Just a little something I felt like putting together. Hope you like it!

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Carol loved to look at Daryl Dixon, and not just look at, but study intensely. He was her favorite piece of art, perfectly imperfect.

She would begin her appreciation at his feet, usually always in his tan boots. She admire the sturdy footing he always maintained, his ability to move quickly, to step lightly as he tracked prey, the way his heel would make contact with the door he was kicking in, forceful and powerful...and that always got her thinking about his legs.

Good God his legs...

One of her favorite parts of Daryl Dixon was his legs. Long, strong, sturdy and well muscled under those tattered old cargo pants. She loved watching him crouch to look at tracks, the material of his cargos stretching over his thighs. She loved when he ran, when he swung them over his bike, when he walked...she could just imagine the muscles moving under his pale skin. Speaking of skin, she adored the way his knees poked out of the holes that had been worn through there.

But as nice as Daryl's legs were...the higher Carol's eyes would go, the better.

Carol couldn't say enough about the man's butt. That perfect, tight, beautiful ass of his made her heart skip a beat whenever she took notice...which was quite often. When he would lean over she thought she would pass out from the view and she wanted to reach out and touch it every time.

Something simple that made her heart palpitate was the way his pants hung low on his hips, his belt had become less supporting over the time the world had changed because he'd lost his beer belly and was solid muscle now. Every once in a while, if his shirt rode up, Carol could see a bump of a hip bone and, good Lord Almighty, was THAT a beautiful sight. Almost as beautiful as the little line of dark hair she would glimpse at the same time, disappearing into the front of those loose pants...to the one part of Daryl Carol was MOST curious about.

Oh yes, Carol admire THAT part of him a lot. However, the bagginess of his cargo pants tended to keep him well hidden...mostly. Sometimes she could make out the curves as he walked or if he stood a certain way or was sitting down and she knew he had to have seen her staring at one point or another...especially those times in the mornings when that bulge was especially pronounced.

Carol had seen Daryl Dixon shirtless a few times, usually on laundry day when he would grudgingly hand over his clothes with a grunt, wrapped up in a blanket instead of pants. His stomach was flat and taut, his ribs slightly pronounced from years of hunger, his chest wasn't very pronounced but she still found herself eyeing his spattering of dark hair there that became a trail down to where the blanket was wrapped. His skin on his torso was pale and perfect, a tattoo across his left chest with a name she figured was important to him.

Daryl's back was something else entirely. Broad shoulders and muscles that rippled all the way down to his hips, his waist tapered in resulting in a perfect V shape. Two tattooed demons crawled over his right shoulder blade. Carol saw the scars, of course, but they were anything but ugly or disfiguring to her...they were a sign of how far he'd come from what he used to be, a symbol of his inner strength that he had developed in the course of receiving those scars. Carol wanted to kiss each and every one of those grey and pink puckered lines and tell him he was beautiful...maybe someday she would.

Then her eyes would go to those perfect arms of his. The perfection began at his pale, freckle specked deltoid muscles and continued on down to his thick, rippling biceps and triceps. Carol sometimes found things for Daryl to do that required the use of these specific muscles, just so she could watch the way they bugled out from his effort, that vein on the front of his shoulder popping out, that little half hidden deamon on the inside of his arm, the way his muscles tensed and moved under that perfect skin...it was her secret guilty pleasure to watch Daryl lift things. His forearms were different, the skin there was darkly tanned from the constant sun they received, but no less impressively muscled and Carol loved grabbing onto them when he would help her up onto something of to help her stand to her feet. Any excuse to touch Daryl's arms, Carol took gratefully.

The man's hands though...they were fascinating to her. Carol had felt the strength in those hands, the rough calloused skin of his palms, the firm grip...but she also knew there was a tenderness and softness about them as well. She'd seen the way those hands had held Judith, brushing her feathery hair from her forehead. She'd seen the way those hands could work delicately like when he was making new bolts for his crossbow, pick a lock, clean a gun...Daryl's hands could do anything. She loved the little star tattoo on his hand just above his thumb and the tiny heart on the inside of his wrist, delicate and so unlike him...she often wondered what they meant to him.

Carol had to admit...she had a bit of a neck fetish. She always had appreciated a good, solid neck with defined landmarks. Daryl had them. His clavicle bones formed that perfect hollow of his throat underneath a prominent Adam's apple that she loved t watch when he talked. And the muscles of his neck were strong and pronounced, making long and thin lines down from his ears.

Speaking of ears, Carol loved his ears. Daryl's ears stuck out from under his hair a lot and Carol loved how round and small they were, another thing about him that was oddly delicate.

His hair was another thing she appreciate. When she had first met him, it had been a sandy blonde color and very short...but as it had grown the past year, she loved it. It had darkened and gotten long, dangling over his ears and into his beautiful eyes...she knew the darkness of it probably had something to do with not washing it for a long time, but she thought the color suited him better than it had when he was blonde. Even though she knew it was pretty dirty, she still wanted to run her hands through it almost every day.

The kicker though, the all around best part of the beautiful masterpiece of a man he was, had to be his face. The strong jawline and pronounced cheekbones, covered in patchy stubble and curly dark facial hair, that small, rounded nose that was another one of those delicate things about him, those thin lips that she just loved to see curled up into a smile, that beauty mark to the left of his upper lip, the perfect arch of his eyebrows...and those eyes.

His eyes were Carol's favorite thing. Her ABSOLUTE favorite thing. They were piercing, they were deep, they were intense...they were the shining windows of his beautiful soul. Deep blue in color, shining out from the dark shadow of the hair that almost constantly hung in his face, Carol felt that he could see inside her, into the deepest part of her that even she didn't know about. Daryl could comfort her with a look, silence her with a look, convey understanding, trust, confidence and respect with a look.

And sometimes, combined with that smile of his, she swore he was showing her love with a look.

Yes...looking at this man never got old. He was everything beautiful in the world to her.

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There you go :) Did you like it? Should I add anything? Change anything?

Let me know how this goes over in your heads :)