This is how I feel every time I look at Daryl. WARNING: you may combust from the awesomeness of Daryl Dixon.


She watched those delicious looking arms lift and throw the hay bale onto the pile. Her stomach tightened. Daryl Dixon was one hot piece of ass, she could tell you that. She thought about those arms, those muscles; a testament to brute strength, underneath her fingertips—only hers to touch. To grip them would be insanity. One she would welcome with open arms and smiling lips.

His back turned from her, she snuck a quick study of it. It was broad and from what she could see of it-sun kissed. He threw on his jacket and she caught a glimpse of those angel wings stitched onto the back. Was he her angel?

Though, that wasn't fair.

Daryl Dixon did not belong to anyone. He is his own man and he isn't going to let you think otherwise.

Her heart ached. Why did he have to be alone? Why did he want to be alone? She longed to feel his head on her lap; her fingers running through the softness of his hair. She wanted him to look at her the way he looked at Carol that day he found her alive in solitary. The relief in his eyes. The sweetness tugging at the corners of his lips. The gentleness of his hands as he lifted her from her doom and carried her to salvation. The knowledge that she knew that she wasn't going to die here.

Alone.

Afraid.

Her guardian angel had come bearing his weapons of war and destruction. Oh yes, she wanted him.

Wanted him.

Wanted him bad. With every inch of her soul, consumed. With every inch of her body, consumed. With every inch of despair, consumed; she wanted him.

Why was she so afraid to admit it? Because he was Daryl Dixon? How was he different from any other man? She would rage inside her mind for days only giving into exhaustion at the end. Because he just was. Different from anyone she had ever known. He had a kind of strength she coveted. He could look danger in its eye and let an arrow fly through it.

Maybe that's what she wanted. She wanted to be him; to live his life, his story. He would laugh at her if he ever knew.

He would laugh, wouldn't he?

He wouldn't want her to see the fear in his eyes. This girl-child wanted to be him? Be him? Insanity. Complete and utter insanity; she imagined.

Who knows what really goes through Daryl Dixon's head?

Honestly, who knows?

For now she could only dream, sneak, and watch Daryl Dixon; praying one day her prince would come galloping from the hills, take one look at Daryl, and know that he'd met his match.

Then maybe after defeat he'd turn and look at her. Look at her. And welcome her with smiling arms and opened lips.

She would come. Of course, she would come.

And no one's angel would fly away.

Away.


I can't sleep so I wrote this. What'd you guys think?

No sleep does crazy things to you.