Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Eleven

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Eleven

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, mention of scars, canonical violence (walker killings), a sex toy is used as a weapon

Word count: 2.7k

It was bright and early the following morning when Daryl came knocking on my bedroom door, insisting that we get moving early to make sure we got back before his afternoon watch. “Ok, gimme five minutes,” I croaked, my throat dry from mouth-breathing in my sleep. I grabbed some clothes out of one of my drawers and tossed them on my bed. There was a fitted jacket, one that would likely be used as workout attire, that I decided to wear as a shirt, another pair of black workout shorts, and my leg holsters for my weapons. I grabbed my backpack and packed my remaining weapons, my notebook, my water bottle, and some medical supplies.

I fluffed my hair a little and tied it up into a high ponytail. Even tied up, my hair still reached down to my mid-back. Having long hair gave me more confidence and made me feel more feminine, but since the world fell, it was more of a nuisance than anything. And it was cumbersome when it was wet. I often debated on just chopping it off, but I liked it far too much to do that.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” I said as I came down the stairs. Daryl was putting his boots on by the front door, his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a tumbler on the floor next to him. I went over and joined him, and he picked the tumbler up off the floor and handed it to me.

“This yours,” he said, holding the tumbler of what I presumed to be coffee out to me. I reached out and grabbed it, our fingers lightly touching as I placed my hand below his on the cup. I let my fingers linger there for just a moment and made sure to brush his as I pulled away. I felt electricity shoot through my body as my fingers graced his.

“You’re sweet. Thank you.” This time, I know I saw a very faint shade of pink appear on his cheeks. I set the cup down long enough to put my boots on and follow him outside.

The air was crisp, cool, and I was thankful I had worn long sleeves. The path was damp, like it had rained the night before or this morning. And one of my favorite things—the dew that clung to the grass nearby—sparkled in the sun like glitter. Rosita was walking up the dirt path, carrying a basket of food from the garden in her arms.

“Good morning guys,” she said as Daryl walked past her. He just gave her a nod and a small “hey” and kept making his way to the front gate. She reached her arm out and grabbed mine to stop me. “Vector, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Uh, yeah, real quick 'cause I gotta skedaddle. What’s up?” She looked over my shoulder to make sure Daryl was far enough away and dropped her voice to a whisper.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, beaming. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her.

“I guess Rick wants us to go out on a run. At least that’s what Daryl told me. Also gonna try to find a prosthetic foot for Aaron for when he needs it,” I explained, also dropping my voice to a whisper.

“Sounds like you two have a long day ahead of you,” she replied, “are you excited?”

I looked down at my feet and smiled, a faint blush of pink gracing my cheeks. “I am. I just hope being stuck with me all day won’t annoy him, y’know?”

“Well if it does, you’ll know. So if it’s not obvious, you’re fine. Now go, you have a handsome archer waiting for you.” She started to turn away, then turned back. “Be sure to tell me all about it once you’re back.” I nodded and jogged off to catch up with Daryl, who was already at the front waiting on me.

“So what did Rick want us to go out for?” I asked as I buckled myself into the car.

“Said there’s some big ass grocery store nearby. Wants us to get what we can,” Daryl explained as he drove us out the front gates, “stock up ‘fore winter sets in and we can’t grow nothin’.”

“Ah, groshrees and a prosthetic foot. How exciting.” I could see him make a face in my peripheral.

“The hell’s “groshrees?” Ya don’t sound like no east coaster.” I stifled a chuckle and pulled down the sun visor in front of me, shifting it to the side window to keep the rising sun out of my eyes.

“That would be my Midwestern accent. I grew up in Ohio, close to the Michigan border. I say groceries like “groshrees” and wintertime like “winnertime.” Med school took me to the east coast.” I thought this would be a good segway into trying to get to know Daryl a little better. “What about you, Daryl? You sound like you’re from deeper south than Virginia.”

“Georgia,” he said, then quickly changing the subject back to me, like he already had his next question lined up, “what’s Doctors Without Borders?”

“Hmm?”

“When ya got here, ya told Rick somethin’ ‘bout wantin’ to join Doctors Without Borders, an’ he seemed impressed.” Of course, I was happy to answer just about any question he had, and I liked that he seemed to take a genuine interest in me and my life. But damn, he couldn’t even keep the subject on himself for two seconds, and it was starting to get a little frustrating.

“Oh, yeah, it was a non-profit that sent doctors around the world to provide medical care in areas where people needed it. Places with rampant diseases they couldn’t keep under control, war-torn countries, places where people had experienced natural disasters and such.”

I looked over at him and studied his features as I kept talking. He had his eyes focused ahead of him on the road, but I could picture them perfectly, those gorgeous pools of cerulean blue. Even though he was paying attention to the road, as he should, I could tell he was actively listening, genuinely curious and taking in every single word I said. He always did. “I wanted to get a few years of practice in after residency before joining. But instead, the world fell. Guess I was destined to end up in a war zone regardless.”

“Selfless as hell. Not somethin’ most people’d do,” Daryl replied, this time turning to me for just a second, gracing my face with his beautiful eyes, followed by a very, very tiny smile that tugged at one of the corners of his mouth. Our eyes locked for just a moment, and in just that one moment, my knees became weak and my heart rate increased. He truly was beautiful.

“Thank you.” This time, I was determined to get something out of him. “Alright, enough about me. You gotta give me some more info about you,” I said, propping my right foot up on my seat and wrapping my arms around my leg.

“Why?”

“Because you have asked me a million questions about myself in the last few days, and I’m gettin’ real sick and tired of hearing my own voice,” I explained, offering him a soft smile, “you are one mysterious human being, and I want to get to know you. We’re friends, right?” I scratched at the side of my thumb with my index finger. “I hope. Plus, I don’t wanna be a nuisance by just going on and on and on.”

“If I thought ya’s annoyin’, I wouldn’ta kept talkin’ to ya or brought ya along,” he said in an attempt to offer some reassurance.

“But still, I would like to know more about you. So let me do the asking, and you do the talking. Please.” To my surprise, the car slowly rolled to a stop, and he turned once again to meet my gaze, this time for longer. New butterflies in my stomach were starting to break out of their chrysalids. “I won’t get too personal I promise. Unless you want me to.” I gave him a flirtatious smirk, and I saw that small smile pull at the corner of his mouth again.

“Fine,” Daryl said, breaking eye contact and starting down the road again, “only cause ya asked so nicely.”

I had to take a second before I started speaking again. What had just happened? Was there tension in the air there? Did I imagine it? Was he being flirtatious back? Or was I imagining that as well? My head was spinning, and I had to take a couple of deep, but quiet, breaths to slow my heart rate down.

“What did you do before all of this?” I asked, then remembering that I had asked that question on our first run and he didn’t seem very receptive to it, “oh shit, I asked you that before. If it’s a touchy subject, you don’t have to answer it.” My rough-and-tumble redneck companion was quiet for a moment, and I was trying to come up with my next question when he answered.

“Nah, you’re good.” He pondered for a moment, choosing his words carefully to perfectly craft his answer. “I was just existin’. Floatin’ through life. Wake up every mornin’, and whatever Merle said we was doin's what we did.”

He mentioned someone’s name. Progress.

“Who’s Merle?” I asked. I continued scratching at the side of my thumb with my index finger in an attempt to quell my anxiety. It was never painful, never enough to break skin, but it was enough to be a distraction from my feelings of unease.

“He’s mah brother.” I didn’t know whether the “he’s” was supposed to be he is or he was, but I decided not to prod further on that.

“Is he like you?”

“Whadaya mean?” I hadn’t quite thought this far ahead.

“Y’know, like…easy to talk to, pleasant to be around, things like that,” I said. He scoffed at my remark.

“Guy was a jackass. Righteous prick. Bit of a creep. You wouldn’ta liked ‘im.” The “was” clarified for me that he was either dead, or Daryl didn’t know where he was.

“Do you think he would've liked me?" I bit the inside of my bottom lip. Jesus Vec, why’d you ask that? What does it matter?

"Merle? Yeah, he'da liked ya. Probably a lil' too much,” Daryl replied. I felt my body fight to physically recoil at the thought of what that could’ve meant, but I kept still.

"I could've taken him,” I said rather confidently. Daryl scoffed at me again.

"That's a lotta big talk comin' from someone so tiny,” he teased. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Oh please. I've taken on people bigger than me before,” I elaborated, digging through the recesses of my brain for one of the stories where a man tried to fuck around with me and found out. I stretched my legs out and put my feet up on the dash, crossing one ankle over the other. “I once caught a man spiking my drink at a bar."

"What'dya do to ‘im?"

"I broke his nose...and his jaw...and his collarbone. Poor bastard didn't know whose drink he was messing with. Mama didn’t raise no bitch,” I said. Even though I could only see his side profile, I saw Daryl’s eyes widen just a little, and he had the tiniest smile on his face, like a proud parent.

"Nice. Didn't get arrested or nothin'?"

“Well, if he went to the cops to press charges on me, they’d eventually see the bar footage of him trying to drug me. Guess he didn’t want any smoke.” He took a turn down a random road, and I could see a building off in the distance with a tall sign in front of it, like the ones you see for gas stations on the side of highway exits. "Plus, he had like half a foot on me. I don’t think he wanted to admit that he got his ass beat by a woman much smaller than him.”

“Jackass had it comin’. Glad nothin’ happened to ya,” he said. I pulled the sleeves of my jacket up just a little and subtly rubbed at the scars on my right wrist.

“Me too,” I said, biting the inside of my lip. Nothing happened that time, sure, but what would he think if he found out about the time that something did? “But we’re going back to talking about you now. Your crossbow’s really cool. How did that become your weapon of choice?”

“Learned it when I was young. 's quiet, deadly, bolts easy ‘nough to come by."

“Did Merle teach you? Or your parents?” I saw his arms flex slightly, like he squeezed harder on the steering wheel for just a second, then stopped. Ok, no more bringing up Merle or his family. Got it, I said to myself, making a mental note of it.

“Taught m’self,” Daryl said, pulling into the tiny parking lot of the abandoned store that we’d be scavenging, “had to learn to hunt, quietest weapon I could find. Saved my ass more than once.”

“Well, it’s sick. Makes you look like a bonafide badass,” I complimented, swinging the car door open and letting myself out, “my brothers taught me how to fight, but that was it. Guess they figured it’d be the only skill I needed when the world was…normal.”

“I could teach ya,” Daryl responded, rather quickly, “I mean, if ya wanted. Should know how, just in case.” I folded my arms on the car's roof and rested my chin on them.

“Yeah, that…that would be cool. Thanks.” He was hunched over in the car, reaching for what I presumed to be his crossbow. I slung my bag over my shoulders. “Don’t think we’re finished here. I have more questions for you.” I shut my door, and he lifted his head back up and rolled his eyes at me. I gave him a smirk in response.

“Whatever,” he said, shutting his door and locking the car, shoving the keys in his back pocket. I swung my backpack around to my side, rummaging in it for a second. I could finally put my most unique weapon to use.

“Here we go,” I said, pulling the black vibrator out of my bag, “I can finally show you how I kill walkers with this thing.” He scoffed and pried the sliding glass doors open, stepping in first in front of me, crossbow ready to fire.

We tiptoed in slowly, waiting for the shuffling sounds of any walkers or people. At first, there was nothing, but after some more tiptoes from us, there were some walker moans and groans echoing from somewhere inside the store. We carefully scanned each aisle, rounding each corner with extreme caution. Daryl got one walker as we came around a corner towards the far end of the store, hitting it right between the eyes.

Even when he was doing something as grisly as killing walkers, he was still the most beautiful human I’d ever laid my eyes on.

We hit the opposite end of the store after cutting through the back area to check for people and make sure we were completely alone. There was one more walker, stumbling around in the back corner of the store, chomping its teeth at us as it sauntered closer. It was wearing a priest's collar.

“Well go on,” Daryl said, stepping out from in front of me to my side, “go get the Father.” I let out a small chuckle and approached the creature, vibrator in hand, the top piece fixated to smack it in the temple.

“‘Sup Daddy?” I joked, swinging the vibrator like a bat and smacking the thing upside the head before it could even try to reach for me. The side of its head was caved in. I leaned over next to it and gave it a few more good whacks in the skull until the moaning and groaning stopped. I wiped my weapon off on its pants and slipped it into the holster on my leg for my knife before looking back up at Daryl, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Told you it’s a good weapon.”

Vec: *looking at Daryl in adoration as he tinkers with his bike*

Daryl: Why ya lookin’ at me like that?

Vec: Someone’s using their right to bare arms.

Daryl: …

Daryl: ...

Daryl: ...

Vec: I’m so sorry.

Daryl: Ya lucky I love ya.

(Vec is my OC)

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Nine

Masterlist

AO3 link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, reference to nightmares

Word count: 2.8k

Several days had passed since Daryl left. I’m not gonna lie, I missed waking up after falling out of bed and hearing my door open, peering up to see him standing there, making sure I was alright. Before he left, I was insisting to him that he didn’t need to keep doing that, but I hoped he would ignore me and continue when he returned.

When I wasn’t treating someone, I was helping around Alexandria in other ways. I helped with laundry, cooking, playing with Judith and some of the other kids (they had lots of questions about me being a doctor), tending to the garden, and figuring out how to make Aaron a prosthetic foot. I found a pair of scissors and nail clippers in the infirmary, so I finally got to clip my nails and cut a few inches of dead ends off my hair. I also invited Maggie, Glenn, and Rosita over for dinner one night and cooked for them. Every day, I felt more and more a part of the community and like I belonged there. At times, it would become overwhelming, and I would step away from everything to cry. After being on my own for so long, finding somewhere with good people that welcomed me so warmly was heartwarming, but it also made me ache for my parents, my brothers, and my best friend.

Having the house to myself for a week gave me plenty of time to think about Daryl. Think about our first run, think about every interaction we’ve had, think about what Michonne, Maggie, and Rosita had said, and think about what Carol said. That that wasn’t the first time he had talked to her about me. That he “didn’t hate me. Not even close.” I thought about what I was going to say to him when he got back. Thought about what he did with the note I left as I didn’t have it in me to check the trash can and possibly see it there.

It was starting to get dark out, and I had finished my duties for the day, so I went back home to make dinner. I had found a slow cooker in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, buried away, so I elected to make something I often made in college as I could just start up the slow cooker and leave it. I grabbed various ingredients out from the fridge and cabinets, washing produce off and dumping everything in the pot with water. I turned the timer on and headed upstairs to take a shower. It was a hair-washing day, so it was good that the food was going to take a few hours as I would have plenty of time.

I stopped in my room and grabbed a pair of pajamas. I had originally just been sleeping in my clothes, but the nights were getting chillier, so I needed something warmer. Rosita helped me find a red plaid flannel pajama set that fit perfectly. I had been bringing my clothes with me into the bathroom when I showered to avoid having to scurry around in a towel in case Daryl came back. I got the water running and undressed, stepping into the warm cascade of water.

Earlier, when I had been hanging out with and entertaining some of the children, they asked me what my favorite movies were when movies existed. I told them about my favorite Disney movie from when I was growing up—Sleeping Beauty. I told them all about the tale of Princess Aurora, the fairy godmothers, Prince Philip, and Maleficent. How Prince Philip slayed the dragon to save the princess. How they fell in love and got married. The music was one of my favorite parts, and as I washed and rinsed my hair, I found myself first humming, then singing the song “Once Upon A Dream” from the movie.

I kept singing as I finished my shower. I didn’t think I was perfect by any means, but at least I could hit the higher notes comfortably. The acoustics in the bathroom were stellar. I dried myself off and got into my comfy pajamas, grabbing my glasses off of the sink and putting them back on. I left the bathroom and gave my hair a quick run-through with the towel as I walked back to my room, continuing my serenade as I went.

I grabbed a couple of hair ties off my dresser and shook my hair out again, brushing through it with my fingers and parting it down the middle. I tightly braided each side so that it would turn out wavy again in the morning. I smiled, thinking about all of the times Preston would call me Wednesday when I did this with my hair. Apparently, long black braided hair immediately equals Wednesday Addams.

I grabbed my towel to take it back to the bathroom, and as I stepped out into the hallway, I heard a familiar, gravely voice from downstairs.

“Smells good.”

It felt like I jumped a foot off the ground with how startled I was. The adrenaline was pumping hard, and I turned to steady myself on the railing by the stairs. I looked up and saw Daryl standing in the kitchen, leaned back against the counter, a whiskey in his hand. He was dirty from head to toe, and his hair was disheveled as hell. Despite all the dirt and grime, he was still as handsome as could be. And even though I was startled to high hell, it was wonderful to hear his voice again.

“Christ dude, you have got to stop doing that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” I said, “but hi, you’re back. When did you get back?” I came down the stairs into the kitchen to check on the food. He shifted from leaning on the counter to the island as I entered, stopping to grab a ladle to stir the contents of the slow cooker.

“Long ‘nough ta hear ya in the shower,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, his other arm folded across his chest. I immediately started blushing, and I felt nauseous at the thought of him judging my vocals. I wanted to die in that moment.

“Fuck. Sorry about that,” I said, gazing down at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red I was.

“Nothing to be sorry ‘bout,” he assured, “what’re ya makin’?” I lifted my head and met his eyes for just a second before I took the lid off the slower cooker and stirred it. This might’ve been the most I’d ever heard the man talk.

“Ok, you can’t laugh,” I said, chuckling a little and putting the lid back on, turning to him, “it’s something my best friend and I came up with in med school. It’s, umm…it’s called a dump ’n pray. You basically just take a bunch of stuff that would probably go well together, dump it all into a slower cooker, and pray that it turns out good. Usually it does. It’s got like a 98% success rate in my experience.”

“Smells real good,” Daryl said, and I gave him a small smile in response, “I uh, got ya somethin’ while we was out.” He leaned over and grabbed a bag off of the floor, and my heart rate picked up again. He opened the bag and pulled out something wrapped in a dirty beige scarf, “thought of ya when I saw it.”

I tried to think about something else to keep myself from turning red. Not just at the fact that Daryl got me something on his trip, but that he thought of me when he was out there. I wondered how often he did that, how often he thought of me exactly. Did he think of me as often as I thought of him?

I unwrapped the scarf carefully in case whatever was inside was fragile. I saw a navy blue fabric with a flower on it peeking out at me, so I grabbed it and let the scarf fall to my feet. The item in my hands was a long navy blue dress with large white flowers and a slit up one leg. It looked like it would fit me perfectly. Despite how dirty Daryl looked, the dress appeared clean, probably thanks to the scarf it was wrapped in. I immediately lit up, smiling big, running my hands on the fabric over and over again. The kind gesture, the fact that he wrapped it in a scarf to keep it clean…my heart swelled, and I felt that warm sensation in my chest again.

“Daryl, I…I don’t know what to say. This is beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” He simply nodded, and I had to ask the question that was scratching at the insides of my brain. “Did you remember?”

“‘Member what?”

“That my favorite color is blue.”

“Got lucky I guess,” he scoffed. He grabbed his things off the ground, including the scarf at my feet, set his drink on the counter, and slipped past me upstairs. I wouldn’t blame him for just wanting to be alone and going to bed to pass out. He was probably exhausted. However, I heard the shower turn on instead.

Once I heard the bathroom door close, I went upstairs to my room and folded the dress neatly, placing it in one of the drawers on the dresser. I grabbed my notebook and a pen and went back downstairs to the couch to do some writing while I waited for the food to finish.

I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. I ran my hands over the cover of my notebook, my fingers gracing each sticker that they passed. There was a U.S. Navy one, a variety of flowers, a Johns Hopkins one, and some at gotten at a Ke$ha concert as she was my favorite artist. This notebook was my most recent, and it was one of my most prized possessions. I felt like it painted a picture of what my life had looked like over the course of the end of the world so far.

I got lost in what I was writing, eventually being pulled out only by the sound of the slow cooker beeping at me, telling me it was finished. I set my notebook down to get up, but as the beeping finished, Daryl came down the stairs, motioning for me to stay put. He looked clean as a whistle, small residuals of water still dripping from his hair. He had changed into a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged his arms and chest perfectly and a pair of black pants. I bit the interior of my bottom lip to focus on the pain in an attempt to keep myself from blushing or from my eyes lingering for too long.

“Stay sat. Ya made it, least I could do is get ya some,” he said. His gentlemanly attitude surprised me. Just over a week ago, he would hardly look in my direction and was frustrated at the thought of having to share a house with me. But I wasn’t going to say no.

“Oh, umm, okay.” I sat back down on the couch, crossing my legs again. I watched him move through the kitchen, grabbing bowls out of cabinets and spoons out of drawers. I did take just a moment to check out his butt as he moved around. And damn, did it look good in those pants. I quickly averted my eyes as he turned around and came over to me, holding a bowl out. “Thank you.”

He handed me a spoon and took a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch, propping his right foot up on his left knee and letting his body melt back into the chair. I had hoped that maybe he would come and sit down next to me, but I didn’t blame him for wanting his own space to stretch out. And he seemed to have a rather large personal bubble.

I stirred my concoction with the spoon. This one resembled a chili of sorts, not authentic considering the variety of vegetables. But Daryl was right—it did smell good. I scooped some up with my spoon and blew on it before taking a bite. I was impressed with how tasty it came out.

“Told you. 98% success rate,” I said. I set my bowl down on the coffee table for a moment while I adjusted my body, turning so I could stretch my legs out on the couch and grabbing it again. “How was the hunting trip?” He seemed to be more receptive to conversation tonight, so I was going to take advantage of that.

“Went good. Caught a big sum’ bitch. Probly still guttin’ 'em up outside,” Daryl explained, “sorry. We’re eatin’. Might make ya squeamish.” I laughed mid-bite and almost spit my food out.

“I’m a surgeon, Daryl. Nothing makes me squeamish. But I appreciate the consideration.”

“How’d ya sleep while I was away?” he asked. I thought it was nice that he was asking, wanting to know that I was still ok even when he wasn’t coming to check on me. Nice, but it also confused me. He didn’t seem to be the type to…I don’t know, ask questions like that? He was so cold and calloused towards everyone, me included. But right now, Daryl was warm, and dare I say, sweet.

“Alright I guess. The nightmares are getting more…vivid.” I immediately felt ashamed and stopped myself before I said too much “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” I stared into my bowl, stirring my food again, regretting what I had said.

“Keep goin’ if ya wanna,” he encouraged. I blinked a few times in surprise and looked up at him. He was looking at me, those beautiful blue eyes of his piercing through the few strands of hair that fell on his face. His bowl was in his lap, and it looked like he hadn’t touched it yet. I felt bad that he was waiting for me to finish talking because he was probably ravenous after his trip. But apparently, listening to lil’ ol’ me talk was more important than satiating his hunger.

“Umm…well they started off as just a blur of colors and physical sensations. And each night, something else becomes a little more clear. Now there’s sounds, but the visuals are still pretty fuzzy. I, umm…” my voice trailed off, and I felt small, a little scared even as I thought about how my nightmares were becoming more and more vivid. I knew what the nightmare was. I knew what it was going to look like when everything was clear, and that terrified me. I blinked a few times and shook my head a little to bring myself back to reality, and I realized I had started absentmindedly doing my little habit of scratching at my thumb with my index finger. “Sorry. Could…could we maybe talk about something else?” Rather than replying with a yes or no, he changed the topic.

“Ya likin’ it here so far?” Trying to shake the thought of my nightmares from my mind, I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, faking a yawn to make it look like I was just sleepy. I blinked back the last little bit of tears and wiped the sides of my hands on my legs.

“Yeah, a lot,” I said, putting my glasses back on, “everyone’s so nice. I had Maggie, Rosita, and Glenn over for dinner the other night. They seem like really good people. I like them a lot. It feels good to be around other people and wake up in the same place every day.” I looked up at him, his bowl still in his lap. “You, uh, you can eat. You don’t have to just listen to me yap on.”

“They’re good people. Some of the best,” Daryl said, ignoring my statement about him eating, “ya really on ya own ‘fore ya got here?” His gravely voice and cute little Southern way of speaking was a match made in heaven for my ears.

“I was. Gimme just a minute and I’ll tell you all about it.” I set my bowl down on the coffee table and got up to use the bathroom and grab my blanket. As I got to the top of the stairs, I heard Daryl finally start eating. And judging by the sounds, he certainly was ravenous. I grabbed my blanket off my bed after I went to the bathroom and came back down. I was gone for no more than five minutes, and he had set his bowl on the coffee table as well, empty this time. I sat back on the couch, wrapped up in my blanket, chuckling lightly in amusement. I met his gaze again to continue my story.

“Food was good,” he said, “ya should make it again.”

“If you insist.”

Small, soft ways Daryl Dixon will show his affection:

Untucking your hair out from your clothing, his fingers so gentle.

Grazing a thumb over your cheek/chin.

Rubbing circles on your back when sitting next to each other.

Leaving you short, sweet notes when he’s gone from the other side of the bed. “Remember to eat. I’ll be back soon x”

Smirking slightly when he catches you trying on his winged jacket. You go to take it off and he shakes his head. “Nah, it looks good on you.”

Bringing you apples every day because he knows they’re your favourite fruit. He might leave one on the pillow next to you in the morning, next to his note. Tuck a couple away in your backpack, etc.

Wants you with him when he cooks, says he wants the company but wants to make sure you get the nutrients you need, like fish and red meat, lettuce and eggs. He never cared about that stuff for himself, never needed to, but with you, he wants you at your best, able to look after yourself.

At meetings he makes sure to involve you, values your opinion and makes sure you’re heard. Even if your ideas aren’t great.

Defends you in public, corrects you in private.

Let’s himself be vulnerable with you, lying in your lap while you stroke his hair, opening up to you about the darkness of his past and his mental health.

Kisses you on your forehead. (Also really enjoys forehead kisses too).

Squeezes your hand when you’re his backpack on his bike.