Daryl Dixon Imagines

Mantra

By imagine-thewalkingdead on Tumblr

The wind was strong, making the fallen leaves rustle to the side of the road. At one point or another, your eyes had dropped down to the exposed the pavement, following along the fading yellow lines.

You didn’t have to look up to know Daryl as still walking far ahead of you. His determination driving him to the edge as he wouldn’t stop searching for something of use. You wanted to tell him it was useless at this point, but you knew that would just hurt him.

Hours passed by. The two of you searching every store or home you happened upon. You’d only found a few cans of corn and some peas, so not much.

You knew Alexandria needed more supplies, but you and Daryl had been looking for days now. There was no way you would get back in time if you kept looking, especially since your car ran out of gas this morning.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you stopped. Looking up, you saw Daryl continue his way forward. His angel vest, the one you’d used to spot him out from far away, was missing. Dwight, one of Negan’s men, had ripped him of that– his crossbow as well.

There was a feeling in your thighs, it burned as the muscle worked for hours on end, getting you from one place to another. You hated it and craved release.

Knowing Daryl had noticed that your footsteps behind him ceased, you crouched down. Before you sat, you brushed some of the leave aside, then set down your small bag of supplies.

Daryl heard the metallic sound of cans hitting each other, his annoyance growing at your stubbornness. “Catch up.” He hollered, barely looking back at you. Disregarding that your actions would simply annoy him further, you shook your head, enjoying the feeling of your legs resting.

As you called back, “We should stop.” your legs crossed. Leaning over them, you rested your elbows on the ground, feeling the small pebbles dig into your skin, but not being bothered by it.

Daryl slowed down, taking a few more steps before he came to a full stop. His head hung low, taking deep breaths. “We’re losing daylight, (Y/N). I ain’t fucking ‘round.”

“Take a break for god’s sake.”

Now he’d turned to face you. Anger was evident in his facial expression, his jaw clenched as he began to walk in your direction. “Girl, do you realise what we’re doing?”

“We could be running in fucking circles for all that matters.” You scoffed, “We’re not finding shit, Daryl.”

The words that escaped your lips hit him hard, almost making the hunter lose his balance. A second passed where everything was silent, his stare so intense that it felt as if his eyes were burning your skin. You brushed off the feeling, instead deciding to blame it on the sun’s harsh rays.

“Then we keep looking” Daryl grunted coldly. He turned away from you once again, making his way back down the street.

You raise yourself to your feet, grabbing the close to empty bag to your right before jogging after him.

“Daryl,” You call, trying a softer approach, but the Dixon just moves further away from you. Already aware it wouldn’t be wise to touch him, you resist the urge to grab his shoulder. Instead, you say his name again, with more force, “Daryl.”

The man continued to ignore you, and you can’t help but grow frustrated by his actions. “There’s nothing out here!” You yell, in your last attempt to gain his attention. The trees rustle as the wind pushes through the air again. For a moment, you look at your sides, checking for any signs of danger before you turn back to Daryl.

He seemed to have done the same at the noise but quickly goes back to walking forward.

“Daryl, do you hear me?” You scream again. He wants to ignore you for the fourth time, but the slight tremble in your voice stops him from doing so. Even with your differences, Daryl still found himself fallen for you.

Maybe it was your hopeful outlook that first captivated him. Although you both grew into different, more evolved versions of your past selfs, he found himself fascinated by almost every part of you.

Still, he didn’t always agree with you.

“You’re talkin’ outta your ass.” He grunts, containing the screams he wanted to let go. It was hard to manage his anger, but at the moment, he was doing a considerable job at it.

“I’m being realistic, we should’ve gone back yesterday.” You insist. Finally, you reach his side, stepping into a slowing pace with him. “This won’t change anything, Glenn and Abraham, they’re still going to be gone when we get back–”

“Shut up!” The man beside you snaps, a threatening finger thrown in your face as his voice interrupts you. “You don’t wanna help me, fine! You’re dragging me down anyways.”

“Daryl, think about this.” You try to reason, but he doesn’t want to listen.

He pants, moving back as he growls, “Nah, get the fuck outta my face, woman.”

“Stop this.” You almost beg, reaching to grab his arm. Before you make contact, Daryl’s arm is thrown back as he flinches from you.

“I can’t.” He screams, face red and the vein in his neck popping out. His blue eyes looked somewhat turquoise as tears began overflowing them. At the sight of the breaking man, you subconsciously take a step back, giving him a moment for his own sanity.

You could see the underlining in his words. It wasn’t hard to realise Daryl would blame himself for Glenn’s brutal beating, which led to his death. As if this was his way to repay Glenn, gathering supplies to keep the saviours happy, which would in return keep Alexandria alive, he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t.

“I can’t.” He whimpers. The plastic strings of his bag begin slipping from his grasp, soon collapsing to the ground. The contact between the cans and the ground makes a loud thud, but you both ignore it.

Thankfully, the man hasn’t turned back from you yet. Instead, he held back the tears as his stare travelled to the ground. The second you place a gentle hand on his shoulder he whimpers.

“Daryl,” You mumble, moving closer to him. He continues to stare at the ground, so you place a hand on his cheek, raising his head so he can face you. A single tear drips down his face, “You couldn’t have known.”

You use your thumb to wipe away the strand droplet, spreading the salty water across his dirty cheek. He visible holds back a sob, biting his lower lip as he does so. You sigh, embracing him in a hug.

Your delicate hands run over his hard back. Daryl continues to weep softly as you gently dig your fingers into his should blades. There’s an instant where he doesn’t hold you back, simply enjoying the feeling of release.

When he does hold you, he’s tender. You can’t imagine a more understanding embrace. Now your hands have wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his chest as his chin rests on the top of your head.

You can feel the tears dropping on your head and falling through your hair, but you don’t mention it. Instead, you focus on the feeling of him almost lifting you off the ground as he holds you extremely close. As if you were his lifeline.

While the pair of you clutch onto one another, Daryl replays your words in his mind like a mantra.

“You couldn’t have known.”