One shots

Daryl Dixon x Reader

      it was a cool autumn day, you didn't know for sure but the temperature felt somewhere around the high seventies. for georgia, it wasn't that bad out today.

      the sky was painted in an array of dreamy soft colors. pinks, oranges, and cream colors danced across the sky just in front of the bright setting sun obstructing its final harsh rays.

      the prison was quiet, the first quiet in a long time that didn't have you filled with paranoia thinking there was a impending doom hidden around every content moment.

      the prison was secure. ever since the greene farm got overrun the prison had been the safest place your group had ventured upon and actually saw a living and a future for yourselves.

      you walked out into the courtyard with a winchester rifle slung over your back, your eyes fell upon the fading colors. in a world so gruesome it was hard to believe that beauty still existed. the world may have ended but the earth never stopped spinning. night still followed day, the seasons still changed, and the rain still fell.

      out of the corner of your eye you saw someone up above walking back and forth across the observation deck of the watchtower by the end of the gate. you recognized the gruff archer almost immediately.

      his back was turned to you, an ugly light brown poncho with black, red, and orange shapes woven into the scratchy fabric was draped over his shoulders. he was holding his heavy crossbow upright in his hand as he scanned the yard.

      he was careless, but still on alert. daryl dixon was always on alert and always watching. out of everyone in the group he was never content and satisfied with the safe harbor the group managed to place themselves in.

      he knew deep down no place was safe and nothing lasted forever. every good thing he had slowly slipped through his fingers like sand. he lost his brother, the quarry, the cdc, sophia, and the farm. not only were they losing camps, but they were also losing people along the way.

      you advanced towards the watchtower and opened up the heavy metal door. the light from outside slowly crept in the darkness of the high ceilinged tower. dust particles could be seen floating around in the light, but they disappeared as soon as the door was shut.

      your hand reached out the wrap around the rung, your booted foot shifted back and forth on the lowest rung to find your grip. almost as if it was muscle memory you began to scale the ladder with ease in the darkness and make your way up to the top.

      just before you hit the top of the floor you stopped yourself and raised your left hand up to push the heavy hatch open into the watchtower. the sun hit your eyes making you squint as you pulled yourself up to sit on the hard floor.

the archer merely glanced over his shoulder to see who was there, then he quickly diverted his eyes back out into the distance. his baby blue eyes scanning over the lush fields and the fading tree line for any signs of a threat.

you closed the hatch door silently and stood to your feet so you could walk out onto the observation deck. the silence hung heavily between the two of you, but it wasn't awkward or tense.

for a long moment the only sounds that could be heard were the hissing of trees swaying back and forth in the distance, the chirping of birds, the croaks from frogs, and the never ending buzzing coming from some insects.

finally you decided to speak up and break the silence, "watch duty?" you asked, your eyes trying to catch his.

a subtle grunt escape his throat. he didn't bother to glance at you. he seemed withdrawn and quiet, but that type of behavior wasn't rare for the gruff loner. he had been spending a lot of time alone lately and you recognized this pattern in daryl whenever there seemed to be a loss. like with sophia and with merle, even though his death wasn't confirmed.