The Walking Dead One-Shots

we're slaves to any semblance of touch (Daryl x Reader)

By now you were really starting to question what exactly you'd done for the Georgian sun to this level of a personal grievance against you. You used the bottom of your top to twist the cap off your second water bottle of the hour, your hands too soaked with sweat to get a proper grip on it. It had finally reached that point in the middle of summer when everything was unbearable, even the metal railing of the watch tower was burning against your skin as you leaned forward on it. You thought maybe on the ground below it wouldn't be half as bad but you and Maggie and the unfortunate luck of drawing the first watch duty today. You stuck to the walkway surrounding the tower, trying as much as possible to avoid the tiny concrete sauna that was the watch tower's main room. Even out there it didn't seem to help with the humidity in the air.

Though you did have to admit, even if the heat was choking you there was always one positive to taking the watch shift - the view. The view from the tower covered most of the prison and for miles into the forest that surrounded it beyond the fence, giving you the perfect view of everyone going about their own jobs below you. 

Carol, ever the worrying mother figure to the group was making her rounds with water and food, making sure to get drinks to the people that would otherwise forget and collapse of dehydration in this heat. Further across the prison, you could see Rick tending to the fields that had been established for a more steady source of food with Carl doing his best to help. Beth sat near them, Judith playing in her lap as she watched her dad and brother work with a curious expression. As you scanned across the prison finally, your eyes fell on him.

Daryl as per usual was tucked away in his own corner of the prison, hiding away from the chatter and noise of everyone else. He was on his knees, shifting to sit back on his heels as he examined something on the old motorbike in front of him. One of the old prison toolboxes sat next to him as he searched around inside the now open side of the engine. Even from here, you could see the black streaks of greasy motor oil coating his fingers as he work them over the mechanics of the inside of the engine, holding one of the tools in his teeth while both of his hands were busy.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from the way he worked with his hands, the sweat shining on his skin where it clung to his arms and the back of his neck. There was something about the way his muscles moved under his skin while he loosened the parts with the wrench that made your skin flush with heat in an entirely different way to the harsh rays of the sun, your cheeks now burning warmer than before.

"You're starin'." The sing-song tone of Maggie's teasing voice rang out as she leaned in over your shoulder to follow your line of sight. You spun around, ripping your eyes away from Daryl no matter how much you wished you could keep watching, practically falling over yourself as you did. The rifle over your shoulder clattered against the railing as you finally steadied yourself only to be met with Maggie's grin. 

Maggie was one of your closest friends at the prison and your days on duty together like this often turned into gossip sessions for the pair of you. She was the one person you told everything to, including when you'd started to develop a crush on the tracker she'd just caught you trying to undress with your eyes.

"I'm not starin', I'm just- admirin' from a distance." Your weak excuse of a defence crumbled under one knowing look from Maggie as she tilted her head to one side, raising an eyebrow at you. Okay so maybe you were staring, maybe you did stare at him at any chance you got. Maybe you did stare at just how skilled his hands were working with his crossbow, easily manipulating it in his hands while he cleaned it or the rare, soft, loving look he got on his face whenever he was around Judith.  It didn't matter to you, as long as you were looking at him in some way nothing mattered to you. It was like everything else fell away around you. "Well, maybe I'm starin' a little."