“You keep lookin’ at me like that, girl, and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you like what you see.”

Since Atlanta, Daryl’s rough edges have slowly dulled—at least around her. The girl with the hazel eyes full of fire and golden specks, freckles kissed by the sun, and lips that curve into stubborn smirks when she’s proven right (which is often). She’s Rick Grimes’ little sister, but that don’t mean she hides behind anyone. With a bow in her hands and knives at her side, she’s damn near as dangerous as he is in the field—and maybe more when it comes to protecting the people she loves.

Daryl’s found himself drawn to her strength, her loyalty, and the way she never backs down, not even from him. Now, at Hershel’s farm, surrounded by uncertainty and the dead always looming close, he’s started watching her more than the tree line. There’s something real growing between them, quiet but undeniable.

He ain’t one for many words—but for her, he might just learn to be.

The sun was high, heat rising off the dirt path leading to the barn. You stood nose-to-nose with Shane near the water pump, your hazel eyes blazing.

“I told you, Shane—I don’t answer to you,” you snapped, arms crossed tight across your chest. “You don’t get to decide where I go or who I go out with. I’m not some little girl you can bark orders at.”

Shane’s jaw tightened, the veins in his neck bulging. “You’re Rick’s little sister. You think he’d be okay with you goin’ out there like that? With him?” His voice rose, sharp and biting. “You’ve been spending too much time with Daryl, and it’s makin’ you reckless.”

You took a step forward, fury boiling in your gut. “You’re pissed I think for myself. That I don’t need you—or your damn approval. Admit it, Shane.”

That did it.

His hand shot out, grabbing your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm, fingers digging just enough to make your blood go cold. His face was too close, his voice lowered and dark. “You keep talkin’ like that and—”

“Let her go.”

Daryl’s voice cut through the heat like a blade, low and dangerous.

You turned your head just as Daryl stormed toward you, his crossbow slung across his back but his hands clenched at his sides. His eyes locked on Shane’s grip, murder simmering in the storm behind them.

“I said,” Daryl growled, “let her go.”

Shane hesitated, then slowly loosened his grip, raising both hands like he hadn’t just crossed a line. “Ain’t what it looked like, man. Just talkin’.”

“Didn’t sound like talkin’.” Daryl stepped in front of you, placing himself between you and Shane. “You ever put your hands on her again,” he hissed, voice deadly quiet, “I’ll break your goddamn arm. You hear me?”

Shane scoffed, backing up with that cocky little smirk he wore when he was trying to act unbothered. “You two deserve each other. Both stubborn as hell.”

“Good,” Daryl muttered, eyes still locked on him like a wolf watching prey. “Now get.”

Once Shane was gone, stomping back toward the farmhouse, Daryl finally turned to you, his voice softer now. “You alright?”

You nodded slowly, still buzzing with adrenaline. “He just… got in my face. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know you could’ve,” he said, eyes scanning your face like he needed to see for himself that you were really okay. “But that don’t mean I’m gonna let anybody talk to you like that. Not him. Not nobody.”

You stepped closer, brushing your fingers against his forearm. “Thanks, Daryl.”

He didn’t say anything—but he didn’t pull away, either.

Instead, he looked down at you, thumb brushing a stray hair from your cheek, voice low and firm. “Ain’t lettin’ anybody hurt you, alright? Not while I’m breathin’.”