

I'd Rather Be Sleeping

Pairing- Daryl x GN! Medic! Reader

Summary- As tired as you are, it's still your job to help those who need it as medic. You're unsure whether to be grateful or not it's someone you're constantly bantering with, though.

TW- off-character Daryl? Mentions of blood and medical procedures

A/N~ wow I don't know how to conclude stories lol 😔 this was meant to be out like a week ago but I accidently just kept extending the story. Oh well!

The casual ruckus of being pulled around from place to place was an endless energy you were used to. Whether it be something as simple as a few scratches or having to amputate someone's arm without hesitation, you were there. With the way everybody always seemed to need you, being one of the few remaining doctors, it'd be easy to think you never got any rest. This is normally true. Not today, however.

You were, admittedly, quite proud of yourself as you sat back with a deep sigh. The plush of the couch was slightly rustic, but *so* much better than how you'd be on your feet. Moving quickly from place to place with adrenaline rushing through your system for hours at a time wasn't something you'd recommend for fun. You had, finally, for the first time in who knows how long, gotten some time to yourself. Where all other scrapes of time had been spent passed out on the nearest surface, sometimes even standing up, being able to just breath felt like watching a sunset on a Californian beach. Something beautiful that you had earned, a soft smile playing your lips as you felt your eyelids begin to weigh down.

The cool air still lingered with the heat of the day, mixing into almost a blanket-like warmth to the atmosphere. The sky faded into one of those classic pinkish-yellow pastels that you'd expect to see in those cheesy romance movies, but you couldn't complain. The soft colours were much nicer than the deep red of draining blood you saw oh-too-often. Old springs gave muffled creaks as you shifted on the faded sofa, welcoming the idea of a restful sleep you've been so deprived of for the past weeks.

Which you *would've had*, if not for the door shooting open like a stray bullet, startling you and almost toppling off the couch.

"So sorry to bug you, but, uhm- the archer guy just come back from their scavenging, and- well, he's not looking too good."

You stuff your face in the couch cushions and groan with a tired longing before forcing yourself up, rubbing your temples and brushing off the young recruit.

"Mhm, yeah," you mumble, your body fighting with the urge to just let the person go but knowing you had a job to do. Your feet moved quickly to the medical tent almost on instinct, already knowing who to expect there but holding onto that sliver of hope that maybe it was just your sleep-deprived mind playing with you.

No. Of course not. You were a doctor, it was your job to keep tabs on people who frequently visited. And Daryl Dixon was one of them.

Okay. Maybe you were overexaggerating how often he ended up in the medical tent, with the way he was so good on his own. And even if he did get injured, it was usually something small, or he patched himself up. But it only took you one time to watch him try to stitch a deep cut on his own that you decided, yeah, he needed more help than he'd let himself.

Your relationship was... *interesting*, to put it politely. You maybe pushed a bit too much to make sure he was alright, which resulted in pointless banter between the two of you often. But to be fair, it was for his own good! He claimed he didn't need help, you said he was gonna get himself infected. He got himself infected as you said, and you scolded him. He refused your medical knowledge for his pride and you tended to him in spite of it. The whole while throwing meaningless insults at each other. Regardless- there was still a mutual respect for the work you both did.

"Daryl," you greeted with that hint of fading tolerance you held special for him.

He only gave a quiet huff to acknowledge your presence, always hating 'wasting time' in the medical tent.

"Charming as ever, I see," you mutter under your breath, your eyes examining the man infront of you with a trained practice for any immediate signs of injury. It's not hard to notice the way he favours his right side, his lower left arm covered in blood and dirt and shrapnel and whatever else he got into in those woods.

You give a soft click of your tongue, not sure whether to ask what happened or make fun of the usually so-careful archer.

"'What, 'cha explode somethin' recently?" You give a soft scoff of amusement, moving beside him to begin taking out the shards impaling his skin. Your hands move with a careful though quick ease, noting the way Daryl tenses and takes a quiet breath in, though refuses to give any signs he's in pain.

"You'd be interested too if'ya saw a firework stand just waitin' there," He rolls his eyes as if the answer was obvious. "You can do a lot with a lighter. You certainly seem to know that," He teases, poking fun at the way you accidentally set your tent on fire last week. You could still feel the flickering hear of the flames that had grown much quicker than you had thought would've. Thankfully, there wasn't really any lasting damage beside some light burns on your hands and arms and getting scolded.

You give a light hum, a smirk playing on your lips as the air between you sparks with a playful challenge.

"Fireworks, huh? That's a shame, then. Maybe if you had stepped a bit closer-"

"Maybe if you had been in the stand when it happened-"

"Maybe if you had taken me with you, I would've-"

"Maybe if- *ow*-"

"Sorry."

You finished taking out the shrapnel, now cleaning the dirt and blood off with a rag. The sharp sting of hydrogen peroxide you used to help clean the wounds took Daryl off guard, the banter dropping from there.

Minutes passed in a comfortable silence as you worked, Daryl just watching with a faint interest as you applied some salve to the worst of the cuts and bruises.

"M'kay, well..." You hum, after a bit, taking a step back to check if you missed anything. "I'd say try to take it easy, but I doubt you'll do that."

Daryl stands up and stretches, your eyes darting away and trying to ignore the way his torn clothes and toned body is unfairly hot- what, who said that-

"'S jus'a few scratches. On'y reason I'm 'ere 's 'cause your little assistant got nervous," the archer spoke plainly, moving to stand at the entrance way of the medical tent. The sun had went from a bright, hot afternoon, to a more hazy evening. The sky dripped with pastels that faded into each other, seconds slowly dragging the sun down the horizon alike curtains closing on a performance. The bustle of the people usually constant had now lessened as daylight waned with the persistent progression of time.

"Kyle?" You chuckle softly, remembering the way the young protégé had burst into the room when you were so ready for some proper rest. He was definetly a bit jumpier than what you'd recommend for the tasks he wanted to learn, but he was so insistent and determined... who were you to deny one knowledge of healing? "He means well. Just a bit nervous," you summed up. Daryl just gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement, silence falling onto both once more.

You leaned on a nearby tree that provided shade in the hotter days as the year grew closer to summer. The lack of talk between you two was normal- you didn't really need to to feel comfortable with the other- but today's seemed... different, in a way. The noiseless air stretched on, and you glanced at Daryl only to see him quickly look away when you caught his eye. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He had a lot recently- lingering near the medical tent, fidgeting with the hem of his torn jacket as if waiting for the right moment to approach you. But for the past week, you've been busy and tired and just looking for the next moment of rest. Looking back, you felt a bit bad you didn't pay as much attention as you usually did to the loner.

You shift in your spot, the silence evolving to be more awkward than before.

"...you alright?" You speak out of nowhere.

"What? Uh- yeah. 'Course," Daryl scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching as the sun began to dip on the edge of the sky.

"Riiiight," you hummed, though laying off on the question. Maybe another time. For now, all you could do was take in the fading daylight and finally let yourself rest.

I'm?? Wow???? I love this so much seriously though I choked on my drink when I saw this thank you so much

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