This Is So Perfect

this is so perfect 🥺

you found me

if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did.

҉ summary : daryl finds her reading his book and realizes that she has scars on her soul too.

҉ warnings : hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of child abuse, a lot of kisses, reader was also a victim of her father, they wants to be parents.

҉ words count : 998.

Daryl left a book on the table. You had never seen him read before, so it caught you off guard. You moved closer to check the title, and when you read it, your heart skipped a beat. You began reading the first few pages, noting how the words seemed so close to reality, and it frightened you.

You closed the book, keeping your hand on the cover. You took a deep breath and felt overwhelmed by your emotions. You thought about Daryl and the reasons he had for picking up that book, especially after he confessed his conversation with Beth. He didn't just want to leave his past behind; he wanted to understand himself too.

You opened the book again, which he had placed near his crossbow. You thought both things served as forms of defense: one against visible monsters, the other against invisible ones. That made them inevitably invincible. When you finished the first chapter, you heard footsteps, and something in you knew it was Dixon. You had never told him much about yourself. The past didn’t matter now that the present took up so much space.

The door was slightly ajar, so you decided to close it. You took off the shirt you were wearing, the belt that held your knife, and your jeans. These movements revealed an inexplicable vulnerability. You took the book again and continued reading. The words about how to overcome the things you know are wrong even as a child made your head spin, your lungs feel tight, and your eyes begin to well up with tears.

Everything was paper, but the memories were not.

The door opened, and you closed your eyes. Daryl and you had shared enough moments to consider yourselves in a relationship. You had felt his lips on yours, your breaths had mingled, and you had fought to keep each other alive. But he had never seen you like this—naked and fragile.

Your back had scars stretching from your shoulders to your lower back. You had thought time would take them away, but they were immortal. You had to live with them and the memories they brought every time a mirror reflected them. For a while, you believed you deserved that pain, that your father was only being fair. Then you realized that someone who loves their child would never do this. You kept reading, your knees bent, your hands holding the book delicately.

You heard his slow breathing and could even hear the crack of his heart. His energy shifted from alert to calm. You felt the weight of his body on the mattress and a smile formed on your lips. Your eyes didn’t seek his, even when your heart begged you to. You continued reading those words you both understood.

A few seconds later, you felt the tips of his fingers rest on the deepest scar on your skin, and you remembered the blood it caused and how close you came to losing your life because of it. Daryl’s touch on your skin was so gentle, like a feather brushing your back. Your eyes filled with tears, and you clenched your teeth.

“There were monsters before all this,” you said, and then you felt his lips tracing the line of your scar. You shivered and looked at him over your shoulder. That was enough to make your heart pound faster against your chest. He looked so broken, even while he was fixing you.

Soft kisses trailed to your shoulder, and just when you thought he would ask why you never told him before, his hand took the book and placed it on the mattress. Before kissing you, he held your chin between his thumb and index finger.

"Our kid ain't never gonna have to deal with 'em." That words made you break into tears that wet your genuine smile. You buried your face in his neck, and before you could settle into his body, Daryl slowly pulled away to take off his shirt.

You watched him while thinking of a child you could call yours. Even if you were in this world, you wanted to be the mother of his children.

You ran your fingers over the scars on his back and began tracing them as if you had memorized them. It was his story, and you were caressing it, just as he had caressed yours. You brought your lips to his, and they fit together effortlessly. You broke the kiss to look at him, and Daryl wiped your tears with his thumb. Those tears stopped being tears and turned to dust.

“Do you want to have a child with me?” you asked, tilting your head and running your fingers through his hair, burying them gently in his strands.

He nodded, and you rested against his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, and by the fourth beat, you knew they were yours. It was a sound you would never tire of. You would always want to close your eyes and rest your head against his skin. His heartbeat meant he was still alive, and therefore, so were you.

Your heart and his were bound by something even stronger than love. Unconditionality was something more eternal.

Daryl was your idea of angel. He pierced your soul.

“I love ya,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on your hair. You smiled, and the scars on your back resisted. When the people who are supposed to love you don’t, you forever hope that someone will love you as you deserve. And you can be the one to love yourself, but you also wish someone else would do it too.

Your mouth met his, and the kiss became so real that it almost took your breath away. His warmth and your warmth were allies in a world of adversaries.

“I love you too,” you whispered, knowing that for the first time, your wounds had found a cure instead of salt.

I love how Daryl was the best parent/dad in the entire show, and he doesn't even have kids.

i get so inspired by listening to songs in spanish. i imagine stuff but i can't bring myself to fucking write it FOR ONCE, i'm the reina of procrastination

i’m lost in your iris.

thinking about laying in bed with daryl. you two had been out meandering about where exactly you reside, attempting to lend your support out toward the world and to whomever chirped your way. it’s just you and him, the subtle dewy glow of the moon breaking past the sheer curtains that clad your windows. you can make out just enough for you to satisfy yourself. both facing one another, chests flushed together as you study one another intently. there wasn’t a word to be exchanged, just the look of adoration.

you took a closer gander at his eye, those blues that sat pretty in his sockets. his lashes fluttered momentarily, gaze averting up toward a freckle or mole that kissed your skin before looking right back at your orbs, taking in the sight for himself. i’d imagine they’d have a texture to them, darker and lighter pigmented rings that meshed together, small crypts that were littered within or around those same rings. once the sun hit, they’d become a shade lighter. you all but melted every time you got to witness it in real time. his true cerulean collarette.

such beauty within intricate things like your iris dilator’s smooth muscle, controlling the size of your pupil and it’s diameter, are things you always fail to notice within your own skin. yet, you can’t help but notice everything that has to do with him. the way his pupils enlarged at a mere glimpse of you, completely blown out wide. it was so endearing. who knew the concentration of your melanocytes could create such a pleasant sight for sore eyes.

i kind of forgot how stressful and heartbreaking the fall of the prison was. i wanted to cry the whole damn episode