The porch creaked as you leaned back in the chair, pretending to focus on the fading light instead of the warmth blooming in your chest. You didn’t miss the way his steps slowed when he reached the end of the walkway, like he was fighting with himself about turning back. Sure enough, a moment later, Rick came around again and settled on the porch rail beside you. He folded his arms, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You know,” he said, eyes flickering to the flannel draped around you. “I wore that thing near every day back at the farm. Didn’t think I’d see it again.”

You smirked into your cup. “Guess it wanted a better home.”

His laugh was quiet but genuine this time, breaking through the tired edge he always carried. “That right? It just… wandered off and found its way onto you?”

You shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

Rick shook his head, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he let the silence stretch, his gaze fixed on the treeline like he was keeping watch–but his body stayed loose, angled towards you. After a while, he said, almost too soft, “Glad it;s you wearin’ it. Makes me feel like you’re safe. Like I’m right here even when I ain’t.”

Your chest tightened, and suddenly the flannel felt heavier, like it carried more than just warmth. You swallowed, fingers brushing the fabric. “Guess I’ll have to keep it then.” 

This time, Rick didn’t hide his smile. “Guess you will.”

Glenn Rhee

It started with a screwdriver. Then one of his hats. Then a hoodie. Glenn pretended not to notice at first, but after the fifth item vanished into your mysterious hoard, which he found buried against the wall on your side of the bed. He decided he’d had enough. So, naturally, he staged a full-blown intervention. In front of everyone.

He burst into the common room like a man on a mission, making everyone else look up for half a second before going back to their business. You, however, barely flinched, curled up on the couch with your legs tucked under you, flipping through a dog-eared magazine you’d found on a run. Glenn marched over, dropped himself onto the cushion beside you, and crossed his arms. “We need to talk.”

You blinked, giving him the slowest, most innocent look you could muster. “About?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he jabbed a finger toward the hoodie you were currently drowning in–his hoodie, grey and soft, the sleeves hanging long past your hands. “That’s mine.”

Your lips twitched up for a split second. “Is it?”

“And so is the hat you wore yesterday,” he continued, his voice climbing theatrically, “and the screwdriver you swore you ‘just found.’ Oh, and don’t think I didn’t see you using my toothbrush the other day.”

You froze mid-page turn, eyes darting up to him. “...Okay, that one was an accident.” 

Glenn narrowed his eyes like he was weighing the severity of your crimes. He tried, truly tried, to hold the glare, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. A grin slipped through. 

“You know,” he said, shaking his head, “in most cases, I’d be annoyed. But considering I kinda like seeing you in my stuff…” His gaze flicked over you once, lingering just long enough to make your cheeks warm. “...I’ll allow it.”

You let out a laugh, leaning back into the couch cushions with exaggerated relief. “Oh, thank you, Your Highness. I’ll try not to steal anything too important, then.”

Glenn leaned back smugly, clearly enjoying himself. “Glad you understand. But if you steal my snacks again,” he added, pointing a stern finger your way, “I’m calling war.”

Your mouth dropped open. “War? Really?”

He nodded gravely. “Full-scale. No survivors.”

You burst out laughing, pulling the hoodie tighter around you like a shield. Glenn watched you with that same stupid grin– the one that softened all his edges and made it very clear that, for all his dramatics, he didn’t actually want any of his stuff back. Not really.

Daryl Dixon

You’d borrowed one of his vests. Once. Weeks ago. Just to run out on watch when the evening chill had crept in sharper than expected. You’d meant to give it back, honestly you had, but somehow it never found its way out of your things.

Daryl never mentioned it. Not once. He wasn’t the type to fuss over clothing anyway. But every time you wore it, you caught him looking. Not in a give it back way. More like a don’t know what to do with these feelings. The kind of look he never quite held long enough for you to call him out on. 

That day, you’d been helping Maggie mend some fencing, Daryl lingering nearby with his crossbow slung loose. You’d tugged the vest closer around you when the wind picked up, and sure enough, when you glanced over, there he was–eyes flicking to you, then back down, jaw tight like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. You set the wire cutters down and tilted your head. “You want it back?”

His eyes lifted to yours, unreadable for a beat too long. Then, slowly, he shook his head. “Nah.”

You frowned faintly, waiting for him to add something else, but he didn’t. He never did. 

“…You sure?” you pressed.

Daryl shifted, thumb hooking against his belt as if he’d rather be anywhere else than standing under your gaze. Finally, he gave a half-shrug, eyes darting away again. “Smells like you now.”

The words were quiet, almost muttered — like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud at all.

Your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the wind, the distant voices, all of it drowned out by the echo of what he’d just admitted without really admitting.

Before you could form a response, he cleared his throat and straightened, brushing dust from his jeans like it was the most important task in the world. Without another word, he hitched the crossbow back into place and started walking off, shoulders stiff. You stared after him, the weight of his vest suddenly heavier on your shoulders, warmer somehow. He hadn’t just let you keep it. He’d given it to you. In the only way Daryl Dixon knew how.

Carl Grimes

It was just a hat. His hat. The one he’d worn forever — scuffed, sun-bleached, the leather band cracked from years of use. You’d tried it on once as a joke, tilting it low over your eyes and giving him your best cowboy impression. Somehow… you never gave it back.

Carl never said anything. At first. He’d glance your way sometimes, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, but he never asked for it. You figured if it really bothered him, he would’ve spoken up.

Then one morning, he walked into breakfast, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking every bit the picture of teenage exhaustion. He paused mid-step when he saw you already at the table, hat tipped back on your head like it had been yours all along.

Carl let out a long, exaggerated sigh as he slid into the chair across from you. “I think you’ve officially worn it more than I have.”

You grinned over your plate. “You mad?”

He grabbed an apple from the basket in the center of the table, rolling it absently between his palms. “No.” He bit into it, then nodded at you, a little smirk sneaking out. “You look cute.”

The word landed heavier than you expected. You froze, fork halfway to your mouth, blinking at him. “Wait—what?”

Carl shrugged, suddenly fascinated with his apple, though the tips of his ears betrayed him by turning pink. “I dunno. Just… kinda like knowing you’re wearing something that was mine.” He risked a glance at you, then quickly looked back down. “Makes it feel like we’re… connected or something.”

Your face went hot instantly, and you ducked your head, mumbling something incoherent into your food. Carl didn’t push. He just leaned back, chewing leisurely, clearly pleased with himself. And when he finally glanced up again, that smug little smirk was still tugging at his mouth.

It had been a couple of weeks since Daryl and I were back living together in Alexandria. We shared a house opposite of Rick and Michonne’s house. The first week was the hardest for him. He was quiet and distance from me, but I understood why he was acting the way he was. Daryl had endured so much and his time at the Sanctuary had made him skittish. It was so bad that every time I touched him, he would pull away from me and then look at me with an apologetic look. It hurt me when he would avoid my touch or advert his eyes away from me when I would look his way or how he would avoid me every time I walked in the same room as him. I understood that it would take time for him to heal, but it hurt like hell to see him go through this alone because he wouldn’t let me in.

Time had passed and he has started to let me in a little bit each day. He actually started talking to me again and it made me happy to hear his voice again. There were days where he wouldn’t avoid me every time I was near him, but those were his good days. Today was a bad day though, he got up early and left the house. He didn’t know this, but I heard him leave every morning and heard him start his motorcycle. I never knew where he went when he rode off and I wish I did. I wish he would let me come with him just so I could be close to him, but I went along with my day just like I always did. I helped out around Alexandria a lot to get my mind off of what was happening between Daryl and I. Michonne had asked me to look after Judith today. Her and a few others were going out on a supply run and Rick was busy discussing plans to take down Negan with Maggie at Hilltop.

“Hey (Y/N), how are you doing today?” Michonne asked as she opened the door for me to come in the house.

“I’m doing okay, living one day at a time” I said while faking a smile. She looked at me and she could tell that I was lying. She hesitated to ask me what was really happening because she knew how I was when it came to some situations, especially when it came to the recent situation with Daryl.

“(Y/N) are you sure you are okay? I have noticed how different you have been here recently. I do not want to over step my boundary, but I want you to know that you can tell me anything and I will be here for you whenever” she knew me so well and she knew that I needed to get the things going on off my chest.

“I appreciate you always willing to talk to me. Daryl just hasn’t been the same since he came back from the Sanctuary and it is really starting to worry me. I understand he needs his space and I have given him so much time Michonne” tears started to form in my eyes. “He wouldn’t even look at me and every time I walked into the same room as him, he would stop what he was doing and leave. He gets up at 5am every morning, leaves the house, and rides his bike out of Alexandria and he doesn’t come back until the evening. The past week he has gotten better, but he still won’t let me touch him and I don’t understand. I just want to hug my husband, Michonne. That’s all I want right now is to be able to touch him” by this time I have tears flowing down my face.

“I know what you are going through is extremely hard and I know what he is going through is crippling him. He has been through hell and it is never easy for loved ones around them. They sacrifice just as much as the person who went through the ordeal does. It may take a while but try to talk to him more so he feels he can open up. Don’t talk to him about what happened, but just ask him how his day was or where he goes to on his bike. Tell him you want to spend more time with him. He will eventually open up to you and things will slowly go back to normal” she always gives the best advice and I was going to test it out.

Michonne and her group had just gotten back, along with my husband. While the group was gone, I had made spaghetti for Michonne and Carl and I had just got done feeding Judith her bottle. I had made some extra spaghetti for me and Daryl. I knew how much he loved spaghetti, so I thought it would make it easier for me to talk to him tonight.

Michonne took Judith off my hands and thanked me for making them supper. I walked across the street to my house with the extra spaghetti in my hands hoping this would help me talk to Daryl. I opened the door to find Daryl sitting on the couch cleaning his arrows. I looked at him and smiled, but all he did was glance in my direction and then turned his attention back to his arrows. I placed the spaghetti on the kitchen counter and got two plates and forks out. I scooped the spaghetti onto the plates and placed them on the kitchen table for us to eat. Daryl came over and sat in front of his plate and started shoveling the food in his mouth.

“I figured you’d want your favorite meal after a long day. Do you like it?” Geez I hope this works.

“Yeah, it’s good” it’s going to be a long night.

“How was your day? Did you find anything good out there?”

“I just found some crap. It wasn’t worth keeping.” Oh, this is going wonderfully.

“Oh okay, maybe I can come with you some time and maybe hunt. I mean if you want to, I understand if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Well at least I didn’t get a complete no thank you.

After I had cleaned up the dishes I decided to go upstairs to get ready for bed, I desperately needed a shower to wash off the day. When I was done with my shower I put my PJs on and climbed into bed beside Daryl. ‘At least he still sleeps with me in bed’, I thought. I said good night and got a “you, too”. I fell asleep within a couple of minutes because of how exhausted I had been lately.

I woke up all of a sudden thinking something was wrong but looked around the room and then looked at the clock. It read 3am. ‘Geez, can I for once just sleep through the night’. I looked over to Daryl who was sleeping. He looked so peaceful laying there and all I could do was smile. I wanted so badly to kiss his forehead and wrap my arms around him, but I knew better than to do that because that would have startled him and more than likely ended badly for me. After many attempts of trying to go back to sleep I had given up. I got up from the bed and started to walk out of the room when I heard something.

“Please…Stay…” it was Daryl. At first, I thought he was just talking in his sleep, but then I realized he was awake when he sat himself up in bed and reached his arm out towards me. I walked over towards him and stood beside his side of the bed. He wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Please don’t leave me here alone. I need you beside me.” He was practically begging me. I kissed the top of his head and climbed into bed with him. This was the first time in a long time he allowed me to touch him. His body was flush against mine, like he was scared he was going to lose me. We laid there facing each other, his arms engulfing me and mine embracing him. Our legs were intertwined with each other’s and our foreheads resting against one another’s. I couldn’t stop smiling. I had not felt his skin on mine in such a long time, I almost forgot what this felt like. He was starting to drift off to sleep when I heard him say, “I’m so sorry (Y/N)”. I kissed his forehead and rubbed his back until he fell asleep. I drifted off to sleep right after him.

The next morning, I woke up with Daryl rubbing my back and placing kisses on my shoulder blades. I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me. I’m pretty sure he had been watching me sleep the whole time he had been awake.

“Have you been watching me sleep?’

“You looked peaceful, figured I’d let you sleep.” A smile spread across his face, that same smile I used to see before everything happened.

“That’s a little creepy don’t you think?” I asked him, smiling.

“Not when you’re just so beautiful.” I almost had to pinch myself to make sure that this wasn’t a dream. There was a second of silence and Daryl’s face changed.

“(Y/N) I am sorry for everything I did the last couple of weeks.” I started to speak, but he cut me off.

“I should have never treated you the way I did because I know that everything you did was to help me. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I was weak and I don’t wanna drag you into my problems. You did so much for me and all I did was hurt you and I don’t deserve to have a wife like you.” You were almost on the edge of crying. You had been so patient with him and now finally hearing him apologize made all your emotions come to the surface.

“Baby don’t ever say that you are weak or that you don’t deserve me, because you do. You are my husband and I am always going to be here for you. I know what you went through was a traumatic experience and I knew the best thing for you was to give you time and give you your space. I wish you would have let me in and let me help you, but I know how you are, and I know that the things you did were not to hurt me. Daryl you are the most important thing in my life, and I will never give up on you.” Not only was I crying at this point, he was too. Everything that he had bottled up for so long came pouring out. I turned to face him and raised my hand to wipe the tears from his eyes and he did the same for me. He leaned towards me and his lips were on mine. This wasn’t the normal kiss I was used to. This one was so tender and sweet like he wanted this kiss to last forever. Our lips separated slightly so we could both catch our breaths. I could feel him smile against my lips when he kissed me again. He made me so happy and I don’t think he has any idea how much happiness he gives me. Our kiss unfortunately came to an end and the first words that came out of his mouth were, “I love you (Y/N) Dixon. Always.”

“How are you and Y/N doing?”

“Good. Really good.” he answered, his eyes wandering around the set. “We uh....well, I’ve had some time off you know, because of the holidays and all that and uh....so we’ve been able to spend some time together up at the farm.” he grabbed his watch, twisting around his wrist to a more comfortable position before continuing with his answer.

“And, it’s been nice. Cause, being gone for as long as I am, it’s.....it can get hard. So, it’s been a really nice couple of weeks.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Both Jeffrey and the interviewer nodded with smiles on their faces.

“Alright.....I’ve got one more personal question before I ask you about the show.”

“Okay.” he chuckled, shifting in his seat as his hand went up to scratch his scruff.

“We’ve heard some rumors that you and Y/N are now engaged.” Jeffrey was unable to stop the smile from growing, but he tried. “Is that true, or.......” The interviewer trailed off, dipping his head to the side as he waited to hear from your fiance.

The smile grew a little more and there was no containing it. You watched the entire time, your heart racing as you knew there was no way to hide it now.

Jeff chuckled a few times, continually scratching his scruff as he tried to think of a way to avoid the question. But he knew just as much as you did that it was probably hopeless.

“I...I can’t tell you that.” he whined softly with laughter mixed in, hoping the man interviewing him would get the hint and not hover over the subject.

“No?”

“No. No, I....no.”

“Alright.” the interviewer laughed, looking down at his cards. “Alright, then season eight it is.” Jeff took a deep breath, grateful he left the subject.