Daryl Dixon one-shots

Let me see

POV: Daryl gently looking at your bleeding knuckles.

Y/N had been through a lot since the zombie apocalypse began. She had fought tooth and nail to survive, but it had taken its toll on her body. Her knuckles were raw and bleeding from all the times she had punched walkers in the head when she lost her weapons or ran out of ammo.

Daryl noticed the state of her hands when they were sitting around the campfire one night. He had always been observant, and he couldn't help but notice the way she was cradling her hands in her lap.

"Hey," he said, leaning over to her. "You ok?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with exhaustion. "Yea," she said. "I'm fine."

Daryl could see through her tough exterior. He knew that she was in pain.

"Let me see," he said, taking her hands gently in his own.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but then she let him examine her knuckles. He was gentle as he inspected them, his fingers tracing the cuts and bruises.

"You need to take better care of these," he said, his voice soft. "Let me get you some salve."

He disappeared into his tent and emerged a few minutes later with a small jar of ointment. He applied it to her knuckles, his touch gentle and soothing.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She had always been tough, but it was nice to have someone take care of her for a change.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daryl looked up at her, his eyes softening. "Anytime," he said. "We gotta take care of each other out here."