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bruhimaunicorn · 2 years

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bruhimaunicorn · 2 years

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The Sweetest Thing

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) Daryl reflects on life before the end - before he met you.

Word Count: 1,948

A/N: I'M BACK! I'm so excited to share this with y'all! It's super short, super fluffy, and super sweet (get it...like the title...lolololol) And it's also Daryl's POV! Woo!

Initially, this was going to be heart-wrenching angst, but I decided that we all could use a little lovin', ya know? I've missed y'all so much and hope my muse decides to stay awhile! I do have a few other ideas brewing muahaha!

Anyways, I might be a little rusty as I get back into the swing of writing, so any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! (Ooh, also, if you'd like to be added to my new tag list, just give me a shout!)

Love y'all!!

xx Jess

Masterlist

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Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

When he was eight years old, he dislocated his shoulder falling out of a rickety, old, oak tree.

He’d scrambled up the gnarled trunk, ignoring the shouts and taunts from other kids who’d chased him into the woods just beyond the schoolyard. He’d found a sturdy branch to cling to as they’d gathered at the bottom, throwing stray rocks and sticks at him, calling him names, laughing amongst themselves until they’d eventually lost interest and wandered back to the playground.

He’d waited for the bell to ring, for classes to resume and the kids to disperse to wherever they belonged — and then he’d begun climbing down. Except he’d misjudged a step and before he knew it, the harsh wooded ground was rushing up to meet him. He’d fallen, hard, on his left side, hearing a distinct popping sound on impact.

He hadn’t bothered to return to school, instead walking the thirty minutes back home, left arm cradled against his chest, sniffling softly as the burning in his shoulder intensified.

When he’d gotten home, he’d found his dad passed out drunk on the sofa, snoring so loudly he didn’t hear his son's cries.

It wasn’t until Merle had stumbled in from the local bar later that night that his shoulder was popped back into place.

When Daryl was sixteen years old, he got into his first motorcycle accident.

He’d spent all summer fixing the bike up, pouring every ounce of his time, energy, and money into the project. Merle was serving in the Marine Corps, his old man’s drinking habits were the worst they’d ever been, and Daryl had felt the sting of his father’s belt buckle one too many times.

He’d thought maybe he’d leave Georgia once and for all — travel across the country and find somewhere to settle down. Maybe he’d open an auto body shop in Montana, buy a nice house near the mountains or deep in the woods. Maybe he’d get a dog to keep him company. If he thought about it long enough, the more it seemed within reach.

He just needed to get there.

So one night in August, Daryl packed a bag and left.

He snuck out around two in the morning, not that anyone would’ve known or cared he was missing, rolled his motorcycle to the end of his street, and took off.

He’d never forget how that felt, the freedom that grew in his chest as he left his shit-hole hometown and every bad thing in it behind. It’d nearly brought tears to his eyes, the idea of starting over, of no one knowing his name, of —

Not even ten miles later, a deer ran out in front of his bike. He’d swerved, lost control, and crashed into a tree along the side of the road.

He never made it past the Georgia state line.

When Daryl was twenty-eight, he fell in love.

Well, maybe not ‘love’, but a dire and desperate attempt to feel something, anything, that wasn’t the all-consuming numbness that’d become so familiar as year after year wore on.

Julie was her name.

She was older – late thirties, early forties – with long, bleached blonde hair and a slyness that Daryl should’ve picked up on sooner. She’d frequented the dive bar he and his brother had spent most nights at, making eyes at him from across the room until one night, she’d finally approached him.

Attention was a foreign concept to Daryl – a woman’s attention, especially. His face had grown haggard with contempt and disappointment over time, a seemingly permanent scowl etched onto his face – and if that wasn’t enough of a turn-off, his sharp tongue sealed the deal. He wasn’t sure when he’d begun to lose himself, when aspects of Merle’s personality had begun to morph into his own, but it was easier to drink away the thought than confront it.

Which had led him to that dive bar, led him to Julie.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Julie had been using him to get free goods from Merle – but he’d kept that to himself. She’d simply been a distraction, nothing more, nothing less, from the darkness that’d been festering within him since before he could remember.

Their relationship had been surface level at best, but it was more than Daryl had ever had a taste of and he’d clung to it.

A few weeks later, he’d found Merle and Julie in bed together.

She’d offered a half-assed apology – though made no move to unwind herself from around his brother’s body – while Merle, on the other hand, had shot him a shit-eating grin and shrugged. “A man’s gotta eat,” he’d jeered, the indifference in his tone turning the younger brother’s vision red.

His knuckles were bruised and bloody for days after that.

Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

He’d been dealt traumas that most people could never understand, would never understand. For the longest time, he’d wondered what he’d done to deserve the life he’d been given. Maybe he’d been a sinner in another lifetime, and this was his punishment – to merely exist, day in and day out with no real purpose, no meaning, with nothing more to his name than the scars he’d bear.

But then the world ended.

And, oddly enough, his life began.

“Hey, you okay?” came a sudden voice.

Daryl snapped out of his reverie, not having realized he’d zoned out to begin with. “Hm?” he murmured, blinking away the daze.

You came into focus then, watching him curiously, your brow furrowed. “You disappeared on me there for a second,” you pointed out gently, the corner of your mouth quirking.

Daryl felt his gaze flicker down towards your lips before he refocused his attention straight ahead, ignoring the heat rushing to the tips of his ears. He quickly cleared his throat, ducking his head down. “M’ here,” he rumbled, sneaking another glance at you from beneath the hair that fell across his face.

You smiled sweetly and the archer felt his stomach flip-flop as you reached towards him and brushed the strands away. “Good – try to keep it that way,” you teased, pulling away a moment later.

The archer tried to ignore the prickling beneath his skin where your fingers had grazed — like every nerve-ending had been set aflame.

“So, what’d you think?” you asked then, crossing your arms over your chest and staring down at the map splayed out between you.

Daryl redirected his attention, reaching down and smoothing out the creases that’d formed along the page. He laid his palms flat on the table, drumming his fingers as he focused on the task at hand. With Rick now running Alexandria, he’d wanted to take every precaution possible in case the community was to fall – having a backup location that was safe, secure, and well-stocked was integral. “There,” he rasped after a moment, jabbing his finger towards the shoreline. “Head east, comb the shore, see what we can see.”

You hummed softly in approval. “That’s what I was thinking,” you murmured, shifting forward and resting your hands beside his, squinting slightly as you examined where he’d pointed. “We could find a boat, fix it up,” you mused. “Maybe catch some lobster for dinner,” you glanced over at him, waggling your eyebrows.

Daryl scoffed as he straightened. “Churn some butter while we’re a’ it,” he huffed, fighting back a smile.

You laughed, his comment catching you by surprise. “Don’t act like I won’t hold you to that, Dixon,” you grinned, leaning back against the table and facing him straight on.

“Mhm,” he rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his worn jeans, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You held his gaze a moment longer, something warm flashing over your face before you pushed away from the table. “Alright, I’ll update Rick and get a group together – head out in twenty?”

Daryl grunted softly in response, suddenly unable to find his voice.

“Okay, see you in a bit,” you smiled warmly, reaching out and patting the archer’s chest affectionately as you began to move past him.

But before your hand could slip away, Daryl covered it with his own and held it in place, faltering your momentum.

You shifted, turning back towards him, a puzzled look in your gaze.

“I jus’ –” he rasped, shaking his head as he ducked his head down, searching for the right words. He brushed his thumb against yours, back and forth, grounding himself, before he focused back on you.

You simply nodded, giving him the space to continue.

He cleared his throat, feeling it tighten as he forced himself to let go of a lifetime's worth of conditioned self-consciousness. He inhaled a deep breath, regarding you earnestly. “You're jus’ so damn beautiful, ya know that?” he finally mustered, his words rumbling against your intertwined hands, still pressed against his chest.

You appeared taken aback for a moment like you were wondering if you’d misheard him, or he’d misspoken. But when he merely held your stare, your features softened. “Oh,” you whispered gently.

A beat passed between you before your face lit up and you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him and sighing a long and heavy exhale.

Daryl welcomed the embrace, one arm snaking around your waist, his other hand moving to cradle the back of your head before he tightened his hold on you. His eyes closed as he breathed in the moment, committing the feeling to memory. You melted against him, nestling closer, fitting so perfectly it was as though you’d been crafted to from the very start.

When you pulled back, he couldn’t help but ache for you in the spaces you’d filled.

But then he opened his eyes and noticed the emotion that’d filled yours.

You sniffled softly, quickly swiping at a tear that’d slipped down your cheek as a hitched laugh pushed past your lips. “Now look at what you did,” you murmured playfully, almost bashfully.

Daryl snorted a breath, placing his hand against the side of your neck and using his thumb to brush away the trail of moisture left behind on your cheek. You laid your hand on top of his, leaning into his touch.

Neither of you moved for a long moment, simply breathing the other in before a small smile tugged at your lips. You shifted in his grasp, pressing a gentle kiss against his palm. “We should probably get going,” you sighed, the archer nodding once despite every fiber of his being screaming otherwise.

“Alright,” he rasped, balling his hands into fists and shoving them back into his pockets, ignoring the slight trembling in his fingertips.

“Alright,” you reiterated, a bounce in your step as you turned to leave. “Meet you at the gate?” you called from over your shoulder, yanking open the front door.

Daryl nodded once more, flicking the hair away from his face. “Mhm,” he rumbled, his voice once again lost.

“Cool,” you grinned, sending him a small wave before you slipped out, closing the door softly behind you without another word.

Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

But you…

You were medicine to the sick, solace to the dying, strength to the weak. You’d crawled your way beneath his skin and called it ‘home’. You were everything he needed and nothing he deserved, and God damn it, he’d live this hellish life a thousand times over if it meant finding you.

Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

But he’d shoulder the weight of the world’s suffering for you.

The sweet relief of you.

Fin.

A/N: Ugh, so cute it makes me sick :')))))) lmao hope y'all enjoyed!

By the way, did anyone see the new trailer??? I'M FREAKING.

I'm hoping to have another story out to y'all soon, so stay tuned! I'd like to shoot for a 3/4 parter, but we'll see what happens!

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

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