I only write Female x Reader content, as that is what I am and what I feel I am able to write.
I'll only be writing fics for Norman Reedus characters on this blog (not including the actor, the fictional characters exclusively).
You must be 18+ years of age to request NSFW content. Please do not read the content of this blog unless you are of age, thank you.
I don't write with themes/subjects of; Incest (of any kind), Rape/Non-Con, Abusive Relationships, Age Gaps/Age Play and Omega Verse.
Now, onto the Masterlist!
Tag Key
Smut (18+) = 👄
Fluff = 💛
Daryl Dixon x Reader (The Walking Dead 2010)
Series
Trials and Tribulations (Lawyer Reader x Pre-Apocalypse Daryl) 👄
Chapter One
Chapter Two.. (Coming Soon!)
One Shots
Good Morning To You Too 👄(18+)
Summary: You and Daryl had always been good friends, but when you overhear the Newberry women talk about him at their welcome barbeque, you begin to wonder whether you may like him more than you’ve let on.
Unspoken Truths💛(16+)
Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.
Ride His Motorcycle 👄 (18+)
Summary: You and Daryl find yourselves in tight quarters for hours on end and nothing came of it, until Daryl grows the balls to address the situation.
Sex on Fire 👄 (18+)
Y'are Beautiful, Really💛(Pre-Apocalypse, Highschool Daryl)
Van x Reader (Floating 1997)
Mini-Series
Have a Nice Summer 💛👄
Chapter One
Chapter Two (Coming Soon!)
Chapter Three (Coming Soon!)
Chapter Four (Coming Soon!)
Chapter Five (Coming Soon!)
Chapter One
Chapter Two (Coming Soon!)
You go on holidays with your family at your new lake house. You meet Van, the mysterious boy whom you discover was the original owner of this house, and the original owner of your new room.
Warnings: None, except maybe do not fall for a bad boy with a heart of gold who needs legal help as it’s a conflict of interest.
Summary: When Daryl Dixon, the gruff mechanic with a troubled past, walks into your lawyer’s office, you expect the usual—trouble, paperwork, maybe a little too much whiskey. But what you get is more complicated than that: a messy case, a man who refuses to ask for help, and the kind of chemistry that’s impossible to ignore. As Daryl’s case drags on, you find yourself learning more about the man behind the leather jacket—his complicated relationship with his brother, Merle, his troubled past, and the fact that he’s a little more vulnerable than he lets on. It’s a bumpy ride full of legal drama, awkward silences, and moments where you want to slap sense into him—and yourself for caring so much. But as the stakes rise, so do the feelings, leading to a night you’ll both remember. From enemies to lovers? Maybe. From lawyers to breakfast buddies? Definitely.
Chapter 1: The First Meeting
The office was quiet, the only sound the steady clicking of your keyboard as you worked on the ever-growing stack of case files. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the room. You had been at your desk for hours, buried under paperwork, your mind still replaying the conversation you'd had with a colleague earlier that morning about a case you couldn’t quite seem to crack. It had been a typical Monday: routine, ordinary, the weight of responsibility hanging over you like a heavy cloud.
You’d been in the law game for three years now, and though you had made a name for yourself, it didn’t feel as glamorous as people seemed to think. Sure, you had the fancy office, the leather chair, the clients who always asked for your help in navigating the legal labyrinth, but you also had a lonely apartment in the city that echoed with silence when you returned home at night. No family nearby, no significant other to ease the stress. Just you and your work.
The job had become your identity. You worked hard, stayed focused, and in return, the legal world gave you prestige—clients who needed your help, the occasional flirtation from well-dressed professionals who assumed you’d be impressed by their suits or resumes. You’d learned early on not to get caught up in the drama.
But you did have a weakness. You couldn’t help it—bad boys. You’d spent too many years trying to avoid falling for the ones who were trouble. Your first boyfriend, Jake, had been just that—rough around the edges, a criminal with a grin that could melt anyone’s defenses. You’d gotten him out of trouble more times than you could count. In the end, he died of a drug overdose, and you had sworn off men like him. It was partly because of Jake that you had decided to become a lawyer. After all, you couldn’t keep rescuing people like him without learning how to fight the system from the inside.
But despite your best efforts to keep your heart protected, it had always wandered to the kind of men who made your mother nervous—the ones with too many tattoos, too many secrets, and just the right amount of charm.
You sighed, setting your pen down and rubbing your temples. Your phone buzzed across your desk, snapping you out of your reverie. It was a message from your mother: “Are you ever going to date someone who doesn’t have a criminal record?” You chuckled to yourself. Your mom had been asking that for years, ever since you’d first met Jake in college.
You put the phone aside and returned to your work, trying to push the thought of your mother—and Jake—out of your mind. The steady hum of the office felt strangely comforting.
That’s when the door creaked open.
You didn’t look up immediately, assuming it was just another client showing up a bit early or maybe a delivery. But the presence that filled the room felt... different. It was the kind of presence that commanded attention without needing to say a word. You looked up.
He stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, his posture almost intimidating. His hair was a mess of dark waves, and his leather jacket, worn with age, looked like it had seen better days. His face was rugged, with stubble that looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in days, and his blue eyes... they were the kind of eyes that could make you feel like you were being read from the inside out.
He was rough around the edges—nothing like the well-dressed, polished clients you usually dealt with. You could tell right away that he wasn’t here for a simple consultation about a divorce or a business deal. This man didn’t belong in a lawyer’s office.
He stepped forward, his boots making a heavy thud against the floor. “You the lawyer?” His voice was low, a little rough, and he looked you over with a certain wariness, as if he were trying to size you up just as much as you were him.
You leaned back in your chair, eyeing him carefully. Something about him made your pulse quicken—a mixture of curiosity and caution. He had the look of a man who had seen things you didn’t want to imagine, things that might have turned him into someone you couldn’t quite trust.
“Who’s asking?” you replied, keeping your voice professional but with a touch of curiosity.
The man gave a small, almost reluctant nod. “Daryl.”
“Okay, Daryl... no surname?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you leaned forward slightly.
He hesitated for a moment, glancing away as if debating whether to reveal more. Then, as if giving in, he muttered, “Dixon.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the door as if considering whether to make a hasty exit. Daryl Dixon. The name didn’t mean anything to you, but the man himself? He was another story.
“Alright, Mr. Dixon,” you said, your voice firm and professional, though there was a hint of curiosity. “What brings you here today?”
Daryl shifted, his posture becoming even more uncomfortable as he glanced around the room. It was clear he wasn’t used to sitting still for long periods of time, let alone discussing his problems with a stranger. His eyes darted to the paperwork on your desk, then back to you, and you could see the hesitation in his gaze. He wasn’t someone who usually asked for help.
“I need your help,” he said quietly, his voice low and rough, like the words were heavy on his tongue. “I’m in some trouble. With people who... well, they don’t take kindly to being crossed.”
You gave a nod, a silent signal for him to continue. You had dealt with enough shady characters in your time to know when someone was being vague for a reason. The question wasn’t whether the man had gotten himself in deep—it was how deep.
“I’ve made a few bad decisions,” Daryl added, his gaze flicking back to yours, as if seeing how you’d react to the admission. “People are after me. I don’t want anyone else caught in the middle of it.”
You leaned back in your chair, studying him. He was clearly trying to play it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, but something about the way he said it told you this was serious.
“You’ve come to the right place,” you said, your tone cool but reassuring. “But I’m going to need some more details before I can help you.”
Daryl’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing the risks of revealing more to a stranger. He seemed the type who didn’t trust easily, and you understood that. You were a lawyer, after all, but you also understood people. And this man? He had a lot of baggage.
Finally, after a long pause, he said, “Alright, I’ll tell you what you need to know. But I’m not asking for a miracle. Just... help.”
You nodded again, already thinking ahead about how you’d approach this case. But before you could continue, Daryl’s voice interrupted your thoughts.
“I’ll need you to know my full name,” he said, his voice quiet, like he had just realized it wasn’t something you could just skip over. “It’s Daryl Wayne Dixon.”
You paused for a moment, writing down the name, feeling the weight of those words. Daryl Wayne Dixon. It wasn’t just the name of another client—it was the beginning of something much bigger than that.
And as he stood to leave, your mind raced. There was something about this man that made you feel like you were on the edge of something. The kind of something you weren’t sure you wanted to get involved with... but also couldn’t pull away from.
Thanks, Mrs. Lawyer,” Daryl said, his tone slightly lighter now. There was a faint flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I’ll be in touch.”
"Miss Lawyer."
“Thanks, Miss Lawyer,” Daryl said, his tone slightly lighter now. There was a faint flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I’ll be in touch.”
You couldn’t help but smile a little at the correction. There was something about the way he said it—softened by the faintest trace of gratitude—that made you think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t all hard edges after all.
“Take care, Mr. Dixon,” you replied, your voice warm but still professional as he turned to leave.
As the door clicked shut behind him, you leaned back in your chair and exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You felt an unexpected wave of curiosity surge within you. Daryl Dixon. You had no idea what kind of trouble he was in, or just how deep it ran, but you knew one thing for sure: your life was about to get a lot more complicated. And, somehow, you couldn’t help but feel intrigued by that.
Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Era: Very Early Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn and Abraham are alive, and there are no Saviors)
Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group, Jealousy, Possessive Reader
Warnings: None
Summary: You and Daryl had always been good friends, but when you overhear the Newberry women talk about him at their welcome barbeque, you begin to wonder whether you may like him more than you’ve let on. Beginning: You’re not the jealous type, you had right to believe that statement to be true. Until this blistering Georgian summer’s evening.
Good Morning to Ya Too (18+) 👄
You hadn’t thought you were the jealous type. No, that wasn’t you. You were never one to let your emotions get the better of you, especially when it came to Daryl. He was your friend, the one you relied on, the one who always had your back in this world gone to hell. You’d both survived too much together for any foolish feelings to get in the way. Or so you told yourself, anyway.
But then came that blistering Georgian summer evening.
It was the first official week since the Newberry group had joined you at the prison, and Rick had reluctantly agreed to Karen’s suggestion of a welcome barbecue. Not everyone was thrilled about it—Michonne’s distaste for social gatherings was well-known, and Daryl, well, Daryl wasn’t exactly the most social of people either. But you’d managed to get everyone on the same page—sort of. A small, quiet gathering was the compromise, and as far as you were concerned, it was a much-needed break from the constant fighting and running.
You were busy at the makeshift bar with Carol, drying off cups you'd scavenged during a run with Daryl. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the breeze just cool enough to offer relief from the heat of the day. Conversations and laughter floated through the air—something you hadn't experienced in what felt like ages.
Carol, on the other side of the bar, was tending to what she called sausages, though they were more like slices of steak on sticks. Still, they were a hit among the Newberrians and your group alike, and that was something you could appreciate.
"Need any help with that?" you asked, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension inside.
Carol shot you a look, one eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you’re not distracted by someone else?"
You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. Her smirk gave it away.
You glanced over at Daryl, who was off talking with the Newberry men, laughing and joking in his usual quiet way. You’d been through so much together—fighting walkers, surviving on the road—but there was something different tonight. Maybe it was the way the golden light of the setting sun cast shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, or the way his laugh, low and genuine, made your heart flutter in a way it never had before. Or maybe it was just the way the Newberry women looked at him—eyes filled with more than just admiration.
You caught snippets of their conversation, their voices just loud enough for you to hear.
“You see the way his shirt fits?” one of the women said, her voice teasing. “I swear, if I were any closer, I’d rip it off him myself.”
“Yeah, right,” another woman laughed. “But I bet that beard... I’d rather let him wear it for a while.”
The last woman, who you thought was named Lucy, sighed almost dreamily. “Mmm, the way he looks when he smirks... I'd let him get away with anything.”
You felt a pang in your chest that you couldn't explain. You tried to brush it off. This was Daryl—your friend. Sure, he was ruggedly handsome, but you’d never thought of him like that. Not before. Not until now.
Carol’s voice interrupted your thoughts, laced with a teasing tone. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on him, too?”
You laughed, trying to play it cool. “Me? Nah. He’s just a good friend. Always has been.”
Carol gave you a knowing look. "Right. Sure."
You forced yourself to focus on your task, but your eyes kept drifting to Daryl. The way the sun caught his hair as it blew in the breeze, how he leaned against the table with one arm folded across his chest, his eyes scanning the group. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to attention, but tonight, there was something different in the way people—especially the women—looked at him.
You hadn’t noticed before. You hadn’t cared before. But now? Now it felt like a weight, something heavy in your chest.
You turned back to Carol, your thoughts scrambled. "You’re right. Maybe I am distracted. But it’s not what you think."
Carol raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly do you think it is?"
Before you could answer, a deep voice broke through your thoughts.
"You want another drink?" he asked, his voice washing over you like a sweet caress. Before you could answer, he put his hand on the small of your back, burning your skin while he brushed past, grabbing drinks for the both of you. Trying your best to control your breathing, you were engulfed by Daryl's scent, and you were tempted to just lean in and bury your face in his chest. Instead, you grabbed the glass with your drink, determined to forget all about this nonsense.
Seconds later, you found yourself staring at Daryl's neck as he downed his own drink, leaving you to think about all the ways you could bite and lick his skin. Holding in a growl, you wondered if Daryl always stood so close to you. Trying to look away from him, you caught another glimpse at the girls, and the looks they gave you ranged from jealous to impressed. There was a good chance they considered you and Daryl to be a couple, and the thought brought even more heat to your body.
"Are you listening to me?" Daryl asked, making you look at him completely dumbfounded.
"What?"
Concern crawled onto Daryl’s face, and you drowned in the blue of his eyes as he lifted his hand to your face, carefully cupping your cheek. "Are you alright? You look flushed."
Your breath hitched in your throat at the soft touch, but then you managed to smile. "I just don't like the heat. Tell me about your bike."
Daryl studied you for a moment before taking his hand away. "It’s nothing, just glad that they’ve got useful tools and petrol for it, needed an upgrade, yaknow? That way, I can take passengers safely too, more conspicuous to go on supply runs or sus things out with a small bike.”
"Alright, at least I’ll have a better ride tomorrow than I usually do." Daryl smiled. "Another drink?"
You nodded, hoping the alcohol would manage to douse your confused mind. A few drinks later, there was still a tingling feeling whenever Daryl stood too close or touched you, but you stopped worrying about it.
When it was getting late, Daryl led you up the stairs to your new room. Sharing a house with the crew was the best thing to do. You were all bonded through your troubles and losses, and it was hard to pretend you were back to suburban life in separate houses. Plus, you knew you could trust each other. You walked over sleeping bodies, the sounds of snoring filling the air, and made your way up the stairs. You managed to snag a private kid’s room, just needing the seclusion while everyone else was asleep downstairs.
Daryl's arm wrapped around your waist like so many times before. You’d usually share a room as you took alternating shifts guarding, so you’d never really be in there together until late in the morning when one of you was relieved. The second you were through the door, Daryl kicked off his boots and took off his shirt.
After what you felt downstairs, you hesitated for a moment to do the same. But you’d look a lot less suspicious if you did everything as always. You took off your own shirt, and by the time you pulled down your pants, Daryl had already crawled into the bed in his underwear.
You lay down next to him, and it didn’t take long for Daryl’s breathing to change, signaling that he’d fallen asleep. With a sigh, you turned your back to him, convinced that tomorrow everything would be normal again.
The next morning, one thing is, in fact, normal. When you wake up, Daryl is basically wrapped around you. Whenever you share a bed, there's a good chance you wake up completely entangled. Usually, you wiggle your way out of his grip and get up, but today you can't bring yourself to move at all. Daryl has his arm wrapped around your waist, his whole body pressing against yours.
His face is buried in your neck, and when his hot breath ghosts over your skin, it sends cold shivers down your spine. You think about all the things the other women wanted to do to Daryl, and it gives you a sick sort of satisfaction that you're actually in a position to do just that.
You dare yourself to move, rolling your hips. Daryl steers with a grunt. His lips touch the skin on your neck, and then you can feel his length rubbing hard against your ass. Your heart almost beats out of your chest, but you also feel bad about doing this to him in his sleep.
Turning around, you try to bring a little distance between the two of you, but Daryl won't have it, pulling you close again. You can feel him pressing against your thigh while your hands come to rest against his chest. There's still a chance for you to get out of this, but you don't want to.
Instead, you run your hand over Daryl's chest and up to his neck, your grip firm since you don't want to hide what you're doing. He steers, and you venture back down, playing with the little hairs and circling Daryl's nipples with your fingertips. With a grunt, he barely opens his eyes, making your blood run cold.
"Morning To Ya, Too ," Daryl mumbles, and you're not sure if he doesn't notice what you're doing or if he chooses not to comment on it.
"Good morning," you say, and with your heart pounding like crazy, you dare to let your hand wander.
You caress Daryl's stomach, enthralled by how soft the skin feels. You dig a little into the flesh until his muscles harden under your touch.
Daryl has propped himself up a little, watching how your hand ventures even lower, and finally, his eyes grow wide. You keep looking at him while you move your hand even lower, unable to stop yourself.
The second your hand cups the bulge in Daryl's pants, he gets in motion. With a grunt, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close. This time, it's no accident when his lips meet your neck, and he teases your skin with little licks and bites.
Spurred on by Daryl's reaction, you get more daring. Without making a fuss, you pull his underwear down and wonder what the three women would have to say about the glorious cock that springs into your hand. Daryl growls as you stroke him, and when he lifts you up, you eagerly follow along, climbing on top of him.
Daryl hitches up your dress and holds it in place while you rub your pussy along the length of his cock, coating him with your slick. You wish you could draw this out, but you're so turned on that you can only think about feeling Daryl inside of you. He stays still as you position yourself on top of him and closes his eyes with a deep groan when you slowly sink down onto his cock.
The sheer size of him drives you close to the edge, so you stay still for a moment. Without looking, Daryl runs his hands up your legs and over your stomach. His touch brings goosebumps all over your skin, your nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your dress. Daryl opens his eyes, his gaze fixed on you as he ventures higher with his touches. His large hands cup your breasts, and the second he knits the soft flesh, you can't hold on any longer.
Rolling your hips, you drive Daryl's cock in and out of you at a rough pace, unable to avoid his gaze. He's looking at you with so much fire and greed in his eyes that it takes your breath away. You thought that you maybe could get Daryl to fool around with you for a bit, but you never could have predicted something like this. For five years, you've watched Daryl say no to countless women, but here he is, saying yes to you.
As Daryl eagerly pushes the fabric of your dress aside, revealing your breasts, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement. His skilled mouth works its magic, driving you wild with pleasure. You ride him harder than any motorcycle could ever dream of, the sensation of him inside you pushing you closer and closer to the edge. With a loud moan, your mouth falls open as you reach your climax, Daryl's name echoing through the room. He continues to thrust into you, his own pleasure building with each passing moment. Finally, he pulls out, leaving a trail of come on his stomach. As you both catch your breath, you can't help but feel a deep connection between you. You want nothing more than to lie down and cuddle up to him, but a sudden thought occurs to you.
"Shit," you curse, scrambling out of bed and tossing the covers off yourself, "we're gonna be late."
Daryl groans, but he’s up right behind you, both of you rushing to get dressed. The sun’s already rising, casting a golden glow across the camp, and you’re well past the time you were supposed to leave for the supply run. You needed to be out before the sun came up, but now you’re scrambling to get everything together.
Half an hour later, you’re standing by the side of the road, trying to steady your breathing. Daryl walks over, and when he leans back against the same tree as you, his shoulder brushes against yours. You don’t flinch.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his blue eyes focused on you, looking for any hint of uncertainty.
Your mind is still spinning, and you’re not sure you’re ready for the supply run—much less what’s going to happen after it. You’re so terrified you’ve messed things up between you two, it must show on your face.
Daryl takes your hand, squeezing it lightly. "You’ll be alright. Trust me."
That, you can do. You take a deep breath, pushing away the anxiety. No matter what happens, you know you can trust Daryl. You pull your bandana over your face, your heart still racing but grounding yourself in the moment.
“Let’s do this.”
Daryl grins and pulls up his bandana, his eyes bright. "That’s my girl."
He turns toward the trees beyond Alexandria, staring out at the thick forest, his heart pounding like a damn drum in his chest. For five damn years, you and Daryl had been friends, but now? Now, for reasons he couldn’t understand, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be your man. And it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It didn’t make sense, but it did.
Daryl glances past the trees, catching sight of you across camp, talking to Rick. His heart skips, but before he can let himself get lost in the moment, he sighs and leans back, staring down at the empty page of his journal. It had been a week since that morning when you touched him in ways he didn’t know how to put into words. And ever since then, he hadn’t written or drawn a damn thing. He couldn’t. Not with what was gnawin’ at him inside.
He’s never been good with words, not really. But damn, how could he possibly explain how he felt now? Five years ago, when Daryl first met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. That simple crush turned into so much more when he got to know you. But the friendship? It felt so good, and he didn’t want to mess it up. After everything he’d been through with love, Daryl buried those feelings deep down, thinking he could forget about them.
But now? Now, he couldn’t shake it. You and him were so damn comfortable together, and he’d come to realize that just being friends wasn’t enough. The last week, though? It felt like drownin’—every time he tried to talk to you, someone else was around, and it was like he couldn’t catch a damn breath.
He just wanted to talk to you. To understand what happened. But after a week of silence, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He missed you. And his old feelings? They were back in full force, and he needed to know if you might feel the same.
Daryl scratches out a note, his handwriting barely legible from how fast his hands are movin'. He walks across camp, eyes flicking to make sure nobody’s watchin'. He hands the note to Rosita, his closest friend, and she raises an eyebrow at him, a teasing smirk creeping onto her face. "What’s this about, Dixon?" she asks, clearly curious. He can’t get the words out, but he doesn’t need to. She knows.
Rosita, always full of energy and not one to keep secrets, takes the note with a knowing grin, but before Daryl can leave, she’s already running off to share it with everyone else. He can hear her calling out to Rick, Glenn, and Michonne—his stomach drops. He didn’t think this part through. But it’s too late now.
He walks out of camp, keeping his distance, riding off on his bike until the sounds of Alexandria fade into the distance. He doesn’t care if they all know. He has to see you. He’ll wait till he gets answers, even if it’s the last damn thing he does.
Three hours later, Daryl’s sitting alone in a small room at the local hotel. He told you in the note where to meet him, and he’s not leaving until he gets to talk to you. He could use a drink to settle his nerves, but he’s not taking that chance. Not now. Not when he needs his head clear.
A knock on the door.
His heart races. He jumps up, almost knocking the door off the hinges, and flings it open. There you stand, looking small and shy, and every damn inch of him aches just seeing you. You’re holding yourself together, but he can tell you’re nervous, too. “You wanted to talk?” you ask, voice soft.
“Yeah,” Daryl replies, his voice rougher than he intended. “Come on in.”
You step past him and move to the center of the room, and Daryl stays where he is, afraid to get too close, scared of what might happen if he does. He takes a deep breath, the words he’s been thinking on for hours suddenly harder to find. “I wanted to talk about what happened last week.”
His heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it, but there’s nothing coming from his lips. He wants to say so much, but damn, what if he says the wrong thing? What if he messes this up and you walk away, not wanting to be his friend anymore? He’s stuck in his own head, trapped by the fear of losing you. But as always, you save him.
You step closer, wringing your hands, but this time you look him right in the eye. You take a deep breath and speak first. “Alright,” you start, voice steady but soft. “I’ll start. You’re my best friend, Daryl, and I don’t want to lose that. But for the last week, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be with you again. Not just as friends. I want to be—”
You hesitate, and Daryl’s heart races, but before you can finish, he blurts it out, “Lovers?”
A weak laugh escapes you, and you shrug a little. “Yeah,” you admit, “I guess. You always were the one with the words.” You laugh again, this time more freely. “Yeah. Lovers.”
Daryl feels like the ground’s shifting beneath him. Grief, heartbreak, fear—he feels it all, but it’s not bad. It’s new, this feeling, and it’s everything he ever wanted. He wants to speak, but the words are stuck.
So, he takes a step forward, and without thinkin’, he sweeps you up into his arms, lifting you off your feet. You let out a surprised squeal, but Daryl doesn’t stop. He kisses you like it’s the first and last time, holding you close. He’s done tryin’ to figure this out. There’s no more words needed between you two—just this.
Kissing your neck, Daryl carries you over to the bed to put you down on it, and seconds later, you're tearing at each other's clothes, wanting to feel each other, to be close again. Daryl crawls on top of you, and you eagerly spread your legs, letting him in. Buried deep inside of you, he takes a moment to feel that deep calmness only you're able to give him.
Daryl stares into your eyes, bathing in the way you look back at him. There's so much adoration and acceptance that it takes his breath away. You smile up at him, and while marveling at the curve of your lips, Daryl realizes that despite what happened last week, he's never had the pleasure of kissing you.
He leans in, and you lift up your chin, fuelling his courage by welcoming him once again, always the one to take him just the way he is. Daryl presses his lips to yours, the soft brush of skin on skin so tender that he completely loses himself.
Your hands are in his hair, holding on as he deepens the kiss, your tongues rubbing hot against each other. Daryl's engulfed by your taste, your scent, the way you hold on to him, needing him, trusting him. He wishes he could stay like this, preserve this moment forever, but you're both too desperate for more.
Daryl can't tell who loses control first, but all the tenderness soon makes room for shared moans between kisses, your fingers clawing at Daryl's skin as he thrusts into you, spurred on by the euphoria of venturing deeper and deeper into your tight heat.
Reality blurs as you become Daryl's whole world. Nothing matters but your touches and kisses, the sweet words you whisper into his ear before crying out his name. Still, Daryl feels guilty for not saying anything when you laid your heart bare to him. He keeps as still as he can, taking your face in his hands before searching your eyes.
"Goddamn girl, I love you," he says, his voice hoarse as the words rush out of him, a prayer that you'll hopefully accept.
The expression on your face is truly one of a goddess, not a cruel one, but so beautiful that you could shatter him on a whim. "I love you, too," you say, your voice soft, a sweet caress for Daryl's tormented soul.
He kisses you again, unable to stop now, losing himself in everything you are to him. You hold on to him, your eyes meeting again as you wrap your legs around him, forbidding him to shy away just an inch. Daryl follows your every desire, pushing into you to elicit eager moans and gasps, carrying you closer and closer to your sweet undoing.
You come with Daryl's name on your lips, your muscles clenching so hard around him that he can't hold on. Still in your grasp, Daryl thrusts into you, filling you up with his come as your nails leave desperate marks on his skin.
He buries his face against your neck and lets you pet him for a while, but then Daryl lies down next to you to unburden you from his weight. He pulls you close, and you rest your head against his chest, your fingertips caressing his stomach as if you're back at where you started a week ago, coming full circle.
"I think I was jealous," you admit to the silence between you, and Daryl moves a little to the side to look down at you.
"Jealous?"
"Last week in the saloon, these girls were talking about how good looking you were and what they would want to do to you in bed."
"Keep going," Daryl teases.
You laugh but hit his chest with not much force. "I'm trying to be serious here."
Daryl leans in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry. Are you talking about that Lucy girl?"
"You remember her name?" you say, your brows knitting together, and Daryl can't help but find your jealousy pretty endearing.
"If it makes you do to me what you did last week, I'll remember all of their names."
You laugh, but instead of hitting Daryl again, you push him onto his back to crawl on top of him. Daryl reaches down to hold you in place, enjoying how your beautiful body melts against his. You look at him with a devilish smile that brings heat to every inch of his body.
"You're going to punish me now?" Daryl asks, not minding the idea at all, but you shake your head.
"No, I won't punish you," you say, leaning down to leave some sweet kisses all over his chest. "I want to make up for lost time. Five years of lost time."
Daryl lets go off you to rest his arms over his head. "I'm all yours."
You run your fingers over his beard and the scars on his chin as if you need to rediscover him. "I hoped that you'd say that."
Over the last years, Daryl has paid for many hotel rooms, but he's never had to pay extra for a broken bed before. Judging by the bartender's stare, it might also be some time before Daryl can show his face here again without getting weird looks.
Not that he cares. Daryl follows you outside to the horses, his eyes hefted to your swaying hips. He only looks up when you turn around to him, pulling him in for a kiss. It's as if you already missed him in the few minutes you haven't been glued together.
Daryl feels the same way, and holding you in his arms, he knows that he'd do anything for you. His friend, his lover, his girl.
The Van x Reader one don't WORK and I really wanna read it😩🙏
Have a Nice Summer (18+)
Pair: Van (Floating 1997) x Reader
Tags: Floating 1997 , Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Loss of Virginity (both of em wink)
Word Count: 883 Words
Warnings: Smut, Depictions of Nudity & Coarse Language
Summary: You go on holidays with your family at your new lake house. You meet Van, the mysterious boy whom you discover was the original owner of this house, and the original owner of your new room.
Chapter 1
The lake house smelled like cedarwood and summers you’d only seen in movies. You stood by the window, your hands clutching the faded lace curtains, starting out at the endless shimmer of water stretching beyond the dock. It was beautiful– too beautiful, maybe. Something out of a memory that didn’t belong to you.
Your family had arrived in the afternoon, your car loaded with suitcases, grocery bags, and the lingering exhaustion of a long drive. Your parents were already downstairs, unpacking and settling in, their voices drifting up from the kitchen as they debated whether to order takeout or cook something simple for dinner.
Your room had been the deciding factor in them buying this place. Your mother had insisted you’d love it, and to be fair, she wasn’t wrong. The space was bigger than your room back home, with enough space to set up a small desk by the window. A desk that, oddly enough, had come with the house, much like the bed already set up against the far wall. The wooden frame creaked when you sat down earlier, but the mattress was firm enough, and with your own bedding draped over it, it almost felt like yours.
Still, there was something about the room that felt… lived in.
It wasn’t just the floorboards that creaked in all the right places or the way the walls held onto the scent of the old wood and lake air. It was the feeling that settled in your chest when you ran your fingers over the edges of the desk, as if someone else had once sat in the same spot, tracing the grain of the wood absentmindedly, lost in thought.
You shook the feeling off and focused on unpacking instead. Your sketchbooks and pencils were already arranged on the desk, along with a few worn paperbacks you’d brought along for the summer. The walls were still bare, the room still unfamiliar, but it was a start.
Reaching into your bag, you pull out two posters– one you got at a Superchunk concert you went to earlier this year, and the other a Nirvana poster that came with a CD you got for Christmas. They were creased from being rolled up for too long, the edges a little worn, but you smoothed them out carefully before pinning them to the wooden walls.
The Superchunk poster was your favourite. The show had been one of the best nights of your life– sweaty bodies crammed together, the pulse of the bass reverberating through your chest, the kind of raw energy that made you feel infinite for a couple of hours. Even now, just looking at it brought a small rush of that same excitement back.
You stepped back, tilting your head as you took in the posters against the otherwise empty walls. It made the space feel a little more like yours. Like maybe you weren’t just a temporary visitor passing through someone else’s life.
If only you knew someone else had noticed.
A knock at your food pulled you from your thoughts.
“Hey, kiddo.” your dad leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Figured we’d head into town soon. Get groceries, see if there’s a McDonalds– check the place out. You coming?”
You hesitated. “I think I’ll stay back for now. Get settled in.”
He nodded like he expected that answer. “Alright. Just don’t burn the place down while we’re gone.” He retreated down the stairs, when you heard the front door shut behind them a few minutes later, the silence felt heavier than before. You sighed, grabbed your book, and made your way down to the lake.
The dock was warm under your bare feet, the scent of water and pine filling the air. You stretched out on your towel, book open in your lap, but your eyes kept drifting up to the trees lining the opposite side of the lake.
Would you make friends here? Did people your age even live in this town year-round, or were they all just summer visitors like you?
Back home, this past school year had been… weird. You’d drifted from certain friends, gotten closer to others. There was a boy who had liked you, and another boy you had wished would like you. Nothing had stuck. You wondered if it would be the same here–fleeting connections, temporary attachments.
The afternoon sun was hot against your skin. You shut your eyes, letting the sound of the water lull you into something close to sleep.
But you weren’t alone.
Somewhere in the trees, hidden between shifting leaves and shadows, someone else was watching.
Later, when you left your window cracked open to let in the evening air, someone outside the house caught a glimpse of the dimly lit room. His room. Or at least, it had been.
Van had watched the moving truck pull up that afternoon, had seen you step out with your parents, all wide-eyed and uncertain. Just another summer girl, another outsider who didn’t belong here.
But now, standing beneath the cover of trees, his sharp eyes landed on the Superchunk poster, and something flickered in his expression.
So, the new girl had taste– Not that it made a difference.
She didn’t belong here.
And if she thought this house was hers now– she had another thing coming.
A/N: Guys I am so sorry I'm like 3 years late to post this but I'm out of my cave and it is here for you!! Let me know if there's any scenes or anything you wanna see happen throughout and I'll tweak the chapters I'm working on x
Tag list: @ffsjustletmesleep @emiliosandozsequence
Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)
Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: none
Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.
@futuremilfemma hey :) i saw that your request were open and i had something in my mind 🤭 first of all i love your fics and your writing style especially in „ride his motorcycle“ when the character had this cute relationship with the women of the group and their little gossip sessions. sooo i was wondering if you could write something like this: the group finally settles down in alexandria (pre negan) the reader and daryl have known eachother since the quarry (they went hunting together. bonded over past trauma, etc.) and they have always hit it off and are now labeled as best friends but everyone around them can see that they feel more. like they try and convince them to confess and all but they just keep admiring eachother from afar especially daryl when he sees the reader getting ready for the party at deanna‘s? sorry if that‘s too much i would just love reading something like this
A/N: Thanks for the request emma, I hope this is what you were looking for. I was keke-ing while writing about the girls and guys teasing reader and daryl haha
The walls of Alexandria loomed in the distance, a symbol of safety and normalcy in a world where both had become distant memories. Daryl, perched against the frame of the front porch, watched the community come alive. People bustled about, preparing for a party Deanna was hosting that night—a strange but welcome change of pace from the endless survivalist days on the road.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. The quiet, the calm—it unnerved him. It was a stark contrast to the constant danger they’d faced since the prison, the farm; since anything in his life, even before people lost their brains: Alexandria seemed almost too good to be true.
And then there was you.
You had been with him from the beginning, always by his side during hunts, sharing long silences and stories of past hurts, unspoken but understood. Over the years, you’d become his anchor, the one person he could trust completely. The one person he didn’t feel judged by, and the one who saw past his rough exterior. You got him in a way no one else did.
Which is why it was complicated now, more than ever.
His gaze flickered to the house where you were getting ready for the party. The curtains were drawn back, and he could see you through the open window. You’d always been beautiful to him, though he’d never said it aloud. That wasn’t his way, after all. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the fact that you had spent so long getting ready, or maybe it was the way the soft glow of the evening light bathed you in an ethereal warmth. Whatever it was, Daryl couldn’t look away.
You were standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the dress he’d recognised all too well.
You and Daryl had gone on a supply run, just the two of you—like old times. Though Alexandria offered some respite from the chaos, there were still days when you both preferred the quiet of the woods, where the only sounds were your footsteps and the rustle of leaves.
It had been a rough few days, though. A week ago, Spencer, Mayor Deanna’s son, had rejected you. The memory of his dismissive words still stung—how he’d said you were “nice,” but he wasn’t looking for anything serious. It wasn’t just the rejection that hurt, but the way he’d made you feel small, like you were an afterthought.
Daryl hadn’t pried, but he knew something was off. He’d seen the sadness you tried to hide and how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes lately.
“Need somethin’?” Daryl asked as he pulled open the door to what used to be a boutique, stepping inside first to make sure it was clear.
“No, just looking,” you muttered, following him in. The boutique was a sad shell of its former self. Clothes lay scattered across the floor, mannequins toppled, and the scent of dust and decay filled the air.
You trailed behind him, not really interested in finding anything specific—just glad to be moving. Daryl moved with his usual quiet intensity, sifting through racks with a practised eye. He didn’t speak much, but his presence was a comfort. He’d always been that for you, even when words weren’t necessary.
As you wandered near the back of the store, your gaze fell on a shattered mirror. You stared at your reflection for a moment, feeling the weight of Spencer’s rejection creeping back in. The cracked glass seemed to echo how you felt inside—fractured, unimportant.
Suddenly, Daryl’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Hey.”
You turned, and your heart skipped at the sight of him holding up a dress—a simple, sleeveless one in a soft, faded green. He held it awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to handle it, but his expression was serious as ever. “Thought this might suit ya.”
For a moment, you were speechless. The idea of Daryl, tough and rugged, holding up a dress for you was almost surreal. But the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.
“Me?” You arched a brow, stepping closer to inspect the dress. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “Kinda matches your eyes, I guess. I dunno.” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through. “Just… figured ya might like it. After… y’know.”
It took you a second to realise what he meant. After Spencer. It wasn’t just that Spencer had rejected you– it was the casual way he’d brushed you aside, as though your feelings were nothing more than an inconvenience. It has cut deeper than you wanted to admit.
The realisation made your chest tighten, but not with sadness this time—with something else. He wasn’t just showing you a dress. He was trying to make you feel better, in the way only Daryl could.
A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Daryl. That’s… sweet.”
He grunted, clearly embarrassed, his gaze darting away. “Ain’t nothin’. Just a stupid dress.”
But you shook your head. “No, it’s not stupid. I like it.”
For the first time in days, you felt the shadow that had been hanging over you lift just a little. The dress was a gesture, small but significant. Daryl didn’t give compliments easily, and for him to go out of his way to do something like this—it meant more than you could put into words.
You took the dress from his hands, feeling the worn fabric between your fingers. “Maybe I’ll wear it to the next one of Deanna’s parties,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.
Daryl’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you. “You should,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “You’d look real good.”
You blinked, surprised by the weight behind his words. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before he turned back to the rack of clothes, mumbling something under his breath. It wasn’t like Daryl to give compliments, much less ones that carried so much weight.
Your heart fluttered at the thought.
Tucking the dress under your arm, you smiled softly to yourself. Spencer’s rejection suddenly seemed like a distant memory. Maybe it didn’t matter what he thought. Maybe the only person whose opinion really mattered was standing right in front of you.
He saw the way you ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing it down before reaching up to touch your hair. It was rare to see you like this—clean, dressed up. It made his heart race in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t even sure if you ever really noticed how hard he tried, in his own way, to make you feel like you mattered.
“What’re you starin’ at, Dixon?”
Daryl stiffened at the voice behind him. Rick. Of course.
“Nothin’,” he muttered, turning away from the window as if caught doing something wrong. But Rick wasn’t buying it, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told Daryl that much.
“Yeah, sure. Nothin’.” Rick chuckled softly, clapping a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Everyone sees it, you know.”
Daryl frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Sees what?”
Rick raised an eyebrow. “You and her. You think nobody’s noticed the way you two are? C’mon, Daryl. It’s obvious.”
Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his boots scraping against the porch floor. He wanted to scoff, shrug it off like Rick was wrong, but the truth stuck in his throat like splinters. It wasn't just how you made him feel—he was terrified of what would happen if you knew.
“Ain’t like that.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Rick’s tone was teasing but gentle, like he knew exactly what Daryl was feeling. “You ever think about just… telling her?”
Daryl’s throat tightened at the thought. Confess? To you? The idea seemed ridiculous. You were his best friend—why would you want anything more from a guy like him? You deserved better. Someone who could give you more than just broken words and awkward silences.
“Nah,” he finally muttered. “Ain’t my place.”
Rick sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Just think about it.”
With that, Rick walked away, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts. He huffed in frustration, casting another glance toward your window. You were moving now, stepping back from the mirror to admire your reflection. A soft smile touched your lips, and something inside Daryl clenched.
He didn’t deserve to feel this way, did he? Not about you.
But he couldn’t help it.
The small house in Alexandria buzzed with excitement as you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the green dress Daryl had found for you on that run weeks ago. You weren’t exactly used to getting dressed up, and the idea of attending Deanna’s party made you feel awkward, even if the people around you seemed eager for a night of normalcy.
Behind you, Rosita lounged on the bed with her legs crossed, twirling a strand of her hair, while Carol and Maggie were sorting through a small pile of accessories on the table. Michonne leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk already playing at her lips.
“You know,” Rosita said, eyeing you with a sly grin, “if you’re getting all dolled up like that, maybe it’s not just for the party.”
You blinked at her through the mirror. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, c’mon,” Carol chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’ve been wearing that same look all afternoon. Like you’re not sure if you’re nervous about the party or something else… or someone else.”
Your cheeks burned instantly, and you turned to look at her. “Carol, don’t start—”
“Daryl,” Maggie finished for her, waggling her eyebrows playfully. “We’re talking about Daryl.”
You groaned, shaking your head, but the teasing only intensified. Michonne smirked, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer. “Oh yeah. It’s obvious,” she added. “The way he looks at you… like he’s ready to rip apart anyone who so much as breathes in your direction.”
“Pfft,” Rosita snickered, shifting on the bed. “That man’s got it bad for you. I mean, you’ve been glued to his side since day one. You’re practically the Bonnie to his Clyde. Except way less murder-y… sometimes.”
You laughed despite yourself. “We’re just friends.”
Maggie let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “If you two are ‘just friends,’ then Rick and Michonne are still ‘just patrolling together,’” she teased, throwing a playful glance at Michonne, who raised a brow in mock offense.
“Hey, at least Rick and I own it now,” Michonne quipped, smirking. “You two? You’ve been dancing around each other forever.”
“Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Carol said thoughtfully, her smile turning softer. “Daryl’s like that. He’s patient, but… when he cares about someone, he doesn’t let go.”
You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up at her words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—about Daryl, about what he meant to you. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside. Why ruin a good thing?
Rosita, though, wasn’t about to let you off the hook. She stood up and walked over, grinning as she picked up a necklace from the table and held it up to your neck. “Come on, admit it. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, haven’t you? He watches you like you’re the last good thing in this world.”
You swallowed hard, your mind drifting back to the way Daryl had looked at you earlier today when you caught him staring before the party. The way his eyes softened just slightly, the way he averted his gaze as if he was afraid of being caught.
Maggie smirked, stepping closer and nudging your arm. “Face it, girl. Y’all are the definition of ‘cute couple that won’t admit it.’”
“I—” you started, but Michonne cut you off, crossing her arms again with a teasing grin.
“Daryl may be rough around the edges, but let me tell you, when it comes to you…” She paused for dramatic effect, raising a brow. “He’d take real good care of you.”
Your face went hot. “Michonne!”
“What?” Rosita laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as she wiggled her brows. “You know it’s true. He’s got that whole protective thing going on, like he’s just waiting to step in and—”
“Rosita, stop,” you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment.
But the room erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t help but smile behind your hands. The teasing was relentless, but you knew it came from a place of love. They saw something in the way Daryl and you interacted—something you had been too scared to fully acknowledge yourself.
As the laughter died down, Carol stepped forward, her expression soft and kind. “We’re only teasing because we care about you. And him. He might not be good with words, but Daryl… he shows how he feels in other ways.”
Maggie nodded, her voice gentle. “Like finding that dress for you. You know he didn’t just stumble on it by accident, right? He wanted you to have something nice. For yourself.”
“I can think of something else he wants her to have all to herself,” Rosita quips, turning the room into a bottle of laughter once again.
You looked down at the green fabric, brushing your fingers over it. Daryl had given it to you during one of your lowest moments, and you hadn’t realised until now how much it truly meant. It wasn’t just a dress. It was his way of saying he saw you, that you mattered to him.
Rosita gave you a playful nudge. “He may not say it out loud, but actions speak louder than words, right?”
You met her eyes through the mirror, and for a moment, everything felt so clear. The tension between you and Daryl had been building for so long, and maybe—just maybe—it was time to stop pretending it didn’t exist.
“Whatever happens tonight,” Maggie said, adjusting a bracelet on your wrist, “just remember—we all think you two would be great together.”
“Yeah,” Rosita added with a wink, “and don’t be surprised if Daryl tries to ‘take real good care of you’ later.”
You groaned again, laughing despite yourself. “You guys are terrible.”
Michonne grinned, her voice low and teasing. “Terrible? Maybe. But we’re right.”
And deep down, you really wanted them to be right.
The sun had begun to set by the time the party was in full swing. The house was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses as the residents of Alexandria tried to pretend, just for a moment, that the world outside wasn’t in ruins. Daryl stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, scanning the room with the practised eye of someone who never quite let his guard down.
And then you walked in.
He hadn’t seen you since earlier when you were getting ready, and now that you were here, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The dress you wore was simple, but it hugged your frame in a way that made Daryl’s heart stutter. Your hair was loose, framing your face, and your eyes… your eyes were searching the room until they found him.
When you smiled, his throat went dry.
Daryl quickly looked away, feeling like an idiot. He was supposed to be a damn hunter, a man of few words, not some lovesick fool gawking at his best friend from across the room.
“Wow,” came a voice at his side. Daryl looked over to see Carol, who had caught his reaction and was now giving him a knowing grin. “You really should tell her, you know.”
“Not you too,” Daryl grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Carol chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just saying, Daryl. It’s been obvious for a long time. She feels the same way—you can see it in the way she looks at you.”
Daryl shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Feel the same way? No. That couldn’t be possible. Could it?
“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Carol nudged him gently. “It’s a party, after all.”
Daryl hesitated. He wasn’t good with this kind of stuff—feelings, emotions, talking. But as he glanced back at you, standing there, laughing with Maggie and Glenn, he realised that maybe Rick and Carol were right.
You spotted him as he was walking out into the yard, your eyes lighting up as you excused yourself from the conversation and made your way over to him just outside the house.
He could spend the rest of his life admiring you from afar, or he could take a risk.
"I'm goin' out for a smoke," Daryl nods, as he leaves through the back door.
The dim street light reflected the sheen of sweat on his toned bicep, Daryl’s eye locked on you as you made your way over to him. It was hard to see his expression as the setting of the sun glared in your eyes.
His heart pounded in his chest as you approached, every step making him more nervous than he’d ever been facing walkers.
“Hey,” you greeted softly, stopping just in front of him. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Daryl mumbled, avoiding your gaze for a moment before finally looking at you. “You, uh… you look nice.”
You smiled, a hint of surprise flickering in your eyes. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothin’ fancy ‘bout me.”
“I like you just the way you are,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.
Daryl’s breath caught in his throat. There it was again—that feeling. The one he’d been trying to ignore for so long. The one that made his heart race whenever you were near. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.
“You ever think about… us?”
Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Us,” he repeated, his voice rougher than he intended. “I mean… hell, I dunno. Everyone keeps sayin’… like maybe there’s more. Between us.”
You blinked, processing his words, and for a moment Daryl feared he’d made a huge mistake. But then your expression softened, and you took a small step closer.
“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
Daryl’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Yeah?”
You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I thought you’d never say anything.”
“I didn’t think I deserved to,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled at that, and the warmth in your eyes nearly undid him. “You’ve always deserved it, Daryl.”
And with that, the unspoken truth between you finally became clear. You had always been more than just best friends. You had always been each other’s home, in this world of chaos and ruin.
Maybe it was time you both admitted it.
The moment hung between you and Daryl like a fragile thread, one pull away from unraveling everything. His admission still echoed in your ears, making your heart race. You stood in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, your pulse quickening with each second that passed. You could feel the tension—thick, electric—stretching between you, both of you aware that this was a moment you couldn’t come back from.
You swallowed, your throat tight. “Daryl…”
He was still avoiding your gaze, the vulnerability in his expression so foreign it almost took your breath away. Daryl Dixon, the man who had survived everything, was scared—of you, of what this meant. You could see it in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his jaw tightened as if he was bracing himself for something he couldn’t control.
But there was something else in his eyes too. Something raw and hungry, something that made your skin tingle.
“Daryl,” you whispered again, softer this time, stepping closer. He didn’t back away. Instead, his blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, and the intensity there sent a shiver down your spine.
Before either of you could think twice, before you could second-guess or push it away, your hands found his jacket, gripping the worn leather like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, and in the next heartbeat, your lips were on his.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like you were testing the waters, unsure of how far you could go. But the moment his lips moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. Daryl’s hands came up to your waist, pulling you closer as if he’d been holding himself back for too long. The gentle touch of his calloused fingers sent sparks through your skin, making you gasp against his mouth.
That was all the encouragement he needed.
The kiss deepened, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The world outside—the party, the people, the chaos—faded into the background until it was just you and Daryl. You could taste the intensity of his need, the years of unspoken words between you bleeding into every brush of your lips. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d been starving for this—starving for you.
Your heart pounded as you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, guttural sound from the back of his throat. The noise sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and suddenly, you wanted more. Needed more.
Daryl seemed to feel the same. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress in a way that made you shiver. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with want.
“You sure ‘bout this?” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. His thumb traced slow circles on your hip, as though he was fighting against the very desire that had his body trembling with tension.
In response, you tugged him down again, crashing your lips against his. It wasn’t soft this time. It was all heat and desperation, like you couldn’t get enough of him, like you were trying to make up for all the time you’d spent denying this.
He groaned against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as his hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer. You could feel his body against yours, all hard muscle and heat, and it made your knees weak. Without breaking the kiss, Daryl backed you against the nearest wall, your back pressing against the cool surface as his mouth trailed down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.
“God, Daryl,” you breathed, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he kissed his way down your throat, the rough scrape of his stubble igniting a fire beneath your skin.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen from the kiss, his breathing heavy. “I ain’t… I ain’t good at this,” he muttered, his voice low, filled with doubt. But there was a vulnerability there too, a softness that made your heart ache.
You cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “You’re better than you think,” you whispered, leaning in to press another soft kiss to his lips.
The reassurance seemed to break whatever was left of his hesitation. His hands were back on you, running down your sides, his fingers skimming over your dress before gripping your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you could feel every inch of him pressed against you.
Daryl kissed you again, rougher this time, his hands sliding under your dress, fingertips brushing against bare skin. His touch was searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake, and the need pooling in your core only intensified. His body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall, and you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Daryl…” you whispered, your breath hitching as his hands roamed higher, slipping beneath your dress. Every touch sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you arched against him, craving more of his heat, more of him.
His lips were back on yours, his kiss desperate and demanding. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, like he was afraid of losing control. But that was exactly what you wanted—you wanted him to lose control, to let go of all the tension he’d been holding for so long. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and the heat between you was undeniable. His breath was heavy against your neck, lips grazing your skin, when—
“Daryl? You out here?” Rick’s voice cut through the air like a bucket of cold water.
Both of you froze, bodies tense and pressed together against the wall. You heard the sound of boots approaching, and panic shot through you. Daryl stepped back quickly, dropping his hands from your waist, but not before Rick rounded the corner, his brows shooting up in surprise.
“Oh, uh—sorry,” Rick said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender, though there was a smirk creeping onto his face. “Didn’t mean to… interrupt.”
Your face flushed red as you adjusted your dress, smoothing it down, while Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly flustered. His shoulders were still tense, and he shot Rick a look that could’ve melted steel.
Rick, ever the leader, just shrugged. “Deanna’s lookin’ for you two. Figured I’d check out back. Didn’t expect to find… this.”
You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words failed you. The heat of the moment had been so intense, so all-consuming, that being yanked back to reality felt almost disorienting. Daryl, on the other hand, let out a low grunt, clearly still agitated by the sudden intrusion.
Rick, picking up on the tension, tried to backtrack. “Look, I’ll tell her I couldn’t find you. Give you some more time.”
“No,” you blurted, straightening your back and forcing a shaky laugh. “No, it’s fine. We’ll… we’ll be there in a minute.”
Rick nodded, the smirk still lingering on his lips as he backed away, throwing one last glance at Daryl. “Y’all take your time.”
As soon as he was gone, you and Daryl were left in awkward silence. You dared a glance at him, his eyes still burning with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, embarrassment, maybe both. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rougher than usual. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
You swallowed hard, the moment that had felt so heated now replaced with a strange tension. But you managed a small smile, stepping closer and brushing your fingers lightly against his hand. “It’s not your fault.”
His gaze flickered to you, softer now, but still conflicted. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to say next, but before he could speak, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get back inside.”
As you walked back inside, Daryl’s hand brushing yours was a silent promise. The air between you was charged with what had just happened, but there was a new understanding. “We’ll talk later,” you said quietly, and he nodded, a small smile breaking through his earlier tension.
The house was bustling when you walked back in, laughter and music filling the air, the warmth of the party wrapping around you like a blanket. You felt a bit dishevelled, your mind still lingering on what had almost happened out there.
As you stepped inside, you were greeted with knowing looks from your friends. Maggie’s eyes landed on you first, and she exchanged a smirk with Rosita, who was sitting on the couch. Carol and Michonne were nearby, their gazes flicking between you and Daryl, who had taken up his usual stance near the door, trying to stay invisible.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Rosita teased, raising an eyebrow at you. Her eyes darted from you to Daryl, a grin spreading across her face. “You two were gone for a while. Everything okay?”
Your face flushed again, and you glanced at Daryl, who was doing his best to avoid everyone’s eyes. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, shuffling his feet, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously.
“Yeah,” you managed, trying to sound casual. “We just… needed some air.”
“Uh-huh,” Maggie drawled, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is that what they call it these days?”
Carol, who had been watching quietly from the side, stepped forward with a soft smile. “Glad you two finally got some air. It’s about time.”
You blinked, unsure of how to respond, but before you could, Michonne chimed in, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “You two need a map, or did you manage to find your way back okay?”
“Michonne!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as everyone around you erupted into laughter. Even Rick, who had rejoined the group, couldn’t suppress his grin.
Daryl, still standing off to the side, cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. But there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You alright, Daryl?” Rick asked, his voice teasing but with genuine care beneath it.
Daryl grunted in response, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, but his eyes briefly flicked to you, and the tension between you was still there, simmering beneath the surface.
Rosita, never one to miss a beat, leaned back on the couch and sighed dramatically. “Well, if that’s what fresh air does, maybe we should all get some.”
Laughter rippled through the group again, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh with them. The teasing, though relentless, was filled with warmth, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. They weren’t judging you—they were happy. Happy that, after everything, you and Daryl had finally taken a step toward something more.
Carol caught your eye, her smile gentle as ever. “Don’t let us embarrass you too much. We’re just glad you both finally stopped dancing around it.”
As the laughter subsided, you and Daryl exchanged a look that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the end of the conversation, but it was a start. You reached out, gently touching his arm, and he responded with a nod. In the midst of the party’s warmth, there was a new, tentative promise between you—an acknowledgment of all the unspoken truths that had simmered between you for so long.
There was a new, tentative promise between you—a promise to face the unspoken truths head-on. It was a promise of more conversations, more moments, and perhaps, the start of a deeper connection where everything that had remained unsaid would finally have a place.
Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)
Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: none
Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.
@futuremilfemma hey :) i saw that your request were open and i had something in my mind 🤭 first of all i love your fics and your writing style especially in „ride his motorcycle“ when the character had this cute relationship with the women of the group and their little gossip sessions. sooo i was wondering if you could write something like this: the group finally settles down in alexandria (pre negan) the reader and daryl have known eachother since the quarry (they went hunting together. bonded over past trauma, etc.) and they have always hit it off and are now labeled as best friends but everyone around them can see that they feel more. like they try and convince them to confess and all but they just keep admiring eachother from afar especially daryl when he sees the reader getting ready for the party at deanna‘s? sorry if that‘s too much i would just love reading something like this
A/N: Thanks for the request emma, I hope this is what you were looking for. I was keke-ing while writing about the girls and guys teasing reader and daryl haha
The walls of Alexandria loomed in the distance, a symbol of safety and normalcy in a world where both had become distant memories. Daryl, perched against the frame of the front porch, watched the community come alive. People bustled about, preparing for a party Deanna was hosting that night—a strange but welcome change of pace from the endless survivalist days on the road.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. The quiet, the calm—it unnerved him. It was a stark contrast to the constant danger they’d faced since the prison, the farm; since anything in his life, even before people lost their brains: Alexandria seemed almost too good to be true.
And then there was you.
You had been with him from the beginning, always by his side during hunts, sharing long silences and stories of past hurts, unspoken but understood. Over the years, you’d become his anchor, the one person he could trust completely. The one person he didn’t feel judged by, and the one who saw past his rough exterior. You got him in a way no one else did.
Which is why it was complicated now, more than ever.
His gaze flickered to the house where you were getting ready for the party. The curtains were drawn back, and he could see you through the open window. You’d always been beautiful to him, though he’d never said it aloud. That wasn’t his way, after all. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the fact that you had spent so long getting ready, or maybe it was the way the soft glow of the evening light bathed you in an ethereal warmth. Whatever it was, Daryl couldn’t look away.
You were standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the dress he’d recognised all too well.
You and Daryl had gone on a supply run, just the two of you—like old times. Though Alexandria offered some respite from the chaos, there were still days when you both preferred the quiet of the woods, where the only sounds were your footsteps and the rustle of leaves.
It had been a rough few days, though. A week ago, Spencer, Mayor Deanna’s son, had rejected you. The memory of his dismissive words still stung—how he’d said you were “nice,” but he wasn’t looking for anything serious. It wasn’t just the rejection that hurt, but the way he’d made you feel small, like you were an afterthought.
Daryl hadn’t pried, but he knew something was off. He’d seen the sadness you tried to hide and how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes lately.
“Need somethin’?” Daryl asked as he pulled open the door to what used to be a boutique, stepping inside first to make sure it was clear.
“No, just looking,” you muttered, following him in. The boutique was a sad shell of its former self. Clothes lay scattered across the floor, mannequins toppled, and the scent of dust and decay filled the air.
You trailed behind him, not really interested in finding anything specific—just glad to be moving. Daryl moved with his usual quiet intensity, sifting through racks with a practised eye. He didn’t speak much, but his presence was a comfort. He’d always been that for you, even when words weren’t necessary.
As you wandered near the back of the store, your gaze fell on a shattered mirror. You stared at your reflection for a moment, feeling the weight of Spencer’s rejection creeping back in. The cracked glass seemed to echo how you felt inside—fractured, unimportant.
Suddenly, Daryl’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Hey.”
You turned, and your heart skipped at the sight of him holding up a dress—a simple, sleeveless one in a soft, faded green. He held it awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to handle it, but his expression was serious as ever. “Thought this might suit ya.”
For a moment, you were speechless. The idea of Daryl, tough and rugged, holding up a dress for you was almost surreal. But the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.
“Me?” You arched a brow, stepping closer to inspect the dress. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “Kinda matches your eyes, I guess. I dunno.” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through. “Just… figured ya might like it. After… y’know.”
It took you a second to realise what he meant. After Spencer. It wasn’t just that Spencer had rejected you– it was the casual way he’d brushed you aside, as though your feelings were nothing more than an inconvenience. It has cut deeper than you wanted to admit.
The realisation made your chest tighten, but not with sadness this time—with something else. He wasn’t just showing you a dress. He was trying to make you feel better, in the way only Daryl could.
A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Daryl. That’s… sweet.”
He grunted, clearly embarrassed, his gaze darting away. “Ain’t nothin’. Just a stupid dress.”
But you shook your head. “No, it’s not stupid. I like it.”
For the first time in days, you felt the shadow that had been hanging over you lift just a little. The dress was a gesture, small but significant. Daryl didn’t give compliments easily, and for him to go out of his way to do something like this—it meant more than you could put into words.
You took the dress from his hands, feeling the worn fabric between your fingers. “Maybe I’ll wear it to the next one of Deanna’s parties,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.
Daryl’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you. “You should,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “You’d look real good.”
You blinked, surprised by the weight behind his words. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before he turned back to the rack of clothes, mumbling something under his breath. It wasn’t like Daryl to give compliments, much less ones that carried so much weight.
Your heart fluttered at the thought.
Tucking the dress under your arm, you smiled softly to yourself. Spencer’s rejection suddenly seemed like a distant memory. Maybe it didn’t matter what he thought. Maybe the only person whose opinion really mattered was standing right in front of you.
He saw the way you ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing it down before reaching up to touch your hair. It was rare to see you like this—clean, dressed up. It made his heart race in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t even sure if you ever really noticed how hard he tried, in his own way, to make you feel like you mattered.
“What’re you starin’ at, Dixon?”
Daryl stiffened at the voice behind him. Rick. Of course.
“Nothin’,” he muttered, turning away from the window as if caught doing something wrong. But Rick wasn’t buying it, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told Daryl that much.
“Yeah, sure. Nothin’.” Rick chuckled softly, clapping a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Everyone sees it, you know.”
Daryl frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Sees what?”
Rick raised an eyebrow. “You and her. You think nobody’s noticed the way you two are? C’mon, Daryl. It’s obvious.”
Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his boots scraping against the porch floor. He wanted to scoff, shrug it off like Rick was wrong, but the truth stuck in his throat like splinters. It wasn't just how you made him feel—he was terrified of what would happen if you knew.
“Ain’t like that.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Rick’s tone was teasing but gentle, like he knew exactly what Daryl was feeling. “You ever think about just… telling her?”
Daryl’s throat tightened at the thought. Confess? To you? The idea seemed ridiculous. You were his best friend—why would you want anything more from a guy like him? You deserved better. Someone who could give you more than just broken words and awkward silences.
“Nah,” he finally muttered. “Ain’t my place.”
Rick sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Just think about it.”
With that, Rick walked away, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts. He huffed in frustration, casting another glance toward your window. You were moving now, stepping back from the mirror to admire your reflection. A soft smile touched your lips, and something inside Daryl clenched.
He didn’t deserve to feel this way, did he? Not about you.
But he couldn’t help it.
The small house in Alexandria buzzed with excitement as you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the green dress Daryl had found for you on that run weeks ago. You weren’t exactly used to getting dressed up, and the idea of attending Deanna’s party made you feel awkward, even if the people around you seemed eager for a night of normalcy.
Behind you, Rosita lounged on the bed with her legs crossed, twirling a strand of her hair, while Carol and Maggie were sorting through a small pile of accessories on the table. Michonne leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk already playing at her lips.
“You know,” Rosita said, eyeing you with a sly grin, “if you’re getting all dolled up like that, maybe it’s not just for the party.”
You blinked at her through the mirror. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, c’mon,” Carol chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’ve been wearing that same look all afternoon. Like you’re not sure if you’re nervous about the party or something else… or someone else.”
Your cheeks burned instantly, and you turned to look at her. “Carol, don’t start—”
“Daryl,” Maggie finished for her, waggling her eyebrows playfully. “We’re talking about Daryl.”
You groaned, shaking your head, but the teasing only intensified. Michonne smirked, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer. “Oh yeah. It’s obvious,” she added. “The way he looks at you… like he’s ready to rip apart anyone who so much as breathes in your direction.”
“Pfft,” Rosita snickered, shifting on the bed. “That man’s got it bad for you. I mean, you’ve been glued to his side since day one. You’re practically the Bonnie to his Clyde. Except way less murder-y… sometimes.”
You laughed despite yourself. “We’re just friends.”
Maggie let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “If you two are ‘just friends,’ then Rick and Michonne are still ‘just patrolling together,’” she teased, throwing a playful glance at Michonne, who raised a brow in mock offense.
“Hey, at least Rick and I own it now,” Michonne quipped, smirking. “You two? You’ve been dancing around each other forever.”
“Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Carol said thoughtfully, her smile turning softer. “Daryl’s like that. He’s patient, but… when he cares about someone, he doesn’t let go.”
You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up at her words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—about Daryl, about what he meant to you. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside. Why ruin a good thing?
Rosita, though, wasn’t about to let you off the hook. She stood up and walked over, grinning as she picked up a necklace from the table and held it up to your neck. “Come on, admit it. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, haven’t you? He watches you like you’re the last good thing in this world.”
You swallowed hard, your mind drifting back to the way Daryl had looked at you earlier today when you caught him staring before the party. The way his eyes softened just slightly, the way he averted his gaze as if he was afraid of being caught.
Maggie smirked, stepping closer and nudging your arm. “Face it, girl. Y’all are the definition of ‘cute couple that won’t admit it.’”
“I—” you started, but Michonne cut you off, crossing her arms again with a teasing grin.
“Daryl may be rough around the edges, but let me tell you, when it comes to you…” She paused for dramatic effect, raising a brow. “He’d take real good care of you.”
Your face went hot. “Michonne!”
“What?” Rosita laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as she wiggled her brows. “You know it’s true. He’s got that whole protective thing going on, like he’s just waiting to step in and—”
“Rosita, stop,” you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment.
But the room erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t help but smile behind your hands. The teasing was relentless, but you knew it came from a place of love. They saw something in the way Daryl and you interacted—something you had been too scared to fully acknowledge yourself.
As the laughter died down, Carol stepped forward, her expression soft and kind. “We’re only teasing because we care about you. And him. He might not be good with words, but Daryl… he shows how he feels in other ways.”
Maggie nodded, her voice gentle. “Like finding that dress for you. You know he didn’t just stumble on it by accident, right? He wanted you to have something nice. For yourself.”
“I can think of something else he wants her to have all to herself,” Rosita quips, turning the room into a bottle of laughter once again.
You looked down at the green fabric, brushing your fingers over it. Daryl had given it to you during one of your lowest moments, and you hadn’t realised until now how much it truly meant. It wasn’t just a dress. It was his way of saying he saw you, that you mattered to him.
Rosita gave you a playful nudge. “He may not say it out loud, but actions speak louder than words, right?”
You met her eyes through the mirror, and for a moment, everything felt so clear. The tension between you and Daryl had been building for so long, and maybe—just maybe—it was time to stop pretending it didn’t exist.
“Whatever happens tonight,” Maggie said, adjusting a bracelet on your wrist, “just remember—we all think you two would be great together.”
“Yeah,” Rosita added with a wink, “and don’t be surprised if Daryl tries to ‘take real good care of you’ later.”
You groaned again, laughing despite yourself. “You guys are terrible.”
Michonne grinned, her voice low and teasing. “Terrible? Maybe. But we’re right.”
And deep down, you really wanted them to be right.
The sun had begun to set by the time the party was in full swing. The house was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses as the residents of Alexandria tried to pretend, just for a moment, that the world outside wasn’t in ruins. Daryl stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, scanning the room with the practised eye of someone who never quite let his guard down.
And then you walked in.
He hadn’t seen you since earlier when you were getting ready, and now that you were here, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The dress you wore was simple, but it hugged your frame in a way that made Daryl’s heart stutter. Your hair was loose, framing your face, and your eyes… your eyes were searching the room until they found him.
When you smiled, his throat went dry.
Daryl quickly looked away, feeling like an idiot. He was supposed to be a damn hunter, a man of few words, not some lovesick fool gawking at his best friend from across the room.
“Wow,” came a voice at his side. Daryl looked over to see Carol, who had caught his reaction and was now giving him a knowing grin. “You really should tell her, you know.”
“Not you too,” Daryl grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Carol chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just saying, Daryl. It’s been obvious for a long time. She feels the same way—you can see it in the way she looks at you.”
Daryl shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Feel the same way? No. That couldn’t be possible. Could it?
“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Carol nudged him gently. “It’s a party, after all.”
Daryl hesitated. He wasn’t good with this kind of stuff—feelings, emotions, talking. But as he glanced back at you, standing there, laughing with Maggie and Glenn, he realised that maybe Rick and Carol were right.
You spotted him as he was walking out into the yard, your eyes lighting up as you excused yourself from the conversation and made your way over to him just outside the house.
He could spend the rest of his life admiring you from afar, or he could take a risk.
"I'm goin' out for a smoke," Daryl nods, as he leaves through the back door.
The dim street light reflected the sheen of sweat on his toned bicep, Daryl’s eye locked on you as you made your way over to him. It was hard to see his expression as the setting of the sun glared in your eyes.
His heart pounded in his chest as you approached, every step making him more nervous than he’d ever been facing walkers.
“Hey,” you greeted softly, stopping just in front of him. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Daryl mumbled, avoiding your gaze for a moment before finally looking at you. “You, uh… you look nice.”
You smiled, a hint of surprise flickering in your eyes. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothin’ fancy ‘bout me.”
“I like you just the way you are,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.
Daryl’s breath caught in his throat. There it was again—that feeling. The one he’d been trying to ignore for so long. The one that made his heart race whenever you were near. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.
“You ever think about… us?”
Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Us,” he repeated, his voice rougher than he intended. “I mean… hell, I dunno. Everyone keeps sayin’… like maybe there’s more. Between us.”
You blinked, processing his words, and for a moment Daryl feared he’d made a huge mistake. But then your expression softened, and you took a small step closer.
“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
Daryl’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Yeah?”
You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I thought you’d never say anything.”
“I didn’t think I deserved to,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled at that, and the warmth in your eyes nearly undid him. “You’ve always deserved it, Daryl.”
And with that, the unspoken truth between you finally became clear. You had always been more than just best friends. You had always been each other’s home, in this world of chaos and ruin.
Maybe it was time you both admitted it.
The moment hung between you and Daryl like a fragile thread, one pull away from unraveling everything. His admission still echoed in your ears, making your heart race. You stood in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, your pulse quickening with each second that passed. You could feel the tension—thick, electric—stretching between you, both of you aware that this was a moment you couldn’t come back from.
You swallowed, your throat tight. “Daryl…”
He was still avoiding your gaze, the vulnerability in his expression so foreign it almost took your breath away. Daryl Dixon, the man who had survived everything, was scared—of you, of what this meant. You could see it in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his jaw tightened as if he was bracing himself for something he couldn’t control.
But there was something else in his eyes too. Something raw and hungry, something that made your skin tingle.
“Daryl,” you whispered again, softer this time, stepping closer. He didn’t back away. Instead, his blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, and the intensity there sent a shiver down your spine.
Before either of you could think twice, before you could second-guess or push it away, your hands found his jacket, gripping the worn leather like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, and in the next heartbeat, your lips were on his.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like you were testing the waters, unsure of how far you could go. But the moment his lips moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. Daryl’s hands came up to your waist, pulling you closer as if he’d been holding himself back for too long. The gentle touch of his calloused fingers sent sparks through your skin, making you gasp against his mouth.
That was all the encouragement he needed.
The kiss deepened, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The world outside—the party, the people, the chaos—faded into the background until it was just you and Daryl. You could taste the intensity of his need, the years of unspoken words between you bleeding into every brush of your lips. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d been starving for this—starving for you.
Your heart pounded as you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, guttural sound from the back of his throat. The noise sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and suddenly, you wanted more. Needed more.
Daryl seemed to feel the same. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress in a way that made you shiver. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with want.
“You sure ‘bout this?” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. His thumb traced slow circles on your hip, as though he was fighting against the very desire that had his body trembling with tension.
In response, you tugged him down again, crashing your lips against his. It wasn’t soft this time. It was all heat and desperation, like you couldn’t get enough of him, like you were trying to make up for all the time you’d spent denying this.
He groaned against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as his hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer. You could feel his body against yours, all hard muscle and heat, and it made your knees weak. Without breaking the kiss, Daryl backed you against the nearest wall, your back pressing against the cool surface as his mouth trailed down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.
“God, Daryl,” you breathed, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he kissed his way down your throat, the rough scrape of his stubble igniting a fire beneath your skin.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen from the kiss, his breathing heavy. “I ain’t… I ain’t good at this,” he muttered, his voice low, filled with doubt. But there was a vulnerability there too, a softness that made your heart ache.
You cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “You’re better than you think,” you whispered, leaning in to press another soft kiss to his lips.
The reassurance seemed to break whatever was left of his hesitation. His hands were back on you, running down your sides, his fingers skimming over your dress before gripping your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you could feel every inch of him pressed against you.
Daryl kissed you again, rougher this time, his hands sliding under your dress, fingertips brushing against bare skin. His touch was searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake, and the need pooling in your core only intensified. His body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall, and you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Daryl…” you whispered, your breath hitching as his hands roamed higher, slipping beneath your dress. Every touch sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you arched against him, craving more of his heat, more of him.
His lips were back on yours, his kiss desperate and demanding. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, like he was afraid of losing control. But that was exactly what you wanted—you wanted him to lose control, to let go of all the tension he’d been holding for so long. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and the heat between you was undeniable. His breath was heavy against your neck, lips grazing your skin, when—
“Daryl? You out here?” Rick’s voice cut through the air like a bucket of cold water.
Both of you froze, bodies tense and pressed together against the wall. You heard the sound of boots approaching, and panic shot through you. Daryl stepped back quickly, dropping his hands from your waist, but not before Rick rounded the corner, his brows shooting up in surprise.
“Oh, uh—sorry,” Rick said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender, though there was a smirk creeping onto his face. “Didn’t mean to… interrupt.”
Your face flushed red as you adjusted your dress, smoothing it down, while Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly flustered. His shoulders were still tense, and he shot Rick a look that could’ve melted steel.
Rick, ever the leader, just shrugged. “Deanna’s lookin’ for you two. Figured I’d check out back. Didn’t expect to find… this.”
You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words failed you. The heat of the moment had been so intense, so all-consuming, that being yanked back to reality felt almost disorienting. Daryl, on the other hand, let out a low grunt, clearly still agitated by the sudden intrusion.
Rick, picking up on the tension, tried to backtrack. “Look, I’ll tell her I couldn’t find you. Give you some more time.”
“No,” you blurted, straightening your back and forcing a shaky laugh. “No, it’s fine. We’ll… we’ll be there in a minute.”
Rick nodded, the smirk still lingering on his lips as he backed away, throwing one last glance at Daryl. “Y’all take your time.”
As soon as he was gone, you and Daryl were left in awkward silence. You dared a glance at him, his eyes still burning with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, embarrassment, maybe both. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rougher than usual. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
You swallowed hard, the moment that had felt so heated now replaced with a strange tension. But you managed a small smile, stepping closer and brushing your fingers lightly against his hand. “It’s not your fault.”
His gaze flickered to you, softer now, but still conflicted. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to say next, but before he could speak, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get back inside.”
As you walked back inside, Daryl’s hand brushing yours was a silent promise. The air between you was charged with what had just happened, but there was a new understanding. “We’ll talk later,” you said quietly, and he nodded, a small smile breaking through his earlier tension.
The house was bustling when you walked back in, laughter and music filling the air, the warmth of the party wrapping around you like a blanket. You felt a bit dishevelled, your mind still lingering on what had almost happened out there.
As you stepped inside, you were greeted with knowing looks from your friends. Maggie’s eyes landed on you first, and she exchanged a smirk with Rosita, who was sitting on the couch. Carol and Michonne were nearby, their gazes flicking between you and Daryl, who had taken up his usual stance near the door, trying to stay invisible.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Rosita teased, raising an eyebrow at you. Her eyes darted from you to Daryl, a grin spreading across her face. “You two were gone for a while. Everything okay?”
Your face flushed again, and you glanced at Daryl, who was doing his best to avoid everyone’s eyes. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, shuffling his feet, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously.
“Yeah,” you managed, trying to sound casual. “We just… needed some air.”
“Uh-huh,” Maggie drawled, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is that what they call it these days?”
Carol, who had been watching quietly from the side, stepped forward with a soft smile. “Glad you two finally got some air. It’s about time.”
You blinked, unsure of how to respond, but before you could, Michonne chimed in, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “You two need a map, or did you manage to find your way back okay?”
“Michonne!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as everyone around you erupted into laughter. Even Rick, who had rejoined the group, couldn’t suppress his grin.
Daryl, still standing off to the side, cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. But there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You alright, Daryl?” Rick asked, his voice teasing but with genuine care beneath it.
Daryl grunted in response, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, but his eyes briefly flicked to you, and the tension between you was still there, simmering beneath the surface.
Rosita, never one to miss a beat, leaned back on the couch and sighed dramatically. “Well, if that’s what fresh air does, maybe we should all get some.”
Laughter rippled through the group again, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh with them. The teasing, though relentless, was filled with warmth, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. They weren’t judging you—they were happy. Happy that, after everything, you and Daryl had finally taken a step toward something more.
Carol caught your eye, her smile gentle as ever. “Don’t let us embarrass you too much. We’re just glad you both finally stopped dancing around it.”
As the laughter subsided, you and Daryl exchanged a look that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the end of the conversation, but it was a start. You reached out, gently touching his arm, and he responded with a nod. In the midst of the party’s warmth, there was a new, tentative promise between you—an acknowledgment of all the unspoken truths that had simmered between you for so long.
There was a new, tentative promise between you—a promise to face the unspoken truths head-on. It was a promise of more conversations, more moments, and perhaps, the start of a deeper connection where everything that had remained unsaid would finally have a place.
