daryl dixon imagines

fourteen

"It looks freezing out there," you mention to daryl, looking out the frosted window as you still struggle to blink the sleep out of your eyes.

"Yeah. Thermometer last night was -30," Daryl says, coming up behind you and resting his hands on your shoulders.

"Explains why it's so cold in here too," you shiver, leaning further back into Daryl's warm chest. He wraps his arms around your stomach, holding you close to him.

"I have to go out today and get the weapons I left out there yesterday. I dropped the bag when that horde came and i couldn't pick it up in time. It's probably covered in snow now, though," you say.

"I can grab it for ye," he says.

"No, no, I got it. Just a couple layers will do. Plus, you can go help Rick with the windows at the hall. You promised him that last week," you smile. Daryl chuckles slightly, nodding against your shoulder.

"'Right, you go get warm. I'll go see what Rick's doin'," Daryl says, kissing your shoulder before walking upstairs. You decide to just keep on the warm sweatpants you wore to bed and grab a sweater off the hooks, zipping it up. You just shrug your jacket over your shoulders, putting on your boots. You grab your knife and gun from it's drawer in the living room, putting them in your jacket pockets.

"Love you! Be right back!" you call upstairs.

"Love you," he says back, causing your heart to flutter just the bit. Although you've heard it a thousand times, it's the best feeling in the world knowing you're the person that Daryl Dixon will say those words to.

Smiling, you head out the door and into the freezing cold outsides. You take a quick glance at the thermometer, groaning at the -25 temperature. You bite your tongue before heading down the steps and into the deep snow on the street, barely being able to see with the thick snow falling from the sky in front of you. You quickly make your way to the gate, a girl letting you out and closing the door behind you. You trudge towards the woods, searching for the spot that you know you dropped the bag yesterday. But, just as you get far enough that you can't see Alexandria anymore, a cold gun is pressed to your temple. Shit.

"Where is it?" a guy asks from behind you.

"Where's what?" might as well try to play it off.

"You know what i'm talking about. I saw you drop it, tell me where."

"I don't have to tell you shit," you spit. The guy hits your temple with the hand of the gun, causing you to feel a little woozy for a second. But it's only for a second before you collect yourself and elbow him in the face, quickly turning around to kick his knee. Just as you bring your hand back again, he catches your fist and pushes you into the fluffy snow, sitting on you and punching you in the face. You try your best to regain your strength and try to catch his arm, but you have troubles seeing as the snow now falls directly into your eyes, the guy hitting you in the face again, again, and again. You're at the point where you've gone completely numb from both the cold and violent punches, but you still discreetly reach your hand to your knife. He punches you one more time before you lunge the knife into his neck, the guy gurgling on blood as he falls to the snow next to you, his hand grabbing his gushing neck. You take a second to sit back and breathe, knowing that the guy will be dead any second from now, now finally being able to regain yourself. Once you feel okay again, you sit up and see the red soaked snow all around the guys head, your favourite knife hanging out of his neck. You slowly pull it out, stabbing him once more through the temple before standing up, sticking it back in your pocket.

"Sorry, man. It had to be done," you mumble, kicking some snow to cover his open eyes before wandering back down the forest, seeing the tree that you had previously marked. Your face hurts like hell, now that you can feel it from your face burning up from the multiple punches. That guy's got one hell of an arm, that's for sure. You sigh when you finally see the large lump under the snow, brushing it off before regaining your backpack. You throw it over your shoulder, slowly trudging back the way you came. You're so cold now, since you weren't prepared to be pushed into snow and your entire body being submerged. Your clothes are wet, your face is hot and most likely bleeding, and every part of your body is numb, apart from your throbbing face. It feels like centuries before you reach Alexandria again, the same girl opening the gate for you.

"Holy shit! What happened to you?!" she asks, quickly crawling down from the post.

"Rick, we need your help up here," she says into the walkie talkie.

"No, really, i'm fine. Everything is okay," you say, but you can see Rick and of course, Daryl, both appearing in the distance, considering that the hall is right next to the entrance.

"(Y/n)?" Daryl calls out once he's close enough to you. He starts to jog over, scanning your face carefully.

"Who the hell did this? Where are they?" he asks angrily.

"It was just one guy. He said he saw me drop the bag and wanted to know where it was, but i wouldn't tell him. It's okay, he's dead now. I killed him," you sigh.

"What if he's got a group? Are they all gonna come for you now?" Rick asks.

"You mean come for Alexandria? No, he seemed too desperate to have a group. Plus, he was in the cold by himself."

"Alright. Daryl, don't worry about the windows. Go clean her up," Rick says. Daryl nods, putting one hand on your back as he leads you from the gates and back towards home. You take your jacket off once inside, taking the bloody knife and gun out of the pockets. Daryl watches the knife as you put it on the counter, probably noticing the ungodly amount of blood it is drenched in. Your eyes go wide as you feel a sudden rush up your throat, quickly running to the kitchen sink where you puke up a long string of blood. Daryl rushes over to your side, pushing back the hair from the side of your face. You spit the remaining blood into the sink, backing up afterwards.

"Sorry," you mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry about. He really fucked ye up," Daryl says, grabbing the rag from his back pocket and dabbing above your eye.

"You're bleedin'" he mumbles.

"This is nothing, you should've seen the other guy," you chuckle darkly. There's a short silence of Daryl cleaning the cut on your eyebrow before he sighs, stuffing the infamous rag back into his pocket.

"I shoulda went—"

"Don't even start with me. I don't want to hear it. What I do want, is a warm ass hug because I can't feel a thing," you say. Daryl chuckles through his nose, stepping forward to give you that hug you were waiting for.