#awkward!daryl

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl was surprised to see you standing on the other side of his door. He'd limped himself over from the couch, expecting Carol to be dropping off yet another strange casserole concoction, and he'd debated about answering at all, unsure if he could stomach another baked tray of decade expired sardines and random foraged ingredients. "Oh—hey," he said, his stomach jumping into his chest at the mere sight of you.

"Aren't you supposed to be horizontal?" you asked him, glancing at the swelling and deep bruising on his ankle. It was so swollen he couldn't even get a sock or shoe on it comfortably.

"Uhh—yer the one who knocked on my door," he retorted.

"Yeah, well, I tried to let myself in—" you brushed past him and his eyes followed you, "—but it was locked."

"Expecting someone you don't want to see?" you asked, turning to glance at him with an eyebrow cocked up.

"Mostly Carol's idea of apocalypse cookin'," he said, shutting the door and hobbling a few steps toward you. Your brow creased as you watched his careful steps.

You sighed, frowning softly. "Get back on the couch and off that ankle," you demanded.

"Did ya need somethin'?" he asked, curious why you were even there in the first place. "From you? In that condition? Absolutely not. Now go get off that damn ankle!"

Daryl obeyed this time. There were sharp pains shooting up his shin.

"Well, why didya come? Just to boss me around?"

You smiled at him, just a little one, but it touched the corners of your eyes and Daryl's heart started to race, as it always did.

"Well, despite what the others think, I happen to know your secret, Daryl," you said.

His heart, which had just been rushing, now seemed to still for a moment. "W—what?" You knew? How did you know? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. You'd figured out that he was completely, 100%, head-over-heels for you. He didn't know how you'd put it together, what little thing he'd done, but you knew. And you were here to—what? Confront him? You set your bag down and brushed your hair out of your eyes, preoccupied while he stood completely still like an idiot, gaping at you. Wait—what had you said? 'Despite what the others think...' "My secret?" he somehow managed thickly, his tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth, as if he'd downed half a bottle of whiskey. "Yeah," you said, your smile growing into a wide grin. "Your secret. Everyone else says you want to be left alone, but I'm pretty sure you secretly enjoy being taken care of. And that's why I'm here."

He heaved a sigh of... relief? "Oh," he drawled, throwing in a low laugh, though it sounded somewhat unnatural to his ears. He ran a hand back through his wavy hair nervously, ruffling it.

"You need to stay off your feet. You can't be walking on that ankle or it will never heal. And anything you need, I'll be here."

"Anythin'?" he drawled, his face flushing subconsciously. "Might be a bit too generous."

You grinned back at him. "I don't think so."

Prompt: "Despite what the others think, I happen to know your secret." A/N: Having a great time in Switzerland! It's such a stunning country <3 Hope you appreciate this awkward Daryl as much as I do!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

You were surprised to see Daryl standing nervously at your door. "Daryl. Hi," you said.

"Hey. Uhh—I heard... 'bout what happened with you and... your partner. 'M—" He couldn't actually get out "I'm sorry" because he wasn't. "Are ya okay?" he asked.

You nodded and shifted. 'Yeah, actually. I am. I think it was a long time coming..."

"Prob'ly still sucks though, righ'? I mean, you were together for a long time," he drawled.

You let out a wry laugh. "Yeah... I guess."

"Righ'," Daryl said awkwardly, shoving his hands into his back pockets and rocking on his feet. "Uhh—well, I just—wanted to make sure yer alrigh'..." he trailed off lamely.

You nodded, a little perplexed at the entire conversation and his sudden appearance on your doorstep. "I am. Thanks."

"Sure..." he said, withdrawing a hand from his pocket to nervously scratch at a non-existent itch on the back of his head. "Righ'. I'll—I'll see ya around." Daryl turned to leave but he hardly got three steps before he was cussing himself out and turning back around to catch you before you shut the door. "Uhh, hey—one—just—one more—" He nervously licked his lips. "Are ya free tonight?"

You stared at him for a moment, your expression blank, before it grew into a bright smile. You nodded. "Turns out I am."

"Great. Uhh... Can—can I cook ya dinner?"

Your grin widened. "You're gonna cook for me?"

He nodded. "If ya let me... Hope ya like venison."

"I love it," you said.

Prompt: "Are you free tonight?"

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"Oh, fuck," Daryl drawled suddenly, dropping down low and looking like he was hoping to disappear into the chair he was seated in.

You gave him a perplexed look. "You okay? What's—what's happening?"

His eyes kept darting over your shoulder and you finally turned to look.

"No, no, no! Don't! Dun look," he said in a gruff whisper, still slouching as much as his broad frame allowed.

You smirked at him and leaned forward with your elbows on the table. "She a friend of yours?" you asked, clearly knowing the answer.

"Shut up," he growled, shielding his face with a hand, his wavy dark hair curtaining the rest of it. "She—she came up to me at the bonfire last night... It was the most awkward fuckin' conversation I've ever had in my life," he drawled.

You laughed. "Considering your history that is saying something," you teased him.

He shot you a grumpy look but you only smiled more broadly. "Oh, shit—I think she saw me. Quick—act like we're talkin'," he said.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. "We are talking," you pointed out.

"Act like—" He swore under his breath and then before you could do anything, he reached over and grabbed your chair, and tugged you right next to him. Next, his arm wrapped around behind you and his hand landed on your waist.

You looked over at him in surprise but then smiled and Daryl's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, if I'd known it was this easy to get you to make a move I would have found someone to annoy you a long time ago..." Daryl's face flushed red, but it seemed to have worked and the woman in question was nowhere in sight. However, he kept his arm around you far longer than was necessary... Prompt: "Friend of yours?"

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

reader pronouns: she/her

“Y/N? Ya here?” Daryl’s deep voice echoed up the hallway. You shot a look at Maggie. She was kneeling in front of you, about halfway through pinning up the hem on the bottom of her dress, which you happened to be wearing since dressmaking mannequins seemed to be particularly scarce in the apocalypse. Her anniversary with Glenn was coming up and she wanted it to be special, so she was modifying a gorgeous silk dress she’d found on a run. “Uhh—Yeah, I’m upstairs!” you called back. “I’ll be out in a minute. Hang on,” you said. You stepped down off the stool and turned around. “Can you unzip me?”

“What? I’m not unzippin’ you. I’ll have to start all over if ya take the dress off now,” she said, a smirk on her lips. You glanced back at her over your shoulder.  “Are you kidding me? Daryl’s here and he obviously needs something.” 

She stood up and her smile widened. “So, go on out and talk to him. I’m not stoppin’ ya.”  You felt your cheeks grow warm with a blush. “Like this?”  “What, you don’t like my dress?” she joked. “Maggie—” “Y/N?” Daryl’s voice was closer this time. Just outside the door in the hall. “S’goin’ on? Everythin’ alrigh’?” “Uhh—yeah, just give me a second,” you called again. “Maggie!”  “Go on,” she said, nudging you toward the door. “He’s waitin’.” She planted a hand firmly on your back and pulled the door open with the other. One more little shove and you spilled into the hallway, quite sure that your cheeks were apple red. “Oh—” Daryl’s eyes traveled down to your feet and then back up. “Uhh—S—sorry. I can come back if—” he cleared his throat, his blue eyes narrowing. “Why’re ya wearin’ that?” He felt a sudden pang of jealousy in his chest at the thought you were wearing the dress specifically for someone who wasn’t him. Not that you were wearing it for him, but... You felt your face flush again. “I’m just helping Maggie make some alterations. It’s her dress,” you said hurriedly. “Sorry... what’s up?” Daryl seemed distracted. “It’s—S’Maggie’s dress?” he asked. “Yeah.” “Mmm,” he hummed, chewing on his bottom lip. “It, uhh—I mean, ya look—” he broke off and scratched at an imaginary itch on the back of his neck anxiously. He cleared his throat again. “Uhh—I was just wonderin’ if—if ya still wanted to go huntin’ tomorrow.” You nodded. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Alrigh’. Okay...” He couldn’t stop staring at you in that damn dress. “Great. I’ll just meet ya at the front gate then at first light?” He was already walking slightly backwards away from you.  “Sounds good,” you said, wringing your hands a little anxiously.  “Alrigh’. That’s—good. I’ll see ya—” “Daryl, watch out!”  But it was too late. He’d already backed right into the wall behind him, knocking a picture down and almost tripping himself in the process. “Shit,” he murmured, looking down at the cracked glass in the frame. He picked it up and stared down at it for a second. “It’s a shitty painting anyway,” he said, leaning it up against the wall on the floor, scruffing a hand through his wavy hair. You were giving him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I never liked that one... It looks like motel room art.” “Yeah... I’ll just—I’ll see ya in the mornin’,” he murmured. And he hurried down the staircase. You sighed and pushed back into the room, giving Maggie a look. She was, of course, grinning. “He couldn’t take his eyes off ya, could he?”

“Are you proud of yourself?” you asked her rhetorically as you stepped back up on the stool. “He was so smitten with you he walked into a wall. So, yeah. I’m pretty proud of myself.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl noticed you rubbing your shoulder, moving it in small circles as you walked beside each other. “S’matter? Yer shoulder hurt?”  “Yeah. I don’t know,” you said vaguely. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” You readjusted your bow in your hands and went back to searching for game sign, but Daryl caught you rubbing it thoughtfully a few more times during your hunt. By the time you were headed back toward the makeshift camp, even you couldn’t ignore it anymore. You gritted your teeth and stopped abruptly. You glanced sideways at the handsome archer, whose brow was furrowed deeply with worry. “Can you just hold this for a second?” you asked, handing him your recurve bow. “Mhm,” he hummed, pressing his lips into a thin line, watching anxiously as you started to pull off your jacket, followed by your flannel shirt. Uhhh... “The hell ya doin’?” You were biting your lip and craning your neck, trying to look at your shoulder. “It feels like something is—ugh!” you growled in frustration having a hard time getting a good view of where you thought the problem spot was. You pulled another layer off until you were standing in the chilly fall weather in just a tshirt.  Daryl watched as you slipped your hand under your shirt, stretching to move it around and down over your shoulder blade, your fingertips prodding gently. You suddenly froze. “Oh—” There was a slightly struck look of surprise on your face and Daryl gulped. “Ya alrigh’?” he asked, still puzzled at what exactly was going on.  You pulled your bottom lip back in between your teeth and nodded. “Mmm. Mhm,” you hummed. “I think I need your help, though.” “Uhh—don’t ya think we should just head back and let Hershel—” “No, come on. I don’t need everyone worrying about this when it’s nothing,” you said. You slipped your shirt down over your shoulder and Daryl’s breath hitched as a wide section of your skin was bared, a triangle from the center of your back and over most of your shoulder blade. He gulped and tried to ignore the response his body seemed to have to the sight. His heart quickened and he felt inexplicably fidgety... His mind started to wander... Jesus fuckin’ Christ, man. Now ain’t the damn time... “Just—look. There,” you said, your fingertips running over the same small area of skin repeatedly. “Uhh—h—hang on,” Daryl drawled. He leaned your bow up against a nearby tree and moved closer to you. “There,” you said again, apparently oblivious to the effect this was having on him. “You see it?” “Mmm. Nah. What the hell am I lookin’ for?”  You sighed. “Just—run your fingers over my shoulder blade. You’ll feel it.” He hesitated, staring at your smooth skin. You glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Daryl?”  He shook himself out of it and bit the inside of his cheek. “Ya sure ya don’t—” “I’m not taking this to Hershel! Just help me,” you laughed. “Now, run your damn fingers over my shoulder blade! Hurry up, it’s fucking freezing out here!” Goosebumps rose up your back but you honestly weren’t sure if they were from the cold or from the fact that Daryl Dixon was about to run his hand over your bare skin. But your comment about the temperature finally moved him and he hesitantly pressed his fingertips to your skin, smoothing them up and down until he did feel something, and you flinched beneath his hand.  “Ouch! Oh—you found it,” you said with a light laugh. “Sorry,” he said. Some of his nervousness disappeared and was replaced by curiosity and disbelief. “What the—is that—?” “A porcupine quill,” you finished, nodding. It was embedded under your skin, lying along your shoulder blade beneath the surface. “No wonder my shoulder was bothering me...” “How the—tha’ was like three days ago you killed that thing,” he drawled. You laughed. “Yep. And I have no idea how. I was wearing more layers then than I was today. Can you see where it went in?” Daryl’s eyes drifted lower down your back and the nervousness started to return. He found a small cut with his fingertips. “Yeah. All the way down here,” he managed, despite the tightness in his throat. “Shit.” “Seriously? Geez... Must have worked its way up until I felt it today. Guess that little guy had the last laugh, huh?” “Mhm.” “Alright, well I need you to get it out,” you said. You pulled your knife out of its sheath and held it up over your shoulder. Daryl stared at it. “I dun think—”

“Daryl Dixon, for the last damn time, I’m not bothering Hershel with this. Just make a little cut and grab it and pull the damn thing out!” He still hesitated and you sighed. “My knife is clean...” Finally, the weight of your knife disappeared and you heard a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it. “What if ya get an infection? These things have barbs on one end. I dun think—” “Will you stop worrying? I have a robust immune system. Just get the fucking thing out of my shoulder... Please?” you added. Daryl anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “Yer bossy when yer in pain,” he joked. “I’m fucking cold!” you laughed. “Alrigh’. Just—dun move, okay?” “I’ll try but it might be hard when you’re digging a knife into my shoulder.” Daryl sighed heavily again and you laughed. “I’m kidding. It’s not in that deep. And I trust you.” He gulped one more time and prayed that his damn hands would be steady. Luckily, it proved to be easier than he’d thought.  “Ow, ow, ow!” you murmured through clenched teeth. There was a gentle tug and then... relief. “Holy shit. Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you!” You hastily pulled your layers back on and Daryl realized he was gawking. He did his best to snap himself out of it. You spun around and grabbed your knife from him. “Thank you, thank you. Oh my God. That feels so much better,” you said, rolling your shoulder a few times. “Hey! Gimme that!” you said, just before he was about to discard the quill onto the ground. “Ya want it?” he asked, looking at you like you were nuts. “The hell? Why?” “Are you kidding? That's a keeper! How many people do you know who’ve had a porcupine quill move like 6 inches through their body?” you laughed. “Look, yer lucky it was just under the skin. Ain’t no joke. Coulda been bad. Ya need to—” “—be more careful,” you finished for him, giving him a small smile. You felt your cheeks warm with a blush. “You worry about me too much. Thanks for that.” He rubbed a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck and murmured something unintelligible which only caused you to grin at him. You weren’t sure what made you say it, perhaps the relief of a pain-free shoulder after a day of discomfort, but it spilled out. “Anyone ever tell you you’re good with your hands?” You took your bow back from him as he stared at you, seemingly frozen. “10 out of 10. Would have Daryl Dixon’s hands on me again...” You smiled at him, subconsciously biting your bottom lip before turning to resume your path back toward camp. You glanced back over your shoulder at him a second later and shot him a wide smile, the pink burning in your cheeks matching his.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: sexuality A/N: *wiggles eyebrows* great request, anon! <3 The familiar sound of mechanical tinkering reached you as you approached Aaron’s house. One of the vehicles you used on runs was parked in front and you suspected Daryl was likely underneath trying to fix a persistent oil leak. You rounded the side and smiled when you saw his characteristic dark pants and boots poking out.  “Hey, Daryl,” you called out, nudging the bottom of his boot with your shoe. There was the sound of a wrench dropping onto the concrete, ringing harshly, and then a thud followed by a string of expletives.  He slid out rubbing his forehead and you winced. “Geez. Sorry... I didn’t mean to startle you,” you said. His dirty hands left a smudge on his forehead but he quickly shook his hair back into place, hiding it. “S’alright,” he said climbing the rest of the way to his feet. He pulled the rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. “S’up?” “Oh, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come by for dinner tonight. I shot some rabbits this morning and I think Eric and Aaron are going to come. I’ve got plenty and I thought—” you broke off, noticing that he seemed to be avoiding your eyes. “Are you alright?” you pressed. “Huh?” his blue eyes snapped up to meet yours. You were peering at him inquisitively and as soon as he took in the striking colors in your eyes he felt a hot wash of heat in his ears and cheeks. His brain seemed to go a bit fuzzy... Sudden visions of his rough hands tracing over your silky bare skin, following the dip of your waist, the shadows on the angles of your hip bones, the dimples in your lower back. He saw himself leaving kisses on your neck, down the center of your chest and stomach, on your collarbone, his teeth finding the shell of your ear. He saw you biting your bottom lip and letting out gasps of pleasure, your legs wrapped around him, your fingernails scratching down his back– “Daryl?” Your voice snapped him back to reality again and you were still gazing at him with a question on your brow. “Yah. Yah, sorry...” “Are you sure you’re okay? You looks a little feverish or something. Do you feel alright?” Without thinking you stepped forward and lightly pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, brushing his hair aside, your brow furrowed in concern. “I—M’ fine,” he drawled, stepping back, almost alarmed at his body’s response to you. His chest swelled with heat just from the simple touch. He cleared his throat. “Sorry—what’d ya ask me?” he murmured, fiddling anxiously with the rag in his hands. You were still studying his face with curiosity and you bit your bottom lip thoughtfully. Another flash from the dream that had shot him awake in the wee hours of the morning rose in his head; you saying his name in a breathy voice, begging him not to stop, your chest heaving, your back pinned against the wall, arms around his neck as the two of your climbed toward your peaks together— “Daryl. Hey...” You grabbed his arm gently and he jumped beneath your hand. “Sorry! God, you’re jumpy today! What’s going on?” “Uhh...” His voice stalled out as he took in the concerned look on your face. He rubbed a hand nervously over his mouth and chin, shrugging vaguely. “Nothin’. Just—” He gulped. “Didn’t get enough sleep or somethin’ I guess.” You looked unconvinced, still worried, but nodded. “...okay. Well, come over for dinner later, okay? I’m making stew.” “Mm. Mhm. ‘Kay,” he murmured, unable to hold your eyes any longer as he felt another hot flush in his face.  “Okay... I’ll see you later then?” “Mhm.” The archer watched as you headed back down the sidewalk, glancing over your shoulder at him once. As soon as you were out of sight he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in and slumped back against the truck, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, which admittedly felt a little clammy. Shit. How the fuck was he supposed to act normally around you now? He couldn’t stop thinking about that goddamn dream...