daryl-dixon-daydreams

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Happy Flashback Friday! Caregiving!Daryl is a special kind of something. 💛

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, language  “OW! Fuck! Fucking son of a bitch!” You were mincing up the wild mushrooms you’d gathered with your freshly sharpened and incredibly sharp knife when… you damn near sliced through the top of one of your fingers. The blade hit the edge of your fingernail and for that you were grateful, otherwise it may have gone clear to the bone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You scrambled and grabbed the nearest thing you could, staring in consternation as the blood poured out faster than you could wipe it away. You couldn’t even get a good look at the damn injury because it was bleeding so fast. “UGH! So fucking stupid!” you cursed yourself under your breath. You heard heavy boot steps coming up the stairs. “Shit…” You hastily clutched the towel around your finger and hid you hands behind your back, still applying pressure in hopes that it would stop bleeding. Daryl stepped into the kitchen with a heavily furrowed brow. 

“What happened?” he drawled. “Ya alrigh?” You lifted your eyebrows and affected a confused expression. “Hmm? What?” His brow contracted even more. “I heard ya lettin’ loose enough to make a sailor blush. What’d ya do?” He started to cross the kitchen and you just shrugged.

“Uhh…I hit my knee? Maybe that’s what you heard.”

His blue eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, carefully scrutinizing the scene in front of him. “What’re ya hidin’ over there?” “Hiding? I’m not hiding anywhere?” He didn’t look convinced. “Y/N… what’s behind ya?” You scoffed and stepped to the side, not taking your eyes off him, your hands still behind your back, one tightly clutching the towel around your cut finger. “Mushrooms,” you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  As soon as you’d stepped aside, you realized by the expression on his face that you’d made a miscalculation. You glanced back over and easily saw the fat crimson droplets on cutting board and counter. One had even inconveniently caught the cabinet door and glared like a horror movie prop against the shiny white paint. You sighed heavily and your shoulders slumped. “Shit…” Daryl was done with your bullshit. “Lemme see it. Now.” “It’s—it’s fine!” you said, bringing your hands back in front of you. A rather alarming red spot had appeared on the towel. Daryl shot you another look and pulled you over to the basin of the sink, grabbing a water bottle and immediately rinsing your finger, trying to get a look at the injury. He shook his head as he worked. “Yer ridiculous. Why the hell wouldn’t ya just lemme help?” he asked. “I don’t want you to make a big deal out of it! Or—or worry…” He let out gruff exhale. “I worry about ya already all the damn time. What’s the difference?” You shrugged sheepishly and bit your bottom lip. “Well? Do I need stitches?” “Mmm. Ya up for trying super glue? Damn thing won’t even quit bleeding enough for me to fuckin’ see…” “You’re the medic,” you joked. “Whatever you say.” Prompt: MY ACTUAL LIFE TODAY except there was no Daryl to patch me up. Just me frantically going through paper towels and dumping super glue on it… FML lol

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"Can you drop the tough guy act for two seconds?" you said, staring Negan down from across the fire. "It's just you and me here."

"Act? Doll, have you forgotten what I've—"

Your eyes narrowed. "Of course I haven't forgotten what you've done," you snapped at him. "I know you're egotistical. I know you can be self-centered. I know—"

"Are you going somewhere with this?" he asked, a wolfish smirk on his lips.

You sighed and you expression softened. "I also know that you have a good heart down in there. I've seen it."

He flopped down on his back on his bedroll, nerves flittering in his chest at the mere thought that you had perceived him, the real him. "Ah, you ain't seen shit, sweetheart," he retorted dismissively, avoiding looking at you.

"Oh no? Judith, the storm? Lydia? Not to mention the number of times you've stopped me from getting hurt or have completely saved my ass, including today!"

Negan shrugged, smiling to himself again. "Well, it is a fine ass, darlin'. It'd be a shame to lose it."

You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily, though you were keenly aware of the sudden flush of heat in your face. "Good God, Negan. I'm trying to have an actual conversation with you here!"

He ran a hand back through his hair and chuckled a little. "I know. I know..." Finally, he looked over at you again, his hazel eyes flickering over your face. "Look, you—you might be a special case," he said. You gave him a confused look. "I mean, I—I give a shit about you in particular. More than most people."

Your heart seemed suddenly suspended in your chest. "Oh."

"Yeah," he said, turning his gaze back to the embers riding the thermals upward from the fire between you. Prompt: "I know you're egotistical. I know you can be self-centered. I know—" / "Are you going somewhere with this?" / "I also know that you have a good heart."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Another admitted plagiarist. Enough is enough... Asking people to "chill out" definitely is absurd after literally stealing... 🙄

BLOCK THIS USER. FAFO, teddygrahamsam. This response sounds like you must be a minor. We can't imagine anyone over the age of 14 saying this seriously.

Plagiarism is serious and hurts the fandom community. All the plagiarized posts have since been deleted (if anyone familiar with this situation has screenshots PLEASE send them to us via a dm) but they are admitting it in the above screenshot so we feel totally fine about sharing this. Your excuse is bullshit and pretty much one of the dumbest things we've ever heard. Special shout out to ALL the OGs replying in the notes to call out this bad behavior and scold this pathetic attempt at an excuse. We really don't need to do much work on this one. You guys all did it yourselves and protected your fandom community. <3 We are proud.

(Screenshotted post here.)

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"I really should go," you mused, but Daryl could see the exhaustion settling over you. "I should get back. Maggie—"

"—has got a whole lotta people lookin' after her at Hilltop. And ya look like yer about to collapse. What happened on the way here?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. I mean, nothing out of the ordinary. Crossed a bunch of walkers."

"Tha's it?" Daryl drawled.

You nodded. "Yeah. Just walkers."

"How many?" he asked, his blue eyes flashing, perceptive.

"I don't know. I didn't count them," you said.

"Ballpark it."

You sighed heavily and tried to do a mental tally. "Fifty? Sixty?"

Daryl swore under his breath and let out a wry laugh. "That ain't just walkers. Tha's a herd."

"Not all at once!" you clarified.

"That only makes it a little bit better," he said, shaking his head. "No wonder yer exhausted." He considered you for a long moment and then sighed. "If ya really wanna leave and head back, I ain't gonna stop ya. But Maggie's okay. And the kid's all got to eat tonight because of you. Stay the night," he said, ducking his head. "Ya deserve the rest."

He returned to his task patching up his pack but stopped abruptly at what you said next. "Is that, like, a formal invitation or what?" you asked, and when he glanced up there was a little smile on your face.

Daryl gulped. "I dunno 'bout formal but—"

"Well, in that case I'm sure I can find an empty apartment or—"

"Nah," he interrupted. "Yer stayin' with me," he barked back, rolling his eyes at you. "Like ya've ever needed a damn invitation before..." he muttered. His heart was fluttering in his chest as his brain flitted over the implications around what you'd said but he was certain you didn't mean.

Your smile widened. "Maybe I need one this time," you sighed. "I don't want to impose, Daryl."

"Would ya stop?"

You only laughed and his heart jumped again in his chest.

Prompt: "Stay the night. You deserve the rest."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl caught you yawning for what seemed like the fourth time in a very short period. He nudged you gently with the back of his hand.

"Hmm?" You glanced over and met his blue eyes.

"Ya alrigh'? Ya seem tired," he said.

"Oh. Yeah... I'm fine. I've just—I've been having... weird dreams lately," you explained. "I keep waking up wondering what the hell my subconscious is trying to tell me."

Daryl's brow creased with worry. "What kinda weird dreams?"

You shrugged. "I dunno... just... strange ones. Some about... what's happened to me before... but it isn't quite right or it's all jumbled." You glanced over at him. "You've been in a couple actually," you said, smiling at him.

"Me?" he asked, surprised and perplexed.

"Yeah," you laughed. "They're all out of context though. Like—I think one of the ones you were in we were at my childhood home and around where I grew up."

Daryl rubbed a hand nervously over the back of his neck. "Doin' what?"

You squinted, straining to remember. "I don't remember really." You shook your head and shrugged again. "Actually, the ones you're in don't bother me, though. I always wake up from them feeling—good, I guess. They're nice," you said catching his blue eyes again. You gave him a warm smile and his heart jumped into his throat. He felt his face flush.

"Well, tha's good. 'M glad ya didn't call 'em a nightmare with me in 'em," he joked sardonically.

"Hey!" you scolded him. "Don't talk about yourself like that! Daryl—you know that I—that you're my favorite. You know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he murmured, ducking your gaze. "If ya say so."

"I do."

Prompt: "I've been having weird dreams."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Happy Flashback Friday!!

"How do I know yer real?" There were tears in his blue eyes, threatening to spill out on his cheeks at any moment. "How do I know any of this is real. I've spent so long dreamin' of findin' ya again, I can't be sure this ain't a dream," he drawled.

Your breath left you in a rush and you clasped his face in your hands gently. His eyes closed and the tears finally fell and rolled down his cheeks. "It's real, Daryl. I promise you it's real," you breathed. His blue eyes opened again and searched your face, drank you in, memorized the new scars and marks you hadn't had when the two of you had been separated. "It's real," you said again, softly, blinking away your own tears now.

It was at that moment that he couldn't stop himself anymore, and his lips crashed down onto yours and you melted beneath them and his touch, eager but gentle. A/N: This has Return vibes UGHHH <3

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Oh it me 😂😭

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: Angsty one today, my babies <3 "I wasn't expecting to see you again, if I'm being honest," Negan said. His hands were curled around the bars and you noted that his knuckles were white from the strength of his grip.

You were chewing on your bottom lip and trying hard to ignore the sick feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach. "I wasn't expecting to come if I'm being honest," you said. Your posture was guarded, with your arms crossed over your chest.

Negan's hazel eyes looked dewy and his forehead was deeply lined with cavernous furrows between his brows. "I know there's nothing I can really say—"

"No, there's not," you interrupted him.

Negan gulped and looked suddenly desperate. "I know that the things I've done in the past—" he stopped and sighed heavily, looking almost tortured. "I can't change them. But I've changed."

You said nothing, but continued to study his face for a long moment.

"Please," he said, and it reverberated deep in his chest. "What can I do?" he asked.

You gulped, feeling nearly torn in two yourself, but your answer was simple. "What can you do?" You shook your head and gave him a look that was so sad, so haunted that he nearly crumbled before the words even left your lips. "Love someone else."

Prompt: "Love someone else."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

A/N: uggggh a little pre-apocalypse Daryl drabble with a role reversal that is *chef's kiss* You were tempted to flip the middle finger at the cops gathered behind you as you left the station, taking quick steps to keep up with Daryl's hurried long strides.

"Where'd you get the money to bail me out?"

"Dun ask me..." he drawled.

"Too late. I just did," you said, following him out into the sunshine.

"S'Merle's stash so 'm prob'ly gonna get my ass beat for this," he said, shooting a sideways glance at you.

You shot him a worried look and then shook your head. "No you won't. We'll replace it before he even knows it's gone. No way you're taking a single hit on my account," you said.

"How?" he asked, stopping beside his bike and grabbing the helmet. "How the hell are we gonna do that?" He held it out to you and you accepted it with a smirk.

"Did you already forget what I was just in there for?" you laughed.

He rolled his eyes. "Why'd ya have to steal his goddamn watch anyway?"

"He was being an asshole!"

"Yeah, he was... but didn't ya think picking that off the fucking Chief of Police was a bad idea? Prick is gonna throw the book at ya." He pushed your hands away to adjust the chin strap on the helmet for you. You couldn't help the wash of heat and butterflies that rose up in your chest from the sweet action.

"So, let him throw it," you said carelessly. "We both know I'm quick on my feet and he can't aim."

"Christ, yer too much damn trouble. Maybe I shoulda left ya in there a bit longer."

"Daryl!" you snapped, swatting at his arm playfully.

" 'M just kiddin'! Calm down," he laughed. "Get on the damn bike so we can get outta here before ya do anymore damage." Prompt: "Why'd you have to steal his goddamn watch anyway?" / "He was being an asshole!" / "Yeah, he was. But didn't you think stealing that off the fucking Chief of Police was a bad idea?

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"How's bein' under a roof and in four walls treatin' ya?" Daryl asked. His hands paused in their methodical movements as he looked up and studied your face.

You shrugged and leaned back against the railing. "I don't know," you said. "Okay, I guess."

"Ya guess?" He drew the blade of his knife across his whetstone again. "S'matter?"

"It's—I know it doesn't make any sense but... I felt less safe last night. It was weird with everyone being spread out in their own rooms and—I think being this close to all these other people we don't know... it feels unsafe," you admitted. "At least, it makes me feel unsafe."

Daryl's blue eyes flickered over your features. "Yeah. I hear ya. Makes perfect sense actually." The grinding sound of his blade against the stone ground through the silence. "Did ya get any sleep?" he asked.

You laughed dryly. "No, not really." You straightened up and considered him for a moment. "Hey, um... could I borrow your jacket tonight maybe?" you asked, your cheeks already feeling warm with a flush.

"My jacket?" he drawled, confused. "Why? Ya can't be cold. It's 80 degrees out."

Your hands fiddled nervously, picking at the side of your thumbnail. "No. I just—it might be... comforting," you said nervously. "It—it smells like you." You'd barely managed to get the words out.

Daryl was silent for a long moment, just looking at you with his heart whirring away in his chest. He was trying not to get ahead of himself, trying not to read into it. "Yeah, it stinks like me anyway," he said dryly. "Like stale cigarettes and sweat and dirt," he said. "Ya find comfort in strange things, if that'll do it for ya."

You smiled and laughed a little. "Maybe." You could feel your cheeks still burning.

"Look, my jacket ain't protectin' ya if anything goes sideways," he drawled. He nervously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Why dun I just crash on the floor in your room tonight? Would that help ya sleep?"

"Are you kidding? Of course it would. Daryl, you make me feel... the most safe I've ever felt."

He nodded and cleared his throat, ducking his eyes and looking back at his knife again. "Alrigh'. Deal then."

"One thing though," you said. "You're not sleeping on the floor. The bed is plenty big. And you deserve a big squishy, soft mattress too."

"Ya sure ya want me stinkin' up yer bed?" he joked.

"Shush." Prompt: "You find strange things comforting."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

A/N: Protective!Daryl won the poll by a landslide! So here it is, my babies! <3 Shane was in your face again, but you weren't backing down. "Why can't you just do a damn thing I ask you to? Huh?!" he roared at you. "It's always gotta be some discussion, while everybody else pulls their weight!"

The heat in your chest flared in an angry flame. "I don't remember voting for you as Camp fucking Dictator! And I certainly don't remember volunteering to wash your underwear and sweaty socks while you just prowl around with a gun acting like you're hot shit! I have no problem pulling my damn weight. Give me a job that isn't sexist as fuck!"

Shane sucked his teeth and then stuck a finger in your face, ready with another response, but he was never able to get it out.

Daryl was suddenly crashing out of the brush into camp and his blue eyes locked onto you and Shane instantly. "Hey!" he barked, charging directly over. He tossed down his gear carelessly and rushed Shane, shoving him hard in the chest to create space between you and stepping into it, effectively blocking him. "Get the fuck outta her face, man! The hell are ya doin'?!" he growled, nose to nose with Shane. "Think it makes ya a big man walkin' 'round here, tryin' to intimidate somebody half yer size?"

"Get out of here, Daryl," Shane growled. "This doesn't concern you."

"Nah, I think it fuckin' does. 'M righ' here where I should be," Daryl said. "What're ya gonna do? Hit me? Is that what you were plannin' to do to Y/N? Sometimes ya look like the type," Daryl spat, his broad shoulders rigid.

Shane's eyes narrowed angrily but he apparently thought better of it and let out a frustrated noise before stalking away.

Daryl turned to look back at you, his expression softening. "Ya okay?" he asked, retrieving his gear and slinging his bow back over his shoulder. You nodded. "Guy's a prick on a power trip," he grumbled.

"Yeah," you agreed. "Thanks for that."

"Sure," he said, nodding. "It ain't that ya needed it. But I didn't like how he was in yer face. I know yer plenty good at standin' up for yerself. I just couldn't let him get away with that shit."

You gave Daryl a small smile "I know. Thank you." You studied him as he picked through his gear again and righted things. "Hey, do you think you could teach me how to hunt and track maybe?" you asked suddenly. "Shane seems to think women are only capable of washing clothes and dishes..."

"Ya want me to teach ya?" You nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course. Uhh—not sure how great of a teacher I'll be but—" He looked suddenly bashful and ducked his head.

"I've already learned so much just from going along those few times. You'll be great," you said encouragingly.

"If you say so."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Still a little time to vote, my babies!

<3

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Happy Flashback Friday!

He always managed to do it. You didn’t understand how, but he knew when you were sinking… You were stuck in the city, separated from your family with hardly any supplies or gear. There were ominous signs of some concerning ongoings beyond the infected. You were trapped in many ways, with whoever or whatever was wandering the wasteland of Atlanta nowadays. Safe for the moment, but for how long? The one relief was that you were with Daryl.

You felt him looking at you as he leaned back against the desk across from you, his legs kicked out straight in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Finally, you looked up from your own seat on the floor and caught his eyes. “We’re alrigh’,” he drawled, his voice a little more gruff than usual. It had been a while since you’d been able to fill your canteens.

You managed a dry laugh. “Are we? We’re not dead, sure. But—you and I both know that’s not the worst thing that can happen to someone.” The look in your eyes grew distant, shrinking farther and farther away until a panic seized him that he wouldn’t be able to call you back.

“Hey. I ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to ya. I swear it on my damn life,” he said strongly.

You snapped back into yourself. You shook your head. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? S'true. If it would keep ya from gettin’ hurt, from any kinda harm—”

“Stop it, Daryl,” you interrupted him, your expression serious. “You think I would want to keep living in this shithole without you?”

He chewed on his bottom lip nervously for a long moment. “Ya think I would? Without you?”

You shifted uneasily. “Well, then let’s just agree to both get out of here alive and no worse for wear. No one is dying for anyone else…”

He nodded. “Deal.” But he’d meant what he’d said. If it came to it, he’d protect you with his life.

Prompt: “We’re alright.” / “Are we? We’re not dead, sure. But—you and I both know that’s not the worst thing that can happen to someone.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Daryl looked up as you stepped out into the garage, clean and in a sensible dress but obviously feeling self-conscious. You were nervously chewing on your bottom lip and awaiting his reaction. He'd never seen you in a dress before and he couldn't help taking in the view and smiling a little. "Ya look... perfect," he somehow managed. "I mean, ya always look perfect. But this is somethin' else," he drawled.

You only pouted at him and came down the steps. "I am this close to shooting myself in the foot just so we don't have to go," you said.

Daryl chuckled and reached for your hands. "I love ya, ya know," he said. You leaned in against him, pressing yourself flush on his body.

"I know," you said, looking up at him. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, which was clean and shiny. "I love you too. And you also look really nice. Can't we just go home right now and... go downstairs and..."

Daryl sighed and shut his eyes. "Goddamn, I wish. But ya promised Aaron and Eric—"

"I know," you said, sighing too. "I could still shoot myself in the foot though. I mean your bow is right there..." He chuckled and laced his fingers with yours. "C'mon. Let's just get this over with so... so we can get home and... go downstairs..."

Prompt: "I am this close to shooting myself in the foot just so we don't have to go." / "I love you."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

<3

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: Negan and his usual mouth and innuendo You sighed as the clinic door opened and in came Negan supported by another worker on the construction project. "Oh, Jesus... what now?" you asked, directing the question to the man Negan was leaning on.

"Head injury," the guy said. "One of the beams came down on him pretty hard. He didn't lose consciousness but he seems a little out of it..."

You sighed. "Alright, let's take him and—"

"Nurse, can I make a special request?" Negan interrupted you.

You crossed your arms and gave him a stern look. "Absolutely not."

"Ahhhh, come on," he said. His voice was a little foggy.

You stared at him and your eyebrows lifted. Negan smiled at you.

"Not that I don't love the fit of them jeans you're wearing, but—"

"Negan!" you warned him. But of course he forged on anyway.

"Do you have one of those little white, naughty nurse outfits you can put on? You know the ones with the low cut neckline and the thigh highs and the garter belt..."

"Negan!" you snapped at him. "SHUT. UP."

His shit-eating grin only grew bigger. "I swear, if you wore that to... examine me, I'd be the best patient you've ever had," he said lazily. "The best. I'd do everything you told me to, doll." "Negan!" you yelled. "I'm about two more words away from getting the tranquilizer."

He only chuckled and wet his bottom lip with his tongue.

Your jaw tensed. "Great. Now everyone is uncomfortable. Is that what you wanted?"

"I was just trying to pay you a compliment," Negan chuckled.

You rolled your eyes. "Bring him over here and let's get him laid down. Oh—and you don't need to be too gentle," you said, shooting a sassy look at Negan.

But Negan wasn't phased. "Oh, perfect. I happen to like it rough, doll, so that's all fine by me... though Mr. Handsy over here isn't really my type..."

"Jesus Christ," you murmured, following them over to the gurney.

Prompt: "Okay, now everyone is uncomfortable. Is that what you wanted?"

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Yo, 200 notes in less than 24 hrs is craaaazy ya'll 😭💛☺️ I am sending each of you a mental hug, my babies!

Words: 4,331 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Era: S9, after Rick's "death" when Daryl is living in the woods (No Leah) Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, sexual content (this one contains some spice babies!)

Daryl was just coming back from his morning snare check when he heard Dog barking excitedly down by the water. "Dog! The hell ya doin'?" he growled, stomping toward the noise. "Yer gonna bring the dead in! Quiet! No bark!" He rounded the shelter and strode toward the dock but quickly froze.

He was stunned to see you wading out into the water tentatively, your bare back exposed to him and steam rising off you in the cold morning air. His eyes traveled down the graceful curve of your spine to the dimples in your low back. He gulped thickly. The surface of the water lapped at your hips. Dog danced back and forth on his front paws on the shore.

"Y/N!" Daryl yelled. You looked back at him over your shoulder, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as armor against the cold of the morning air. You kept walking deeper into the river. "What the hell are ya doin'?!" He stormed forward, wetting his boots in the water. "Have ya lost yer damn mind?!" He was bewildered.

"I'm getting clean!" you yelled back, shivering slightly as your toes sunk into the cold mud on the bottom.

Daryl swore under his breath. He could see the goosebumps all over your skin. "It's freezin'! Yer gonna catch yer death out there!" he roared.

You were finally in up to your collarbone, treading water, and you turned to look at him standing on the bank. "It's not that bad!" you yelled back. "It's—it's invigorating!"

"Yer shiverin’! Get back here!" He swore under his breath again and rushed to his makeshift shelter to pull all the blankets off his cot before hurrying back to the water's edge again. "Y/N—C'mon! I ain't jokin'! I'll—I'll close my eyes. C'mon out and wrap these around ya."

You were simply treading water, trying to pull in deep breaths. "I'll c-come out once you come in!" you announced.

"What?" he spat, looking at you like you truly had gone completely mad.

"You're not taking care of yourself out here, Daryl! When is the last time you washed up?"

He dropped the blanket he had stretched out in front of himself to hang toward the ground. He chewed on his bottom lip and stared at you.

You smiled broadly at the expression on his face. He looked about ready to throttle you. You took a few lazy strokes backwards, into deeper water. "Alright. I'll j-just stay out here until you c come get me then!"

Your nose and cheeks were kissed red with cold and Daryl heaved a frustrated breath. "Have ya lost yer damn mind?!" he roared. "I ain't playin'! Get back here! Yer gonna get hypothermia!"

"Only if you l leave me out here t-too l-long," you said, shaking with the cold. It was starting to work its way in deep. You could feel your muscles growing tense as they tried to retain heat in your core.

Daryl flicked his hand in your direction. "Is this why ya came out here?! To give me all this damn grief?!" he growled.

"I can't f-feel my toes anymore, Daryl! Are my l-lips turning blue yet?" You smiled as you saw the frustration and worry on his face growing. You did feel a little bad, but you’d already told him what the solution was... and it was an easy one.

He swore under his breath and paced back and forth on the bank before tossing the pile of blankets he’d dragged off his cot down on the dock. He shot a deadly glare in your direction and you knew you'd won.

You submerged for a moment and came up blinking the water away from your eyes. You grinned at him and then spun in the water so you were facing the other bank. “I won’t look!” you announced. “Tell m-me when I can t-turn around!” Your shivering was getting worse.

Daryl was muttering to himself under his breath as he pulled layer after layer of his clothing off and piled them on the bank. “Ya best swim to the other side ‘cuz if I catch ya, ‘m gonna—”

Your laughter interrupted him. “You’re gonna w-what, Daryl?”

Dog seemed to think this was all a game as well and dashed back and forth in the shallow water, panting and smiling his Malinois smile.

Daryl’s hands landed on the hem of his final top layer, a waffle-knit thermal shirt, and he hesitated. He looked out at you bobbing in the water, your hair wet and clinging to the nape of your neck. He swore one more time and swept his shirt off. The cold morning air bit at his bare skin.

Then he was a blur of movement, trying to shed the last of his bottom layers before he lost his nerve. He felt sheepish as he discarded his pants and underthings, tugging his socks and boots off in one motion and kicking them aside. The mud was freezing on his bare feet and he swore again before hurrying to get into the cover of the water, not that it was going to be warmer at all.

You heard the splash of Daryl entering and bit your bottom lip. You tried to stop yourself from shivering so violently, but the fingers of cold were working their way in deeply. The next thing you heard was a murmur of expletives as Daryl immersed himself in the water and then what sounded like him walking and swimming toward you. Daryl was hurriedly scrubbing at the dirt on his skin while your back was turned. Taking his clothes off had revealed the striking demarcations around his sleeves and neckline and more where the dirt had clung to his skin instead of his clothing. Living out of a patched together shelter in the woods was hard and you were of course correct—he wasn’t taking care of himself. He had buried all his feelings in combing the banks for Rick and hiding from things past and he certainly wasn’t thinking about more than the basic necessities of survival. Bare minimum, that’s how he was living.

“C—can I turn around?” you asked, breaking him out of his musing.

There was a little more splashing and then his voice came from quite close right behind you. “Yeah,” he growled.

You turned and saw that he was only a couple feet away. His bright blue eyes were narrowed at you in a glare that could have curdled milk. You found yourself nervously chewing on your bottom lip and blushing as you realized how closed the two of you were, and how entirely naked you both were too. Though, the tea-colored water was a sufficient cloak to hide your bodies. Your eyes flickered down to the scars visible near his collarbones and on his shoulders and you felt a deep tug behind your navel, a pang of empathy and pain. “S-see? It’s not so b-bad,” you said, meeting his bright blue eyes again.

“Yer teeth are chatterin’,” he said. “I came in. Will ya get out now before ya freeze to death? This is the most ridiculous shit ya’ve ever pulled.” Your eyes flickered over his face and Daryl felt something shift in the air between the two of you and he thought he could read it on your face. He gulped nervously. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you breathed. But you swam a little closer to him. Then closer, within a foot. He could feel the currents whirling away from your legs and arms keeping you afloat, buffeting his bare skin below the surface. Water droplets were clinging all over your shoulders, running over your goosebumps and then rejoining the river winding around you. He was keenly aware that if he looked down, he’d be able to see much more of the shape of you than ever before, but it felt like an imposition despite the fact that you’d undressed yourself and created this whole ridiculous scenario. He kept his eyes fixed on your face instead, but that didn’t stop the thought of it, the very idea of you so bare so close to him from setting his heart racing and tugging up some bubble of feeling between his lungs that wouldn’t be ignored or shoved back down.

You reached up suddenly and your fingertips brushed gently into his hair and trailed down to the wet ends. From there, your fingertips dropped down and alighted on his bare chest for just a moment. Daryl felt as if an electric current suddenly zipped through his entire body and he found himself gulping thickly again.

“W-wash up, Daryl,” you whispered, another shiver wracking through you. “You d-deserve to be c-clean and cared for.” You gave him a tight smile that was touched with a mark of sadness and then paddled backwards away from him for a few strokes before you turned completely and swam toward shore. Your feet touched the soggy bottom and you were soon rising up out of the water, hugging your arms around yourself and shaking with the cold.

Daryl allowed himself to drink in the shape of your bare back, trace your shoulder blades, to watch you until the water dipped in against your waist, and then he turned away again. He cupped the water in his hands and splashed it over his face. He scrubbed over his body with his rough palms, wiping away the layers of sweat and dust and dirt and ash. His fingertips snagged in snarls and frazzled locks in his hair. He dunked himself below the surface and held his breath, let the cold pressure press against his ear drums, dampen his senses for a long moment as he ran his fingers over his hair. He surfaced again and shook the excess water from himself.

The cold was quickly working its hooks into him and he swore under his breath again, marveling at the sheer absurdity of this whole sequence of events and furthermore at the fact that it had worked. You’d gotten him into the damn frigid river. Of course you did. If you threw yourself into a fire, he’d follow after you.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder at the bank. Dog was sitting there dutifully, but you were nowhere in sight. He took that as his cue that it was safe to come ashore again. He hated to admit that though he was now shaking with the cold as he planted his feet back on the makeshift dock, he did feel clean, new, and somewhat restored. He hastily grabbed one of the heavy blankets still left behind beside your now drying footprints and wrapped it around himself.

Dog trotted up and down the dock happily as Daryl made his way toward his shelter. He cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, Y/N?”

“In here. C-come in, Daryl,” your voice answered.

Daryl stepped around the tarp and saw that you were standing in the middle of the space, still clutching a heavy, gray blanket around yourself, and positively shaking from head to toe with the cold. Your clothes were piled on the floor by your feet where you must have discarded them before your foray into the river. He sighed heavily and shook his head, moving past you to dig into a leather duffel bag that had piles of clean clothes in it that he never wore. “The hell’s wrong with ya? Look at ya. Yer whole body is shakin’,” he said in a low voice. He had planned to grab some clothes and go change into them outside the shelter to give you some privacy, but your voice soon stopped him dead. “Yer freezin’ to death over there...” he growled.

“S-so warm me up,” you said in a low voice.

Daryl gulped thickly. He heard your soft footsteps moving toward him and again was sharply aware of his nakedness beneath the blanket he was holding about himself. And of yours. “Lemme just grab some clothes and I’ll get dressed and get the fire built up.”

“That’s not w-what I mean.” Your voice was soft behind him.

Daryl turned, his heart jumping into his throat. “...what?”

You padded toward him across the dried pine needles he’d spread as a makeshift floor. You were still clutching the wool blanket around yourself. Water kept dripping down from the ends of your hair and running down the fabric like dew drops rolling off a blade of grass. “W-why d-did you st-stay outside last night?” you asked him in a low voice, unable to keep the shivering out of your voice despite trying hard to. Your eyes were questioning.

Daryl couldn’t tear his eyes from you. Something was happening. He could feel it like a tingle in his fingertips and the top of his head. And that bubble in between his lungs seemed to be growing, upwelling like the coldest, deepest layer of water in the river when his feet has disturbed it. You held his eyes steadily as he tried to come up with an answer to your question. “...I was keepin’ watch. And—I wanted ya to have the cot.”

Your lips tugged down into a pout that had his chest aching. God, and that furrow you got between your brows as you were puzzling over him. He couldn’t stand that pout on your face. It made him feel instantly guilty but he didn’t know why and as he would reverse the spin of the earth if that was the only thing that would fix it. It didn’t matter; he’d figure out how to do it if that was the cure. You took a couple more steps toward him, stopping within a foot of him now. The blanket slipped off your right shoulder and his eyes were drawn to that expanse of bare skin like a moth to a flame. He gulped again and tore his eyes away and back up to yours. Your voice broke through his jumbled, racing thoughts. “Daryl—I w-wanted you. Couldn’t you tell?”

He was paralyzed, dumbfounded. He felt like an idiot staring back at you, wondering how long he’d been talking himself out of what was apparently right in his face.

Your eyes flickered between his as you tried to read what was going on in his mind. “Why do you think I came out here? I was p-practically b-begging you to kiss me last night, by the fire. But you didn’t. And then I couldn’t s-sleep on your damn cot all night, alone. And you were just sitting out there...” You were searching his face for an explanation.

His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound came out. You were standing there just in front of him, shivering, telling him that he hadn’t imagined the charge in the air the night before, the heavy tension, the thickness between you like an approaching storm. He hadn’t imagined the way you’d been looking at him with that dewy softness in your eyes. He hadn’t been imagining your hesitation to disappear into his shelter completely. Anything he could come up with in response to that, to this, sounded stupid. Finally, he closed his mouth again and sighed, shutting his eyes briefly, drawing in a slow breath. “Just tell me—what ya want from me. Tell me, righ’ now, what ya want and I’ll give it to ya.”

Your eyes searched his face before you answered. “I already told you. I want you.” Daryl watched with bated breath as you backed up toward his cot and sat down on the edge. Though you kept the wool blanket clutched to your chest, it slipped completely from your other shoulder now and pooled on the cot behind you. “Do you want me in the s-same way? If you don’t, tell me now before I further em-embarrass myself.” Another shiver wracked through you. “I mean, I’m s-sitting on your bed basically naked right now, Daryl.”

Daryl pulled in a bracing breath and walked to you, sinking down beside you on the cot, his own blanket falling down around his hips. His bare chest and stomach were scattered with scars and goosebumps rose at the cold kiss of the air. His body was angled toward you and after hesitating only one nervous moment, he reached to cup your face tenderly in his hands, so gently it was as if he was worried you would crumble into ash under his fingertips. “Course I want ya. I’ve—I’ve always wanted ya.”

One of your palms landed flush in the center of his chest, and that was the last thing he needed before he crashed his lips against yours. Your hand drifted down to his side and rested there, exhilarating and grounding and electric. His palm came to rest on the side of your neck, his fingertips tickling around to the nape, and he kissed you with an urgency that suggested he expected you to dissolve into the air and vanish at any moment. He’d been hiding from so much out there for so long—and you were pulling him back to plant his feet on the earth again, to grab hold of something true and concrete and real right in front of him. He wasn’t a shapeless shade condemned to comb the banks of the river alone until he found what he’d lost... He was making a conscious choice in being there and he’d made a conscious choice to leave other things behind... You. He’d left you behind.

He kissed you more desperately, more hungrily.

A small hum of pleasure escaped you and Daryl deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down from your face over the curve of your neck and onto your bare shoulders. Your skin was chilled and damp still from the river. Droplets rained down from your hair. They did the same from his. They ran over the landscape of his scars and met your fingertips where they were pressed to him. They navigated his landscape and crossed onto yours in this way, where the two of you met and melded.

You pulled back from him slightly, just the tiniest bit, out of breath. “Daryl,” you breathed.

His heart was racing as his hands settled on your waist. He gripped to the folds of the wool blanket hard. Had you changed your mind? “Are ya okay?” he asked, his blue eyes opening and searching your face.

But a smile grew on your lips. “Y-yeah. Just cold.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Some mad woman went out into the damn river. I had to go after her.”

“She does sound mad,” you breathed.

“Little bit,” Daryl agreed. He straightened up slightly and looked at how you were shivering. “Ya should get some clothes on. Yer gonna get sick,” he said, turning away to stand, but your hand landed on his arm and arrested all movement.

“Wait—”

He glanced over at you again and settled more deeply into the cot again. Your simply touch had done that.

You were biting your bottom lip, your top teeth dented into the fullness of it. “I—I meant what I said. I want you to warm me up. If—if you’re okay with—”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. He was unwilling to make any kind of leap here as far as your meaning. You’d need to make it clear, exactly what you wanted from him, with him. He hadn’t even dared to hope for anything like this with you, and most of him was still doubting that this was anything other than some crazy whim of yours... though he’d never known you to be flighty or capricious in this way. But his whole life he’d been taught that he was worth nothing, undesirable, unlovable... and that gets into a person’s soul deep, like a splinter that works inward instead of out, year after year. But you had been always determined to show him his worth, to care for him even when he didn’t care for himself, to make him feel safe and home. He just didn’t dare to hope for more...

But now you made it clear to him by letting the blanket fall from your hands, baring more of than he’d ever seen, and reaching for him again. You pressed your soft lips to his and kissed him gently this time, but with the same intensity of feeling and desire. One of your hands landed on the side of his neck and the other alighted on his side. Daryl kissed you back with a growing heat, his hands drawn to your newly revealed skin like a magnet. He moved over you and you laid out beneath him on his cot, your fingers traveling over the tensed muscles in his back and pushing his damp hair away from his face. Your fingernails raked gently across his skin and heat flared in Daryl’s chest. He tugged the blanket that was still swirled around his hips and used it to cover the two of you. You felt a flush burning in your face and chest as you looked at the broadness of him leaning over you and the strength of his chest and stomach. Daryl’s eyes and hands wandered over your edges like he was trying to memorize every crest and curve by touch and new waves of goosebumps rose on your skin as the roughness of his palms grazed the insides of your bare thighs and the roundness of your hips and buttocks.

His lips crashed down onto yours again and the heat of his skin met yours. He bit gently at the plumpness of your bottom lip and heat flared in your core. His fingertips dimpled into your hip and the curve of your ribs. You let out a breathy sound as his mouth departed yours and kissed down your neck to your collarbone. “Daryl—”

The way you had just said his name was enough to drive him insane. It was at that moment that he was totally lost—whatever nagging doubts that had been still rattling around in his head were silenced and you were both completely immersed in each other. He pulled more sinful noises from you with his fingers and his mouth until your back was arching and your toes were curling and you were begging him in the prettiest voice for more, your fingernails raking down his back or tangling into his hair. Neither of you could bear to wait a moment longer by the time he finally pushed into you, drawing a gasp and breathy sigh from your lips, his teeth biting down lightly on your shoulder at the overwhelming sensations rippling through him. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck and breathed you in as you began to move together as one. Your hand stayed splayed on his lower back, pressing into him as if you were afraid he would suddenly put space between you again, but there was no risk of that.

Daryl’s breath was hot against your neck, but when both of you were nearing the peak of your bliss, his lips captured you in a desperate kiss before he withdrew and pressed his forehead to yours as the two of you crashed over your highs together. Your ragged breathing was the only sound to be heard in the early morning air. You pushed the sweaty strands of Daryl’s wavy brown hair out of his face and met his blue eyes. He seemed to be searching yours, trying to read what you were thinking.

You leaned up and kissed him again, but this one was soft and full of the yearning of all the long years you had wanted him but been too afraid of ruining the bond you already had. He settled down beside you and drew you in to press you against his heated skin, adjusting the wool blankets and skins over the two of you to keep out the cold morning.

You felt his eyes on your face even as you were still trying to catch your breath and you turned to look over at him. “Hmm?” you hummed in a question.

“I just—I can’t—I can’t believe yer here. I can’t believe ya came out here and now we’re—we—” he broke off, his eyes flickering over your face as if he expected you to disappear as soon as he stopped looking at you.

“I guess I got tired of waiting,” you breathed. “And I was afraid you were going to disappear out here completely.” Your expression was sad as you traced a finger lightly along his jawline.

“I think—I wanted to.”

You rolled onto your side to face him. “Do you still want to?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I want this,” he said, ducking his eyes, still feeling nervous about what had happened and was happening.

“Good,” you said. “Me too.”

There was a long silence as you tucked yourself in against him. Beneath the blankets, his arm draped over you and he pressed his palm to your soft skin.

“I still can’t believe ya went into the damn river like that,” he drawled suddenly.

You laughed lightly. “But look where it led us.”

“Yeah... but I think we coulda still got here without the near-hypothermia. Mad woman,” he said. You gave him a smile brimming with light. Daryl pressed a kiss to your forehead and then another soft one to your lips. The two of you were content to fall back asleep together and not wake until the sun was warmer and the day was half spent.