Summary: You move in with your boyfriend Daryl Dixon he is struggling to cope with the change.
Established Relationship You x Daryl Dixon | no y/n
You and Daryl have been together for about 2 years now.
You met one night at a dive bar, your head spinning just enough to make you bold when you saw him. You thought he was hot—the kind of rugged that felt dangerous and steady all at once. You tried to make a move, but your words didn't come out quite as sharp as you wanted them to. You were leaning into his space; confidence blurred by a few too many drinks, rambling just to keep his attention.
But it was Daryl. He didn't make you feel small for it. He just leaned back, watching you with those quiet, observant eyes, letting you talk until you eventually found your footing. The conversation was mostly you until he mentioned, almost under his breath, that he knew how to strip an engine.
You seized it, inventing a fake mechanical issue just to keep him talking. For the first time that night, Daryl actually opened up, his voice low and gravelly as he walked you through what might be wrong. He ended up scrawling his number on a torn napkin, telling you to bring the car by the shop so he could take a look.
You took the number, knowing full well you didn't even own a car—you just knew you couldn't let him walk away. One blunt, "Hey, I lied about the car, I just wanted your number" text later, and Daryl Dixon was yours.
Daryl was shy at first, uncertain about almost every aspect of dating. You could tell he wasn't experienced, which you found endearing, so you never shied away from making the first move. He wanted to take it slow, and you loved the change of pace—no more swatting hands away or dealing with "I love you" too soon. It took two whole months, but when he finally kissed you, it was worth the wait.
It was that for a long time just small kisses and his hands resting chastely at your waist, his fingers as rigid as a board. But he eventually worked his way up to more—and thank God for that. He was so careful, acting as if he might break you or do the one wrong thing that would make you walk away.
At first, he wouldn't even touch you; he just wanted to watch. He wanted to learn every breath that made you jump, every sound that made you fall apart. It was like he was studying for a test he felt he had to ace before he earned the right to touch you. It was absolute torture. Of course, that didn’t stop you from touching him. You learned quickly, though, that he struggled with seeing you on your knees or with him in your mouth made him uneasy, no matter how many times you told him you were doing it because you liked it. Eventually, he started talking about the scars—who gave them to him and why. It broke your heart, but it brought you closer. You loved to lie there, tracing the lines on his back with your palm, trying to press away the old memories and replace them with something better.
After months of long talks, lazy nights, and rough hands finally exploring tender skin, he was ready for all of it. When you finally laid him down and he filled you up, it was perfect. It felt like you were two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. You started slow and deep, keeping your bodies as close as physically possible; your weight draped across his hips. As you moved at a lazy, grounding pace, you drew sounds from deep in his chest, leaning down to lick the tears off his neck. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—so intense and so honest that you didn't even know sex could feel like that.
After the dam broke you couldn't keep your hand off each other it was good- no it was great. Daryl always was a quick learner. It really was everything you could have hoped for but it also made the reality of your separate lives a lot harder to swallow. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, yet you were constantly fighting against the clock.
It was a cycle of frustrating schedules and lack of time. You’d fall asleep in his arms only for him to be gone to work before you even opened your eyes in the morning. You found yourselves desperately sneaking in an hour or two in the middle of the day, trying to cram an entire relationship into the brief window before you had to head out for a twelve-hour shift.
Living out of a bag was getting old, too. You were tired of the back-and-forth, tired of buying doubles of every product, and tired of having to choose between a few minutes of sex or actually having a conversation. You just wanted more time with him.
One night, while getting extremely frustrated about not being able to find a shirt you brought over and simultaneously trying to shove clothing back into a bag for what felt like the hundredth time, you snapped. You let out a frustrated grunt. Daryl appears in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, giving you a quizzical look. You look up at him, blushing slightly, embarrassed at your fit of rage.
“Uh, sorry…just frustrated.”
“I’m done.” you huff “I’m done living out of this shit,” you say, kicking your bag.
Daryl just grunts. “Then don't"
You look up glaring at him not in the mood for games.
He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Use the dresser.” He then just turned on his heals and walked off. And that is how you now find yourself moving in with Daryl Dixon.
Moving in was actually easier than you expected, mostly because so many of your things had already carved out a permanent spot in his house. After a long afternoon of wrestling with the cramped dresser and closet—a feat you were convinced, you couldn't complete—you finally got the last of your things tucked away.
Daryl was out on the porch having a smoke with dog, and you walked out to grab him; your chest tight with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. “Hey” you said, catching his attention. “You gotta come see it actually all fit!” Daryl looks up, kills his cigaret and grunts out a disbelieving “no way”
He followed you back inside, Dog trailing at his heels. When you reached the bedroom, you swung the closet doors open to show off your work. Daryl went quiet, his eyes scanning the shelves. You thought he was relieved that the mess was gone but then you saw him linger at the bottom rack. Your shoes were lined up right next to his boots. Your shirts tucked between his heavy flannels and denim. Your heart breaks as you realize what this actually means for Daryl. Seeing your lives physically tangled together was proof of something he’d rarely had: a person who wasn’t just passing thought. You reached out and took his hand, needing him to feel that you were permanent, someone who was staying for good.
That night, you were completely wiped out from the move. You’d managed to fall asleep a solid hour before Daryl, but the sound of the door clicking shut woke you just enough to see him slip into the room. You watched through heavy lids as he started to change. God, he was hot—the way his back flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head made a bolt of something sharp and hot shoot through you. All desire for sleep vanished and was replaced by desire for something else. You sat up, eyes locked on him.
"Oh, sorry babe," he murmured, his voice low. "I was tryin' to be quiet."
"No, it’s okay," you said, your voice a little husky as you took him in. "I’m not that tired anyway."
You gave him a look that made your intentions crystal clear, but Daryl just blushed and looked away. "Naw, girl. You're tired. Had a long day. Need to rest."
He slipped into the bed, but he stayed as close to the edge as physically possible, putting a noticeable gap between your bodies. He was acting weird. You leaned over him, your hands finding the familiar planes of his chest while your mouth moved to the sensitive skin of his neck.
Before you could get anywhere, he grabbed your hand and firmly pulled it away. "No... you're tired. Go to bed."
He was acting like you’d never shared a bed before, let alone spent hours tangled together in it. You knew every inch of him, and he knew you, so the sudden distance felt cold. But it was late, and you didn't have the energy for a fight.
"Okay," you sighed, feeling a sting of rejection. "Yeah, we can stop."
You turned over, facing away from him, and tried to let sleep take over again.
You woke up the next morning and Daryl was already gone. Moving in together great, but it didn't change his grueling work schedule. You had taken a few days off, expecting the move to be a bigger project than it was, so you spent the day organizing the final few boxes before deciding to go all out for dinner because. After all you had the time and it felt good to have a kitchen to yourself.
When Daryl finally walked through the door, he was met with your grin. You’d dressed up a bit, nothing crazy just nicer than the sweats you were wearing all day. He stopped in his tracks, looking at the table and at you his expression a mix of shock and being on guard. Daryl didn't always handle surprises well.
Trying to ease the tension, you said, "I just thought, since it's my first official day moved in, and I had the time... I wanted to do something."
Your confidence started to wane as he just stared at the table. He picked up on it. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. "Smells good. Gotta wash the shop off me first”
You leaned into him, catching the scent of oil and cigarettes. “You want some help with that?” You offered with a tug at his belt loops.
“Naw, not this time," he said, stepping back. Normally, you wouldn't have thought twice about it—sometimes a guy just wants a five-minute shower in peace—but there was a stiffness in his shoulders that made you worry.
Dinner was good but the air between you felt heavy. You talked about the house and work, but he was holding back. It felt as awkward as those first few weeks of dating. Eventually, you ended up on the couch, you sitting on the floor between his legs while a movie played in the background. You couldn’t focus on the screen. You started to move, shifting back against him, running your hands up his shins. He placed his hands on your shoulder but instated of pulling you closer he just held you steady. It was getting too much and you needed him. You turned around kneeling up to find his mouth. The kiss was chaste, but you tried to deepen it, your hands wandering down to the buckle of his jeans. He caught your wrists. “Ya don't gotta”
You looked up at him, your head tilted a smile at your lips “I know I don’t, but I want to”
You tried to move your hands again, but he didn’t let go. “Not what I meant.”
You looked up at him with confusion on your face.
"You don't gotta do this." he repeated
still confused, you reply "I know Daryl. We have been over this. I want to."
He lets out a small grunt " No you its.... you don't gotta.... i'm not just talking about this" he nods down to you hands at his belt loop.
“Then what are you talking about?” You are genuinely confused now.
Daryl let out a sharp frustrated sigh looking everywhere but you. “Look... you know this.” You look up at him, confused. “Girl, you don’t gotta make me fancy dinner or feel like you gotta suck me off or...or have my damn babies just cause we’re sharing a roof.” He was getting more worked up now “I didn’t ask you to move in so you could do that or pay me back for the space by putting out. I’m not like him, okay? You don't owe me nothing.”
That flash of anger in his eyes caught you off guard. You’d seen him rough, and you’d seen him quiet, but you’d never seen him get this defensive over something that was supposed to be good. You stood up staring down at him and snapped “I know I don’t owe you anything, but I didn't move in to just be your roommate,”
You didn’t leave any room for an argument; and didn't want sit in this rejection any longer. So you walked to the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open just in case he had the nerve to follow.
You flopped down on the bed, your mind racing. You had literally been living together for less than forty-eight hours and you were already fighting. It was infuriating. You loved this man to death, but God, he was a brick wall when he was scared. Tears of frustration welled in your eyes, and you hurried into the shower, desperate to have your meltdown in peace where the sound of the water could drown you out.
Daryl slept on the couch that night. Then he did for three more.
You two had never been phsically closer. Living under the same roof using the same shower and closet, but you have never felt more distant. Daryl was a ghost, disappearing before the sun was even up and staying at the shop long after you eaten dinner and went to bed. You tried to reach out asking him dinner plan halfway thought your shift only to be met with some lame excuses about late deliveries or a deadline.
On the fourth night You got a text from him saying that he was going straight to Ricks after work. You weren't gonna let that slide; you were not going to let him get anymore distance. You planted yourself on the couch watching shitty T.V to stay awake. It was around 2am when you heard his bike pull into the driveway.
Daryl was surprised when he saw you and the dog sprawled out on the couch. “Oh hey….sorry I thought you'd be asleep by now.” avoiding eye contact as he took off his boots with a loud thud. “I would like to be,” you reply flatly, your patience already dangerously thin. His eyes find yours now silver and thin scanning your face for what's wrong, you were mad but shit you didn't mean to scare him
He started walking over to you, scanning your body looking for anything wrong shoving dog off the couch so he could get closer to you.
You let out a deep breath “yes, Daryl. I'm fine” he sits down and looks at you, not quite believing you. You look down at your hands, your voice dropping an octave and becoming more sheepish “but…… are we fine?”
You glance up, stealing a look at the confusion, flooding his face. Then you could see his defensive shield come up. He mumbled "I don't know, are we?” You grab his hand, trying to get him to open up.
“Daryl, why do you think I wanted to move in”
Daryl grunts “Dunno” you squeeze his hands “ok well try and think” you say flatly.
He grunts again “ I 'know you like dog, your rent was way too high for what ya’ living in…” You cut him off, bring your hand to his cheek making him look at you “no…. Daryl I moved in because I love you. I want to spend time with you. I want to be with you.” Daryl holds eye contact for a moment before looking down and shaking his head like he can’t believe it. You were getting more frustrated now you raised your voice
“Goddanmit Daryl what will it take for you to feel like you deserve something good for once!”
He looks up at you, shocked, but you're sudden change of tone. Frustration and embarrassment flood your body. You look down and mumble “it's not fair. I feel like shit…. Like I'm not good enough.” you sniffle tears of frustration threatening to break thought.
He lets out a frustrated sigh trying to grab your hand and pull you away “look I know it's hard but I'm not going anywhere” he catches your eye “ok?”
“No.” You say firmly “No, it's not ok Daryl. ,it's not ok that you just get all weird and avoid me. Look I know that this is hard for you, but this is not fair Daryl you barley even talk to me! Your are gone all the time, not touching me its.. Its just....” Your tone drops slightly a different sort of tears threatening “I just feels like you don’t even want this”
Daryl doesn't waste a second he grabs your head and bring it into and embrace emotion breaking thought is usually gravel voice. He mumbles “I'm so sorry, you were right its isn't fair. I do want this.... I wanted this so much I didn't wanna screw it up.” he takes in a shaky breath “just please don't leave”
You pull away from him tears in your eyes “I'm not gonna leave” you said through tears, You felt the tension bleed out of him as you tucked your head under his chin. "No more avoiding me?" You murmured against his shirt.
"No more avoidin'," he promised and brought you closer. You stay there for a long minute before he leaned back, looking at the TV screen where some infomercial was playing. He gave a short, huffed laugh. "You really stayed up watchin' this crap for me?"
"Every boring minute of it."
He shook his head, whistling low for Dog. As the three of you made your way to the bedroom, the house finally felt less like a place where you were keeping your stuff and more like a place where you lived. Together.
You wake up to Dog bounding onto the bed shortly followed by Daryl.
"C'mon, get outta here," he grunted, gently shoving the dog off the mattress. As Daryl approached, a smile grew on your face. This was exactly what you had been craving—no more distance, no more living out of a bag. Just you and him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and murmured a low, "Mornin’," before planting a deep kiss on your mouth. It was the kind of kiss that gave you immediate flashbacks to the night before, leaving you breathless and wanting more. When he finally pulled away, you let out a small whine in protest, but he just chuckled, tossed a pillow your way, and headed for the kitchen.
You hopped in the shower and got ready, taking a second to admire the marks he’d left on your skin before getting dressed. When you finally walked into the kitchen, Daryl was leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.
He looked up at you, mumbling into the rim of his mug, "Looks... good."
You gave him a pointed look, a playful edge to your voice. "What does?"
Daryl went back to staring into his coffee, his ears tinging a soft red. "You."
"Really?" You walked closer, a grin spreading across your face.
"Yeah. You know... wearin' your own stuff here. Not my stuff... you know cause.... ah forget it."
You stepped into his space, wiggling between his arms and forcing him to open up for a hug. You looked up at him, your expression turning more serious as you tried to drive the point home. "Because I live here, Daryl. Because my clothes are in the same dresser as yours. Because I'm not going anywhere."
He looked down at you, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah. I guess."
He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before setting his cup on the counter and wrapping you in his arms.
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