Daryl Dixon Imagines

Welcome Home

By darylclaimedmybuns on Tumblr

Long sleeves and shame were my two favourite summer trends, unfortunately living in the south made my life a living hell. When I had survived alone, I felt free enough to wear skimpy vests. Letting my skin breathe felt like heaven. Being alone wasn’t worth the cost of bare skin, so when Glenn and I crossed paths, with his promise of security and food, I accepted. That was in the winter, and hiding my scars from my new family had been easy and painless. Now with spring in the air, my anxiety rose along with the pollen count. I felt people stare, confused but far too polite to question my outfit choice during our quick run into town. My long sleeves agitating my every move. 

Daryl, the one person in the group who hadn’t spoken to me, not properly. Just the occasional nod of assurance or grunt. Those observant eyes of his burned almost hot as the Georgia sun, I felt every lingering look pierce me; questioning me. I avoided him as much as possible. Today however, luck was not on my side. We were ambushed outside of the store, a small group of men jumped out of a parked van. Ready to steal what our hard working asses had gathered, they were easy enough to deal with, but we didn’t come away unscathed. Daryl had taken a hit, a bullet wound to his shoulder. Stubborn as the hunter was, he paced beside his bike, huffing and grumbling. 

“Daryl, we need to get you back home,” Glenn chastised, “you can’t ride your bike while bleeding out, get in the car.” 

“Ain’ leavin’ it behind, only jus’ got it back.” He wasn’t budging. Before Glenn lost his mind, I stepped up.

“I can ride…” The group fell quiet, I wasn’t the type to pipe up. 

“Like hell yer touchin’ it,” Daryl retorted defensive, wincing at the pain.

“Look like you got many options there bud?” I scoffed, stepping up to him. He stared me down, and I made sure to show the sincerity in my eyes. He looked down at his feet, nodding briefly.

“Fine, but I ride at the back.” He applied pressure to his bleeding wound, sweat coating his face. 

“Daryl, that’s not safe, what if you pass-” 

“Won’t pass out, she ain’t riding without me there.” That was final, he wasn’t budging. Everyone boarded their vehicles, including me, the pressure of riding his precious bike weighing me down. 

“Ain’t got all day, you comin’?” He huffed, waiting for me to sit. 

I straddled the bike, revving the engine, a cat like grin creeping up my face. I hadn’t ridden since before the world ended. Tentatively, Daryl wound his good arm around my waist and I felt my body flush; not expecting him to touch me. I shook my head, scolding myself for the inappropriate thoughts that caused a familiar warmth to pool in my lower stomach. 

Casting a quick look behind me, avoiding his intense scrutiny I checked if he was ready. With a small nod, I took off, a little wobbly at first but soon easing into the ride. Enjoying the wind in my hair, I let out a laugh, the first genuine laugh I’d had in what felt like years. I felt Daryl shake his head, but I didn’t have the capacity to care in that moment, I was happy. 

After a while, I noticed Daryl’s grip loosening and noticed he looked peaky, so I pulled over. He was losing far too much blood, I hopped off the bike, facing him, his eyes filled with anger but without the energy to fight he simply allowed me to tend to him. I peeled his vest and shirt away from his drenched body. He groaned in protest but he needed medical attention now before it was too late. 

Luckily, the bullet had passed straight through, I examined the two bullet holes on either side of his shoulder. The blood loss was taking its toll on him though. Without hesitating, I tore his shirt into strips, wrapping them as tight as possible around his wound. Tying a not to hold them in place before stepping back from him, reaching to place his vest back over his bare torso. Until, my eyes scanned the expanse of his back. Before thinking, I reached out and ran my fingers delicately over one of the many littered scars. He flinched, head whipping round to meet my startled gaze. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I just…” 

“Jus’ what?! Gimme ma vest woman!” He snatched it out of my grasp, and I quickly scampered to return to the bike, hastily driving us home. 

__________

Upon returning, Daryl stormed off, I called after him but he paid me no mind. I swallowed thickly. I’d been such a fool, but seeing his scars made me feel somewhat at peace. Glenn approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Are you alright? What happened out there?” His concerned eyes watching me carefully. 

“I’m fine, just think I stepped out of line with Daryl is all… Patched him up a little on the drive back, he was losing too much blood… I…” catching myself, I shook my head. “I need to rest, sorry,” and I fled.

__________

Tossing and turning in bed that night, I couldn’t rid myself of the guilt that washed over me in fresh waves. Sleep evaded me. I groaned into my pillow, my mind twisting from the gut wrenching guilt to thoughts of how soft his scars were… and the feel of his arm around me, the feel of him pressed tightly against me on the journey home. I sighed, I had to make it up to him. Make him understand my idiotic actions. 

Throwing my sheets off, scantily clad in my nightshirt and underwear, I padded off down the hall towards his room. Torn between hoping he was awake and hoping he’d be resting, so I could return back to the safety of my room and not do what seemed almost insane.

After staring at this door, I brought my trembling hand up to knock; a ghostly knock, I had barely heard it myself. A moments pause, my breath held painfully in my chest.

“Who’s it?” Gruff, tired and pained. I sighed, now or never.

Hesitantly, I crept in. A stream of light cast across the foot of his bed where he lay atop the sheets, his good arm holding up his head. From what little light there was, I swore he frowned, and I hoped the world would swallow me whole. 

“Whaddya want?” He spat, while I closed the door behind me. Certain that his hunter senses could pick up my anxious state. 

“About today, about… your back, I-”

“Forget it.” He interrupted, expecting pity from me. 

“No. Daryl, I…” Lost for words, I knew that I would probably upset him further. Instead, opting for a more forward approach. I removed my shirt, he made a sound of protest before I turned and revealed my scars.

Silently trembling, I heard a shuffling come from his bed, before footsteps neared me. It felt like hours passed before I felt the ghostly touch of his fingers across my longest, meanest looking scar. Swallowing hard, not even attempting to hide my tremors. He retracted, clearing his throat.

“I just, I didn’t think, I felt so…”

“Stop,” his voice was strained. I turned to face him. His eyes misty behind his matted hair. I stepped into his space, reaching up to cup his cheek; the stubble tickling my palm. He looked cautious but calm as I stepped on my toes to gently press a soft kiss on his lips. A confused groan left him, the sound tingling at our joined lips and I couldn’t help the needy moan that came from me. His good arm pulling me in, pulling me up to him, pulling me home. Carefully, we made our way to his bed, there was something almost innocent and clumsy in his affections; it was endearing. 

He kissed me fervently, running his hand down my stomach, across a multitude of scars, eyes shooting up to meet mine. The vulnerability we shared seemed to heighten the moment. Hesitantly, he dipped his head, placing a chaste kiss on the scar, before moving to the next. No words needed to be said, as we each shared our biggest shame filled secrets to one another. Silently claiming the others pain as strength. 

__________

It had been weeks since that night, Daryl and I becoming almost one, an unspoken understanding shared between us. The group hadn’t questioned our sudden closeness, or how Daryl was more than happy to let me ride his bike. I had thrown out the long sleeved shirts, after he had scoffed at me sacrificing my health just to hide myself. He assured me in his way, that was entirely Daryl’s, that I was beautiful, accepted, strong… his.