daryl dixon imagines

twelve

(ANOTHER fucking dream holy shit)

"Don' think we're gon' find anything here. Let's go," daryl says as you both walk out of the lousy corner store. You start to walk down the dirt path back to the truck when daryl stops, cursing when he feels his back pocket.

"Shit, think my knife's in there. Be right back," he mumbles, jogging back into the store. You decide to keep on walking to the car, deciding you'll just wait there. But, just as you walk past the corner, there's a sharp pain in your side and then you're suddenly held back with an arm around your chest. You let out a scream as a knife is pressed to your cheek, the blood on it from your insides dripping down, another little cut also forming from him pressing the sharp blade into your skin. You just got fucking stabbed.

"Let me go!" you scream, struggling as the tall man keeps a tight grip on you. There's a slight noise behind you and the man quickly spins you both around, moving the knife to your throat as he harshly presses again. Man, this guy really doesn't like to play games.

"Not one step closer, or so help me God, I will cut the bitches head off!" He screams. Shit, what's his problem?

"Hey man, just tell me what you want," daryl says, lightly raising both his hands. But, in one of his hands is his crossbow, and you quickly notice the bow already loaded in it. You look back up just in time to catch the wink from daryl.

You swallow thickly against the knife, causing it to temporarily dig deeper before slamming your head back into his face, causing him to stumble backwards and groan in pain. You quickly get out of the way, Daryl shooting the guy in the head and the guy falling to the ground. You hold your hand to your throat, trying to rub away the stinging pain.

"Hey, you alright?" Daryl mumbles, pulling you into his arms and keeping his hand held onto the back of your head, gently playing with your hair.

"I'm fine. Dick got my side, though," you groan, pulling away. Daryl lifts your shirt, examining the cut carefully.

"It's not bleedin' too bad, you should be good 'till we get back home," daryl says, not taking his eyes off it.

"Wasn't too deep. It might scab over by the time we get home, anyways. Believe me, I'm fine. Now let's get home quickly in case this guy has friends," you say. Daryl nods, getting in the drivers seat as you get in passengers, quickly driving down the road. You look up at daryl as he concentrates on the road, most likely deep into his thoughts. You bite your lip before slowly inching your hand to the middle of daryl's thigh, causing him to tense for a second before slightly relaxing under your touch. You lean your head against his shoulder, your silent way of saying thanks as you cuddle into the side of the strong, tough, daryl.