Sweetheart (daryl x reader)
Request: Yes, anon
Daryl x reader who struggles w/ self harm?
Warnings: Mentions of self harm - cutting. I don’t want you to think I’m romanticizing it or think of it that way - if you need to talk to somebody my messages are always open. I’ve struggled too, so I understand many of the thoughts that accompany it. <3
Words: 514
The cold steel of the gun in your hands comforts you as you run your fingers over the barrel and back towards the trigger. You busy yourself counting the number of bullets out you need to fill the cartridge before pushing them in one by one. The repetitive process calms your mind for a the few minutes it takes. Without thinking, you roll up the sleeves of your over sized flannel to keep them from getting in the way.
“Damn, y/n,” Daryl exclaims, concern making his deep, curt voice seem almost soft. “What happened to your arm?” Panic floods your system before your able to get a hold of yourself. He motions to the cluster of thin, shallow wounds going up your forearm. You can’t help but curse yourself mentally for being so dumb as to forgetting about what might be the best kept secret you’ve had for the past few months all to blow it while lost in thought.
“Oh,” you stutter, searching your brain for an excuse that won’t make him even more suspicious, “I got them on a run a bit ago. I’d been running from a walker and scraped it against a tree. It’s nothing to be worried about.” God, I wouldn’t believe myself if I heard that lameass excuse, you scold yourself. It seems like Daryl thinks the same as you because he reaches over and grabs your arm carefully to get a better look.
“No, no,” he mutters, lost in thought. “These ain’t no tree scrapes. Y/n, did you do these?” You yank your arm back with more force than necessary, which tells him all he needs to know. The angry expression you expect to mask his face instead morphs into one of concern and sadness. That somehow makes you feel worse. Him angry is something you can deal with--you’ve seen it time and time again, though, almost always directed towards someone else. This? This you’ve never been good with.
“Sweetheart,” the redneck struggles out. You could almost laugh at his attempt to sound kind instead of being blunt as he can sometimes be if only the situation wasn’t so serious.
“Things have been tough for me recently,” you answer the unasked question you could see forming in his mind. “I didn’t want to talk about it because...I know I need to be tougher. There isn’t time to be weak with the dead out there and the problems we’re already facing--” Daryl cuts you off by leaning in and pushing you to his chest.
A tear runs down your cheek slowly as you realize he’s holding back some of his own. This is what you wanted to avoid--making those around you feel as bad as you were.
“Let’s start by gettin’ these properly bandaged. Then, please, don’ tell me everythin’ if you ain’t ready. Jus let me be there for you. Come to me instead o’ this.” Those are conditions you can agree to. You stay locked in his embrace for a little while longer before pulling back and letting him take care of you.