twd one-shots

to the bone - daryl dixon

Plot: You can't stop shivering and Daryl can't fall asleep. 

Word Count:
 1.2k (I can't believe I wrote something this short)

Warnings: nothing I can think of?

A/N: it has been so cold lately, hence this small, barely proof-read fic. I hope it gives u some warmth <3

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The farm fell and winter came.

There wasn't a moment more heartbreaking to lose your home. Where the walls that fostered generations of Greenes would've warmed your heart, the cold and sprawling forest took their place.

Some nights the walls of a different home kept you warm. Homes that once belonged to people you would never know, absolute strangers that were just gone; dead or lost.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

Tonight, there were no strangers whose pictures still lined the walls— because there weren't any walls. Only the forest and a small fire. Barely embers. 

"They might see."

Rick's voice echoed in your head frequently these days. An hour wouldn't pass before he had another demand to make. His last, before patrolling the camp's boarders with T-Dog and Daryl, was to keep the fire down. Since the incident with Randall's group and the herd that ripped through the farm, you had a pretty good guess who they were; the living and the dead. A fester of fear and exhaustion lodged in the back of your throat the night you lost the farm, and it'd kept you in line with Rick's order since.

The fire was nothing but a soft glow. Enough light to see the colour of the fallen leaves beside your head, but that was it. No warmth and certainly no comfort was found in the glowing ashes.

Your shivering had started an hour ago and despite your best efforts to curl under the scratchy blanket, the damp floor of the forest chilled you to the bone. The others had fallen asleep by now, lulled by the aches of exhaustion and the body heat of their closest family, and if you hadn't spent an extra hour on guard duty, you were sure Lori would've pulled you in alongside her and Carl. But the constant worries in your mind kept you awake and alert— so your guard shifts lingered longer and longer with each night, and by the time you retreated, your 'bed' for the night was only yours.

Months ago, when the farmhouse had been packed with suitcases and sleeping bags, you would've cherished the space. That was before the empty air became cold and bitter, biting at whatever slivers of exposed skin it could find.

Now, being alone felt almost like another type of fight. A struggle to just get through the night without catching frostnip.

It took a moment too long to register it— blame the exhaustion— but when you had, your mind was awake again. There were footsteps ahead of you. Light and calculated, they avoided the crunch of crisp fallen leaves like they knew the forest floor off by heart.

Daryl.

You knew it even before your eyes peeked open. Fighting against the weight of your eyelids, you narrowly watched his shadowy frame sneak through the sleeping bodies of your people, until he moved around the fire and behind you. Your eyes shut again and you listened for the soft rustle of him laying down a blanket.

Another shiver hit and your muscles clenched.

Beyond the clatter of your teeth, a second or two passed in silence. Eventually, your shiver subsided and your body relaxed again, but your jaw was still stiff from the frigid air. You yanked the blanket up further, covering you up to your red-tipped nose, and waited for the tension to pass.

Something touched your shoulder— a hand— and your head snapped to the side. It was Daryl, crouched behind you.

"'S jus' me," he mumbled.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't answer.

In one swoop, he draped his blanket onto yours and laid down on his side beside you.

"Come 'ere," his voice was low. Not only quiet but soft, like he was worried it might break if he spoke any louder.

The blanket helped initially, you felt an extra layer of coziness engulf you, but when he finally moved closer...

It was almost instant, the way your body melted into his.

So tender and whole that every bit of you that had frozen from the constant death and heartbreak cracked open. It'd been months since you felt even a hint of comfort, since you'd even been touched beyond Maggie's supportive hand at your shoulder. The way you curled into him was almost instinct; your nerves, once turned to ice, finally thawed again and felt.

Against your better wishes, your voice shuddered, "Are you sure?"

His arm snaked around you, pulling you closer by the waist.

"Can't sleep with your teeth clatterin' so loud."

You huffed a breath, huddling your shaky fingers closer to your lips to catch a moment of the hot air. Even with his body heat sinking into your skin, your body was still stiff with the last effects of the chill, and you shivered once more.

He moved you— you couldn't register where his hands touched specifically, but there were spots of heat up your arms and around your shoulders, like the touch of his skin was separated by thick gloves instead of the thin sweater you wore. You vaguely registered how cold your skin must've been for the sensation of his touch to be so numbed. Without any protest, nor much thought, you followed his directions, guiding you deeper into him. Even if it hadn't been for that pesky crush of yours making you a willing listener of the man, his body heat alone was enough to convince you entirely. As long as you never had to feel that cold and disheartened again, you'd do whatever he asked. His hands stopped moving when you were facing him, forehead touching his chest and face almost completely hidden under the blanket.

Save those big, beautiful eyes that you looked up at him with.

"Thank you," your voice was smothered under the thick fabric, but he knew what you meant from your stare alone.

He mumbled something, but you barely heard it, finding distraction in the way his chest rumbled with the effort— or the quick pound of his heart.

Daryl wasn't particularly known as an affectionate man, hell, the stories you'd heard of his interactions with Merle sounded more like resentment than love. And for a while there, when he pulled away after Sophia, you wondered if he knew love existed beyond what his brother defined it as.

His pounding heart made sense, then. A life of inexperience didn't give him the necessary bravado for sudden, almost intimate, contact with a person he only met a few months ago. No matter how necessary it might've been with the dropping temperature, holding you in his embrace seemed like an understandable source of nerves.

The feeling along your back, the slow rub of his thumb down your spine, became less fuzzy as your skin warmed up. By the time you lost your last chill, his heart slowed to a steady pace, and you could even feel the way he'd chewed his nail down to the edge through your shirt.

Thump.

When you inhaled, the air was still cold, but it was tolerable.

Thump.

His heat sunk into you, deeper with every beat of his heart.

Thump.

Daryl held you throughout his sleep. You weren't sure how inviting your body could have been after hours of lonely shivers, but he held you closer and closer as the night passed.

Perhaps he just needed a little comfort, too.

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A/N: if daryl was ooc in this... no he wasn't <3

if you're reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3