Summary: Daryl wants a big, tough dog; She wants a lap dog. Let's see how the trip to the local shelter goes.
Daryl Dixon x Female reader âą pet adoption âą short fic
Daryl's pickup eased to a stop beside the animal shelter. Even from the driver's seat, they could hear the distant chorus of barking and the excited thump of paws bouncing against chain-link fences coming from inside.
She flipped down the little mirror overhead to check her lip gloss, smacked her lips together, then turned to Daryl, who was already unbuckling his seat belt.
Without a word, she held out her hand, fingers flexing expectantly.
Daryl glanced at her palm, then at her face, already knowing exactly what she was after. He let out a long sigh.
"Just one swig," she pleaded. "I need it for courage."
He raised an eyebrow. "You need courage to step foot in a shelter, sweetheart?"
"Yes!" she said, baffled that he'd even ask. "Have you ever seen those adoption commercials? The ones with the sad music and all the dogs looking into the camera with those big puppy eyes? I couldn't even sleep last night just thinking about it."
"Yeah, I figured." He shook his head. "Ya kept me awake all night with yer damn tossin' 'n turnin'."
"Good," she mocked, before her hand wandered to the inside pocket of his leather jacket, already searching for the little flask tucked away there with no permission.
"I'm gonna cry, if I don't have some alcohol in my system."
"Yer a drunk crier," Daryl muttered, catching her wrist before she could steal it. "That's just gon' make it worse."
"No, it won't. I promise."
With another long-suffering sigh, he finally fished the flask from his vest and placed it in her waiting hand, then his index finger pointed at the sky. "One swig."
She smiled triumphantly, twisting the flask open and bringing it to her lips with a backward tilt of her head.
He watched her take the tiniest sip imaginable before immediately taking the flask back.
She frowned.
"I said one swig."
"That wasn't even an ounce!"
"Good enough, c'mon."
She rolled her eyes as they climbed out of the pickup together, and the moment they stepped inside, barking erupted from every direction, and the smell of dry kibble and warm paws reached their noses.
Rows upon rows of hopeful fur-covered faces looked back at them through kennel doors. Some dogs jumped excitedly against the gates, others wagged their tails so hard their whole bodies swayed, while a few simply sat quietly, watching as though trying not to hope too much.
Her hands made their way over her chest, her bottom lip poking out. "Wish we could take them all, Daryl," She whispered, trying her best to keep her composure.
Daryl rubbed the small of her back as they wandered down the aisle. "We're here for one," he reminded her gently.
She nodded sullenly. "Yeah... I know."
Daryl studied the dogs with a more practical eye than hers. Unlike many others, he'd never had pets of his own to see the appeal of them. There had never been enough room in the trailer he grew up in, and keeping a dog tied beneath a tree had always seemed crueler than letting it roam free.
And the few dogs that ever wandered near the trailer never stayed long.
He remembered waking up to curious animals sniffing around the property, only for his old man to scare them off by throwing an empty bottle their way. The sharp crack of glass against the ground and the scatter of shards always sent them running, leaving the dogs to disappear down the road and never come back.
So if he planned to feed another mouth, the animal might as well be useful.
"We need somethin' sturdy," he said. "Big enough to keep ya safe. Smart enough to trainâHunt even."
She looked over at him with a playful smirk. "Why do I need a guard dog when I've already got you?"
That earned him a faint chuckle before he looked away, pretending to keep studying the kennels with all seriousness. "I meant when I'm gone, smartass."
She walked ahead of him at an unhurried pace, her hands folded behind her back because she didn't trust herself not to pet every single animal they passed. An apologetic smile found its way to her lips for every furry face that looked their way, and it didn't take long for one in particular to catch her attention enough to bring her to a stop.
She pointed excitedly toward the smallest kennel in the room where the tiniest Chihuahua either of them had ever seen stood.
It had a round little head and a patchwork coat of three colors. Some patches of fur lay short and sleek against his body, while others were longer and scruffier, as though he'd been mixed with another breed somewhere down the line. One tiny fang poked out from beneath his lip, giving him the permanent expression of an old man ready to pick a fight with anyone who looked at him for too long, and maybe that's why he had ended there, still waiting for someone that could match his fire.
The little dog marched right up to the gate with all the confidence of a German Shepherd.
Daryl quickly turned from the dog to her.
"Hell nah," he snapped before she could get any words in, though her eyes showed that anything he would say from there on out would be a waste of spit.
"But look at it, Daryl!"
Like on cue, the chihuahua bared every tiny tooth in its mouth at Daryl, his top lip quivering with its efforts to look tough.
"Oh my god, he's smiling at you." She clasped both hands over her mouth in awe. "How sweet."
"Dogs don' smile, ya lunatic." He pointed an accusing finger toward the cage. "That rat wants to attack me."
The little dog let out a furious series of squeaky barks, making a tiny hop with each one, as if his vocal cords were far too mighty for the rest of his pocket-size body.
"Can you really blame him?" she asked. "You just called him a rat." She picked up the information card clipped to the front of the kennel.
"Male," she read aloud. "Likes sunbathing, car rides..." She chuckled at the next line. "Favorite snack... dried duck feet."
Daryl blinked. "Duck feet? Ya shittin' me."
"Nope." She tapped the information card with a painted nail. "Says it right here. A man of refined taste."
"He eats feet. The hell's refined 'bout that?"
She shot him an unimpressed look and crossed her arms. "Your favorite part of the pig is the crispy tail, and you're judging him?"
He immediately mirrored her stance, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, Iâ" he started, full of confidence, only to run out of an argument halfway through.
He cleared his throat. "Don' gotta explain myself to ya. We ain't gettin' him."
She ignored every single word and knelt in front of the kennel to slip a finger through one of the openings in the chain-link fence. The little dog padded over cautiously, gave her red-painted fingernail a curious sniff, then gently licked it.
And that settled it.
Both she and the Chihuahua turned to look at Daryl at the exact same time, wearing matching expressions of stubborn defiance that went hand in paw.
"Daryl..."
He turned to the side as if ready to walk away. "Ain't happenin'."
She stood and slowly slipped her arms around Daryl's neck, leaning into him as she shamelessly turned on the charm.
"Please, baby," she pleaded, her tone sweet as honey. "I want this little fella."
Daryl immediately went rigid.
His eyes darted to the shelter worker, who was already biting back a smile before giving him a sympathetic little shake of the head, as if to say, I've seen this before.
The tips of Daryl's ears turned bright red.
He awkwardly tried to pry her off, not because he minded the affection, but because he hated being a pussy-whipped fucker infront of others. His hands found her waist to keep her from climbing any higher while she continued peppering little kisses along the side of his neck.
"Please, please," she whispered against his skin.
"Woman, ya can't expect gettin' everythin' ya want with kisses," he grumbled, even though he was halfway gone already.
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
"Is that a challenge?" she asked before puckering her glossy lips and making exaggerated kissing noises as she inched closer and closer to his face.
Daryl held out a finger and planted it squarely against her forehead, stopping her before her lips could reach him, then he let out a long, defeated sigh.
"Alright, alright," he grumbled, "We'll get ya yer rat."
Her face lit up. "Thank you, Daryl. I know you'll learn to love him."
"I'll tolerate 'im, and that's it."
An hour later, the Chihuahua was asleep in her lap as they drove home.
"So much for a guard dog," Daryl muttered, looking at the pair.
He cracked the driver's window open to light a cigarette, and at the howl of the wind rushing through the opening, the little dog's ears perked before he stirred awake.
The Chihuahua immediately climbed off her lap with a stretch and carefully made his way across the bench seat and planted himself in Daryl's lap. Daryl flinched and looked down at the little space invader, who just stood on his hind legs, poked his tiny head out into the rushing air, and let his pink tongue flap wildly in the wind.
She smiled, heart melting. "Look, he likes the wind, just like the card said."
Daryl glanced down at the tiny dog balancing proudly against his thigh and the car door.
"...Huh."
"He does the same thing you do on your bike," she teased. "It's like... you birthed him."
He shot her an offended look; meanwhile, the Chihuahua closed his eyes, nose pointed toward the sunset sky, soaking up every gust, unbothered.
Daryl scratched absentmindedly behind one tiny ear. "Guess the little rat ain't completely useless..."
"What should we call him?" She whispered, leaning sideways to rest her head on his shoulder.
Daryl automatically tilted his head towards hers, his eyes on the rode, and now on the dog on his lap.
He grunted. "Dunno. What y'got in mind, sweetheart?"
She thought for a second, mentally listing the dogs traits and her first impression of the road-wind loving dog, then she smiled. "Taz, like that looney tunes character."
He huffed, though he wasn't opposed. If anything, it did fit nicely.
"It's settled then. Yer Taz now," Daryl said. "But if ya pee on my lap, I'm throwin' y'out the window."
One month later...
She adjusted the tiny wind goggles on Taz before slipping Daryl's leather vest over him until the little dog sat snug against his chest.
Daryl gripped the handlebars of his bike and looked down at the absolute mockery she was putting him through. Though, he had to admit, the little rat looked pretty damn cute.
He had slowly but surely opened up to Taz. Not in any obvious wayâhe'd never been the type to make a big show of affectionâbut in the quiet little habits he'd changed to make room for him.
At first, the dog wasn't allowed anywhere near the bed, and now, he slept tucked between them every night.
Scraps from Daryl's plate always found their way to the floor, tossed down to be enjoyed by the dog who waited by his boots patiently.
And whenever Daryl had to head out for a quick run for cigarettes or gas, he'd leave the pickup door hanging open a few seconds longer than necessary, pretending to check something when in reality he was waiting for the familiar patter of tiny paws racing over the gravel.
Without a word, Daryl would bend down, scoop Taz into one arm, settle him on the seat beside him, and drive off with all the windows down.
Every time, she'd catch it.
She'd look over, sending him the kind of knowing look that made Daryl point a warning finger at her before she could even open her mouth, as if saying, don' ya dare.
She only lifted both hands in surrender, the smug grin on her face saying everything she didn't, I told you so.
"Okay..." she said, giving Taz one final inspection. "That seems secure enough."
"He looks ridiculous with them goggles," Daryl mocked with no real bite behind it.
Taz answered with squeaky bark.
She reached up and tapped the bridge of Daryl's black sunglasses. "You've got eye protection. He's got his."
"Whatever." Daryl swatted her hand away. "Now get yer ass up here 'fore I leave ya."
She bit back a grin, hurried around the motorcycle, and swung a leg over, settling onto the seat behind him. Her arms slipped around his middle, one hand instinctively reaching up to give Taz a gentle tap in the head.
"Hold on, Sweetheart," He drawled, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze before twisting the throttle.
The motorcycle rumbled to life, and as they rolled down the road, Taz stretched his tiny neck out past the collar of Daryl's vest, ears flapping above the little goggles as he soaked in the wind as though he didn't belong anywhere else but there with his family and the open road ahead.
Note: Short little fic inspired by one scene in my mechanic BF Daryl fic, where they talked about getting a dog. I love seeing tough bikers with their little dogs in the wild.
Summary: Daryl and you canât just take your eyes off each other.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Horvath! Reader
Warnings: swearing, talks about death, Merle, more will be added with time.
A/N: decided to make a masterlist for it, so probably Iâll take the links from the Drabble list. For now this is a series of shorts, but maybe in the future I could feel like writing something longer.
Not saying Iâm completely back to writing, but I wanted to write part 4 of this and here it is. I have more ideas for those shorts, but Iâm not sure if Iâm writing or when Iâm writing.
Just reblogging this to say I posted part 4 and that Iâm alive.
A/N: hey, long time no see. Life has been crazy and I havenât writen in a while. Iâm rewatching TWD and I canât take them from my mind, so I came here write this part that was on my drafts for a long time already. Itâs been so long that Iâll not add the taglist, cause I donât know if you want to be tagged. I hope it finds the right people.
Main Masterlist
Daryl Dixon Masterlist
It had been a day since you went hunting with Daryl and you had your little quarrel.
You felt guilty.
He felt guilty.
You both had been assholes.
Since then you didnât talk, you went back with five squirrels and 2 rabbits, most of it was him, to be honest you were only able to shoot one squirrel, and he still got mad at you for waisting ammo and making noise which led a big rabbit to run away.
Not that you used to talk a lot before, but you were avoiding each other, there were no jokes or lame flirts being thrown at each other. The only thing that remained the same was the staring contest between you two, which wasnât new, but his pissed look with something else in it⊠that was.
âWhatâs happening between you two?â Your father asked, interrupting your thoughts about the hunter.
You took your eyes from the man staring at you, and looked at Dale, who was by your side on top of the RV.
âNothing.â You replied, crossing your arms as if you felt cold and were using them as a shield to protect yourself.
âI know you better than this, kiddo.â He stopped analyzing Daryl and turned his look to you. âI know, you have this staring thing going on between you two, and Iâm not here to tell you what to do, but youâre both acting really weird since yesterday.â
You sighed, you couldnât hide anything from your father. He was so observant. Not even when you tried to be a rebellious teen could you hide anything from him. He always knew something was up.
âWe fought yesterday during the hunt.â You spilled the information he wanted to hear.
âAnd was it that bad so he has to look angry like this at you?â He questioned, he needed more information to understand.
âDad, Daryl always looks angry.â You observed.
âNot at you.â
You scoffed, âwe were both assholes, yesterday. He was pissed I wasnât taking the hunt seriously, and said something about me being born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I got angry, and told him aboutâŠâ
ââŠabout being adopted and not knowing your biological parents?â Dale completed.
âYeah, why did I have to do that? I donât know, itâs not like you and mom didnât give me a life way better than what he had.â You felt guilty, you didnât want other parents, you loved your parents who took you in their family and raised you to be who you were.
âYou felt offended, he was being mean. Itâs not like we were rich, we had a comfortable life, itâs rude to assume things about other people.â He said putting his arm around your shoulders.
You looked at your feet, you were not a saint. âI was mean to him too. I asked if his mom didnât educate him⊠and in the end, he lost his mom when he was a little kid. Of course she didnât educate him. Iâm an asshole.â
âHmmâŠâ He hummed, thinking about what you said. âYou should apologize. He too. But Iâm your father, not his, so Iâm not telling him what to do.â
âYeah⊠I should. Thanks, dad.â You kissed his cheek and descended the RV.
You got inside the RV, rehearsing in your head what should be the best apology to give the hunter. You grabbed a pack and left the vehicle, directing yourself to where you saw him last.
He wasnât there anymore, so you tried going to his tent. You walked feeling an uneasy feeling inside yourself. You felt like a teenage girl.
You had distracted your mind and when you looked ahead, you saw him walking on your direction. You both stopped before each other and said the same sentence.
â âm sorry.â
âIâm sorry.â
You let a small laugh leave your lips, at the irony of the moment.
â I shouldnât have assumed anything about ya.â He said handing you something inside some kind of case, it looked like a knife. â âs for you.â
â I shouldnât have talked about your mom, that wasnât right.â You said extending the pack you had gotten to him.
âPotato chips?â He said.
You both handed each other what you had brought. You took the knife from his hand to examine, you took it from the case. It looked sharp, it probably was.
âWonât you need it?â You asked him.
âNah⊠I have others, and it doesnât look like you have a good knifeâŠâ he said scratching the bridge of his nose like he usually did.
âOk, thanks.â You said while tying the knife to your waist, you never thought youâd need to carry a knife to protect yourself⊠and thinking that Daryl noticed that you didnât have one... âIt makes my apology gift look silly.â
âNo, I like it. This kind of goodieâs not easy to get nowadays.â He paused and looked like he was thinking about what to say. âThanks.â
âFriends?â You offered him your hand.
âFriends.â He held your hand back, warm, callused and strong, making your heart race.
Damn⊠you thought. I want to be more than friends.
Summary: Across every stage of the outbreak, your physical relationship with Daryl mirrors his emotional growth from detached survivor to a man who worships and protects the one person he refuses to lose.
Classification and content warnings: Smut +18 | Rough sex, consensual but primal encounters, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, biting, marking, mild choking and creampies.
Temporal setting: Season 1 to 11
Word count: 4,5k
Divider by me ;)
Quarry Camp:
In the early days, the world was fresh in its death, nerves raw with everyone on edge.Â
Daryl was a ghost at the edges of the group, crossbow always in hand, resentment simmering under his skin from Merleâs absence and the constant babysitting of these soft strangers. You were useful, another set of eyes, a decent shot and not afraid to get dirty. That was all it was.
He didnât talk much, never did but one night after a supply run gone tense, the quarryâs humid air thick with insect noise and distant moans of the dead, he cornered you behind the tree line, away from the flickering campfires. His hand landed heavily on your hip, callused fingers digging in as yours did the same over the tent in his jeans.
âNeed this,â he growled low, more a statement than a question.Â
He spun you against a thick trunk, rough bark scraping your palms as he yanked your pants down just enough. His own jeans were shoved low on his hips, cock already hard and leaking from the dayâs pent-up rage and there was no kissing.Â
He spat in his palm, slicked himself once and pushed in a raw and thick, burning stretch that made your teeth clench. He fucked like he was punishing the world with brutal, shallow thrusts at first and then deeper, hips snapping with frustrated force. One hand fisted your hair while the other gripped your waist hard enough to bruise as grunts and low curses spilled from him.
âFuckâŠtightâŠfâshit,â voice gravelly and breathless.
It was quick and ugly. He came with a choked groan, hips stuttering as he forcefully pulled out, then quickly tucked himself away while you were still catching your breath, slick dripping down your thighs. He quickly wiped you with a rag from his pocket, offered a nod and he was gone back to his tent. There was no aftercare or additional words because it was a matter of convenience and release, in the same way he would scratch an itch or hunt for food.
CDC:
The CDC felt like false hope wrapped in sterile walls. Everyone was drunk on wine and the illusion of safety while Daryl was still on the outside of the main room, distrust thick in his veins but the alcohol loosened his tongue just a fraction. You ended up in a dim side corridor after everyone else had passed out or paired off.
He was a little less feral here, still no tenderness but the frustration had changed into survival-fueled need mixed with the knowledge that tomorrow might be the end. He pulled you into a shadowed lab room and bent you over a cold metal table, pushing your jeans down and shoving your shirt up so he could look at your strengthening back muscles. His mouth was on your neck this time, biting more than kissing, teeth scraping skin as he lined up and sank in with one rough thrust.
âKeep quiet,â he muttered against your ear with a thick voice. His pace was steadier but still punishing, hips slapping loud in the empty room as the table creaked under you.
He reached around, rough fingers finding your clit and rubbing in messy circles, it was in no way skilled, mostly effective. You clenched around him and he cursed, low and filthy, pounding in harder as sweat dripped from his chest onto your back. When he came it was with a bitten-off groan, hips flush against your ass as he pulsed inside.
He lingered a second longer than at the quarry, forehead pressed briefly to your shoulder while he caught his breath but then he pulled out, helped yank your pants up with a grunt and left. This time, it was convenience with the faintest edge of mutual reliance now since you watched each otherâs backs out there more than once.
Hershelâs Farm:
The farm brought fragile stability as days blurred into chores, patrols and quiet nights. Daryl was more integrated but still prickly, especially after Sophia. You hunted together now as silent but efficient partners in the woods and inevitably, that shared competence started bleeding into everything else.
Sex wasnât random anymore. It happened after long days tracking, in abandoned barns or deep in the woods where no one wandered. He still didnât do âsoftâ but there was more of a rhythm now and he made sure you came at least once.
One evening after a successful hunt, blood still under his nails, he tugged you up the ladder into the hayloft, moonlight filtering through the slats. He stripped you slowly, your shirt went first but he still hesitated to touch anywhere else. When he pushed inside, you were on your back in the hay, legs wrapped around his waist, his thrusts were deep and grinding, less frantic than before but still very blunt. Skin slapped and heavy breathing filled the space with the occasional low âYeahâŠlike that,â when you moaned or tightened around him.
He watched your face more, studying reactions like he studied tracks. One hand pinned your wrist above your head while the other gripped your thigh, spreading you wider so he could hit deeper. Sweat-slick and grunting, he fucked you until your legs shook and when you came, he didnât stop, just kept that relentless pace until he followed, burying himself with a ragged groan and staying there longer, hips twitching.
Afterwards, he didnât leave right away. He rolled off but stayed close, one arm draped heavy over your waist while you both breathed heavily. There was no âlove talkâ or any real cuddling but there was a quiet acknowledgment, you were not just a warm body anymore. You were the one who moved silently with him through the trees, the one who didnât flinch at his scars or his moods.
Respect was starting to root, even if feelings were still buried deep under layers of loss and survival.
The road after the barn burned:
The farm was ash and the group was scattered on the road, exhausted, hungry and hunted while nights were cold and the days brutal. You and Daryl fell into a rhythm of scouting ahead, hunting small game and watching each otherâs backs without needing words.Â
The sex became less about pure frustration and more about grounding each other in the chaos, two hardened survivors stealing heat and release when the weight of leadership and loss pressed too heavy.
One night the group camped in a tight circle of cars off a forgotten highway. You slipped away together into the tree line, far enough for privacy but close enough to hear if walkers or threats appeared. Daryl pulled you behind a thick oak, his crossbow leaned nearby within easy reach.Â
The air smelled of pine and distant smoke. He was dirt-streaked and tense but his hands were sure when he turned you to face the tree. âCâmere,â he muttered, voice low and rough like gravel though you were starting to like it. He tugged your pants and underwear down to your knees in one motion, then freed himself, he was already hard, thick and flushed, veins prominent from the dayâs adrenaline. He spat into his palm again, an old habit but this time he reached around and worked the slickness over your entrance with two rough fingers, opening you up properly for the first time in weeks.
When he pushed in it was still shallow, still a stretch that burned so good, too good, but slower. He bottomed out with a heavy exhale against the back of your neck while one arm braced on the trunk above your head, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you steadily against him. His thrusts started deep and rolling, in long strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, yet the slap of skin was muffled by the night. He grunted softly with each thrust, breath hot on your skin.
âFuckâŠyou feel good,â he admitted between clenched teeth. It definitely wasnât sweet talk, it sounded more like pure honesty, a bit surprising. His hand slid down, callused fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm, steady circles in time with his hips.Â
He was learning your body now, paying attention to the way you clenched and gasped, so when your legs started to shake, he didnât speed up, he kept that relentless pace until you came hard around him, biting your own arm to stay quiet.
Only then did he let go, hips snapping sharper as he chased his own release. He came with a low, broken groan, pressing deep and staying buried while he pulsed inside you, forehead dropped to your shoulder.Â
For a long minute he just breathed there with you, arm still banded around your middle like he just remembered what came after this. He pulled out carefully, helped you fix your clothes with surprisingly gentle hands, then wiped himself with a rag before offering it to you.Â
You hunted together the next morning like always and the respect was palpable now. He trusted you with his life out there and the sex had become another way you took care of each other in a world that took everything.
The prison (Before the Governor):
Prison walls finally offered something like safety with its cells, fences and routines. Daryl was more settled but still carried the weight of the group on his shoulders.Â
You two shared a cell more often than not as the weeks passed and the sex reflected that. It was still rough around the edges but laced with intimacy born of partnership since you had bled together, killed together and kept the group alive together.
Late one night after a long watch shift, the prison was quiet except for distant walker groans outside the fences. You were in the lower bunk of a cell in another block, the place you usually went to when you needed to get away from the group. Daryl climbed in after you, his body heavy and warm as he pressed you into the thin mattress. No words were needed before he stripped you both efficiently, hands roaming your sides and mapping scars he had memorized by now.
He settled between your thighs, cock heavy and leaking against your soaked pussy. This time he took his time entering, thick inch by inch, watching your face in the dim light filtering through the bars. Once he was fully seated he paused, hips flush, letting you feel every inch of him stretching you open. âGood?â he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. You nodded and he started moving deeply with precise thrusts that rocked the bunk frame quietly. His mouth found your neck then, sucking marks that would be hidden by a high-neck shirt in the morning.
He fucked you like a man who knew exactly what you needed after a hard day. One hand pinned your hip while the other braced beside your head and the angle let him grind against your clit with every thrust. His grunts were low and guttural, âThatâs itâŠtake itâŠfuck, too good of a habit to quit.â The words slipped out heavily with the truth of your partnership as he was claiming you in the only way he knew how.
When you came he rode it out, stroking you through it until you were trembling, then he let himself go, burying deep with a choked groan, hips stuttering as he filled you. He collapsed half on top of you afterward, breathing hard against your neck with one arm wrapped around your waist. He didnât pull out immediately, he stayed inside you, softening, while his thumb stroked lazy circles on your skin, yet there were no grand declarations but the protectiveness was there in every touch. You were his hunting partner, his cellmate, the one person he let see the cracks and he realized how respect had become bone-deep loyalty.
The prison (After the Governor):
The Governorâs attack left scars, literal and otherwise. The prison was damaged, the group fractured and trust in short supply. Daryl was darker now, angrier and more withdrawn after losing so many, as a result, the sex turned fiercer, punishing in its intensity but it was still the one place where the two of you could reconnect without the weight of leadership crushing you.
After a brutal day reinforcing defenses and scouting for revenge, he found you in that same secluded cell block and tension rolled off him in waves, same with you. He pushed you against the cold concrete wall, removing your boots, yanking your pants down roughly while his own were haphazardly shoved low by you. He was rock hard, angry-hard and he spat on his cock before hiking your thigh up and driving into you in one brutal thrust.
âNeed you,â he growled against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. There was no warmup that time, he fucked you hard and fast with deep, punishing strokes that lifted you onto your toes. The slap of skin echoed as his hand wrapped around your throat lightly, holding you possessively while the other remained at your thigh, fingers gripping hard enough to leave fingerprints. âDonât you fuckinâ leave me too,â he snarled between thrusts, voice cracking with everything he wouldnât say outright.
It was desperate and sweat dripped. Your moans mixed with his grunts as he angled to hit that spot inside you relentlessly until you shattered around him, clenching so tight he cursed viciously. He followed right after, slamming deep and staying there, cock pulsing as he spilled hot and thick inside you with a long moan.
He stayed pressed against your front for a long time, breathing ragged, arms caging you in until he softened and pulled out, resting his forehead against yours for a silent moment, allowing rare vulnerability. Then he helped clean you up with hands steadier than his mood.Â
The partnership was ironclad now, he would kill for you without hesitation and the sex was how he reminded you and himself that you were still here, still his to protect in this brutal world. There werenât any feelings yet but the foundation was set, layered with deep respect, fierce loyalty and a bone-deep need that only grew stronger with every loss.
Alexandria (Before Negan):
Alexandriaâs walls felt like a different world between the clean houses, running water and the people still trying to pretend the dead werenât out there. Daryl was uncomfortable with the softness and domesticity but he was adapting. You two had a house now, a shared space and inevitably, the sex changed noticeably. The frustration and pure convenience were gone since respect had deepened into vulnerability and feelings started to surface in the quiet moments after, now that there was a space they could live in safely.
One night the house was quiet and the neighborhood asleep. You were in the bedroom you shared, moonlight cutting through the curtains when Daryl came back from a late watch, still wired. He found you already in bed and stripped slowly, eyes locked on you the entire time and when he climbed over you, his touch was still callused and sure but there was a new reverence in it.
He kissed you now in deep, hungry kisses that tasted like want and something softer. His mouth trailed down your neck, sucking marks you no longer hid and he took his time undressing you, hands mapping every inch like he was memorizing you all over again.Â
When he finally pushed inside, it was slow and thick, stretching you open with a groan that vibrated against your throat, though you didnât need to be quiet now.
âGoddamnâŠalways so good for me,â he murmured, voice rough but laced with emotion he couldnât quite hide. His hips rolled in deep and steady thrusts, they had grown confident and controlled, hitting every spot that made your back arch. He was fully present, watching your face and adjusting his angle whenever your breath caught.Â
One hand laced with yours above your head while the other gripped your thigh, spreading you wider so he could sink even deeper.
The pace built gradually making your skin slick with sweat as the bed creaked softly. He ground against your clit with every thrust, low grunts mixing with your moans. âBeen keeping those sounds away from me? Those are mine now,â he whispered against your lips, it was the first time he said it quite like that, claiming in a way that carried weight. When you came he rode it through, kissing you through the tremors, then let himself follow, burying deep with a ragged groan as he filled you, hips stuttering with the intensity of it.
He stayed inside you for a long minute, then rolled you both so you were draped over his chest, arms wrapped around you as one hand stroked slowly up and down your back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, small and hesitant but at least there was no more bolting and no more walls to keep up. The feelings were there now, quiet and extremely terrifying for a man who had lost everything. He held you like you were the one thing in this world he refused to let slip away.
The Hilltop:
Hilltop brought new alliances, new dangers and new responsibilities. The relationship had settled into something solid by then as sex reflected his growing confidence, he knew what he wanted, knew what you needed and he gave it without hesitation.
You stole a night in one of the smaller trailers on the outskirts. The air was cooler, tension from recent runs still humming under his skin as he pulled you onto the narrow bed, stripping you both with practiced hands. He was harder and more assured now in what the two of you had built.
He went down on you first, something that had become more common. His rough stubble scraped your inner thighs, tongue and lips relentless and skilled from practice before two thick fingers curled inside you while he sucked on your clit until your hips bucked and you came against his mouth with a muffled cry. Only then did he climb up, cock heavy and dripping as he slid into your soaked pussy in one smooth thrust.
âFuckingâŠperfect,â he growled, voice low and gravelly. His thrusts were powerful and confident in deep, rolling strokes that made the bed frame knock against the wall. He pinned your wrists lightly, mouth on your neck, sucking fresh marks while he fucked you steady and hard. He changed angles until he found the one that made you keen, then exploited it mercilessly, hips snapping with precision.
The possessiveness was stronger now, mixed with open care. âStay with me,â he rasped between thrusts. âAinât losinâ you out there.â When you clenched around him and came again he groaned loudly, following you over the edge and burying himself to the hilt as he spilled hot and deep, hips grinding through the pulses.
After, he cleaned you both with a warm cloth from the basin, then pulled you tight against him under the thin blankets. His hand rested on your hip, thumb stroking lazy circles and he talked more now, just quiet murmurs about the day, about worries for the group and about how you made the weight feel bearable. The man who once fucked you against a tree and left was gone, this Daryl held you like you were home.
Alexandria (After Negan):
Neganâs shadow had left its mark of blood, loss, captivity and war. Daryl was harder again in some ways but with you he was open like he never was before. The sex, when he could finally indulge in it, was emotional, a release and a reaffirmation that you both had survived. He had lost too many and the fear of losing you fueled everything.
Back in your shared house in Alexandria, the first night after Negan and the Saviors were successfully defeated by the group, he was on you the moment the door closed and he kissed you like a man drowning with deep and desperate hands roaming everywhere. Clothes came off in a frantic trail to the bedroom and once you reached it, he lifted you onto the bed, spread your thighs wide and buried his face between them first, eating you out with single-minded hunger until you were shaking and oversensitive.
Then he was inside you, thick and stretching you out perfectly. He fucked you with deep, shallow strokes, hips snapping against yours with control. Every thrust carried the weight of relief, love he still struggled to name and inevitably, the fear of tomorrow.Â
âCanât lose you,â he growled against your mouth, voice breaking. âYou hear me? Youâre it for me.â
He laced your fingers together, pinning your hands beside your head while he drove into you. The pace was relentless and the sound of skin slapping obscene as sweat-slick bodies moved together. He watched your face the entire time, drinking in every moan and flutter like it was the first time and when you came he didnât stop, he kept fucking you through it until you were sobbing his name and cumming again, then finally let go with a deep, guttural moan, emptying himself inside you in long, pulsing waves that sounded painful.
He collapsed beside you and pulled you into his arms immediately, holding you so tight it was almost bruising. He buried his face in your neck, breathing you in and apologizing for being so âgoneâ which you immediately corrected even as he pressed soft kisses to your temple and shoulder. His hand stroked your hair, your back and anywhere he could reach because there was no hiding anymore, the feelings were overflowing and terrifying. He whispered rough promises against your skin, about how he would always come back to you and how he would protect what you had built together.
This Daryl was confident, devoted and deeply in love, even if the words still came slowly. The evolution was complete in its own way, from frustrated quick fucks in the woods to this raw, emotional and unbreakable connection without a place to hide.
The Commonwealth:
Years had carved their marks deep into both of you. The Commonwealth offered structure, safety, even a fragile sense of normalcy with its bustling streets, electricity and attempts at governance but Daryl had seen too many utopias crumble. You were the one constant he refused to lose, the one person who had walked every mile of hell beside him, from quarry dirt to these polished Commonwealth streets. The sex between you now was no longer just release or partnership, it was love made physical and intricate, a language only the two of you fully understood. It was slow when time allowed and desperate when the ghosts pressed close, always profound.
One night in your shared apartment, modest by Commonwealth standards but private and secure, Daryl returned from a long day helping with outer perimeter checks. The weight of old habits lingered in his shoulders, his crossbow still strapped nearby even there.Â
You met him at the door and the moment his eyes locked on yours, the tension changed. He pulled you into a deep, claiming kiss, hands sliding under your shirt to feel warm skin, thumbs brushing the familiar scars he knew by heart and clothes were shed without rush but with purpose, leaving a trail through the living room into the bedroom. The bed was larger than any you had shared before, dressed in soft sheets that still felt foreign against skin used to rough blankets and forest floors.
Daryl laid you down like something precious, his body covering yours, heavy, solid and safe while his mouth explored with patient hunger, kissing down your throat, across your collarbone, sucking one nipple until it pebbled under his tongue while his callused hand palmed the other breast. He moved lower, broad shoulders spreading your thighs wide as he settled between them.
His stubble scraped deliciously against sensitive skin while his tongue parted your folds, licking long, slow stripes before focusing on your clit with precise, relentless circles. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling just right, pumping steadily as he sucked and licked until your back arched and your fingers fisted in his long hair. He didnât stop when you came the first time, drawing it out and savoring every flutter and gasp, murmuring low praises against your slick flesh, âThaâs itâŠlet me hear yaâŠso fuckinâ beautiful fâme.â
When he finally climbed back up, his cock was heavy, flushed dark and leaking. He held your gaze as he pushed in, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.
A deep groan escaped him at the tight heat and for a long moment he stayed there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing the same air. âCanât lose you,â he whispered, voice rough and cracked with years of unsaid terror. âLost too manyâŠnot you, never you. Iâll be selfish âbout thaââÂ
Then he began to move in deep, rolling thrusts that ground against every sensitive spot inside you. His hips moved with confident precision, the years of learning your body were evident in every stroke. One hand laced with yours, pinning it beside your head as the other gripped your hip, tilting you just right so he could sink even deeper.
The rhythm built gradually, skin sliding hot and slick together as the wet sounds of sex filled the room alongside his low grunts and your moans. He kissed you through it, messily and open-mouthed, tongues tangling as his pace turned harder and more possessive. He moved to hook one of your legs higher around his waist, changing the angle until you were crying out with every thrust. âGonna marry ya,â he growled against your neck, teeth grazing the skin he had marked a thousand times before. ââS always been ya. My homeâŠmy reason.â The words were sparse but heavy with everything he felt, the love, the fear and devotion of a man who had finally found something worth living for after the world ended.
When you came again, clenching hard around him, he rode it out with gritted teeth, prolonging your pleasure until you were trembling and oversensitive. Only then did he let go, thrusts turning deep and erratic, hips snapping as he buried himself as far as possible and came with a long, broken groan. You felt every pulse, every hot spurt of thick cum as he filled you, marking you from the inside like he always had. He stayed buried deep, hips making tiny, involuntary rocks while he softened, savoring the connection. His arms wrapped around you, rolling you both so you were draped across his chest as his hand stroked slow, soothing lines up and down your spine.
For a long time the room was quiet except for slowing breaths and distant Commonwealth night sounds. Daryl pressed kisses to your hair, your temple and shoulder, as small reverent touches that spoke volumes. His fingers traced old scars on your body, then newer ones, making a silent catalog of everything you had survived together as he murmured quietly about the day, about worries for Judith and the others and about how you made the weight of survival feel bearable.
Summary: You want to lose your innocence to Daryl - but not the romantic way...
Warnings: MDNI! 18+! SMUT (prey x hunter - it's a agreed-upon agreement and entirely consensual, virginity loss, breeding kink, Reader is a virgin but certainly not a saint, Reader getting handcuffed and blindfolded, slight manhandling, Daryl calling Reader bunny, oral (f) - Daryl is a munch, teasing, dirty talk, handjob, unprotected sex (don't do that), missionary and mating press, no pulling out, slightly rough-ish), established relationship, Daryl being a cutie patootie, mentions of weapons and walkers, thirst? talks of pregnancy, fluff
a/n: Welp... I guess that request just lifted my smut writing skills to a whole new level... Pls be gentle. đ The amount of reaearch I had to do for this... All worth it, I'd say. It was very challenging, but I gave it my all. I truly hope it is to your liking @clussysposts ! đ«¶đ»
Huge shout-out goes to @levislolita for supporting me as I wrote this - and for kinda beta-reading it. She was the smut demon sitting on my shoulder, hehe. Thank you, babes! đ«¶đ»
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MDNI Divider by @jiyascepter <3
"Ya wanna do wha'?" Daryl asked you already the second time - still blinking and still in disbelief. "You heard me, Dar." The archer blinked, then shook his head. "Yer sum'thin' else woman. Swear 't god."
This hadn't been the first time you had come to your boyfriend with a new 'idea' or crazy suggestion. Whenever it was a run, an escape plan, pastime at home in Alexandria or even home decoration - it was never boring with you. But this... This put everything on a whole new level and admittedly changed the way Daryl saw you - at least a little. He thought he knew you well after almost six months of being your significant other, but the archer had to admit that he was wrong about this.
"'Kay..." He started, "Lemme process this real quick, sunshine..." and took a breath to sort his thoughts. "Jus' 't make sure I get this right... Ya want me 't... hunt ya down like a fuckin' deer, drag ya in a cabin or sum'thin' and..." He had to pause in order to form the right words with a blush already creeping up his face. "Take yer... yer virginity."
You nodded with a big smile and clapped your hands - like a toddler who just solved a puzzle on their own. "Exactly, babe."
Daryl just stared at you for a solid minute and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. But then...
"Nah," he said; shaking his head. "Why not?" You sighed; already pouting. "Dun wanna hurt ya or sum'thin'. Ya never... a-and I... Nah."
You were still a virgin, yes. That much was true. It took you quite a while to come around and 'confess' to your partner since the archer was your first proper boyfriend - and sex wasn't a topic you both were super confident to talk about. Daryl, though, took it with the utmost respect and gentleness. He never forced you into anything - and never would. You promised to give him your virginity - but he never anticipated that you'd go along and ask him to take it like this.
"You're not gonna hurt me, babe. I promise. We're gonna chose a safe word and all. It's gonna be fine. And hot. And thrilling! Just imagine it!" He scoffed; still not quite convinced. "Told ya I wanted 't do this right... Proper bed 'n all. Romantic shit." "And I told you I don't want romantic shit and not lose it the normal, boring way." Daryl scoffed again. He really wanted to 'do it right' - but if that was what you preferred...
The archer sighed and nodded. "'Kay." You let out an excited squeal and tugged at his biceps; rocking up and down on your heels. "But if somethin' ain't right we're gonna stop right away." You nodded again. "Promise," you smiled and pulled him down for a kiss; saying 'Thank you'.
"Ya really sure ya wanna do it? Yer ready 'n comfortable enough?" Your partner checked in on you once more; wanting to be truly on the safe side. "Yes, babe. One hundred percent sure."
A few days later, a 'plan' was made and a safe word determined, before Daryl would go 'hunting'. The weather was nice. Not too hot, not too cold. Nothing on both your schedules. Daryl gave you a head start, of course. He was a little nervous about this all - but also excited. He couldn't deny that. You were right about this whole scenario. It was kinda hot.
An hour after you left Alexandria, Daryl followed. "Going on a hunt?" Eugene asked the man since he was on guard duty. Daryl adjusted the knives on his belt. No crossbow today, but prepared and armed nevertheless. He gave his friend something close to a nod, "Sum'thin' like that, yeah." stepped out of the gates and left a confused Eugene behind.
Once outside the safety of the walls, the archer scanned his surroundings - and instantly started to track you down.
Let the game begin.
And for Daryl, this game was very easy. He was an excellent tracker. Sure, you didn't really cover your tracks, but still. It wasn't much of a challenge for him. Within about an hour, he had almost caught up to you - and once he did, the fun really began.
You tried to hide from him, of course. Naturally. Your goal was to run from him as long as possible - and the thought was thrilling.
You were hiding behind a thick tree; trying to stay as quiet as possible with your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. Adrenaline. Excitement. Anticipation - of what was to happen.
And Daryl? Daryl was locked in. You had asked for this - and he'd make sure you got what you wanted. He could've sworn he had already smelled you from a few miles away. The sweet scent of your shampoo in combination with the detergent you used. He was like a shark in the ocean... He had smelled blood - and now he was going to bite.
Daryl wetted his lips and once more scanned his surroundings; standing absolutely still and listening to every sound that urged to his ears. The different songs of birds. Bees and gnats humming. Crickets chirping. Luckily no sounds of the undead which roamed the earth.
His senses were sharpened to the brim; waiting for you to make that one mistake. Daryl knew you were close - or well, that he was close. All he needed was a last hint - and in your 'recklessness', you freely gave it to him. Since the woods around you had started to get suspiciously quiet - too quiet, you dared to risk a gaze from behind the safety of the tree which hid you - a mistake. You knew you had fucked up the very moment your eyes met the blue ones of your hunter from a distance.
So you started to run; hoping to be faster than him and able to escape.
And Daryl started to run as well; now truly hunting you down.
You were good. Quick on your feet - but not as fast as Daryl. He picked up his pace; caught up to you within seconds - and before you could even try or react, a strong, thick arm wrapped itself around your waist from behind. "Gotcha, sunshine," Daryl panted in your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't fight him, of course. Why should you? The hunter had caught his prey successfully.
Exhausted from all the running, your body slumped down - causing the archer's biceps around your body to bulge in order to hold you and let you down gently.
Sure, he helped you live out your sexual fantasy, but that didn't mean he was going to hurt you or let you hurt yourself.
As you laid on the cool forest ground; still catching your breath, Daryl towered over you - and it was without a doubt one of the hottest views you ever had of him - of a man in general. The sun shone from above him; brightening his dark brown curls and creating a halo around his silhouette. Sweat glistened on his biceps and arms. The black shirt with the torn off sleeves tightened around his upper body with each heaving breath he took; making the worn buttons fight for their life. His rugged jeans with the patches was slightly covered in dirt and resin from the hunt; hanging lower on his hips than usual from the running. Piercing blues gazing down at you.
You had always considered Daryl to be nothing but gorgeous and attractive - but this... This was a whole new dimension of sexiness - and the man didn't even try.
You swallowed hard; feeling another wave of arousel strike your core. It was nothing new, but exciting for sure.
"A'right," Daryl started and reached in the back pocket of his jeans to get the small rope he packed. "Time 't take home wha's mine. Caught ya fair 'n square," he stated with the tiniest smirk and crouched down to tie your wrists together with the rope. Work-worn, skilled hands went to work, while you just watched and stared. Fuck.
It got even worse (in the best way) when he also blindfolded you with the red rug he always carried around. Your breath hitched.
"Where are you going to take me?" It was a question fitting for your 'role', but one you truly didn't know the answer to. Finding a fitting place to do those sinful things you both had in mind had been Daryl's task. He knew the woods better than anyone, so... You left it up to him.
"Ya'll see." His deep, gruff voice announced, before he swiftly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A small queak of surprise left your lips as Daryl manhandled you easily to carry you through the woods to his chosen destination.
Despite the fact that all your senses were sharpened, you trusted Daryl with your life - literally. Blindfolded, handcuffed - easy prey for the dead and the living.
It didn't take Daryl that long to reach his destination - a hidden cabin he had found already months ago and often used as a sleeping accommodation when he was out on a run or hunting. The cabin was secluded and safe - the perfect place outside Alexandria for what Daryl was about to do to you.
Opening the wooden door, he carried you inside, made sure the safety measures applied again - he wouldn't want a walker to stumble in on you, and gently tossed you on the new King-sized mattress the archer had scavenged for the bed inside said cabin. The old one was ratty and quite frankly disgusting. He always preferred to sleep on the floor instead. But not today. Today, Daryl was prepared. He even spread out a freshly washed blanket from home over the bed. Sure, you said you didn't want to lose your virginity the 'romantic' way, but he wouldn't be Daryl if he didn't make sure that you were at least comfortable.
Then he went to untie the rope around your wrists again and take the blindfold off your eyes. You looked around; taking in your environment. You couldn't help it. Since the end of the world, your senses were sharpenend - always checking first if everything was safe. As if being able to read your thoughts, Daryl said: "Dun worry, bunny. Yer safe here. Gonna make sure 'a tha'." He shed all his knives and his angel-winged vest. "Now lemme unwrap my prey, eh?"
That sentence was - again, enough to sent a tingle down your spine.
Completely at his mercy, you let him get rid of all the unnecessary garments hiding your body - except your panties. No beating about the bush. His eyes screamed hunger, but they also held something soft; always making sure you were okay and comfortable.
Your partner admired your body; kissed your lips and every square inch he could reach, before he backed up to unbutton his black shirt and threw it aside. Daryl wasn't comfortable being shirtless around many people. You and Carol were the exception.
You were so entranced by the beauty of the man in front of you - scars and all, that you didn't even notice him stepping closer once more.
Until strong hands wrapped around your thighs - and swiftly pulled you to the edge of the bed with a little squeak leaving your lips.
"D-Dar? What are you up to?" The man looked up at you - darkness and hunger swallowing the blue in his eyes. "Caught 'm prey - only fair 't get a taste of wha's mine," he stated in a husky voice; gently pushing your legs open and keeping his palms splayed on your thighs to keep them open for him. Then he knelt down and bent over to bring his face on eye-level with your already electrified core. "Gonna devour tha' innocent lil' pussy," Daryl whispered in that deep timbre and flicked his tongue over the damp cotton of your panties; inhaling your scent - and you could've sworn that your brain crashed.
Error 404.
His words, that single gesture - it was enough to get your head spinning. A man was about to go down on you for the first time in your life. Daryl was about to go down on you for the first time ever. You'd experience things you never experienced before - and it was thrilling. The anticipation, excitement and arousal was a dangerous cocktail which flooded your veins.
"P-Please," was everything you were able to stammer out.
A little smirk tugged at the archer's lips before he licked over the fabric once again; softly suckling on the cotton - testing, teasing. You bit your lip; eyes not leaving him for even a second. Hell, you weren't even blinking; not wanting to miss a thing.
"Look atcha..." He whispered; gently tugging at your panties, "Barely even touched ya 'n yer already so ready fer me." and nibbling on them. He kept on teasing you for another moment which felt like an eternity and caused your hips to push further into him. "Dar, please..." You whined again - finally wanting to feel more; finally wanting to feel his mouth on you.
"Patience, bunny. Ya waited years fer the right man 't take yer innocence - now ya can wait five minutes longer." His words were firm but also sinful and made you whine again. Fuck. Of course, you were at his mercy and so he kept on teasing you. Biting, nibbling, mouthing at the piece of cotton underwear; driving you crazier with every passing minute.
Lucky for you, Daryl's patience wasn't eternal as well, so at one point his resolve broke as well; the arousal pumping through his veins begging him to finally eat you up like a piece of candy.
Thumbs hooked underneath the fabric and swiftly pulled them over your legs; carelessly throwing the garment aside. Without wasting another second, and before you were even able to comprehend what was going on now, he dove in.
"O-Oh my god," you squeaked out and gripped the blanket beneath you; legs quivering the moment you felt his hot, wet lips and tongue on you - and it was like an entire new world opened up to you. A feeling so intense, you never felt before. Daryl gave you one broad, lingering lick before he pulled away to ask: "Tha' good, bunny?"
A disbelieving, airy laugh slipped past your lips. "A-Are you kidding? D-Dar, it's something I've never felt before!" The archer smiled, "Good." and slightly adjusted his position. "Gonna make it even better for ya. Promise."
And he did keep that promise.
He lapped at you messily like you truly were his last meal; taking every drop of the sweet arousal you gave him. Not even five minutes in, he was nose-deep buried in your heat with your hand in his chestnut brown locks - a gesture that spurred him on even more as you discovered. Daryl growled against you and flicked his tongue faster, before he dipped the muscle inside you - switching between gently tongue-fucking you and suckling on that little sensitive nub.
And that was exactly what catapulted you quickly over the edge. "Fuck, Dar!" You literally cried out; fingers in his curls tightening before your whole body went numb against the bed as searing hot pleasure flooded you. Pleasure so intense you had never felt in your life. Daryl physically had to hold your hips down.
Of course, you had gotten yourself off before. You were a virgin - not a saint, but this... This was an entire new level. Mindblowing. Heart-stopping. You feared for a second that you were going to pass out from the intensity of it all. Daryl had positively catapulted you into another stratosphere - just with his mouth.
The man between your legs was very satisfied with his work and gently guided you through your high before pulling away. You needed a moment to recover; brain rebooting. "Ya good, sunshine?" Daryl's voice got through to you. You gave him a nod. "Ya still wanna keep goin'?" The archer broke his 'role' for a moment; checking in on you. Once again you nodded and added a hoarse, whispered: "Please." "A'right," Daryl said and adjusted his position once again; standing up.
Then you finally focused on your partner again - and his vision sent another delicious tingle straight downtown again. He was a mess. Drool and your sweet release everywhere. On his lips, chin, goatee - and even some on his nose. It almost looked like he had enjoyed this more than you had. Perhaps he did. Who knew?
Daryl's hands on your hips ripped you out of your thoughts again. He was gently pushing you further up the bed again to give him space to kneel on the mattress as well. Then he kissed up your pubic mound, navel and stomach until he reached your chest; shoving his still clothed thighs underneath yours. "Ya gonna lemme fuck ya now, bunny?" He mumbled against your skin and straightened up; watching you nod once again. "Yeah?" Daryl asked once more - to make sure, while letting his hand wander to the bulging front of his jeans. "Y-Yes. Please, Dar." He gave you a nod as well and watched how your gaze got stuck on the hand which rubbed himself over the fabric of his jeans.
Another smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Nah," he announced then; remembering that you had never seen a man's most intimate parts before - in a sexual way. "Gonna let ya feel me first. Ya want tha', bunny?" You absentmindedly licked your lips. The thought alone of feeling him - touching him caused your head to spin. "Y-Yes. Want that." "'Kay," the archer said and unzipped his jeans; making some room. "Gimme yer hand."
You sat up and did what he asked; gave him your hand. Daryl gently took your hand and guided it; slipped it inside his pants to let you feel and rub his hardness. An audible gasp left your lips at the new feeling against your hand. Firm, hot, pulsing flesh - and all just for you. "Feel tha'?" Of course, you could. "'S all for ya, bunny. Got me rock hard since I fuckin' left Alexandria." "Oh yeah?" You whispered and bit your lip while your hand kept on rubbing him. Daryl nodded; hips slightly bucking into your touch. "C-Can I... touch?"
A smile flickered over the archer's face. "'Course, ya can," he stated and instantly shifted to get rid of his pants and boxers. You watched him unpack his package with big, hungry eyes. Of course, you knew how a man's private parts were supposed to look - but you had never seen them in a sexual way. Until now.
And it caused you to gulp.
Daryl was a big boy - everything about him was, and so was his manhood as well. Thick, hot and pulsing; standing tall and proud between his legs. After shedding the rest of his clothes, he returned to his previous position between your legs; of course noticing your gaze on him.
"Whatcha sayin', bunny? All shy now or do ya still wanna touch?" "S-Still wanna touch," you answered right away; totally intrigued and more than excited. "'Kay. Gimme your hand again." You did what he asked and laid your hand in his.
Once again, Daryl guided your palm - but this time, he did something you hadn't seen coming. Something filthy - in the hottest way possible. He let some spit drool on your palm - for lubrication, and wrapped it around his length. You gasped at the feeling. He gently moved your closed fingers then up and down; letting you feel and explore. Once more you bit your lip; feeling him hot and heavy in your palm. You kept up the movements - even when Daryl's hand had already slackened around yours and fallen to your thigh. "Ya like tha', bunny? Rubbin' tha' dick? Givin' me a handjob?" You nodded; licking your lips.
"D-Do you like it? Am I doing this right?" Daryl softly squeezed the flesh of your thigh in return. "Yer doin' perfect. 'S real good." You smiled; satisfied and proud of yourself. After a long moment - when you gained a little more confidence, you increased the pace and even squeezed him gently from time to time, which caused the man's eyes to slip shut and a deep growl to fall from his lips.
Then your hand stopped - and Daryl reopened his eyes again to meet your gaze. "Do you... want to teach me how to... go down on you?" Daryl groaned again at your words. The mere thought of your mouth on him... Jesus Christ. But then again...
The archer shook his head, "Nah." and gently pried your hand away from his dick. "'M gonna show ya another time. This is 'bout ya. Not me," Daryl stated firmly and adjusted his position again; lining his hips up with yours.
Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him against you. Oh my gosh... This was real - and it was about to happen. "O-Okay," you stammered; anticipation but also slight nervousness flooding your veins. You trusted Daryl. Fully. But you couldn't help but feel your nevers a little.
The man nodded, "'N now relax." and trapped his cock between your folds. "Jus' feel." He pressed it down and moved his hips to let it glide through your slit; repeatedly bumping your little bundle of nerves. Daryl wanted to just let you adjust to the feeling and also lube himself up - making things easier. You moaned; legs twitching. Yet another sensation you hadn't felt before in your life.
The archer grinned as he felt you instinctively move your hips with his; wanting and creating more friction. "Feelin' good, bunny? Yer pussy likin' this dick, eh?" You nodded vehemently; eyes closed. He smirked again, then pulled back a little further to nudge the tip against your entrance. You gasped and literally froze; hand reaching out to grip his forearm. "D-Dar..." "Ya ready, bunny?" You nodded. "Y-Yes. Just go slow, p-please."
For a moment, Daryl's entire body language and expression shifted. "'O course, sunshine. I got ya," he said in a gentle voice - slipping from his 'role' once more. He leaned forward to kiss your forehead and steady himself properly. Then he lined himself up and slowly, carefully slipped inside you - inch after inch.
You would've lied if you said it didn't feel uncomfortable at first or even hurt a little, 'cause it was. Weird, strange - again, a whole new feeling. Once more, your breath hitched in your throat as a burning sensation spread from between your legs throughout your core. "D-Dar..." "I know, I know, 'm almost in. Doin' so good fer me, bunny," your partner whispered in a raspy voice; soothing and praising you simultaneously. "'K-Kay..."
While you clearly struggled a little to take him, Daryl had a very hard time holding himself back. He would, of course, because he didn't want to hurt you - but it took all his willpower to hold his primal instincts back. You were so tight and wet and warm - absolutely unfair. And watching you trying to swallow him whole wasn't helping as well.
With a last shift of his hips, he was buried inside you; giving you a moment to adjust and himself the opportunity to get his act together again. "'M in, bunny. Ya good?" He breathed; wanting to check in on you.
"Y-Yes, just feels... strange a-and... full." Daryl felt himself twitch at the word 'full'. Yeah, that was the point, right? "Yer gonna get used 't it. Promise. Gonna take real good 'a ya - 'n this pussy. She's mine now, after all. Claimed 'er fair 'n square." "A-All yours," you confirmed; taking deep, shaky breaths.
Another small smirk darted across his face at your words. "Tha's right. All mine," he whispered darkly and gave you an experimental thrust; slowly returning into his 'predator role'. You squeaked up - more in surprise than discomfort, but still; eyes fluttering at the sudden friction. After testing the waters, Daryl picked up a proper rhythm - slow but deep; starting out with missionary. The archer figured that this was probably the best position for your introduction into the world of sex.
Daryl's eyes were stuck on you; watching you intensely as he fucked you slow. "Feels good, bunny?" You nodded; biting your lip and fisting the blanket beneath you. "Uh.Huh. S-So good." Daryl's chest swelled with pride and he picked up the pace a little before he adjusted his hands; no longer pressing them against the mattress beneath him but rather gripping your hips. He straightened up a little to be more upright and get a better look at the delicious view of where your bodies were connected.
"Look atcha, bunny," he almost growled; watching his dick repeatedly slip in and out of you. "Pussy takin' me so good. Was made fer me." You moaned at the praise - borderline obscene, which got Daryl smiling boyish in return again; satisfied and happy that he was apparently doing his job right.
"Tha's how ya imagined this, bunny?" Daryl asked after quite a few thrusts; slightly out of breath. "Y-Yes, but..." You stammered out with a whine. It was hard to concentrate on words when your boyfriend did such sinful things to you.
"But what, bunny, huh? Use yer words. C'mon," he whispered and delivered a particular deep thrust which shortly knocked the air out of your lungs and totally threw you off track for a moment.
"M-More," you mumbled then; brain foggy with pleasure. "W-Want... more." Your words caused the archer to stop dead in his movements. He blinked and looked down at you through hazy eyes. "More? Ya want more?" You nodded; biting your lip.
And that was the moment Daryl entirely lost his composure. He had tried to hold back and keep things gentle for you and here you were now, telling him to give you more. His eyes darkened, "Ya want more?" as he adjusted his position between your legs. "Fine. 'M givin' ya more."
Daryl roughly lifted your legs up and pushed them back against your shoulders; gaining more leverage and switching into the mating press position. "Gonna give ya everything, bunny. More than ya can take," he growled lowly and started to thrust again. Hard, deep, quick; literally fucking you into the mattress. "O-Oh my god," you sobbed in pleasure; gripping his sweaty biceps tightly - nails digging into the muscular skin with your mouth hanging open in pleasure.
Nothing could be heard except your airy moans, skin slapping obscenely against skin and the occasional creaking of the bed beneath you.
"Tha' better, bunny, eh?" "F-Fuck, yes!" You cried out; holding onto him for dear life. "W-Want all of you, D-Dar!"
You words sparked something deep inside him. Something primal, dark and hidden. He was already lost in you. In the feeling of you wrapped around him, but this... This cut the last cord he had been holding on to. It brought him dangerously close to his high.
"Gonna give ya all 'a me, bunny," he growled again. "Gonna get my load." Thrust. "Gonna cum so deep inside ya." Thrust. "Ain't gonna pull out." Thrust. "Dun care if I get ya pregnant." Thrust. "Gonna look good carryin' my baby- Christ!" One more powerful thrust was enough to tip Daryl over the edge. "Hng," he stilled; feeling himself twitch and contract - breath stuttering.
And like he promised, he didn't pull out.
Then he collapsed beside you - careful not to crash you; totally spent, just like you.
Once the haze had cleared a little from his brain, he swiftly turned to face you again. "Ya okay, sunshine?" Daryl asked gently, while gently rubbing your upper arm. Predator mode entirely forgotten.
All you could do was nod; staring at the ceiling. "Wow... That... That was... wow." You couldn't find the words. What you just experienced had absolutely blown your mind - in the best way possible.
A little, proud and cute smile tugged at your partner's lips. "Tha' how ya wanted yer first time 't go? Did I, uh, do it right?" You giggled and turned to face him as well before snuggling against his bare chest. "More than right, Dar. It was perfect." The archer embraced you and reached for the second blanket he had brought here to cover the both of you up.
"Ya, uh, ya think I really got ya pregnant now?" Daryl whispered after a long moment of silence. "Nah," you said; shaking your head. "Think we're good, babe. One time won't hurt."
Well...
Turned out it did.
Exactly fourteen months later, Daryl found himself sitting on the porch of your little house in Alexandria - with a small baby girl sleeping snugly on his arm; tiny cheek squashed against his biceps. Yeah. One 'slip-up' had truly been enough. Your first time with Daryl - and it instantly managed to create a little miracle.
With literal heart eyes, the archer watched his daughter sleep and drool over the muscular skin. "There are you two," you said in a gentle voice and joined your family on the porch with a smile. Daryl's eyes lifted to meet yours. "Should've told ya we'd be out here," he answered; shifting a little to make room for you. You instantly shook your head, "No, no, it's okay. I'm just glad she's asleep now." and sat down beside your partner. The archer gave you a small nod and picked up the tasked at hand again - watching over his daughter.
"We created that..." He whispered then after a long beat of silence; voice slightly strained. Your mind travelled back in time at his words - to the very day you lost your innocence to Daryl. The day you literally became entirely his. "Yeah...," you whispered back; smiling and running a finger through the tiny dark-ish curls of fuzz on the baby's head. "We did. And I don't regret anything."
Hey! Can i have a thin crust with veggies and a cookie (Daryl eavesdropping on a round of fuck, marry, kill that the reader is playing with the others. Leads to a lil confession moment), please?
fuck, marry, kill
pairing: daryl dixon x reader
w/c: 2419
warnings/tags: fluff, soft Daryl dixon
masterlist // pizza party
The sun had finally dipped low enough to paint Alexandria in soft gold and lavender- the air around you cooling down from the normal Virginia summer heat. For once there were no alarms, no distant growls, no one running for their life. Just the five of you in the gazebo with a half-empty bottle of the peach wine Maggie had been hoarding and a rare, easy quiet.
Rosita kicked her boots up on the railing, swirling the last of her drink. âAlright. Iâm calling it. Weâre playing Fuck, Marry, Kill before the world remembers it hates us.â
Maggie snorted, nearly choking on her sip. âYouâre serious?â
âDead serious,â Rosita said. âMichonne, youâre up first. Give us something good.â
Michonneâs smile was small but real, the kind that reached her eyes these days. âFine. Rick, Shane, and⊠Negan.â
The table erupted.
âKill Negan, obviously,â Carol said immediately. âFuck Shane because that man had issues but the arms were disrespectful. Marry Rick because heâd actually remember your anniversary and probably build you a house.â
Rosita pointed at her with the bottle. âSee? She gets it.â
They went another round- Abraham, Tyreese, and Ezekiel- full of cackling and increasingly unhinged reasoning. The wine was making everyone loose and loud in the best way. Then Maggie turned to you, eyes sparkling with mischief.
âYour turn,â she said. âDaryl, Jesus, Eugene.â
The gazebo went quiet except for the crickets. Four pairs of eyes landed on you.
You felt the heat crawl up your neck instantly. âWait, what? Thatâs not fair.â
âThose are the rules,â Carol sing-songed, far too pleased with herself. âDaryl, Jesus, or Eugene. Go.â
You took a long sip of wine, stalling, but they were all grinning like sharks. âOkay. Fine. Kill Eugene.â
Rosita cackled. âBrutal.â
âHeâs like⊠a very smart, very awkward little brother,â you defended, waving a hand. âI couldnât. It would feel wrong. Like kicking a puppy that quotes Star Trek.â
Maggie was already laughing. âFair.â
You took another breath, cheeks burning. âFuck Jesus.â
That got a round of dramatic âooooohâs.
âBecause have you seen him fight?â you continued, emboldened by the wine and the safety of the game. âThe hair, the staff, the whole mysterious thing. Heâs objectively hot and he knows it. Temporary. Fun. Done.â
Michonne raised an eyebrow, amused. âAnd Daryl?â
You looked down at your cup, suddenly very interested in the peach sediment at the bottom. Your voice came out quieter, but steady.
âMarry Daryl.â
The silence that followed was louder than anything theyâd said all night.
Carolâs grin spread slow and wicked across her face. âI knew it.â
You groaned, hiding behind your hands. âItâs not-â
âOh it absolutely is,â Carol cut in, delighted. âYou think we havenât noticed the way you light up like a damn Christmas tree every time he walks back through those gates? The way you hover when heâs patching up after a run? The way you watch him when you think nobodyâs looking?â
âI do not hover,â you protested, but it came out weak.
Maggie leaned across the table, eyes bright. âGirl, you got it bad. Like, full-blown, write-his-name-in-a-notebook bad.â
Rosita was cackling into her cup. âMarry Daryl Dixon. The man who communicates in grunts and roadkill. Bold choice. Respect.â
âHeâs not just grunts,â you mumbled, face on fire. âHeâs⊠steady. He shows up. Heâd burn the world down before he let anything happen to the people he cares about. And heâs gentle when it matters. You just have to pay attention.â
Carol reached over and squeezed your wrist, voice softening just a fraction. âWeâre teasing, honey. But we see it. And for what itâs worth? He looks at you like you hung the moon, too. Even if heâd rather die than admit it.â
You opened your mouth to deny it again- because that was safer, because saying it out loud made it real- but the words died in your throat. You couldnât lie. Not about this. Not when your chest felt too full just thinking about him coming home safe.
The girls dissolved into warm, tipsy laughter, shoving at each other and at you, the moment light and safe and full of the kind of love that only came from surviving hell together.
Unbeknownst to any of you, Daryl Dixon had been twenty feet away the entire time.
Heâd been walking the perimeter, crossbow slung low, telling himself he was just checking the fences one last time before dark. In reality heâd slowed when he heard your voices drifting from the gazebo, the rare sound of all of you laughing like the world wasnât still trying to eat you. Heâd meant to keep moving. He really had.
Then he heard his name.
He froze mid-step, one boot still raised, heart slamming so hard against his ribs he was half-convinced the dead could hear it.
Kill Eugene. Fuck Jesus. Marry Daryl.
The words looped in his head like a bad radio signal he couldnât shut off.
Marry Daryl.
He took a stumbling half-step backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. His back hit the side of an empty house and he stayed there, hidden in the shadow, staring at nothing while his brain short-circuited.
She said marry me. Out loud. In front of everybody. Like it was obvious. Like it made sense.
His hand came up to scrub over his mouth, rough and unsteady. He could still hear you trying to backpedal, the soft embarrassed laugh in your voice when you explained why him. Steady. Shows up. Gentle when it matters. Every word landed like an arrow he didnât know how to pull out.
Jesus. Sheâd rather fuck Jesus- Jesus with his stupid hair and his smooth talk- but sheâd marry him?
Darylâs stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with the dead and everything to do with the terrifying, fragile thing blooming behind his sternum.
He couldnât stay. If he stayed any longer he was going to do something stupid like walk over there and-
No. Absolutely not.
He pushed off the wall and started walking, fast, boots hitting the dirt harder than necessary. The streets of Alexandria blurred past him. Someone called his name from a porch- he didnât answer. His house came into view and he took the steps two at a time, then stopped on the top one like heâd forgotten what doors were for.
He sat down hard instead, crossbow clattering beside him.
Marry me.
The words wouldnât stop echoing. He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and took a drag that did nothing to calm the storm in his chest.
She couldnât have meant it. It was a game. A stupid, drunk game girls played when the world gave them five minutes to breathe. But your voice had gone soft on his name. Not playful. Not joking. Real.
Daryl exhaled smoke into the cooling night air and let his head thunk back against the porch railing.
âFuck,â he muttered to no one.
Because now he couldnât un-hear it. Couldnât un-see the way youâd looked down at your cup like the answer cost you something. Couldnât stop wondering what it would feel like to be the person you chose when the dust settled. To come home to you instead of just⊠coming home.
He stayed there on the porch long after the cigarette burned down to the filter, staring at the dark shape of the gazebo in the distance, heart still doing that stupid, painful, hopeful flip every time the words replayed.
Marry Daryl.
The next few days in Alexandria were strangely⊠full of Daryl Dixon.
You noticed it immediately.
He wasnât obvious about it- no one else wouldâve caught on- but you did. Because youâd seen him that night. After the game, after your face had been burning and the girls had been howling with laughter, youâd glanced toward the tree line and caught the unmistakable shape of him slipping away into the dark. That slow, careful gait youâd memorized without meaning to. Heâd heard every word.
And now he was everywhere.
On Tuesday he âjust happenedâ to be fixing the loose board on the porch steps right outside the house you were helping restock. You stepped out with an armful of canned goods and nearly tripped over him crouched there, crossbow leaning against the railing like an afterthought.
âSteps are a hazard,â he muttered without looking up, hammer in hand. âCoulda broke your neck.â
You smiled, heart doing something stupid and fluttery. âThanks, Daryl.â
He grunted. Stayed until the job was done. Then lingered an extra minute like he didnât know how to leave.
Wednesday he showed up at the community garden while you were weeding, wordlessly dropping a basket of fresh tomatoes beside you before vanishing again. Thursday he walked you back from the armory even though your shifts didnât line up. Friday he sat on the gazebo steps sharpening bolts while you and Michonne talked nearby, close enough to hear every word but pretending he wasnât.
It wouldâve been funny if it wasnât so painfully endearing.
The man who could disappear into the woods for weeks was now following you around Alexandria like a scruffy, crossbow-toting lost puppy who didnât know what to do with his own feelings.
And every time you caught him looking- really looking- his ears went pink and he found somewhere else to stare.
You let it go on for three more days.
On the fourth, you decided enough was enough.
You found him on his porch that evening, the sky turning that soft bruised purple that meant summer was settling in for real. He was sitting on the top step again, cigarette unlit between his fingers, staring off into space.
He heard you coming- of course he did- but he didnât move until you stopped right in front of him, arms crossed.
âDaryl.â
His shoulders went stiff. âHey.â
âYou heard me that night.â
Silence.
He flicked the unlit cigarette between his fingers, jaw working. âDonât know what youâre talkinâ about.â
You raised an eyebrow. âReally? Because I saw you. You were by the big oak. You walked away right after I said Iâd marry you.â
His head snapped up so fast you almost laughed. The tips of his ears were already turning that telltale red. âI wasnât- I mean, I was just walkinâ. Ainât my fault you girls were loud enough to wake the dead.â
âYou stayed and listened,â you said gently. âDidnât you?â
Daryl made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face. âWasnât tryinâ to eavesdrop. Just⊠heard my name. Couldnât exactly un-hear it after that.â
You took a step closer. He looked like he might bolt, but he stayed rooted to the step, eyes darting everywhere except your face.
âSo you heard me say Iâd kill Eugene, fuck Jesus, and marry you.â
He made another pained sound. âJesus Christ, woman-â
âAnd youâve been following me around like a lost puppy ever since.â
That got his attention. His eyes finally met yours, wide and flustered and so Daryl it made your chest ache.
âAinât a puppy,â he grumbled, but there was no heat in it. Just embarrassment. âWas just⊠makinâ sure you were alright. After the game. And the wine. And- hell, I donât know. You said some shit and I couldnât stop thinkinâ about it and now Iâm standinâ here like an idiot and-â
âDaryl.â
He stopped. Swallowed hard.
You softened your voice. âI meant it. It wasnât just the wine or the game. I like you. A lot. More than like you, if Iâm being honest.â
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. âYou⊠you do?â
âCarol told me you look at me like I hung the moon,â you added, smiling. âShe wasnât exactly subtle about it either.â
Daryl groaned, dropping his forehead into his hands. âThat womanâs gonna be the death of me.â
âSheâs not wrong, though,â you said quietly. âIs she?â
He peeked up at you through his fingers. The look in his eyes- raw and hopeful and terrified all at once- nearly undid you.
âI ainât⊠I ainât good at this,â he said, voice rough. âAinât good with any of it. You deserve someone who can say the right shit. Someone like-â
âJesus?â you teased gently.
He huffed a laugh despite himself, the sound small and warm. âYeah. Or anyone who ainât me.â
You stepped between his knees where he sat on the step, close enough to feel the heat of him. âI donât want Jesus. Or anyone else. I want the guy who shows up even when he doesnât know how to say why. The one who fixes porches and brings tomatoes and follows me around because he heard me say Iâd marry him and it scared the hell out of him.â
Darylâs breath hitched. His hands twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didnât know if he was allowed.
You decided for him.
You leaned in and kissed him.
It was soft at first- tentative, almost shy on his end, like he couldnât quite believe it was happening. His lips were chapped from the sun and he tasted faintly like the cigarette he never lit. One of his hands came up, hovering near your waist before finally settling there, careful, like he needed to ground himself back to realityÂ
Then you felt him relax. Really relax. The tension bled out of his shoulders and he kissed you back properly, a little clumsy, a little desperate, like heâd been thinking about it for days and still couldnât believe he got to.
When you pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours. His thumb brushed your hip in a slow, wondering stroke.
âBeen drivinâ myself crazy,â he admitted, voice low and gravelly. âCouldnât stop hearinâ it. You sayinâ my name like that. Like it meant somethinâ.â
âIt does,â you whispered. âIt means everything.â
He let out a shaky breath that mightâve been a laugh. âAinât a lost puppy.â
You grinned, brushing your nose against his. âCouldâve fooled me.â
Darylâs rare, small smile- the one that barely curved his mouth but lit up his whole face- appeared like sunlight through clouds. He tugged you closer until you were half in his lap on the porch steps, arms looped around his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âStay a while?â he asked, quiet. Hopeful.
You kissed the corner of his mouth, then the other. âYeah. I think I will.â
i get so emotional every time i think about fanfic culture. it's just so beautiful that people are writing and anonymously posting these thousand-word stories about characters we all love and not even getting any money or public fame from it. it's literally just for the love of the game.
shout out to everyone who participates in fanfic culture, be it reading or writing fanfics. you are contributing to such a lovely thing <3
Grump/Sunshine. Finally friends to lovers. Swearing? Mutual pining. Smut! NSFW. Minors beware. Hope it doesnât feel rushed. Was tired of dragging it out. Iâm supposed to be on a writing break this summer! @laz-110 @antheia-of-narnia @clussysposts @qwikmart @chuuyas-world @tuesday469 and everyone else who took the time to comment and hype me up! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. â€ïž I hope you enjoy this last part, and as long as Iâm breathing there will always be more Daryl fics to come! Enjoy!
It took a few days to get settled into Alexandria.
The majority of you were worn thin and practically starving, but the walls, the houses, the hot showersâeveryone seemed to breathe a little easier with every passing hour.
Carol was already baking casseroles like sheâd been waiting her whole life for it. Rick walked the streets with something almost like hope softening the hard lines of his face. Maggie and Glenn stole quiet moments. Even Carl smiled more, chasing Judith through grass that didnât hide half eaten walkers.
Everyone was falling back into the rhythm of the old world.
Everyone except the grumpy archer.
Daryl moved along the edges like a shadow that didnât belongâsleeping on the porch like a stray dog, slipping out of the gates for long hours, coming back with scrapes and supplies heâd found alone the way.
He never stayed long enough to settle.
The large extravagant houses and white picket fences made his skin crawl. The polite smiles from strangers, the endless talk about shit that didnât matter anymoreâit felt like teeth waiting to bite. This place was too perfect. The people too naĂŻve. Like a dream right before it turned into a nightmare.
The moment you stepped through the gates you threw yourself into helpingâsorting supplies at the pantry, pulling weeds in the garden. Anything to prove you belonged here, to earn the safety youâd been handed, but your eyes still found his across the well kept lawns, shoulders tight, crossbow never far from reach.
The distance between you had grown again. Not cruel like beforeânot even intentionallyâjust the quiet kind of space that came from life pulling people in different directions. You still stopped to check on him when he huffed past, still brought him blankets when he curled up in the dark corner of the porch late at night.
You still cared about him.
You stillâŠ, loved him.
By the end of the first week you were lost in the mundane task of carrying a basket of laundry back toward the house, unable to wrap your head around literally fighting for your life just days ago.
You spotted Daryl barreling toward the front gates, back rigidâlooking like he could barely outrun whatever was chasing him.
âOpen âem up!â He barked to the guards, lifting his arm in the air to hurry them along. Metal groaned as he stormed past the walls, ducking into the thick brush without looking back. You set the basket down on the porch and followed him out, slipping past the guards with a soft smile.
Daryl hadnât gone far.
Just beyond the tree line, in a small clearing where the late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves in soft gold. He sat with his back against a wide oak, knees drawn up, forearms resting on them as he stared out into the quiet nothing.
You approached him slowly, making sure he wasnât going to chase you away then lowered yourself to the ground beside him, close enough that your shoulders touched.
Daryl glanced over, eyes falling to the dirt already clinging to your jeans. âYouâre gonna get dirty out here.â He muttered, voice quiet but a little rough around the edges. You smiled sweetly, leaning your shoulder more firmly against his. âIâve been dirty before.â
A small huff escaped himâalmost a laugh, almost nothing. For a long moment neither of you spoke. Just the wind moving through the leaves overhead, soft and steady.
âYou belong in there,â He finally murmured. His gaze staying on the trees ahead. âHouses. People. All the normal shit from before.â
You stayed quiet for a beat, savoring his warmth through his sleeve. Shoulder to shoulder. No pressure. Just presence.
âSo do you, Daryl.â You answered. The words came easy, calm and honestâbut it only made him laugh bitterly.
âNever had nothinâ normal before this. Never been a part of somethinâ good.â
You frowned at the thought.
ââŠyouâre a part of us. A part of me.â
The words settled heavy between you.
Daryl went still.
Not completelyâhis chest still rose and fell, his thumb still scraped absently over the fletching of a boltâbut something in him quieted. You felt the subtle shift of his breathing, the way his shoulder stayed pressed against yours like he needed the anchor.
Nobody had ever said something like that to him before. He spent most of his life feeling useful when he was needed and easy to leave behind when he wasnât.
But you said it so simply.
Like it was fact.
Like there wasnât a world where you existed without him in it.
His jaw tightened, molars grinding as he fought through the emotion coiling in his chest.
âJusâ makes me feel closed up,â He muttered eventually, voice barely above the breeze. âLike I canât breathe right in there.â
He stayed silent after that, but the tension in his frame eased a fraction. You sat together for a while longerâshoulders touching, breaths syncing.
âThereâs nothing wrong with thatâbut it doesnât mean you donât belong there.â
He didnât need reassurance, just someone to sit with him in the quiet.
Eventually you stood, brushing grass from your hands. âI should go put that laundry away before Carol finds it. Nobody wants to get on Mrs. Rogerâs bad side.â
Daryl watched you, blue eyes steady but unreadable, coughing to hide his laugh.
You gave him a small, gentle smile.
âStay out here as long as you need Daryl,â You murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. âJust make sure you come home, okay?â
He didnât answer.
Just watched you walk back toward Alexandria until the trees swallowed you up.
He sat there long after you disappeared, letting the woods settle back into silence around him. A bird called somewhere deeper in the trees. Wind stirred the branches overhead. The same sounds heâd spent most of his life listening to.
Usually it helped calm his nerves.
Today it didnât.
Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face and stared at the patch of woods where youâd vanished.
Just make sure you come home, okay?
Home.
The word sat wrong in his chest.
For a long time, home had been nothing.
A broken house with holes in the walls.
A father who drank.
A brother who left.
Then it was the road.
The prison.
The woods.
Whatever shelter managed to keep the rain off his back for one more night. None of those places had ever felt like home.
Alexandria didnât feel like home, but you did.
~
Daryl slipped away from Aaronâs early. The food, the warmth, the walls pressing inâit all felt too tight inside his house. He wandered the quiet streets with his hands shoved in his pockets, vest clinging like armor, boots heavy on the too-clean pavement.
The familiar desire to run crawled under his skin.
Then he saw you.
Standing on the porch of your borrowed home, trying to force yourself to go to Deannaâs welcome party instead of search for the archer that had just been dropped into your lap like Christmas morning.
You turned your head at the sound of his steps, the soft smile that lit your face hitting him square in the chest. The sight of you standing there like something he didnât deserve but couldnât stay away fromâit undid him.
He closed the space in long, purposeful strides, climbing the porch steps two at a time, not stopping until he was right in front of you. âDarylââ He didnât give you words, wasnât never good with âemâjust slid his hands into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you into a deep, desperate kiss.
It wasnât gentle. It was months of want, of almosts, of fear and need crashing together. His mouth claimed yours, tongue stroking deep, slow and hungry all at once. You gasped into it, fingers fisting in his shirt as he backed you against the porch rail, body pressing flush to yours.
When he finally pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, voice low and ragged. âYouâre my home,â He murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. âAinât this place. Ainât these people. Itâs you.â
Then he was kissing you again, deeperâhotter, hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips to bring you closer. You whimpered softly, arching into him, and that was all it took.
One second you were completely lost in his kiss on the quiet front porch, the next he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you inside the house and up the stairs to the bedroom youâd claimed.
The door clicked shut behind him as he laid you down on the bed like you were something precious, even with his hands shaking with how badly he needed you.
âIfâŠ,â He tried to clear the emotion from his voiceâblue eyes meeting yours as you looked up at him like he was all youâve ever wanted. ââŠif ya donât want this ya better tell me now, cause I ainâtââ
âDaryl,â You whispered, reaching for him. âI want this.â
Clothes came off in a heated rushâhis vest hitting the floor, your dress pooling beside the pillows, his shirt yanked over his head. He hovered over you, eyes dark and burning as he took in every inch of bare skin.
âBeen wantinâ this⊠wantinâ you,â He rasped, mouth trailing hot kisses down your throat, across your collarbone, then lower. ââŠfor a long damn time.â
His calloused hands mapped your bodyâcupping your breasts, thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks until you moaned his name. He groaned at the sound, mouth following where his hands had been, sucking and biting until you were writhing beneath him.
You tugged at his belt desperately as he helped you shove his jeans down, kicking them away. Skin to skin at last, he settled between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your heat, kissing you againâslow and deep this time as he pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch, the fullness, the raw emotion in his eyes as he held still inside youâit stole your breath.
You gasped his name, nails digging into his shoulders as he started moving, deep and desperate strokes that built fast and intense. Every thrust pulled broken moans from both of you, bodies moving together like youâd been made for each other. One rough hand gripped your thigh, hitching it higher around his waist so he could drive deeperâharder, grinding against that perfect spot inside you until your back arched off the bed.
âOh godâŠâ
Darylâs whispered curses mixed with your name detonated something primal inside of you, burying your face against his neck as your pleasure coiled tighter until you shattered around him with a broken sob.
He followed moments later, hips stuttering as he came hard, groaning quiet against your temple, forehead pressing into your hair as pleasure shook through him. He stayed buried deep, collapsing half on top of you, breathing hard against your throat. Your fingers slid into his sweat-soaked hair, threading through the damp strands while you kissed him againâslow, trembling, like you were terrified heâd slip away the second the haze cleared.
Daryl pulled back just enough to see the tears shining in your eyes, panic flashing across his face.
âDid I hurt ya?â His voice was rough, worried, thumb already brushing at the corner of your eye.
You shook your head, pulling him back down into another kiss, softer this time but no less desperate. He pulled back again, whispering your name as you brought your foreheads together, bodies still joined, his weight a solid, grounding presence. âIâm just⊠scared youâll disappear on me again.â You whispered with a shaky breath.
Daryl stayed quiet for a long moment, breathing warm against your lips. His hand came up to cup the side of your face, calloused thumb stroking against your cheek.
âAinât runninâ no more,â He promised, voice low and steady. âNot from you. Not from this.â
You forced a smile, nodding as he kissed you once more, then settled beside you, pulling you tight against his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles along your spine as your breathing evened out together in the quiet room.
You laid your head against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. For the first time in a long time, you both let the silence feel like peace instead of dread.
Daryl tightened his arm around you and pressed a kiss into your hair.
Then he closed his eyes.
Because beside you he was homeâand heâd finally found somewhere soft to land.
Grump/Sunshine. Enemies to (eventual) lovers. Iâm not sure if theyâre friends yet. I donât think they even know. Swearing. Mutual pining. Will they/wont they? They will. One day. Donât give up on me. @clussysposts @qwikmart @chuuyas-world @tuesday469 Enjoy!
A/N: I wanted this to be better. I think I got too excited over all the great feedback. Lemme know what you think? What can I say for part 6? In canon Daryl offers his life up for Rickâs when Joe finally catches up with him⊠and readers not gonna like that shit one bit. Stay tuned!
âWhat the hellâs that supposed to mean?â Daryl growled from behind his bow, taking a slow step forward. His finger stayed tight on the trigger, eyes flicking between Joe and the men spreading out behind him. He could feel you right at his backâyour shaky breath, the way your fingers brushed his vest like you were fighting the urge to grab hold of him.
Joe kept his hands raised, but his smile wavered just a fraction, growing tired of the constant threat to his larynx.
âEasy now. We got a code, friend. Simple. You claim it, itâs yours. Nobody touches whatâs claimed. Not food. Not supplies. NotâŠâ His gaze slid past him to you, slow and appraising. ââŠnot pretty little things wandering the woods.â
Darylâs jaw clenched so hard it ached. The implication made his blood boil, but underneath the rage was something colderârealization. The Governor and his men could still be out there hunting survivors. The prison was gone. There was nowhere else to go. No safe way out of this mess.
At lease for tonight.
He lowered the crossbow a fraction, just enough to look like he was listening but his voice stayed dangerously low. âSheâs mine.â The words came out possessive, finalâtasting like truth and lie at the same time. âSheâs claimed. You or any of your boys so much as look at her wrong and Iâll make good on that promise.â
Joeâs chuckle turned into a full laugh, like heâd just heard the best joke in months. âWell shit. Thatâs what I like to seeâa man of integrity. Thatâs a rare find these days. You got name, hero?â
Daryl finally lowered the bow but kept you behind him, eyes narrowing despite Joeâs friendly demeanor.
âDaryl.â
âThat fits. How about your friend there?â
You gripped Darylâs vest tighter, taking a breath to answer as he cleared his throat and answered for you.
âNah,â He muttered, nodding toward the road. âShe donât.â
âFair enough.â Joe said with a deep laugh. âWell, Daryl. Weâre reasonable men. Long as you pull your weight and respect the claim, youâre welcome to walk with us. Safety in numbers and all that.â
Daryl didnât move. His mind racedâevery instinct screaming for him to put a bolt through Joeâs head and run but he knew that was a death sentence for the both of you. He felt your fingers brush his spine, sending a jolt of electricity straight through him as he took a step forward.
âAlright,â Daryl grunted. ââŠbut she stays with me. Always.â
Joe spread his hands out like it was the easiest deal in the world.
âWouldnât have it any other way, brother.â
~
Night fell fast and heavy.
The air turned cold, the kind of cold that sank into your bones and stayed there. Daryl hadnât said much since they started walking, just kept you glued to his side, one hand hovering near his knife like he expected someone to test him at any second.
He hated the feeling crawling up the back of his neck, telling him these assholes were trouble, but the sun had already dropped behind the tree line and your eyes burned with exhaustion.
âLooks like hereâs a good a spot as any to call it a night.â Joe muttered from the front of the group, nodding to the abandoned garage up ahead as the others pushed forward and began claiming space.
Darylâs jaw tightened.
A few of the men glanced your way.
Not subtle.
Not friendly.
The kind of looks that made his fingers curl.
Joe noticed.
He seemed to notice everything.
The older man smirked around his cigarette. âAinât gotta worry. Long as everybody knows whatâs yours.â
Daryl went still beside you and for a second, nobody said anything. Then his hand found the small of your back. Natural enough that anyone watching would believe heâd done it a thousand times as he steered you toward the far corner, back against the wall where he could see every approach. He dropped his crossbow within easy reach, then lowered himself to the unforgiving ground.
The hard planes of his body shifted as he made room, arms opening in silent invitation while you stood above him, equally intimidated and intrigued.
âCâmon.â He muttered, blue eyes lifting up to yours slowly. There was no meanness in itâjust quiet necessity wrapped up in that familiar grumpy rumble. You hesitated for half a second longer, the weight of everything between you pressing down harder than the exhaustion in your limbsâbut the cold was already biting through your clothes, and the low murmurs of the Claimers reminded you there were worse things than lying next to Daryl Dixon.
You sank down in front of him, letting him pull you in. His arm wrapped around you immediately, strong and sure, drawing your back flush against his chest as he curled around you like a shieldâa solid wall of heat at your back, body molding to yours. The firm ridges of muscle along his torso, the solid weight of his arms caging you in, the steady rise and fall of his breathing that pressed him even closer with every inhaleâit stole away the cold in an instant, leaving you hotter than you could almost bear.
Daryl leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. âGet some rest. Iâll keep watch.â
You shiveredâand not from the cold. His warmth seeped into you fully, big hand splaying across your stomach to pull you tighter against his chest. You pressed back instinctively, seeking more of that heat, but the closeness made you restlessâhips shifting against his.
A quiet, strained sound rumbled in his chest.
âStop squirminâ,â Daryl whispered into your hair, fingers flexing as he pinned you tighter against him. âI ainât lettinâ anything happen to ya. I promise.â
You finally nodded, forcing your body to relax into him. Bit by bit, the steady thud of his heart against your back, the protective cage of his arms, and the warmth radiating from him lulled you under. Sleep claimed you before you could overthink itâsafe, for the moment, in the one place you never thought youâd ever be.
~
The next night was worse.
Exhaustion weighed heavy after another brutal day on the road. No sign of your peopleâno proof any of them made it out of the prison alive.
Joeâs group was less than friendly, always trying to start some shit but at the end of the day there was still safety in numbers. One thing Joe got right was people needed people in times like this.
By nightfall they camped out in the shell of an old farmhouseâDaryl claiming the shadowed corner in a back bedroomâfar enough from the main group but still in sight. You curled into him without hesitation this time, too drained for formalities tonight.
About an hour after you fell asleep you turned toward him, face to face nowâbodies pressed impossibly close in the narrow space. Your breasts brushed his chest with every inhale, one of your thighs slipping between his as you pulled him closer.
Daryl was wide awake.
He couldnât remember a time when he closed his eyes and didnât see youâand now you were right here with the moonlight slipping through a cracked window, tracing silver over your pretty face. He drank you in, the soft fan of your lashes across your flushed cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, the way exhaustion had finally softened every worried line. His chest ached with how badly he wanted youâeven while hating himself for it.
Daryl lifted his hand slowly, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, tracing the curve with aching gentleness. You stirred, eyes fluttering open, hazy and heavy-lidded but you didnât pull away.
âWhatâs wrong?â You whispered, searching his face in the dark. The only sounds came from the rough men spread throughout the house, slow breathing and uncomfortable grunts.
The darkness hiding everything but the heat between you.
Your hand moved on its own, trailing slowly up the firm, hard plane of his chestâfeeling every ridge of muscle twitch under your palm, the rapid, heavy thud of his heart slamming against your touch. His skin burned beneath the thin fabric.
âNothinâ,â Daryl finally murmured, voice barely a sound between you. His thumb didnât stop movingâmaking slow strokes along the line of your jaw, then down to the soft skin just beneath your ear. âJust⊠lookinâ at you.â
Your breath caught as his calloused fingers traced lower, mapping the delicate column of your throat, feeling your pulse flutter wildly under his touch again. He shifted closer, forehead nearly resting against yours, bodies aligned so perfectly that every subtle movement sent sparks straight through you. His chest pressed warm and solid to your palm, your thigh notching higher between his, heat radiating through your clothes.
âDaryl,â You watched a shiver roll through him as his name left your lips, fingers threading into the back of his hair as his eyes closed for the first time in days. âThank you, for keeping me safe.â
âAinât gotta thank me for that,â He answered quick, before you could speak againâhis thumb slipping lower to trace your collarbone. âMakes me feelâŠâ He trailed off, eyes opening to lock on yours in the moonlightâintense and unguarded in a way you rarely saw.
âWhat?â You breathed, heart hammering so hard he had to be able to feel it.
âFeels like I could be the kind of man who deserves to have you lookinâ at me the way you do.â His voice dropped even lower, warm breath fanning across your lips. Your fingers curled into the back of his hair, tugging him closer. âYou do deserve it, Daryl. Youâre a good man.â
His thumb stroked along your lower lip now, slow and deliberate, parting it just slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth. The tension thickened, heavy and sweet, wrapping around you both in the quiet room. Your bodies moved on instinctâhips shifting, thighs pressing tighter, breaths mingling hot and shallow.
âIf I kiss ya right now,â He rasped, voice strained with restraint, âI ainât gonna be able to stop.â
Neither of you moved.
Neither of you looked away.
âI canât get lost in you tonight,â His voice was barely more than a whisper. âNeed tâkeep my head straight.â
You could feel the tension in him. The effort it was taking not to close that last inch. Not because he didnât want itâbecause he wanted it too much.
âOkay,â You whispered, pressing a grateful kiss to his cheek before turning so your back was against his chest again. He curled around you even more protectivelyâthe hard line of his arousal still evident where your bodies pressed together, but he made no move to chase itâjust stroked soothing circles under the hem of your shirt. âTry to get some sleep. Iâll wake you up if thereâs trouble.â
He huffed out something that might have been a laugh, voice already sounding rough around the edges.
âAlright. Jusâ gonna rest my eyes for a minute.â
You smiled to yourself.
The farmhouse settled around you with soft groans and creaks. Somewhere downstairs somebody muttered in their sleep as the wind rattled through the broken windows.
Daryl stayed alert through all of it.
Every time the house made a sound, his muscles tightened. When a floorboard creaked, his breathing shifted.
Always listening.
Always ready.
But little by little the tension started to leave him. It happened slowly enough that you almost missed it. The arm around your waist grew heavier. The hand beneath your shirt stopped its absent circles and settled against your stomach.
His breathing deepened.
Even the constant tightness in his body began to loosen just enough to allow him to rest.
You stayed perfectly still.
The man hadnât slept in days.
Maybe weeks.
You could keep watch for the rest of the nightâbe his protector just this once.
Your arm rested over his as you sank further into his chest, watching the shadows dance along the walls in the pale moonlight.
~
Daryl jerked awake, heart slamming so hard it stole his breath. His hand was already on the knife at his belt before his eyes fully focusedâready to strike, but there was no threatâjust the quiet settling of the old farmhouse and a warm weight pressed against him.
You.
Fast asleep in his arms, facing himâtucked into the crook of his neck. Your breath was soft and even against his skin, sunlight slanting through broken glass, painting gold across your face as it caught in your lashes. For a moment, the whole rotten world outside faded away and it was just you, warm against him.
A sleepy little sound slipped from your throat as you began to stir, causing him to swallow hard. He let his hand drift higher under your shirt, calloused palm sliding slow over your ribs, thumb brushing just below the underside of your breast.
âAye.â
Your eyes fluttered open, sleepy and soft in the morning light. For a heartbeat you just looked at himâclose enough he could count the flecks in your irisesâthen your lips curved into a small, trusting smile that wrecked him all over again.
âMorning.â You whispered, voice husky with sleep.
Daryl didnât answer with wordsâhe couldnât. His hand kept moving, mapping your skin like he was memorizing every inch. Your fingers found the back of his neck, threading into his hair, and the quiet hitch in your breath when his thumb grazed a little higher made his hips roll forward without permission.
âFuck,â He rasped against your mouth, not quite kissing you, just breathing you in. âYou keep feelinâ this good and I ainât gonna make it through the day.â
You arched into his touch, thigh pressing higher between his legsâthe friction pulling a low, broken growl from his chest. His free hand cupped the back of your head, tilting you just enough that his mouth could drag along your jaw, teeth scraping lightly over your pulse point.
Heat crackled between youâthick and desperate, unspoken want finally clawing to the surface. Your hips shifted restlessly against him, tilting your head up to finally kiss him as your fingers tightened in his hair.
âWell shit,â Joeâs voice drawled from the doorway, low and amusedâsending Daryl flying away from you. âSorry to interrupt such a tender moment.â
Daryl went rigid, shoving you behind him in one smooth motion as he sat up, crossbow already halfway raised. His face burned, jaw locked so tight it ached. Joe leaned against the doorframe, cigarette dangling from his lips, that same sly grin splitting his face.
He didnât look sorry at all.
âDidnât mean to sneak up on ya,â He continued, eyes flicking past Daryl to where you were hurriedly adjusting your clothes back in place. âCalled down the hall twice. Yâall must have been preoccupied.â
You could have sworn you heard Daryl growling, but it didnât seem to phase Joe.
âFound some fresh prints this morninâ, might be the guy weâre lookinâ for. Could use a good tracker helping us run âem down proper.â
Darylâs grip tightened on his cross bow.
âYeahâalright. Just, gimme a minute.â He grunted, running a hand over his face as Joe smirked and nodded toward the road.
âIâll give you five, brother. Make âem count.â He disappeared down the hall, his grating laugh echoing through the house as silence settled between you in the narrow room. Daryl checked the string on his bow, then his boltsâthen the string againâanything to keep from having to look at you.
âDarylââ
âJusâ, stay close tâme today.â He snapped, voice roughâautomatic. Like he needed to get them out before you said anything else.
âOkay.â
His shoulders were already drawn up tight again, every bit of softness from before was lost behind his familiar hostility.
You followed him in silence.
The distance between the two of you couldnât have been more than a few inches, but it felt a hell of a lot farther than that as Daryl stalked toward the others without looking back once, jaw clenched tight enough to crack a molar.
Whatever had almost happened between you upstairs was gone now.
Buried beneath survival, that looked a lot like fear.
Grump/Sunshine. Enemies to (eventual) lovers. Swearing. Mutual pining. A little sexy. Angst. Eventual smut.
A/N: Lemme know what you think! Also lemme tag @chuuyas-world đ
After that night you did what Daryl asked.
You didnât speak to him. Didnât even acknowledge himânot when he showed back up outside your bedroom later that night, drunker than when youâd left him in the hallway, muttering what you guessed passed for an apology among Dixon men.
He stood half leaning against the frame, one hand braced against the wallâwords quiet and a little slurred.
âDidnât mean it.â He mumbled, âYou staying away from meâdidnât mean none of it.â
When you refused to answer, he slammed his fist against the thin wood and stormed off, letting his bedroom door bang shut behind him.
The next morning he didnât even look at you, but you wouldnât know that because you werenât looking at him either.
You didnât think about the grumpy archer or how sincere he sounded after another half bottle of wine. Didnât search for him while the CDC started to burn and or when you were sprinting for your life beside Lori, lungs aching and heart hammering. Not even when a walker popped up out of nowhere, rotten teeth snapping inches from your shoulder before a crossbow bolt buried itself clean through its skull from 20 yards away.
You didnât speak to him until the day after you got to Hershelâs farm, and only because no one else was willing to cross him after another failed attempt at finding Sophia. The breakfast sandwich was still warm through the dish towel wrapped around it as you made your way toward the edge of camp.
Toward him.
Daryl stood at his makeshift workbench, knuckles white where they gripped the rough wood. His head hung low, the usual rigid line of his shoulders curved under days of failure.
Exhaustion pulled at every line of his body.
For a moment, looking at him like that, you softenedâeven though you knew youâd regret itâremembering the CDC hallway. The way heâd looked right at you and said he didnât give a damn.
Daryl heard your footsteps before he saw you. His shoulders stiffened immediately, and for one stupid, traitorous second, hope flared in his chest.
He turned and there you were.
Standing in front of him for the first time in days.
Looking as beautiful as ever.
You smiled despite yourself, soft and uncertain. It irritated him the way everything else about you seemed to but you kept it anyway.
âWhat?â The word came out rough, but there was no bite behind it this time. Just exhaustion. Frustration. Days spent searching woods that refused to give a little girl back.
You held his gaze and lifted the wrapped sandwich a little higher like you couldnât help taking care of people even when they didnât deserve it.
Daryl stared at it for a second before snatching it from your hand like some half-starved stray. He tore into it immediately, taking a bite so big it was almost offensive.
His eyes never left yours as you stood there in his space like you had something to say.
âWhat?â He asked again around a mouthful of bread.
You swallowed.
âI just wanted to thank you.â
His brow furrowed.
âFor what?â
âFor not giving up on Sophia.â
The chewing stopped.
You shifted your weight nervously.
âYouâre the one going out there every day from sunup to sundown.â Your fingers twisted together, eyes pleading for him not to yell at you again. âI just thought somebody should say thank you.â
For a second, Daryl just stared at you.
Nobody ever thanked himânot even the girls own mother. They didnât notice when he was tired. Nobody cared how hard he workedâand nobody sure as fuck had ever looked at him the way you were looking at him right now.
Darylâs jaw worked as your words landed somewhere soft and unfamiliar.
âWhy the hell you thankinâ me?â He asked, before taking another aggressive bite. âShe ainât your blood.â
You smiled again, softer this time, eyes never leaving his.
âYou donât have to be blood to be family.â
The words hung there, heavy with everything you werenât quite sayingâthat he was starting to feel like family to you, whether he liked it or not.
Before he could respond, before that familiar scowl could twist his mouth or his walls could slam back up, you gave him one last small smile and turned back toward camp, leaving him standing there with half a sandwich and a storm of emotions he had no idea how to feel.
Daryl watched you go, your words following long after youâd disappeared back toward camp. The sandwich was still warm in his hand. Youâd brought it all the way out here for him.
After the CDC.
After the awful things heâd said.
His thumb rubbed absently against the dish towel wrapped around the bread. Nobody did shit like this for himânot without wanting something.
Not without expecting something in return.
Youâd handed him breakfast, thanked him for doing a job nobody else wanted, smiled at him like he hadnât spent weeks acting like an asshole, and walked away before he could figure out what to do with any of it.
All he could think about was the empty space where youâd been standing a minute ago. For one brief, stupid second, he almost called your name.
The urge hit so hard it damn near knocked the breath out of him but he swallowed it down.
Forced another bite of food into his mouth.
Kept his eyes fixed on the path youâd disappeared down.
Because wanting you to come back was one thing.
Having no idea what heâd say if you did was another.
~
The next few days blurred together in a smear of blood and loss.
Sophia stumbling out of that barnâgun fire still ringing in everyoneâs ears. Dale gutted, begging for mercy under the pale Georgia moon. The group was fracturing, everyone raw and hollowed out but the farm still demanded work.
Graves needed digging.
Animals needed feeding.
You and Beth threw yourselves into it until your bodies ached, mucking stalls, filling troughsâshoveling dirt until your hands bled. When Rick and Hershel insisted you take a break, the two of you slipped away to a grassy field near the furthest barn.
The sun felt good against your skin, warming the emptiness losing Sophia and Dale had left inside of you.
Beth lay at your left with her eyes closed, humming a quiet hymn as you rolled your thin tank top up just beneath your breasts, exposing the soft, smooth skin of your stomach to the warm light. Sweat glistened along the curve of your waist and the gentle dip of your navel, catching the golden afternoon glow. The heat soaked deep into your muscles, making your skin flush pink and dewy.
Neither of you spoke.
The silence was heavy, but peaceful.
âAye!â
You lifted your head just as Daryl called your name, racing across the field from the tree line like a man possessedâcrossbow bouncing against his back, face tight with something dangerously close to fear.
They swept over you in frantic passes, checking for bloodâa bite. Injuries he couldnât see from where he stood. His eyes washed over your face, arms, stomach, legsâanywhere something could be wrong.
You sat up slowly, confusion knitting your brows together as his gaze kept moving, searching for a wound that wasnât there. For one awful second, he looked like a man bracing himself for the worst.
âDaryl⊠weâre okay.â
The relief that hit him was immediate.
Almost violent.
His shoulders sagged.
Air rushed from his lungs.
And only after heâd convinced himself you really were alive, unharmed, and staring back at him with those wide eyesâdid he seem to realize what he was actually looking at.
The flush in your cheeks.
The sunlight warming your skin.
Something flickered across his face before disappearing just as fast. Relief gave way to irritation. Or maybe embarrassment.
You watched his eyes narrow at the thought.
âThe hell yâall doinâ out here?â He snarled, voice angry now.
Beth is the one who answered.
âJust taking a breakââ
He laughed without humor, running a hand over his face to try and will his panic away. Then he looked at you, eyes still searching despite himselfâlingering on the sweat sliding slow down your sternum, the flushed, sun-kissed skin he dreams about putting his mouth on.
It made him furious.
To think something happened to you only to realize youâre lying around like you donât have a care in the world.
âA break? From what? Gettinâ your nails done, princess?â
Bethâs eyes narrowed, ready to snap back.
âLayinâ around out here like there ainât work to be done? You got any idea what the hell I thought?â
Something broke in his words as he finally looked away from you, like he was so thankful you were okay but too pissed to say it.
âThought a walker got you. Ran my ass off thinkinâ I was gonna find you dyinâ out here like Daleââ He gestured sharply at your body, still laid out in the grass. âAnd instead youâre just⊠what? Sunbathinâ? Spread out like you ainât got shit to do but look pretty while the rest of us are bustinâ our asses keepinâ you alive?â
His chest was heaving, eyes still dragging over you against his willâthe sweat on your skin, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the sunlight kissed every exposed inch of you.
It only made him angrier.
Reminding him with every pass that he couldnât have you.
âWeâve been working all damn day, you asshoââ Beth snapped, shooting up to her feet quickly.
âItâs okay, Beth.â Your voice was calm, steady even if his words stung. You stood slowly, pulling your tank top back down over your sun-warmed stomach, brushing grass from your shorts. You didnât argue, just looked at him with those patient eyes. âLetâs just go.â
Daryl scoffed, low and bitter, and turned away firstâstalking back toward the tree line like he hadnât just barged in on the two of you. Like he had any right to judge. His shoulders were still tight, fists clenched at his sides as if the fear and frustration were still clawing at him.
Beth watched him go with narrowed eyes, arms crossed tight over her chest.
âWhat an asshole.â
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head.
That was an understatement.
âWhy do you let him talk to you like that?â Beth asked, genuine confusion and frustration bleeding into her voice as she fell into step beside you.
The question caught you off guard. You glanced toward the woods where Daryl had already disappeared into the shadows. For a long moment, you didnât answer, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Then you shrugged, voice quiet but honest.
âBecause arguing with him doesnât help anything. It just pisses him off more⊠and Iâm afraid one of these days heâs going to have a coronary. Not even Hershel is medically equipped for something like that.â
Beth frowned, clearly unsatisfied. âThat doesnât mean itâs okay for him to talk to you like that.â
âI know.â
âYou could at least tell him to go to hell.â
A tired smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
âI think life already beat me to it.â
You looked down at your hands, turning them slowly. The dirt caked under your nails. The raw, blistered skin across your palms from weeks of gripping that worn shovelâthe same one youâd used to bury too many friends. The same hands that had pulled triggers, patched wounds, and tried to hold this broken world together.
You understood Daryl. Maybe more than you wanted to. The way fear and anger tangled up inside him until he lashed out because caring too much felt like a death sentence.
You just wished a part of him understood you too.
âSometimes people decide who they are a long time before you meet them.â You murmured. Bethâs expression softened, the frustration easing into something gentler. She glanced toward the tree line where Daryl had vanished.
âHe thinks heâs a bad person.â
You nodded, swallowing the ache in your throat.
âAnd nothing I say is gonna change his mind.â
~
Daryl stayed gone until dusk fell over the farm, stalking back toward the house with two fat rabbits hanging from his belt, crossbow slung over his shoulder. His blood was still simmering from the sight of you laid out in that damn field like you were on some kind of vacation after everythingâSophia, Dale, the kid in the barn.
He didnât expect Hershel to be waiting for him on the front porch steps, holding a small tin and a roll of clean bandages.
âYou got it wrong today.â The old man said, voice low and steady like he already knew the storm brewing under Darylâs skin. He stopped short, jaw tight. Hershelâs eyes flicked toward the back of the house, where the late afternoon light stretched long across the grass. âThose girls had been at it since sunup. Mucking stalls, hauling feed, digging graves that needed finished.â
Daryl felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.
âShe tell you about that?â
Hershel shook his head. âBeth. She said you did a number on them. Especially her.â
He pressed the tin into Darylâs reluctant palm, trading it for the rabbits at his side.
âSalve. Made it myself. Good for blisters. Sheâs out back. Lifeâs too short to leave things like this, son. Ya hear?â
Daryl stared at the tin like it might bite him. Guilt hit him low in the gut, heavy and sour. He hadnât even asked. Just assumed. Called you out like you hadnât been bleeding for this group same as the rest of them.
âYeah.â He muttered, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Hershel didnât say anything else. Just gave him that quiet, knowing look and went back inside.
Daryl found you exactly where Hershel saidâsitting on the bottom step out back, shoulders slumped like the weight of the day had finally caught up. Your hands rested in your lap, palms up, raw and blistered to all to hell. Even from a distance he could see the angry red skin, the broken places where youâd gripped a shovel for too long.
His chest tightened.
You didnât look up when his boots crunched on the dry grass. Just kept staring out at the ground, jaw set against the pain radiating through your hands.
Daryl stopped a few feet away, shifting his weight.
âWas wrong earlier,â He grunted. The words felt like gravel in his throat. âHeard what you been doinâ all day. Shoulda asked âstead of runninâ my mouth.â
You glanced up then, surprise flickering across your face. The small, tired smile you gave him made something twist behind his ribs.
âItâs fine, Daryl.â
âIt ainât.â He stepped closer, crouching down in front of you so he wasnât looming. His knees protested but he ignored it, forcing himself to look up at youâto be sincere for once. âAinât rightâtakinâ my shit out on you of all people. You ainât been nothinâ but good to me.â
You looked away from him, feeling the rush of heat fill your cheeks as he studied your hands carefully. Up close they looked worse, blisters split open, dirt ground into the raw skin. He set the tin and bandages on the grass beside him and pulled his canteen from his belt.
âLemme see.â
You hesitated, then slowly let him take one of your hands in his. It trembled just a little. Whether from the pain or the surprise of him being so gentle, you didnât know.
Darylâs touch was carefulâmore careful than heâd ever been with anything in his damn life. His rough fingers cradled yours like he was holding something precious as he poured the cool water from his canteen over your palm, washing away the dirt before dipping two fingers into the salve.
The herbal smell was sharp and clean as he started spreading it over the worst of the blisters. Slow circles. Light pressure. Every time you winced he muttered a quiet âsorryâ under his breath, barely audible.
âYou didnât have to come out here.â You said softly, watching his bent head, the way his hair curled slightly against the nape of his neck.
âYeah, I did.â He kept his gaze on your hands, jaw working. âBeen an asshole to you since the quarry. Pushinâ you away every time you got too close.â
His touch was feather-light as he smoothed the salve over the worst of the raw skin. The air felt thicker, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your wrists. You watched the way his broad shoulders hunched protectively, the corded muscles in his forearms flexing with each careful movement. Heat pooled low in your belly despite the painâhis nearness, the rare gentleness in those same hands that could kill a man in seconds.
âDarylâŠâ Your voice came out softer than you meant. âI just want you to see me. Not the girl you think canât make it out hereâbut the one who cares about you.â
He stilled. Those sharp blue eyes lifted to yours, raw and unguarded in the fading light. For once, his walls were down. His thumbs continued their slow strokes along the uninjured edges of your palm, sending little sparks up your arm.
âI see you,â He muttered, words so low they vibrated through your chest. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a heartbeat, then back to your hand. âBeen seeinâ you. The good in you. Thatâs the whole damn problem.â
The confession hung heavy between you as Daryl kept working, wrapping the clean bandages around your hand with care. You could only watch him work, not sure what to sayâafraid of saying the wrong thing that would send him running off again.
âDaryl, I care about you.â
âI donât deserve it.â He whispered. âAinât never gonna deserve itâand youâre gonna get yourself killed, thinkinâ that way.â When he finished with the second hand, he didnât let go, just sat there on his knees in front of you, breathing you inâsun-warmed skin, that trace of sweetness that drove him crazy mixed with the sharp salve covering your hands. You leaned in a little closer, forcing him to meet your gaze.
âMaybe, but Iâd rather die believing in you than live believing in nothing.â
Daryl swallowed hard. It felt like the world held its breath as he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His calloused fingers lingered against your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he couldnât believe you were real.
âYouâre too damn soft for this world.â He whispered.
âMaybe thatâs what you need, Daryl Dixon. Somewhere soft to land.â
His forehead dropped, breath fanning across your lips. A shiver rolled through you, maybe from the cool evening air or his closenessâbut for one wild heartbeat you thought he might kiss you. Then he pulled back, clearing his throat, ears flushed dark even in the fading light. He stood up slowly but didnât storm off for once. Instead he shrugged out of his vest and draped it over your shoulders, heavy and warm and smelling like him.
âStay out here a bit longer if you want,â He muttered, looking anywhere but at you as he took a seat beside you on the porch. âIâll keep watch.â
You smiled into the collar of his vest and leaned into his side.
This time he let his arm rest along the back of the step behind you.
Grump/Sunshine. Enemies to (eventual) lovers. Swearing. Mutual pining. A little sexy. Angst. Eventual smut.
Summary: The worldâs gone to hell but it started a lot sooner for Daryl Dixon. Heâs spent his whole life expecting darkness. Youâre determined to show him thereâs still a little sunshine left. âïž
A/N: Part 1 of ?? Enjoy!
âDaryl!â
Darylâs shoulders tensed under the sweat-dampened shirt that clung to his broad back. Not because he didnât like the sound of your voice.
Because he craved it.
It slid over his skin like warm honey, sweet and bright, wrapping around him in ways that pissed him off more than it should. It drifted across the quarry, calling to parts of him he didnât even know existed until the first time you spoke to him.
He kept his head down, jaw locked tight. Maybe if he just ignored you youâd go back to where you belongâfar the fuck away from him.
âDaryl!â
Your voice was closer now, dropping lower, a little breathless from jogging after his stubborn ass. He stopped and spun around with a mean scowl already twisting his mouth, eyes narrowing.
âWhat?â
You were still coming down the slope toward him, balancing a paper plate in both hands like a peace offering. The setting sun caught on the curve of your neck, the swell of your chest rising with each breath. That damn smile lit up your whole faceâtired eyes turning warm, lips soft and inviting.
He hated that smile.
Hated how it made heat pool low in his gut every single time he saw it. Most people looked at him like he wasnât worth the troubleâyou looked at him like he was everything youâd ever wanted in this fucked up world.
âYou missed dinner again.â
âAinât hungry.â
The lie was barely out before his stomach growled, loud and traitorous. The smell of fried fish hit him first, but quickly faded into your sun-warmed skin, faint soap, and something so damn sweet underneath it made his mouth water.
Your smile widened knowinglyâand a little teasing. You loved catching the cute archer off guard, watching the flush of embarrassment light up the tips of his ears bright pink.
âShut up.â
A laugh escaped you, the kind that made his eyes fall to the ground between you before coming back to focus on the sweat glistening at the hollow of your throat.
âI didnât say anything.â
You held the plate out, stepping close enough he could see your pulse fluttering under the delicate skin just below your ear.
âHere.â Your voice dropped lower as Daryl glanced at the fish and beans on the plate. Probably one of the last decent meals anyone would have for a while.
âGive it to one of the kids.â He grumbled, taking a step away from you.
âTheyâve already ate.â
His blue eyes narrowed as they lifted to yours while you nudged the plate closer like you were trying to convince some stray dog not to bite.
âGive it to somebody else then,â He growled. âI ainât your damn charity case.â
âDarylââ
He snatched the plate out of your hands hard enough that the beans slid to the dirt, causing you to startle as you stepped back from him quickly. Then that stupid smile was back.
Like he hadnât just been rude as hell.
Somehow that made him even madder because he didnât have any business being an asshole toward you. You were the only person in this fucked up camp that didnât look at him and his brother like they were trash.
He didnât want to snap at you every time you braved the tree line to show him an ounce of kindnessâbut he had no idea how to talk to you like a decent human being.
Not when you made his blood run hot every time you looked at him.
So he did what he did best.
âTastes like shit.â He growled around a bite of over cooked fish, eyes still glaring despite your smile only spreading across your pretty face.
âI didnât cook it.â You assured him, searching his eyes as he took another bite.
Daryl chewed harder than he needed to, jaw working fast. The fish was actually decentâbetter than the crap him and Merle usually scavengedâbut admitting that felt too much like letting you in. Instead his gaze dragged down your body against his will, memorizing the way your thin tank top clung to your waist from the humidity as you stood there like you had all the patience in the world for his bullshit.
He shoved another bite in his mouth, eyes still locked with yours as he forced the plate back into your hands. You watched him lick at his fingertips, letting your eyes fall to his lips as they smacked against the digits aggressivelyâwaiting for him to say something.
Thank you.
Fuck off.
âGo back to camp,â He finally muttered, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned away like you werenât even worth the breath it took to say the words. âAinât nothinâ out here for you.â
Daryl didnât wait for your reply, boots digging into the dirt as he stalked through the trees, shoulders rigid, crossbow strap cutting into the tense muscle along his back. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped animalâfear licking its way up his spine. He was terrified youâd actually believe him this timeâthat the light in those beautiful eyes would finally dim and youâd stop looking at him like he was worth the trouble.
~~~
His brother went missing two days later.
Except Merle wasnât really missingâthis new guyâRick, knew exactly where the fuck heâd left him.
Handcuffed to a roof in the blazing Atlanta heat, surrounded by walkers. Merleâd cut off his own hand to escape certain death and now Daryl didnât know if the only family he had left was dead or dyingâor out there roaming the city as one of these dead fucks.
He couldnât leave him like that.
A pop of a thin branch under heavy boots lifted his eyes slowly, back pressed hard against a thick oak a little ways from camp, knees drawn up, crossbow resting beside him like a sleeping dog. His arms rested on his knees, hands dangling between them, fingers stained with dirt and someone elseâs blood.
He watched you step into the quiet clearing without a word, unable to deliver his usual scowl as you took a seat beside himâcareful not to get too close. The group was scattered, licking their wounds and pretending they werenât waiting for the next horror.
Shane was strutting around with I told you so on his lips while they buried Ed and Amy. The silence stretched, heavy and oddly comfortable. You watched the last light bleed out of the sky while he picked at the dirt under his nails, jaw tight.
âIâm sorry about Merle.â You murmured, mostly to yourselfâknowing he wouldnât welcome the concern but unable to sit there and pretend your heart wasnât hurting for him anyway. Merle was⊠an acquired taste to say the least⊠but that didnât mean you thought what Rick and the others did was right.
You watched Daryl spit into the dirt between his feet before his voice came, low and gravel-rough.
âTough bastard cut his own damn hand off just to get free.â He muttered to the dirt with the shake of his head. âThatâs my brother thought, too stubborn to die easyâtoo mean to live quiet.â His shoulders slumped a fraction, the fight draining out of him for once. âI ainât got nobody else left. Just me. Itâs always just me.â
The silence that followed wasnât empty. It was heavy with everything heâd never said to anyone. You didnât push. You just sat there beside him, close enough that your knee brushed his, letting him feel seen without demanding anything back.
After another loaded moment Daryl pushed himself up with a grunt, watching you rise with himâslower, like you were afraid any sudden move might spook him.
The last of the sun had bled away, leaving everything in cool shadows and the distant crackle of the campâs fire. Tomorrow the group was headed back to the cityâto the CDC in hopes they could find some help for Jim, whoâd been bit during the struggle last nightâbut tonight⊠you stepped closer.
Your hand lifted slowly, giving him time to pull away. Surprising you when he didnât. Your palm settled against his chest firstâright over the worn fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your palm. The touch was gentle but the way your fingers spread, pressing just enough to feel the solid wall of him, sent a spark straight through his chest. Your other hand rose to his jaw, thumb brushing the scruff there, tracing the tense line like you wanted to memorize every sharp edge.
You looked at him like you could see straight through his facade to the man underneath all that hurt.
âDarylâŠâ You breathed, eyes locked on his. Your body leaned in, chest nearly brushing his as your fingers slid up into the damp hair at the nape of his neck. The scent of youâwarm and sweetâwrapped around him as your thumb stroked along his jaw again, slower this time, while your palm stayed pressed to his racing heart like you were trying to calm the wild thing inside him.
It was too much.
Too good.
Heat flooded through every cell in his body, stealing his breath as his hands fisted at his sides to keep from touching you. He had no right to touch you. For one second, he let himself lean into it, eyes dropping to your mouth.
Then the switch flipped.
The vulnerability cracked open something ugly and terrified inside him. His hand shot up, grabbing your wrist hard enough to make you gasp then he shoved you away from him roughly, forcing your back into the biting bark of the tree behind you. In the same motion he jabbed his finger right in front of your face, eyes narrowing as something ugly and familiar bubbled in his throat.
âStay the fuck away from me,â He snarled, blue eyes blazing with self-loathing. âYou hear me? I donât need your pity. Donât need your soft little touches or your fuckinâ smiles. You think you can fix me? Save the poor redneck? Fuck that. Youâre just another dumb bitch whoâs gonna get herself killed sticking her nose where it donât belong.â
You flinched hard, eyes wide with hurt as you watched his chest heave with it. The warmth drained from your face so fast it made his stomach twist, but the meanness poured out anyway, sharp and deliberate, because it was easier than admitting how badly he wanted you.
Daryl turned on his heels before you could respond, boots pounding into the dirt as he stormed off into the trees. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles achedâheart slamming in his chest where youâd touched him. Rageâat himself, at Merle, at this whole fucked up lifeâburned through him like wildfire.
Heâd made sure youâd finally seen him for what he wasâmean, brokenâunloveableâand the worst part? He already hated himself for it.
~~~
That night, sleep wouldnât come.
Daryl lay on his back in the cramped tent Carol had given him when they first showed up, one heavy arm slung over his eyes, the other fisted tight at his side. The Georgia heat clung to everything, turning the air inside the small space into something thick and suffocating.
Or maybe it was just the memory of you pressed against him earlierâyour palm on his chest, fingers in his hairâthat soft voice saying his name like a prayer. His cock was rock hard, throbbing against the rough denim of his jeans despite trying to ignore itâjaw locked, reminding himself he was just a piece of shit asshole who didnât deserve you.
He lifted his arm as the tent flap opened, watching you slip inside without a wordâthe zipperâs quiet rasp cutting through the heavy silence. Your body filled the tight space carefully, knees brushing his thighs as you crawled in. The air turned thick with shared heat, warm skin, and that sweet scent that always drove him crazy.
Daryl sat up fast. âThought I told you to stay the hell away from me, girl.â He growled, voice gravel-rough but it cracked on the last word, betraying the hunger clawing at him. His eyes dropped straight to your mouth, watching your lips part softly as you breathed him in while moving closerâswinging one leg over his until you were straddling his lap completely. The position forced your bodies flush together in the tiny tentâyour thighs squeezing his hips, the heat of your core pressing right down against the thick, aching bulge in his jeans.
Your hands came up exactly like they had earlierâone palm settling firmly over his chest, fingers spreading wide to feel the frantic hammer of his heart beneath the worn fabric. The other carded into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, threading through the strands and tugging lightly.
You didnât kiss himâjust pressed so damn close that your forehead touched his, noses brushing, hot breath mingling in the sliver of space between your mouths. He could taste the sweetness of itâhands hovering at your sides, trembling with the need to grab you.
He didnât know how to touch something this good without ruining it.
âDo you really want me to stay away, Daryl?â You finally whispered, voice breathy against his lips as your weight settled against him, hips rolling slowâgrinding down as his breath caught with a groan. âYouâre so hardâfeels like you want me to stay right here.â
Darylâs hands finally settled on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to feel the give of your skin through your shirt. He wanted to pull you harder against him, to slide his palms up your bare back, taste the sweat at the hollow of your throatâbut he held back, breathing you in like he was drowning. Your forehead stayed pressed to his, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him through your lashes.
âYou donât have to keep pushing me away,â You breathed, lips ghosting over his again, so close he could feel their softness. âI see the good in you, Daryl Dixon. Let me take care of you.â
His grip tightened on your waist, hips jerking up once to meet your slow grind as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in the cramped, heated spaceâ
Daryl jolted awake with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in the empty tent. His chest heaved, skin drenched in sweat, heart pounding like heâd just run through a horde. He raked both hands roughly over his face, dragging them through his damp hair as he tried to catch his breath. The dream still clung to himâthe weight of you in his lap, the brush of your lips, those breathy murmurs that had him aching for everything you offered.
âFuck.â He muttered hoarsely, eyes squeezed shut. He could still smell you. Still feel the ghost of your hands on his chest and in his hair. Morning light was already starting to creep under the tent flap, and the group would be heading out for the CDC soon.
Daryl dropped his head back against the canvas with a frustrated groan, willing the ache in his chest to fade.
~~~
The CDC felt like another world.
Hot water. Clean clothes. Full stomachs. For the first time since the dead started walking everyoneâs shoulders eased just an inch.
Lingering laughter spilled down the sterile halls.
Jenner kept refilling glasses, and somehow everyone kept drinking.
Even Daryl.
You watched him from across the table, unable to look away. His cheeks were flushed, those sharp blue eyes hazy with wine. He slouched in his chair, one heavy boot hooked on the rung, actually laughingâdeep, rough, unguardedâat something Glenn said. The sound rolled through you like thunder, low and warm, settling heavy between your thighs.
For once he looked⊠peaceful. Almost relaxed. Worn flannel shirt stretched across his broad chest, sleeves ripped off to show his corded forearms. You wanted to climb into his lap right there and feel that rare laugh vibrate against your mouth.
His gaze lifted slowly, eyes locking on yours.
The smirk on his face died instantlyâsomething darker flickering in its place. God, he was beautifulâeven when he was prickly or yelling in your faceâthere was good inside of him.
You looked away before Daryl could ruin the image you painted of him in your mind.
Again.
Once the wine went dry you decided to call it a night, moving through the narrow hallway to the room youâd chosen earlier. You turned another corner and walked straight into a solid wall of muscle and heat.
âShitââ Darylâs voice was gravel-rough, thick with wine and something else as your hands landed on his chest to steady yourself. God, he was warm. You could feel his heartbeat slamming under your palms, fast and panicked.
He didnât step back.
Neither did you.
âSorry,â You whispered, but it came out quickâstartled. The last time you spoke to him he told you to stay the fuck away from him and here you were with your hands still on his chest. âI think Iâm lost.â
Darylâs eyes dropped to yours, then lowerâtracing the way your lips parted with a soft exhale. The half-empty wine bottle hung forgotten at his side.
âYeah,â He muttered. âMe too.â
The air between you thickened. Hot and electric. Just the distant hum of the building and the sound of your breathing.
âYouâre drunk.â You whispered, pressing closer to steal away some of his warmth.
âNot hardly.â His voice had gone dangerously low, free hand coming up slow, bracing on the wall beside your head, caging you in without touching. The heat rolling off his body made you visibly shiver. You tilted your face up, close enough to smell wine and smoke and that wild, masculine scent that was pure Daryl. Close enough that your breasts brushed his chest.
âDarylâŠâ His name left your lips like a plea, watching his jaw clench so tight the muscle jumped. Eyes dark, pupils blown. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard.
Then he moved.
His hand slid to your waist, gripping hard enough to bruise as he walked you backward until your back hit the cool wall. A gasp slipped out of you as his hips followed, pressing in until you felt the thick, heavy line of him grinding slow and deliberate against your lower belly.
âFuck,â He growled under his breath, forehead dropping to yours. âYou feel that?â
You whimpered softly, nodding, hips rolling up to meet the slow grind of his. The friction made heat pool slick and aching between your legs, hands fisting against the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. One of his thighs pushed between yours, pressing right against your coreâthe pressure dragging a broken moan from your throat.
His mouth hovered over yoursâbarely an inch away. You could almost taste him. His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging into soft flesh as he rocked against you again, harder this time, letting you feel every inch of how badly his body wanted you.
Your hand slid up, fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. His other hand finally touched youârough palm dragging up your side, thumb brushing against your waist. For one dizzy, perfect second, his lips parted like he was finally going to kiss you.
Claim you.
Ruin you right there against the CDC wall.
Then his whole body went rigid.
Reality slammed back in.
He shoved away from you violently, chest heavingâhands clenched into fists at his sides like he didnât trust them anymore.
âYou still donât fuckinâ get it,â He snapped, voice raw and cracking. His eyes were narrowedâfurious at himself more than you. âI donât give a fuck about youâdonât need you out here fuckinâ up my head! Gettinâ me killed!â
The words sliced deep.
You stared at him, chest still rising fast, lips tingling from how close heâd been. He wouldnât look at you nowâeyes fixed on the floor.
You swallowed the burn in your throat and nodded once.
âOkay.â
This time your smile was small.
Sad.
You turned and walked away without looking back. Daryl stayed frozen in the hallway long after your footsteps faded, back pressed to the opposite wall, chest hollow.
Heâd finally pushed you too farâand it felt like the worst mistake of his fucking life.
You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too closeâ afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. People is real stubborn.
âThat motherfucking prick.â You hissed under your breath, throwing down your dirty rag on the ground before plopping yourself down beside your tent.Â
After the commotion in front of the barn, Dale confessed to everyone that he had talked to Hershel last night. He told them that the doctor sees the walkers inside the barn as sick peopleâ people that can be cured, go back to normal, and live like normal humans again.Â
There was more commotion after that, but ultimately, it was Rick who broke off the argument.Â
Truthfully, you understand where Shane is coming from, and that causes you to be more irked more than anything. He was looking out for the group's safety, wanting the best for the people of the group, wanting to protect them, but he was doing it the wrong way.Â
So, in the end, you hated every fiber of his being.Â
You left all of them back at the barn after Rick announced to everyone to let him handle it. You knew he would handle it, knew he was capable of it, but you were filled with so much anger that you stormed off before anyone else could say a word to you.Â
You know being this mad at Shane, or anyone for that matter, won't do you good. You know, but to hell with that.Â
Anger is the second strongest emotion that you have felt ever since you woke up in this world, and punching him to let out that pent up anger made you feel aliveâ like you werenât carrying those thoughts in your head for weeks on end.Â
You sighed, running down a hand on your face, only to wince in pain when you felt your hand throb. You used the same hand that you punched Shane with to rub your face, and since it throbbed, you know that you're hurt, so you slowly pulled your hand away from your face and turned it over.Â
You immediately saw the red, irritated, bleeding skin.Â
Great.. You let out another sigh, feeling resigned and exhausted at the sight, but a big part of you remembered vividly how exhilarating it was to punch Shane and let out your anger.Â
Who knew that anger and pain are the perfect partners to make someone feel better?Â
However, as much as it brought you relief, you couldnât shake off the fact that you're still hurt from Andrea's gunshot and yet, here you are, already managed to get yourself hurt more in a matter of a short time. Just what are you doing with your life? Why can't you just sit still and let yourself heal in the meantime?Â
Just how useless can you be for you to get yourself againâÂ
âHey.âÂ
You were brought out of your self deprecating thoughts when you heard someone call you. Your gaze flickered up to see who it was, and you straightened up a little when you found out that it was none other than Rick Grimes.Â
âHm?â You grunted out, not in the mood to talk.Â
Rick slowly paused on his track, eyebrows shooting up. He couldn't help, but wonder how you can be this calm and quiet when you're far from the group, but the moment you step in Shane's vicinity, it was like a switch flipped.Â
Back then, you looked so mad at his best friend.Â
You were scowling, glowering, and kicking the man down to the ground. You looked feral, like Shane had wronged every aspect of your life. You looked so incredibly done with himâ actually, no, there's a better word for that.Â
You looked like you wanted to skin the man alive.Â
However, right now, you look like a well-behaved animal, like you weren't growling and lunging at Shane. You look.. Strangely domesticatedâÂ
Rick blinked and quickly caught himself thinking that about you of all people. He stopped that thought from forming further. He can't let himself think that you're like an animal, nor should he compare you to one. That's not appropriate, right? It's disrespectful, incredibly disregarding towards someone who had helped him and the group big time.Â
He can't believe himself that he would think someone like you is like an animal. How could he? To you, of all people? Sighing and shaking his head, feeling a little disappointed at himself, Rick continued walking.Â
When he got close enough to you, he dropped to his knees.Â
You stiffened when he did so, forcing your confused eyes to look at him. Your eyebrows pinched together in perplexment, and even then, Rick couldn't stop himself from thinking that you're so different from how you were weeks ago. Sure, youâre still cautious, but at least youâre not running off to the woods and staying out of everyoneâs radar for the night.Â
Rick cleared his throat, eyes flickering to look at your face.Â
âMind telling me why you punched Shane?â He asked, his voice low and soft like he was coaxing a sulking child.Â
You looked away immediately, your fingers fiddling with one another to cover up the discomfort settling on your gut. It felt uncomfortable, really uncomfortable.. You were never the type to be confrontational. As much as possible, you try your best to stir away from trouble to not make anyone corner you and ask you questions.Â
Yet, here Rick is, confronting you about why you punched the biggest jerk in season 2.Â
â(Last name).â Rick sighed out, sounding dejected and upset, forcing himself down onto his knees so he could see you more clearly. âI get that you want to help protect the group. I know you do, but you can't just do things like that out of nowhere. People will start thinking that youâreââÂ
âI'm what?â You asked, tone blunt and face blank, but your voice is soft, shaking a little if he were to pay close attention, âThat I'm someone dangerous? That I'm someone they shouldn't be around with?âÂ
âWhat? No. No, no, no, that's not what Iââ Rick stammered out, sounding a little startled.Â
âYeah, right.â You huffed, eyes narrowing as you glared at him. âThat's what you were about to say, isn't it? That I'm too impulsive, too up in my head, too dangerous for letting my anger be the boss of me?âÂ
You don't know why you're lashing out on Rick.Â
You felt fine a few seconds ago. You merely felt uncomfortable just now. You weren't mad or anything. You didn't feel annoyed at him when he was approaching you, too, but there was this inkling feeling simmering under your skin that made you want to knock some sense into him the moment he brought up Shane.Â
âNo, I promise it's not thatââÂ
âThen what?â You hissed, forcing yourself up on your feet and stare down at him, âYou keep trying to be good to everyone. You're too kind for your own good, but don't you know that kindness is what putting my back on a goddamn wall? I'm doing my best to support you and show that I give a fuck, Rick. But the moment I do, you question me?âÂ
The glare pointed at him hardened, the silence between you two hanging over your heads. You waited for him to rebut your words, to assure you werenât in the wrong, to let you know that youâre actually someone he could trust, but nothing came. Rick simply kneeled there and didn't say anything, not even a movement to show you that wasn't itâ that you have the wrong idea, so you took it as an agreement.Â
âI'm so done.â You gritted out and turned away from him, shoulders sagging as you let your anger roll off you.Â
You don't know what you should be feeling right now. It mixed with the other emotions that you have bottled up for the past few days. Are you disappointed? Probably, but it's not fully pointed at him. If it is, you would have known by now. Â
The next question that popped up in your mind is, are you mad? Irritated? Frustrated? Maybe, hopefully, but only because Rick had the audacity to turn a blind eye on how reckless Shane has been acting, then when you were the one who reminded him of his place, Rick decided to reprimand you instead of Shane?Â
You let out a breath, chest heaving up and down.Â
âYou didn't even question that fucker why he was hovering over your wife and son.â You mumbled, ducking your head to get inside of your tent. âCan't believe that one punch is all it gets for you to stop me instead of asking why that fuckface was acting like thatââÂ
âYou know about Lori and Shane?â Rick whispered, causing you to stop speaking and blink.Â
You stopped in your tracks. Rick's question reaches your ears with the underlying hurt and confusion apparent on how the way his voice shookâ like he wasn't expecting to hear those words come from you of all people, like he wasn't aware that you knew.Â
You forced out a laugh, the sound coming out breathy with disbelief.Â
Does the sheriff peg you for someone who can't put two things together? Does he think you're someone who can't tell if something is up with people around the camp? Well, sure, you know what's up with these people because they were merely part of the show you used to watch.. But that doesn't mean that you're completely clueless and don't have social cues.Â
God, thinking about him thinking youâre like that is giving you a headache.Â
âWho doesn't, Rick?â You softly shot back after a minute of silence, turning around to give him a heated pointed look. âShane made it pretty clear that he loves your wife.âÂ
He flinched, the action making the hardened expression on your face soften a little.Â
You continued, voice hushed and dripping with concern, âHe made it obvious that he's the better man to protect Carl and give the little boy what he needs back then. Didn't you see the way he's acting? Honestly, you're stupid for letting him hover around Lori. She told you already, didn't she? About him and Shane?âÂ
Rick didn't answer right now. He failed to fully comprehend what you're saying, but he nodded nonetheless, his voice failing to function, forcing his voice to work despite the pain now residing inside his chest.Â
âI.. I found out yesterday.â He croaked out, his head dropping low to hide his face. âIt'sâ it's my baby, (last name). Lori said so. She's.. She's not letting Shane get a hold of her or the baby. If anything, I won't let him think that he can have her. I'm here now. I'm alive. I'm back, and I'm leading this group now, aren't I?âÂ
âDoes this mean that you'll kill Shane then?â You asked, eyebrows furrowing.Â
Rick tensed and snapped his head up, âWhat? Why would IââÂ
âHe killed Otis.â You stated bluntly, walking over and crouching down in front of him to meet his eyes, âThat man killed Otis in cold blood. He left him there so he can bring back the supplies Hershel needs to operate on your boy. He sacrificed that man. You're not dumb, Rick. You're not stupid either. We both know what actually happened that day, don't we?âÂ
You love Rick to the death in the show, but this guy loved his best friend a little too much to the point he gave him a lot of chances to prove himself. Â
You remembered getting upset with Rick and calling him stupid names. All because he continues to let Shane roam the farm unsupervised. The fucker confessed to Rick that he killed Otis to get back. He told Rick that he thinks he's not fit to protect his own wife and son. He had the nerve to say those words about his best friend's wife and sonâ he had the audacity.Â
Still, after all that, Rick gave him a chance.Â
Recalling what happened then made your blood boil again. God, you hate Shane so much and can't wait for the night Rick finally decided to kill him.Â
It's a long road ahead, unfortunately.Â
âWe're not sure what happened, (last name).â Rick denied your claims with a tremor in his voice, and you knew that he was lying straight to your face. âShane told everyone that Otis died a hero.âÂ
âAnd you believe that?â You prodded, raising an eyebrow. âI expected more from you, Rick.âÂ
âWhat am I supposed to believe then?!â He hissed all of a sudden, standing back to his feet, his voice raising in volume, âWho do you want me to believe in?!âÂ
You grew tense at the sight of an agitated Grimes.
âYou want me to believe that my own best friendâ the man whom I spent years beside with, the man who protected me when I got shotâ killed someone, because he thought that's what's best to do at that moment? You want me to believe that he would be so heartless to sacrifice a man just to get back to us?â Rick growled out, beads of sweat rolling down his face as he glared down at you.Â
âYou expect me to believe that he will go that far for my son? You expect me to believe someone else's words against him?â He added, pointing an accusatory finger at the direction of the campsite, âDo you expect me to believe all that?âÂ
âDonât you?â You rebutted, quickly forcing your face to be blank, to remove any kind of emotion from your face, because you refuse to let Rick see how much his words are affecting you, âBecause from what I'm hearing from you right now is that you're trying so hard to convince yourself, Grimes.â Â
An unreadable look crossed the sheriff's face immediately. You knew that you had hit a nerve right away. The look on Rick's face was the kind of look someone would flash if you had hit a mark bullseye. You forced your lips into a tight line, face as emotionless as possible.Â
Before you could blink and say anything further, Rick closed the distance between you two. He brought his face so close to yours to the point you could feel his hot breath against your lips, and he didnât seem to give a shit about it, because he leaned closer, his blue eyes clouded with emotions.
âIâm not convincing myself! I believe that my best friend can and will change after we have a talk! One on one, all by ourselves, away from everyone!â He hissed, breathing ragged at how much he's trying to hold himself back from yelling at you.Â
âI was going to ask for the reason why you're acting like this towards him, but I guess I got my answer.â The sheriff added, giving you a look that you didn't like.Â
âYeah?â You croaked out, glaring menacingly as you met his seething head-on without hesitation. âWell, while you're at it, why don't you go right ahead and fuck him in the ass, too? Since you're so hell-bent on believing that fuckass image you have of him in your mind rather than the words of your people? Of your own wife?! Lori told you that he's fucking dangerous, didn't she?!âÂ
âThat's âcause you all don't know how Shane is!â Rick yelled, finally breaking through the lid of his emotions. âThat's not who he is! That's my best friend! That's that same man who saved me over and over againââÂ
âHe's not the same man anymore, Rick!â You screamed back, your hands shooting out to push him off you, to put some distance between you two.Â
âThe man you have in mind is the man before the world went to shit! This world changes people, okay?!â You forced out, your voice going high in volumes, âBut that doesn't mean we go around killing people! That doesn't give him the right to kill someone, just because he thinks it was for the best! He may have been the man you say he was before all this, but heâs not the same person anymore!âÂ
You breathed heavily, eyes blown wide. God, you hate screaming so much, but Rick needed to hear you scream to make him listen.Â
Rick grew quiet after your outburst. He couldn't speak, nor think, because he knows deep down in his head that you're right. He knows that you're only thinking of the group's safety, but fuck. It's hard to see Shane in a different spot light.Â
âHe's a murderer.â You spat, voice dripping with venom. âAnd if you're willing to let a murderer walk around, then be my guest. I'm fucking done.âÂ
You stormed past him, intentionally bumping your shoulder as roughly as you could against him while you did so. Your throat ached from how much and how loud you were yelling at him, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care about the pain.Â
The man basically told you that he can't see Shane as a murderer, even if Lori already told him that he was dangerous.Â
It's ironic though. You know Rick will be a murderer in the near future, too. He will become ruthless after Lori's death. He will, for sure, not be as loving and understanding as he is today, but that didn't stop him from protecting his peopleâ oh, no, after the farm fell, he said it himself that it wasn't a democracy anymore.Â
You loved that about him, but the man needed to get himself kicked off from his high horse.Â
You sighed, eyes stinging a little. You walked further up the farm to get to the house. You need to have a talk with Hershel. You have to warn him about Shane's future actions. You can't have him getting into a fight with Rick about leaving the land. If you could, you would have killed that murderer yourself.Â
Unfortunately, you haven't killed anyone before. The thought of actually killing someone terrifies you, but if it's for the betterment of the groupâ
The thought got thrown to the back of your head the moment you saw Daryl stomping his way in your direction, his tent and bag hauled over his shoulder. You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected sight, and when he raised his gaze to look at his path, he stopped walking.Â
He saw you, your gaze clashing with his.Â
You slowly halted in your tracks, too, until you stopped in front of him. There's only three steps distance between you two, close enough to hear each other's words, but far enough to not feel the heat of the other.Â
âWhat?â He grumbled, eyebrows furrowing as he scanned you from head to toe.Â
âWhat?â You shot back, eyebrow raising as your own eyes scanned him from head to toe, mimicking his little action. âYou planning to go somewhere? What's with the tent and the bag?â
A part of you already knows the answer, but you didn't want to assume. It was obvious from the get go that he's separating himself from the group. Though you don't remember him separating himself from them this early in the season, you decided to just keep your mouth shut and shook your head.Â
âNevermind.â You uttered, resuming your walk towards the house and walking past him.Â
You continued walking and didn't wait for a response from him, the only thought in your mind at the moment is marching your way to Hershel's abode.Â
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