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bambidixon · 5 days ago

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this is so well written and it's such an creative idea 😩 i loved it

Remember My Heart, How Bright I Used to Shine

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Daryl’s Camp (During Time Jump)

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Angst; Illness

Summary: You had always thought he was invincible. Then your world came crashing down.

A/N: DO NOT PANIC. It’s a little bit a ride but if you start, hang in there. It’s probably been done before. Probably cliche. Meh. This plot bunny wouldn’t leave me alone and had to be set free. I know it’s rushed and not my best but it’s done now and I feel better.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

You stared, eyes wide and unblinking, as if you could make it go away by sheer force of will alone. At first, you couldn’t even cry but when the tears came, they came with a vengeance, hot and endless over your cheeks and down your neck. It’s not real. It can’t be real.

The day was like any other. You were up and helping around Alexandria. The air always felt different to you now. Like you could physically feel his absence. You had simply learned to breathe it in and mold it into a way to have him near. You had seen him a few times in the last five years, when you could pull away from the needs of the community and trek into the woods, or when he would come around to help out and just visit with everyone. He would give you a smile and you would return it. You never went to him because if you touched him, you’d never let go. Carol usually kept you up to speed via letters from the Kingdom. Knowing he was safe and healthy proved to be enough.

It wasn’t though. Not really. No letter would keep you from crying yourself to sleep with your hand on the empty space next to you. No letter would keep you from staring hopefully each time the gates opened, waiting for him to walk through. No letter would convince you that he was out of your reach and you would have to move on.

You had just finished covering a section of the crops now that cold weather was setting in, dragging your feet after a long day when Michonne jogged over with an envelope. You returned her smile, yours tired and grateful while hers was gentle and understanding. You had both lost the men you loved. Michonne felt guilty that it was Rick keeping Daryl away from you, though you had asserted time after time that she had nothing to be sorry about.

You decided to read the letter in your room, weary to your very bones. Your bed was calling your name but you only sat on the edge. If you laid down, you’d be asleep before you could get the envelope open. Carol’s fancy handwriting was on the outside, beautiful lines and curves that spelled out your name. You opened the envelope with a sniff, ready to cry when she informed you that he was fine and grumpy as ever.

Except that’s not what it said.

You dropped the letter and grabbed your bag, out the door and running to the gate with weapons in hand, not even on your belt.

‘Come to the camp. NOW.’

And that’s how you came to be here now, just inside Daryl’s tent, Carol off to the side, not crying but her face and eyes puffy as if she’d already had her time. Daryl was pale, his shirt off, and leaning back on his hands.

The bite on his ribs was inflamed, taunting you. Laughing at your dreams of happily ever after with that man.

“Daryl.” Your words wobbled, the tears just not stopping.

“C’mere.” You fell into him, muffling your wail against his already too warm skin. He had sat up to hold you tight, rocking you back and forth with his lips pressed into your hair. Whispered reassurance against your ear. “S’gonna be alright.”

“How?” You sat back, wet eyes pleading. “How is it gonna be alright, Daryl?”

He shared a look with Carol and dropped his gaze. “Just wanted to see ya ‘fore—‘fore I take care’a it.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the meaning behind that. “No.” You shook your head adamantly, crawling on your knees to grab his face, a little rougher than you had intended. “You’re gonna fight, you hear me? You’re gonna fight this until the end.”

“Y/N—”

“No!” You barked at Carol with a finger pointed at her. “Call me selfish. Yes, I’m fucking selfish.” Daryl wrapped his hand around the one you held out, leading it to his mouth. He kissed your palm but kept his fingers around yours, lowering them to the small space between you.

“Shouldn’t hafta do it. Neither’a ya.”

“It should always be someone who loves you.” He smiled at you, sad and hopeless. “And I love you, Daryl Dixon. I’m not leaving you and I’m not letting you eat a bullet for my sake.” He opened his mouth to once again object, your arms around his neck, your face buried against his shoulder, gave him pause. “Please. I haven’t been with you in so long. Let me have this. I’ll take care of you. And—I’ll do what has to be done.” Your lip began to quiver. “I won’t let you turn, Daryl. I swear it.”

You couldn’t see the exchange between him and Carol, but after a few tense moments, his hands were on your back, holding you tighter. He sighed. “Okay.”

It was hard to watch. His skin had dulled to nearly gray, deep dark circles around dull blue eyes. He had stopped giving you those reassuring smiles. They just took too much energy.

His skin was burning, a fever raging that you knew no medication could affect. You could only wipe him down with a damp, cool cloth. He would always sigh with relief, whether it was for the reprieve from the heat or just to make you feel better, you’d probably never know.

Sometimes he would just tense and grit his teeth. He never told you what hurt, knowing there was nothing you could do. He simply didn’t want you to feel worse; like you had failed him. You already held that miserable guilt close to your heart.

The cough had come gradually, from small utterances to deep, ragged barks that would not only send specks of blood flying but had him crying out when the force of them jarred his entire body.

It was when everything had quieted that you felt the most terrified. You were just outside the tent, giving Carol some privacy with him. You could see but not hear. She was leaning over him, crying. He was so weak that he couldn’t even lift his arm to wipe her tears. You knew he would if it were possible.

The other woman was nodding, most likely hearing his wishes for certain things. Things like Dog, who laid a few feet away from you, his ears twitching. Daryl had asked for him to let in a while earlier. The canine seemed to understand, moving slowly around his papa before lying close to his head. It pained Daryl to even be touched, Dog whined but never tried to lick him. After a few moments, the animal had trotted out and laid where he was in front of you.

When you turned back to the tent, Carol was coming out. Her distress was written clearly across her expression. She was losing her best friend. Still, she offered you a hand and helped you to your feet. Before you could enter, she flicked her finger over the buckle holding your knife at your thigh.

“You promised him. If you can’t do it, call for me. But don’t wait.” It wasn’t cruel. You nodded and she let go.

You didn’t say anything as you crawled to a spot beside him, almost touching but not quite. There was a moment of just watching him breathe. You could feel the heat of the fever from where you laid. His breaths were shallow rasps. His eyes were closed.

“Daryl?” You nearly whispered.

“M’here.” He still didn’t open his eyes.

“I love you.”

“Don’t let that stop ya from livin’, ya hear me?” He coughed, his face contorting into a pained grimace. “Ya find someone that sees you. Ya don’t settle fer less.”

“There’ll never be anyone else, Daryl.”

A tear slid down his temple. “That’s what ‘m afraid of—”

“I love you.” You repeated. Daryl wasn’t a words kinda guy. Never had been. He said things through actions. It was one of the things you loved about him. Still, just this once, you wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it.

“I love ya too, woman. Pain in my ass.”

You laughed wetly, the sound shifting into sobs when his head lulled to the side. You were going to have to do what you promised soon, allowing him to finally rest. He would be taking your heart with him. You couldn’t even begin to think of how you would survive this.

Seconds turned into minutes of watching his chest rise and fall, shallow and wheezing. Minutes turned into hours. You kept watch diligently, shifting positions around him to get comfortable or keep yourself awake. It had been at least 3 hours, well into the night when Carol peeked inside, her eyes bloodshot, exhaustion radiating from her.

“Is it—done?” She whispered.

You shook your head. “He’s still with us. He even feels a little cooler. Maybe it’s just me. Would you check?” With a sharp breath, she crawled into the tent and clumsily made her way to the archer’s side. Her palm hesitated just above his forehead, a look of trepidation on her face when she looked to you and back. His skin was warm against her palm but not frighteningly hot. She flipped her hand, sure she was mistaken.

“He’s cooler. He—he’s breathing easier. Y/N, I don’t understand.” You crawled over to meet her on the opposite side, feeling his forehead again for yourself. Carol continued as if his temperature would alter in the mere seconds that had passed while you pulled down the blankets covering his torso. The bite was still red, the veins around it a sickly black.

“Carol, he should—he should be gone. Look at this.” Frozen and befuddled, the two of you stared at the wound, wondering if you had finally been pushed over the edge by grief.

Another twenty four hours passed in nervous silence. Carol was forging and hunting while you saw to Daryl’s care. The bite was less inflamed but the black veins remained. His fever had broken during the night, and the rattling in his lungs had lessened to a quiet wheeze.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you whispered, applying a fresh bandage to his ribs, “but I am freaked the fuck out.” You flinched back when Daryl let out a moan, your hand reflexively sitting on the hilt of your knife. He moved, shifting his shoulders and trying to sit up, uncoordinated and robotic. It did not inspire confidence. “Daryl?”

The heel of his hand was pressed into his forehead but dropped to his lap when he heard his name. When he turned toward your voice, your heart sank. His eyes were milky and yellow.

“No.” You whimpered, scrambling back as far as the tent allowed. You drew your knife slowly. You had promised you wouldn’t let him turn. Promised. Your naivety had caused you to slip, and you’d live with the guilt for the rest of your life. “I’m sorry.” You sobbed, moving toward him slowly though he had yet to even attempt to approach you. “I’m so sorry.”

His head tilted curiously. “What for?”

You sucked in a breath while your knife fell from suddenly inept fingers. “Oh my god.” Your jaw hung open, there was just no other way to react. “Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

“Daryl?” You repeated, inching closer with a hand outstretched. His brow creased.

“Ya hit your head or somethin’?”

“I just—you were—you look—”

“Guess if I look as rough as I feel, s’prolly ‘nough’a a reason to be actin’ all weird.” He ran a hand through his hair and coughed, rubbing at his throat. “What happened anyway?”

Your hand finally connected with his stubbled cheek, the skin warm. He watched you in confusion, uttering your name in a questioning tone as you placed two fingers against his neck, finding a pulse easily.

“Daryl—Daryl, you were bit.” You were retracting your hand, the archer looking at you with horror etched in every line of his face when you heard a bow string pulling taut. “Carol, no!” If you had been one second later or couldn’t have reached her at all, the arrow would have hit its mark. Instead, it nicked his ear and arched into a bag of supplies behind him.

“What the fuck, Carol?!” He shouted, gingerly touching his ear and staring at the blood on his fingertips. Yet another indicator of life. His blood was red.

Carol gasped and stumbled backwards, narrowly missing the firepit when her ass hit the ground. “It’s not—Y/N, he’s—”

“Can one’a ya please fill me in here? I was bit?!” You crawled back into the tent and reached for his ribs. He hadn’t noticed the bandage until then, his gaze on the tendrils of black running from beneath. “What—what the fuck?” Petite fingers peeled away the fresh gauze and revealed the jagged bite, the shape being the key indicator of what it truly was since the teeth had dragged a bit when he fought off the walker. “How the fuck m’I still here?”

“That’s not all, Daryl.” You looked around for anything reflective, considering beating the mirror from his bike but you didn’t want to give the guy an aneurysm along with the news he’d just received. “Something metal, something reflective.” You said hastily as you passed Carol, who remained sprawled on the ground. She pointed to one of the cooking pots without taking her eyes off her best friend. A spoon!

Grabbing it up you jogged down to the river to quickly wash it, looking at your own reflection to ensure it was enough. “Here.” You were holding it out before you had even entered the tent. There was a fear in his expression that you couldn’t see in those lifeless eyes, and that unsettled you.

He didn’t say anything when he saw, but stared for a long while. “Need a minute.”

You shook your head. “Daryl, I really don’t want to—”

“Please.” He was still staring at the spoon and didn’t see your nod. You zipped up the tent behind you and sat down beside Carol. Both of you wore dazed expressions.

“He didn’t die.” She whispered.

“He didn’t turn.” You continued. “What does this mean? Carol, do you think he’s—do you think he’s immune?”

It was more than an hour later when you heard a soft call of your name. You and Carol had settled into anxious silence, every scenario running through your mind, good or bad. What if he turned later? What if he was still sick and infectious? What if he needed to eat people to survive?

You dusted off your pants after you stood, crouching to open the zipper and crawl inside with him. Daryl was lying on his side, facing away from you.

“Are you okay?” Gentle fingers grazed up and down his spine, an attempt at comfort that you weren’t sure he’d even want.

“Would you be?” He asked quietly.

“No,” you answered in kind, “no, I suppose not.” He wasn’t crying, he was just still and somehow that was worse. “Hey.” You crawled around his legs to lie down next to him, your face inches from his. His eyes were closed, his brow still drawn. “I don’t know for sure, but I think you may be immune.” His eyes peeled open slowly, squinted in fear of your impending repulsion. All you saw was a beautiful set of ice blue orbs staring back at you. “Your eyes—”

“They freak me out, too.” He whispered with a slight curl of his lip.

“No, they’re normal.” You made a grab for the spoon and held it up for him. He didn’t appear to be relieved. “It’s okay, Daryl. You’re okay.”

“We don’t know jack shit ‘bout what’s goin’ on. Can’t say m’okay when we don’t know.” He was right. You knew he was, but you didn’t know how to proceed. “Maybe I can head out. Find someone that can gimme some answers.”

“No.” You answered immediately, your eyes wide with fear. “Daryl, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?” He stared at you intently, never looking away even when you touched his cheek and he leaned into it. “What if I can help? If I’m immune, maybe we can get a cure or a vaccine.”

“I won’t have someone poking and prodding at you, fucking carving into you for answers. I won’t.” You snapped. You weren’t angry but you were serious. “Someone could hurt you, use you. They could kill you for answers, and I can’t watch that happen.”

“But if—”

“I give in on a lot of things, Daryl. I even stayed behind so you could come out here and handle your grief your own way.” His warm hand rested on your face so he could wipe away the moisture there. “Giving in, letting you always do things your way damn near cost me the most important thing in my life.”

“But—”

“Please, Daryl. If you do nothing else for me, please do this one thing.”

He studied you quietly, mulling over your words for an amount of time that had you building your resolve to continue your argument. “Okay.” You were able to breathe, not even realizing you were holding it.

“Thank you.”

“Some things gonna hafta change ‘til we know more.”

“I know.” You answered with only the slightest hint of regret. Physical intimacy would be out of the question, you knew for certain that’s what he meant. He wouldn’t risk you. However, if it kept him alive and in your arms, you’d make that trade without a second thought. “It’s okay.”

He nodded in agreement. “Ain’t gonna like not bein’ able to touch ya.”

You smiled and moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. “I can think of a few things we can still do.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and laughed at the terrified expression when you pulled away. “We didn’t swap spit, it’s fine.”

“Oh. Right.” One side of his mouth twitched up.

“We really should talk to Carol. I think she may be on the verge of a stroke out there.” You rubbed your cheek against his.

“Long as she leaves her bow outside.”

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #favs

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bambidixon · 10 days ago

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THUNDERSTORM d.dixon

☆ WORD COUNT - 2K

DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - your boyfriend travels through alexandria on foot even though the amiss of a thunder storm is unfolding, just to make his way to you, his precious girl, terrified of thunder and lightning.

☆ WARNINGS - crybaby reader, anxiety/worry, crying, rain, thunder/lightning, stormy weather, use of good girl (non-sexual) petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

the storm was getting bad, really bad.

you watched from the window of your home, sitting cross legged on the window seat and anxiously tapping your fingers against the window sill. your teeth had clamped down on your wobbly bottom lip as you watched the clouds dissipate and reappear, covering the town of alexandria in a new sleek coat of rain.

you wondered where everyone else was, hoping and praying that everyone was inside their houses, safe.

nothing bad really happened in alexandria before rick grimes and his group came. then again, nothing happened at all in alexandria before they came. they gave life to the people, hope, something to look forward to, a future.

you weren't an exception of that hope.

some would say that you're soft, possibly the softest girl in all of alexandria. you kept to yourself, pretty sun dresses and bows, always smiling at the people you passed.

but there was only one person who you felt truly knew you. that was your perfect boyfriend, the man who'd do just about anything for you, worshipping the mere ground that your dainty feet stepped on.

that man was daryl dixon.

he was feared. he was known. everyone had heard the stories of the walkers he'd taken down, the people he'd shoved out of the way. he was one of the ones the people of alexandria feared the most at the beginning, however they soon learned that he wasn't as rough as his accent made him out to be.

the sound of your door swinging open was enough to have your head whipping around in a flash, enough to give you a pain in your neck. your fists had balled over the little pink throw that had gathered around your legs.

however, the fear soon dissipated like the clouds as your eyes caught the glimpse of daryl dixon standing at your door, drowned wet and soaking. though, he soon began to rid himself of his jacket.

"got here as soon as i could." his gruff voice came out. "what are you doin' over there? c'mere." though he was already helping you up, tenderly grasping your arm and leading you away from the window seat.

you followed his instructions, seating yourself on the bed as he peered out the window himself. "is the patrol back yet?" worry evident in your honey-voice.

the man could merely grimace. in the apocalypse, everyone sort of became a liar, it was a force of habit to protect themselves and something about daryl dixon is that he was a well good liar when he wanted to be. however, in all the time he's known you, he's never been able to lie to you. perhaps it was because of those doey eyes that looked up to him or that naive head and heart he knew you had. he couldn't lie to you because he knew just how easily you'd believe him. "nah, they should be back before morning, though." his eyes softened as they glanced over your face, your own eyes looking down and appearing distant. always worrying about everyone aside from yourself. he sighed before kneeling down in front of you. "'m sure they're fine, sweet girl, probably jus' holed up somewhere, didn't wanna come back through the storm. okay?"

you knew those eyes.

daryl was quiet, mysterious. but with you, he could talk for days on end. and that meant he liked to listen too, especially to the sound of your sweet voice. he needed you to answer him. "okay." you mumbled, your voice a little shaky.

his lips turned up as he stood and reached his head down to press a chaste kiss against your own forehead. "good girl." he mumbled before turning back 'round to the curtains that were still slightly open. "why don' we throw on a movie, get nice 'n cozy in bed, yeah?"

he could tell by the look on your face that you weren't exactly pleased.

you hated the rain, the wind, everything that came with bad weather. you hated when your socks got wet when you passed puddles, you hated the way the mud smeared around after the rain, you hated the sounds of the stormy weather from outside. you loved the way daryl knew all this.

"c'mon, angel, a little rain ain' never hurt nobody." shutting your baby pink curtains closed. you gave him a look, knowing that on countless events, people had in fact, been killed due to the rain. he merely sighed. "you know what i mean."

he knelt in front of the dvd player. “now wh’s it gonna be? disney or the muppets?”

you did adore the muppets, you loved the way daryl found himself chuckling at little pieces of it, finding joy in his own way in the little movies and shows that they played out. but right now? you so desperately needed the comfort of the movies you grew up with. “disney.” you answered, your voice small. “definitely.”

he could only smirk. “as you wish.”

daryl never made fun of you for your fascination for cartoons and picture movies like them. you liked them because they reminded you of what was before, how you grew up and the things you enjoyed doing before all this. there was a sense of nostalgia that hit deep in your gut and weirdly enough, you liked it. you liked watching the pictures move and allowing your mind to drift to when you were young. and daryl adored that pretty smile on your face or the way you laughed at the same cheesy romance joke you’d heard a thousand times over. he’d only roll his eye with a small chuckle but deep down he could feel his heart begin to race. something reminding him that there was still a form of innocence in a world full of chaos.

“daryl?” you called from the bed. now that the movie was beginning, the rain didn’t seem as loud. and daryl had awful hearing as it was so he always played the movies loud for you both to hear it. you swore it would drive your hearing down the same road as his.

“mhm?” a rough hum as he used the controller to skip past the pre-recorded ads on the dvd you owned. the swan princess, a movie you adored ever since you were a child, and daryl knew this.

he knew everything there was to know about you.

you’d seated yourself beneath the blankets, your jammie covered legs finding even more heat in the white and pink sheets. everything about your room was girly. “how’d you get here?” your head tilting at the man.

he merely stood, sniffling quietly and tossing the remote elsewhere so he could kick off his boots. “i walked.” he answered so casually, as if it hadn’t been a big deal at all. and to him, it truly wasn’t, he’d faced worse things than walking in a little rain. besides, he wasn’t scared like you were, he didn’t worry like you did. the rain didn’t effect him.

but you on the other hand, had never seen the dangers that daryl faced or the monsters he’d looked right in the eyes. a little rain scared you alone let alone with daryl walking in it. “you walked?!” your voice all accusing and full of both shock and concern.

daryl began stripping himself of his button up shirt, finding one of those black tee’s he owned lying around your room somewhere. “yeah.” he chuckled, voice all gruff.

“daryl.” you scolded, though how could you really scold when you sounded like a fresh pot of homemade jam. you sat up on your knees on the bed, brows pinching together. “‘s so dangerous, anything could have happened.”

any other situation and you would have been staring at the way he dragged his jeans down his knees. “gotta keep the wife happy.” he joked despite the fact that you were not his wife (yet, that is.)

but you were just staring up at him with those doe-like eyes. they were full of concern, full of worry. anything could have happened to him. “daryl.” is all that came out from your mouth though your voice showed your evident distaste to his recklessness.

he merely waved you off, though. daryl never could see his own faults. “wasn’t gonna let my girl sleep through a storm alone, no way.” he found his way to the bed, now clad in a shirt and dark sweatpants. “so be happy you have me.” he smiled up at you with that infamous grin, the one that made your heart flutter.

biting down on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “of course i’m happy to have you―” you’d never pass up an opportunity to see daryl dixon, your beloved boyfriend.

“then leave it at that.” but his words weren’t condescending or in any way angry with you. they were soft, gentle, as he always treated you. like a porcelain doll ready to smash at any moment. “c’mon, you missed like, half the movie.” finding his own ways beneath the covers.

a smile tugged at your lips as you glanced down at him. “it barely started.”

and before he knew it, it ended.

he didn’t know when or at which point in the movie you’d fallen asleep but by the time the end credits rolled around, your eyes were shut closed, lips pressed together as you practically dug yourself into his thick arm. his second arm was wrapped around you, keeping your icy skin somewhat warm.

the only warmth either of you had was the body heat that you shared with one another.

the storm wasn’t going to get any better, daryl was well aware of this. and he hoped for everyone else’s sake that the patrol team were, in fact, holed up in a shelter, waiting for the rain to stop before coming home.

when the soft breaths hit his arm gently, he knew you were passed out asleep. and despite the loud rain and wind from outside, he still found himself shutting off the tv, incase it woke you from your slumber.

and then, the first clap of thunder hit.

you woke with a strangled whimper, instinctively pushing yourself closer to the man. a coo and a shushing sound fell from his lips unconsciously, his hand settling on the back of your head, pulling you in. there was something so comforting about his shushing and his touch but when the first lightning strike hit, you could only whimper out again. “daryl.” his name once again falling from your lips because when you didn’t know what to say, that was all you could think.

“i know, baby, i know.” fingers toying with your hair and his separate hand gently running up and down the tenderness of your upper arm.

your legs wrapped around him, hands practically clinging to him. he was your safety net when things began to go south. when your brain turned to scrambles, he was the one holding you together until you were ready to pick yourself back up again, if you could even call it that, he was always doing all the work for you.

and in the dead of night, the darkness of the room completely and utterly consuming you both. you whispered what you thought you’d never have the courage to. “I’m scared.” voice cracking as hot tears filled your eyes.

what a terrible thing to admit?

the fear of the dead getting inside with broken walls due to the storm, the fear of god help us the lightning strike hitting your house. you could never be sure, never and perhaps that was why the fat tears began to roll down your cheeks.

but, as always, daryl was ready to pick you back up again. “‘s okay.” his usually gruff voice so tender and soft. “ain’ nothin’ gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.” and he meant that, truly and wholeheartedly as his thick fingers began to wipe away the stray tears from your cheeks. “too pretty to be cryin’, angel.”

“‘s jus…”

“scary.” he finished. “i know.” he knew but he didn’t know. he hardly felt fear as it was let alone like you. he was met with another whimper and a clap of thunder. “i got you.” his arms holding you so close. “‘s okay, i’m right here. i got you.”

and somewhere, between the heavy rainfall, the thunder and lightning and all the rest, the peaceful arms of your lover was enough to soothe your tear filled eyes back to sleep.

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