Summary: Daryl isn't the type to use cutesy nicknames with his partner, especially not within earshot of others. But on the rare occasion he lets one slip, the reminder of your undeniable connection hits you both like a jumpstart to the heart.
Warnings: canon-typical violence
Word Count: 750
â headcanon that Daryl calls you babe normally, sweetheart to comfort you, girl when heâs irritated, and sunshine on good days.
On a seldom quiet afternoon, Daryl finds himself kneeled over working on his bike. The solitary pastime keeps his mind and hands busy when things get unnervingly quiet.Â
His grease-covered hands are too preoccupied to wipe the sweat off his brow, let alone grab the wrench he left annoyingly out of reach. When he catches a glimpse of you passing by at the perfect time, you hear that familiar drawl call after you with surprising casualness.Â
âBabe!âÂ
You double back just to be met with sheepishly avoidant eyes. Before either of you can really process or address the slip of tongue, Daryl gives a curt nod towards the open toolbox sitting a few feet away.
"Gimme a hand, will ya?"
You hand the wrench over along with a smug look, which earns a warning glare and a begrudging grumble of thanks in return.
Frantic voices cut through the ongoing gunfire and permeate the staticky airwaves over handheld radio. While it's reassuring to have your found-family fighting at your side, the absence of your other half when the chaos begins distracts you. Steadfast directions are thrown out to maintain some semblance of order, but it's difficult to absorb details as panic begins to rise.
Like a shining beacon, the buzz of Darylâs worried voice cuts through the surrounding frenzy from the walkie glued to your hip. As soon as you respond, the ensuing exchange is a concise flurry of âwhere are you?âs and âare you okay?âs from both ends. The huff of his breath is enough to tell you that heâs rushing to you as fast as he can, but he assures you anyway.
âJusâ hang in there, sweetheart. âM almost there.â
The endearing term slips through the cracks of panic, but itâs enough to steel your nerves and remind you of what youâre fighting for.
Black blood splatters on your skin and decorates your clothes as you take down your targets one by one. When a walker nearly knocks you on your ass, Daryl is there to take it out with a swift arrow to the cranium. With a sharp thwack, the walker crumples to the ground in a limp heap. A rough yank on your arm pulls you to his side.
"What's the matter wit' chu, girl?! Ya got s'mthin' to prove?âÂ
He takes the brief moment to lay into you before setting off again, clearing a path for the both of you back to the group. Something about the way he growls out the warning prior to effortlessly parting a sea of walkers has you following along without argument.
He may loathe your reckless insistence on sticking near the frontlines and putting yourself in harmâs way, but he has your back without fail.
Solo runs with Daryl are one of the only times you get him all to yourself nowadays. Venturing away from the group may come with its fair share of unpredictable concerns, but those worries are pushed to the back of your mind today. All you care about is the afternoon sun warming your skin, your hair whipping back like ribbons in the wind, the rumble of the bike beneath the leather seat, and the man you currently have your arms wrapped around.
Itâs been so long since your last outing alone together that this feels more like a date than a supply run. The notion puts a soft smile on your face.
Those mushy thoughts are abruptly interrupted by an unanticipated lurch of the bike that sends you reeling back as it picks up speed and roars down the open road. Your resulting flinch has you clutching him tighter, palms pressed to his front as you will your racing heart to climb back out of your ass.
Daryl spares a glance over his shoulder. The glimpse you get of an amused twitch at the corner of his mouth stirs up a familiar fluttering in your stomach. He returns his attention to the road, but not without laughing at your expenseâa deep rumble that you can feel more than hear.
âWatch those hands, sunshine,â he calls back over the drone of the engine. The rare levity in his voice is unmistakable. One of his hands leaves the handlebar to firmly readjust your grip around his waist.
âAt least wait âtil we stop movinâ tâ feel me up.â
You know heâs only joking, but that doesnât stop the very tempting idea from lodging in the back of your mind for the rest of the ride.
authorâs note: you just read my first ever fic! i started stitching together this teensy collection of daydreams on a whim and have been sitting on the draft for a long while now. considering sharing more substantial fics soon. lmk what you think! anyways, hope u liked it & thnx for reading âĄ
Summary: In the dark of the night, he pulls you close. In the harsh light of morning, his pride pushes you away. But when the countdown begins and the blast doors start to seal them, Daryl's tough-guy act completely vanishes. Because if the world is going to blow, heâs getting you out alive âor dying trying.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader
Genre: fluff, slow burn, comfort, angst
Word count: 1.1
Warnings: brief mention of toxic family environment/abuse, canon-typical violence/explosions, mild swearing.
âHe felt his body lighter than usual. The hallway's air conditioning, now refreshing due to the alcohol in his blood, didn't bother him as much as when they first arrived. The windowless walls and the industrial air of the place made him claustrophobic.
âDaryl walked slowly down the bedroom hallway, his boots feeling heavier here on the floorboards than they ever did in the woods. Instead of entering the room the doctor had offered him, he stopped by the door, leaning against the wall. Only the low hum of the air vents filled the space. He stared down the empty hallway, thinking, his head heavy from fatigue and the drinks. Without Merleâs chaotic shadow telling him what to do or how to act, his own mind had been running too fast lately. He thought that despite the horrors out there, a part of him still preferred the woods over a charming little cubicle that felt more like a trap. He thought about Merle, wondering where that tough bastard could be... especially without one of his hands. And he thought about you.
âAbout how your eyes had started crossing paths with his, at the quarry without an ounce of fear. You looking for edible berries and checking the fish traps. The smiles youâd give him in the morning, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the camp. In those moments alone, away from the group, Daryl didn't feel that constant urge to snarl and fight. He felt like you could see him beyond the rough facade of a Dixon, like you knew he wasn't just like his brother... And to Daryl, that was dangerous...
âThe sound of a door opening caught his attention. Daryl turned his head toward the noise and saw you.
âWith your hair wet, wearing a shirt and your legs bare, he swallowed hard. The dim hallway light illuminated your figure at the far end. Your eyes met. You looked serene, secure.
âDaryl noticed you approaching him, taking your time. You didn't say a word, just looked at him and then down at your own hands. Only now did he notice you were holding something. In your hands was a bottle of water and two aspirin pills.
â"Figured you'd be needing this, after all that alcohol," you said softly, your voice a complete contrast to the hum of the vent and the chill of the hallway.
â" I don't need a babysitter." Daryl looked at your hands and then up at your face, but he reached out to your hand anyway. His thick hand and rough fingers brushed against yours as he took the bottle and the aspirins. That tiny spark of contact made his blood run hot. "Thanks," he muttered, swallowing the pills.
âThe two of you stood there, close to each other. Daryl could feel the warmth and the scent of shampoo radiating off you, while you caught the scent of alcohol mixed with the woods clinging to him. The moment was cut short by the sound of a door slamming and hurried footsteps coming from the other end of the hallway. Daryl immediately stepped into a defensive stance, blocking you with his back. Shane walked past, agitated and huffing, clutching the side of his face with a scowl of pain. Two seconds later, Lori appeared, pale and shaken. Her eyes caught Daryl's, and the fear in her face was unmistakable; her hands trembled as she opened the door to her and Rickâs room and vanished inside.
âHe just stood there, watching without a word, but his jaw clenched hard. Heâd seen that exact routine too many times growing up in a house with an aggressive, abusive father. The alcohol in his system suddenly felt heavy, making his stomach churn.
â"...Daryl?" you called softly, touching his arm.
âDaryl blinked and turned to look at you, but his gaze had shifted. It was sharper, guarded by what heâd just witnessed.
â"Ya oughtta be in ya room," his voice came out sharp, raspy, as he took a step back, pulling away. "Ain't supposed to be walkin' around dressed like that. This place is a damn rat trap with folks losin' their minds."
âYou crossed your arms, unfazed by his tone. "I can take care of myself, Daryl. And Shane doesn't scare me."
âHis jaw locked the second the words left your mouth. His blood boiled with pure irritation now. To him, this was no time for you to be playing brave and tough when you were cornered in this place with people with alcohol in their veins.
âDaryl lost the little patience he had left. To prove just how naive you were being and that he was right, his thick hand snapped around your wrist in a swift motion, not to hurt you, but with an unquestionable firmness. With a rough shove, he finally threw open the door to the room he had been avoiding all night. Daryl pulled you inside and slammed the door shut, leaving the dim hallway and the hum of the AC behind.
âIn the gloom of the bedroom, lit only by the faint moonlight, he didn't let go of your wrist. He took a step forward, pinning you against the wall. His breath brushed right against your face.
â"How 'bout now?" Daryl whispered, his voice raspy as he stared intensely into your eyes. "Ya scared now?"
âYou didn't flinch. Even with your back pressed against the wall and his chest nearly brushing yours, you held his gaze in the dark. Slowly, you raised your free hand and touched his arm, feeling his muscles tense like steel cables.
â"No," you answered, your voice steady yet soft. "I'm not scared of you, Daryl."
âThe answer hit him like a heavy blow. Daryl caught his breath, his heavy breathing faltering for a second. That was the last reaction he expected. He wanted a fight, wanted you to pull away or hit him just so he could prove to himself that he was a dangerous monster who drove everyone away and that you're wrong. But you stayed right there, reaching into his chaos.
âSlowly, the grip of his hand on your wrist loosened. His rough hand slid down, releasing you, and Daryl took a step back, running a hand over his face with an exhausted sigh. The weight of the alcohol and his own memories seemed to crash down on his shoulders all at once, leaving him terribly tired.
â"Ya too damn stubborn, y'know that?" he grumbled, staggering toward the twin bed in the room.
âHe let his crossbow drop beside the bed and collapsed onto it on his back, without even taking off his boots. Daryl stared up at the dark ceiling, one arm thrown over his eyes.
âYou walked silently to the side of the bed. The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by his heavy breathing. Kneeling beside the mattress, your elbows resting on the edge, you watched him.
â"I'm going back to my room," you said softly, your voice gentle but firm. "Just wanted to make sure you took the pills."
âThe second the word going floated into the air, his arm yanked off his eyes in a sudden jerk. The silent terror of being left alone with his own demons in that cubicle spoke louder than any Dixon pride.
âBefore you could even make a move to stand, his large, calloused hand moved fast. His rough fingers slid along the side of your neck, burying themselves firmly into your hair, still damp from the shower. The grip was rough, but it carried a desperate urgency. He pulled you upward, bringing your face mere inches from his.
âFor a second, the world stopped. His mouth was millimeters from yours, his warm, alcohol-scented breath fanning over your lips. But Daryl didn't push for a kiss. It still felt too dangerous, too intimate for him to handle.
âInstead, he tilted his head to the side, burying his nose into the curve of your neck, and inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sweet, clean scent of your shampoo.
âHis grip on your hair softened into an almost imperceptible caress, his large fingers cradling the back of your neck as if he were anchoring himself in the middle of a storm.
â"Stay, Y/N," he whispered your name against your skin, his voice so raw and low.
âYou blinked, your heart hammering against your ribs. He had called you by your name for the very first time. The surprise left you frozen for a second, especially because Daryl Dixon never asked for anything from anyone. Slowly, you pulled your face back just enough to look into his eyes in the dark.
â"Are you sure, Daryl?" you asked in a whisper, wanting to give him a chance to back out if his pride got the best of him.
âDaryl let out a heavy breath through his nose, his fingers still loosely tangled in your hair, refusing to let you go completely. He averted his eyes, staring up at the ceiling.
â"Ain't lettin' ya walk out there with Shane prowlin' around," he grumbled, his rough voice trying to sound purely practical. "And I ain't gettin' up to walk ya back to ya room. My head's splittin' open."
âA soft chuckle escaped you at his excuse, knowing exactly how to read between those harsh words. "Alright," you gave in quietly.
âBefore you could even think about how to get comfortable, his arm wrapped around your waist with a possessive tightness and pulled you in. The twin bed at the CDC was narrow, way too small for a man his size, which meant there was no room for hesitation. When you lay down, your body fitted perfectly against his.
âDaryl turned onto his side, pulling you flush against him until your back was pressed to his chest. His heavy arm rested over your waist, holding you there as if you were the only real thing left in that scientific nightmare. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the texture of his shirt against your back, and his breathing, which slowly grew deep and steady against your neck. The scent of wood and alcohol mingled with your clean shampoo, filling your senses. Tucked tight into that small bed, the world outside seemed to fade away.
âWhen you woke up in the morning, his side of the twin bed was already cold. Daryl was gone.
âAfter getting dressed, you walked out to the common area where Dr. Jenner was serving breakfast. The mood among the group was normal, free of the shadows of what had happened the night before. You spotted Daryl sitting in a far corner, sipping coffee, his defensive scowl firmly back in place as if the last few hours had never happened.
âYou approached carefully, holding a mug, and tried to speak to him quietly. "Hey... is your head feeling any better?"
âDaryl didn't even look you in the eyes. He turned his face away, his posture rigid.
â"I'm fine," he spat the words, his voice cold and sharp, a tone that made it crystal clear he didn't want you near. "Go eat with the others. Quit crowdin' me."
âThe senseless hostility stung, but you knew his defense mechanism. He was pissed at himself for letting his guard down last night, for letting you see the man behind the wild Dixon facade. Before you could answer or push further, the entire atmosphere shifted drastically.
âThe last gulp of coffee went down bitter, matching the regret pooling in his gut. Daryl stayed seated over there away from the rest, watching you stand with the group. He knew heâd been a total prick to you just minutes ago. But the moment daylight hit that room, it brought back the crushing weight of who he was: a Dixon. A rough, broken piece of trash who didn't know what the hell to do with the memory of his own fingers buried in your damp hair, or the sound of your quiet voice saying you weren't scared of him. Vulnerability terrified him way more than the monsters outside. So, he snarled, pushed you away, and put his walls right back up.
âBut fate didn't give a damn about his pride.
âIn a flash, the ceiling lights started flickering, draining the color from the room. The blast doors began to slide shut, like the whole place was sealing itself up. Daryl bolted to his feet, his right hand instinctively reaching for the stock of his crossbow. On the massive central screen, violent red numbers started ticking down fast in a countdown. The generators were dying. The AC that had been suffocating him just cut out completely.
âThe group's panic hit the walls. Shane started screaming like a madman, Rickâs voice echoed demanding answers from that crazy doctor, and Lori was yelling for the kid. Daryl felt his chest tighten; the scientific trap heâd been dreading was finally snapping its jaws shut on 'em.
âGotta get out. It was the only primitive thought left in his head.
âThe doctor finally gave in, and the heavy thud of the metal latches opening on the emergency exit was the cue. The group stampeded, trampling over each other toward the sliver of light. Daryl moved among the first, his eyes locked on the exit, but his tracker instinctâthat damn internal clock that only seemed to work for keeping tabs on youâmade him look over his shoulder to make sure you were right behind him.
âThe hallway was empty.
âHis stomach dropped into a massive, freezing void. He saw Carol pulling the girl, he saw Glenn, he saw the others... but he didn't see you.
â"Where is she?" he muttered, his blue eyes scanning the panicked crowd in sheer desperation.
â"Daryl, we gotta go! The door's closing!" Shane yelled, his heavy ex-cop hand slamming onto Daryl's shoulder to shove him toward the exit.
âShaneâs touch was the breaking point. The terror that youâd given up, that youâd chosen to stay behind with Jacqui, Andrea, and Dale in this godforsaken place to die, blew away whatever damn sanity the hunter had left. He wasn't leaving you. Not if he had to tear this whole building apart with his bare, calloused hands.
â"Get the hell off me!" Daryl roared, driving a violent elbow straight into Shaneâs chest, sending the man stumbling back.
âWithout looking back and tuning out the group yelling his name, Daryl bolted back into the darkness of the CDC. The adrenaline was pounding so hard in his temples he could practically hear his own heart hammering.
Where are you? Why'd ya run off?
âHe rounded the corner of the metal corridor in long, heavy strides, chest heaving, and thatâs when his world finally caught its footing again.âYou came running from the opposite direction, eyes welling with tears, your face pale. You didn't want to die here. You were trying to get out.
âThe relief was so violent it almost knocked the wind out of him. Daryl didn't slow down; he charged forward like a piece of shrapnel straight toward you, and before you could even dodge or say a word, his thick hand clamped around your wristâagain. The grip was tight, rough with the sheer force of desperation, his calloused fingers locking onto your skin with a possessive need heâd never shown before.
â"I thought you..." his voice cracked, choked by the panic still scratching at his throat, but he swallowed the rest of it. Didn't matter what he thought. You were here now.
âDaryl gave a sharp tug, yanking you behind his broad back in one clean motion, using his own body like a blast shield against the dark corridor. He started running back toward the exit, dragging you along, refusing to loosen his grip on your wrist by even a fraction of an inch.
âOver the deafening roar of a distant explosion, he glanced back for a split second, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours, laying bare every bit of truth heâd tried to hide at breakfast.
â"Stay close to me!" he bellowed, his raspy voice echoing off the metal walls. "I ain't leavin' ya in here! Move!"
âThe tough-guy act was completely gone. If this place was going to blow in a matter of minutes, Daryl Dixon only had one truth burned into his soul: he was gettin' you out of there alive, or he was gonna die tryin'.
daryl Dixon with a weird girl that's clingy but hates physical touch when she first meets people, she's awkward as hell (kinda like him lol) but she talks non stop if you ask her about bugs, random weird animals, and if you ask her about spiders she will talk for ta least an hour, I think it would be sweet if Daryl found someone as awkward that will be quiet if he asks her to, and she just goes along with it, she's super understating and if Daryl doesn't want to be touched, she won't do it, and if they get into a more intimate setting I think he would appreciate taking it slow bc a lot of people portray him in fanfics as a Dom daddy but that guy is secretly touch starved and I know he would get all shy during sex đĽš
The first time you wandered far enough from the farmhouse to find his camp, it wasnât because you were looking for him or at least thatâs what you told yourself as you followed the uneven path of trampled grass and faint boot prints that led away from the fences, the noise and the constant presence of people who always seemed to be watching, always expecting something from you that you werenât entirely sure how to give.
You just needed quiet, the kind that didnât feel heavy.
His little setup sat just far enough from the farm to feel separate, like it existed in its own small pocket of the world, untouched by the tension that clung to the Greene house, the barn and the unspoken things everyone pretended not to think about.Â
You hovered at the edge of it for a moment, like you were trespassing, like the air itself might reject you if you stepped too far in but nothing happened, so eventually you did, lowering yourself carefully onto an overturned crate near his things, hands tucked into your sleeves as you let the quiet settle around you.
It didnât take long before your attention drifted, it never did.
There was a small movement near the edge of one of his bags, something subtle and quick that most people would have missed entirely, but your eyes caught it immediately, sharpening with interest as you leaned forward. A beetle or at least something close to one, had crawled out from beneath the flap, its body catching the light in a way that made it almost iridescent despite the dullness of everything else around you.
You shifted closer carefully and reached out with practiced ease, fingers hovering for just a second before you caught it gently between them, lifting it up to eye level with the kind of quiet delight that only came from finding something small and fascinating in a world that had grown so relentlessly grim.
âYouâre not from around here,â you murmured under your breath, turning your hand slightly so the light hit its back just right, revealing a pattern that made your eyes widen. âYouâve got a split elytra seamâŚthatâs not right for this region, youâre either way off course or something dragged you here, which is actually more likely consideringââ
âBetter not be digginâ in mâ stuff.â
You startled just enough to almost drop it, your head snapping up toward the sound of his voice as he stepped into view from between the trees, crossbow slung over his shoulder, a couple of squirrels hanging limp from his grip.
âOh,â you said quickly, standing up in one fluid, slightly awkward motion as you hurried toward him, hand still held out in front of you like you were presenting something incredibly important. âNo, I wasnât digging, I was observing, thereâs a difference, digging implies intent to disturb and I was actually being very careful, lookâŚlook at this.â
You stepped far too close without realizing it, lifting your hand right up near his face so he could see the insect properly, your voice picking up speed as your excitement took over.
âSee the pattern on the shell? Thatâs not random, it looks like camouflage but itâs actually more like disruptive coloration, it breaks up the outline so predators canât track the shape properly and the split here means itâs either a regional mutation or it migrated, which doesnât make sense unless thereâs been some kind of environmental shift, which honestly wouldnât surprise me because everythingâs been weird sinceââ
Daryl wasnât looking at the insect, he was looking at you. Not in a confused way, not even in an annoyed one, justâŚwatching, like he was trying to figure out how you worked, how someone could talk that much about something that small with that much focus and not seem to notice anything else around them.
You kept going anyway.
ââand the legs are slightly longer than average, which could mean it adapted to sand instead of soil, so it might actually be coastal, which means it probably came from closer to the river orââ
âThink itâll taste good with some squirrel jerky?â
You froze. Your mouth fell open slightly as you pulled your hand back like heâd just insulted something deeply personal, eyes snapping to his face with genuine offense.
âYou canât eat it,â you said, horrified, your voice dropping like heâd just suggested something unforgivable. âItâs not evenâŚthereâs barely any nutritional value and also thatâs not the point, the point is itâs interesting, you donât just eat things because they exist, thatâsâno, thatâsâno, youâre not eating it.â
He huffed something that might have been a quiet laugh as he stepped past you, setting the squirrels down near his camp with ease.
âYa gotta stop hidinâ out âere,â he said after a moment, not looking at you as he crouched down and reached for his knife. âAinât what this placeâs for.â
You blinked, still clutching the insect loosely in your hand before carefully setting it down near the edge of the camp where it could disappear back into the grass.
âWhy not?â you asked, following him over and lowering yourself to sit beside him without really thinking about it. âYou do it.â
He didnât answer that, instead he just started working, fingers steady as he began gutting the squirrels, the motion efficient and familiar in a way that made it clear heâd done this more times than he could count.
You watched for a minute, then another and for once, you didnât say anything.
The quiet stretched differently this time, noticeable enough that it pulled his attention after a while, his hands slowing just slightly before he glanced up at you.
âAinât got nothinâ to say âbout the squirrels today?â he asked, almost like he expected it.
That caught you off guard more than anything else had.
Your head tilted a little as you looked at him, something shifting behind your eyes as you realized what that meant, that he had already started to expect your voice filling the space, your strange little observations threading into his world whether he had asked for them or not.
So instead of answering, you leaned just a little closer and without really thinking about it, reached out and poked at his side lightly, fingers brushing against him in a quick, clumsy attempt at a tickle.
Daryl went completely still. He tensed up so fast it was almost impressive, his hand tightening around the knife as his head dipped slightly, eyes flicking down to where your hand had made contact before lifting slowly back to your face.
You immediately pulled back like youâd touched something hot.
âSorry,â you said quickly, awkwardness crashing over you all at once as you tucked your hands into your lap. âI donât know why I did that.â
âHowâd ya like gettinâ tickled while holdinâ a knife?â he asked, voice flat but not entirely serious, just enough edge to make the point.
âIf you wanna touch me just say that,â you replied automatically, the words slipping out without any filter, your gaze still fixed somewhere near his shoulder instead of his face.
Silence hit the space between you like something physical but your brain only caught up a minute later. Your eyes lifted to see he was staring at you, not exactly confused or annoyed, he was justâŚstaring.
âOh,â you said faintly, realization flooding in all at once as your face went warm, your body reacting before your mind could catch up as you scrambled to your feet a little too fast, nearly tripping over your own balance. âIâm good, Iâm okay, Iâm justâŚIâm gonna goââ
You pointed vaguely in the direction of the farm, like that explained anything at all.
âYeah,â he muttered, looking back down at his hands. âYou do thaâ.â
âIâll justâŚcome back later,â you added, already taking a few steps backward.
âPlease donât.â He mumbled but didnât sound like he meant it.
The road after the farm had a way of stretching time into something shapeless with days bleeding into one another beneath a sky that never quite felt safe anymore, the quiet was no longer the comforting kind but the kind that pressed in too close, filled with distant groans and unfamiliar sounds that kept everyone just a little too alert to ever fully rest. Somewhere in that slow unraveling of routine, you had slipped into something that resembled a pattern with Daryl, the way certain things become inevitable when two people keep ending up in the same place at the same time long enough for it to stop feeling like coincidence.
He no longer tried to avoid you anymore which was new.
He didnât seek you out either, not in any obvious way but when it came time to head out beyond the group for hunting or scavenging, his eyes would flick in your direction more often than not and you had learned to recognize that as an invitation even if he never said it out loud. You didnât crowd him, didnât reach for him the way you might have with someone else, didnât forget the way he tensed at sudden touch or how his space seemed to be something he guarded without meaning to. So you adjusted, the same way you adjusted to everything.
A few days ago, heâd caught his forearm on a rusted section of fencing while climbing through, the tear not deep enough to slow him down but just inconvenient enough to make everything involving his dominant hand more difficult than he would ever admit. He had wrapped it himself, sloppily and then ignored it the way he ignored most things that didnât immediately threaten his survival.
That afternoon you had both drifted farther from camp than usual, following the faint promise of movement through the trees that had eventually led you to a narrow river cutting through the landscape, its surface broken by slow ripples and the occasional flash of something moving beneath. The air there was cooler, damp with the smell of water and moss and for a little while it felt almost like the world had softened again.
You crouched near the edge without hesitation, your attention immediately caught by something clinging to a rock just beneath the surface, your head tilting as your focus narrowed completely.
You murmured softly, leaning forward just enough for your shadow to ripple across the surface, your eyes following the quick, silver movement beneath the water. âThatâs a carpâŚor at least close enough, you can tell by the way it moves, see how it stays low and kind of glides instead of darting? That means itâs conserving energy, probably because the current here isnât strong enough to force it to fight and also because theyâre bottom feeders so they donât really need to rush anything, they just sort ofâŚexist and sift through things, which is actually impressive in its own way because they can survive in water that would kill most other fish.â
You shifted slightly, tracking another flicker of movement, your voice picking up just a little as you kept going. âTheyâve got these little barbels near their mouths too, like whiskers, for sensing food in murky water, which means even if everything gets stirred up theyâre still fine, they just keep going like nothing changedâŚitâs why theyâve survived basically everywhere people have introduced them, even when they werenât supposed to be there in the first placeâŚâ
Your voice kept going, soft but steady, threading through the quiet as you followed the line of thought wherever it led, barely aware of anything beyond the small creature you were analyzing and the way the light shifted across the water until you noticed the silence behind you.
It made you pause mid-sentence, your head turning slightly as your brow furrowed, that strange awareness you had when something in your environment shifted just enough to feel wrong settling in your chest.
You turned fully then, expecting to see him standing right behind you, watching the trees or the path or anything that might move.
Instead, he was sitting a few steps back, shoulders slightly hunched, his attention fixed on his own arm as he struggled with the bandage wrapped around his forearm, fingers clumsy in a way that didnât match the rest of him, the fabric half-loosened and slipping where he couldnât quite secure it properly with one hand.
You watched for a second then you stood, brushing your hands lightly against your jeans before walking over, your steps slower this time like you were approaching something that might startle if you moved too quickly.
You didnât touch him. Instead, you lowered yourself down in front of him and held your hands out, palms open, offering rather than taking, your eyes flicking briefly to his face before settling somewhere safer, somewhere less direct.
He hesitated only for a moment before he shifted his arm toward you which was all the permission you needed.
You took his forearm gently, guiding it into your lap with careful hands, your fingers light against his skin as you started unwrapping the old bandage, the fabric damp and slightly stiff where it had been tied too tightly. You worked slowly, methodically like you did everything else, your focus narrowing again but not as completely as before, aware of him in a way that felt different now, closer somehow.
His gaze stayed on you which you always could feel but still, you didnât look up.
Lately, it lingered long enough that it became something you couldnât ignore, the weight of it settling into the space between your shoulders as you reached for a clean strip of cloth and began wrapping it carefully around his arm, your fingers brushing against his skin in brief movements that never lingered longer than necessary.
âYâainât gonâ keep talkinâ?â he asked suddenly, his rough voice quieter than usual.
You blinked, your hands pausing for half a second before continuing. âAbout what?â
âThaâ thing,â he muttered, shifting slightly where he sat. âIn the water.â
You shook your head faintly, tying the bandage a little tighter than before but still careful. âIt was stupid. You donât care about invasive freshwater species.â
He exhaled through his nose, something almost like impatience slipping through. âBetter than listeninâ tâ nothinâ but crickets anâ whatever the hellâs makinâ thaâ noise at night.â
Your head tilted. âWhat noise?â
He glanced toward the trees, then back at you. âThaââŚchirpinâ thing, high pitched ân comes in waves. Likeââ he tried to imitate it, the sound rough and off in a way that made your lips twitch immediately.
A quiet laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, your shoulders shaking slightly as you ducked your head.
âWhatâs so funny?â he asked, a hint of something defensive creeping into his tone.
âThatâs not what it sounds like,â you said, trying to compose yourself as you adjusted the bandage again, smoothing it down with your fingers. âYouâre mixing two different species together, thatâs why it sounds wrong.â
You inhaled softly, then recreated the sound properly, the pitch and rhythm precise in a way that made it unmistakable once heard correctly, your voice soft but accurate as it echoed faintly against the water nearby.
âThatâs a tree cricket,â you explained, glancing up at him briefly before looking back down at your hands. âTheyâre temperature dependent, so the rate of the chirps actually changes based on how warm it is, which means if you count them you can technically estimate the temperature outside, not that it matters much now but itâs still interesting because it means theyâre basically tiny living thermometers andââ
You kept going, explaining how their wings worked, how the sound was produced by rubbing specific parts together, how they used it to attract mates and how different species had slightly different patterns that could be identified if you listened closely enough.
All the while your hands moved steadily, finishing the bandage with a neat knot that held far better than the one heâd managed before, your fingers brushing lightly against his wrist as you checked the tightness without thinking.
His skin felt warm, warmer than it should have or maybe you were just noticing it more.
Daryl didnât say anything for a while, he just watched and listened and you didnât realize, not as you kept talking in that quiet way that filled the space between you, that the mistake heâd made earlier hadnât really been a mistake at all.
Somewhere between the road and the prison, between shared silences and half-finished conversations, things had shifted without either of you naming it, the sharp edges of awkwardness wearing down into something steadier, until being near him no longer felt like stepping into unfamiliar territory but like returning to something you hadnât realized youâd been building all along.
The dim light of a lantern flickered across the administrative office in the prison, casting soft shadows on the makeshift bed of blankets and pillows you'd scavenged for your date night. It was one of those rare evenings, the world outside the fences forgotten for a moment. You lay on your side, propped up on an elbow, gazing at Daryl as he reclined on his back, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You'd just finished making love, the kind that left you both breathless and sated, your bodies still humming with the afterglow.
Daryl's low and gravelly voice filled the space between you, talking about nothing too heavy, just the little things he'd noticed around the prison yard. âSaw a couple squirrels messinâ around by the fence earlier,â he muttered, voice a little uneven like he was choosing something simple on purpose, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the ceiling instead of you, like he knew exactly what kind of look you were giving him and couldnât quite handle it head-on.
You could feel the warmth of his skin under your fingertips as you traced lazy patterns up and down his naked chest, feeling the faint scars and the steady beat of his heart. He didnât say anything about the way you kept touching him, didnât flinch or pull away like he might have once and if anything he leaned into it without realizing, his body giving him away in small, unconscious ways that felt more honest than anything he couldâve said out loud.
You smiled, unable to help yourself, your eyes full of the love you felt for him. âYou know they can turn their ankles almost all the way around?â you murmured softly, your voice slipping into that familiar rhythm before you could stop it, your fingers still moving absentmindedly over his skin. âThatâs why they can run down trees headfirst like that without breaking their necks, which honestly feels like something that shouldnât work but does anyway and I think about that more than I probably should.â
He glanced at you then, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth like he was amused by your random fact.Â
âYeah?â he mumbled, something softer slipping under the usual roughness in his voice, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but didnât quite let himself, his gaze flicking toward you for half a second before dropping again, his shoulders shifting just slightly like he didnât know what to do with the way you were looking at him.
Your hand continued its gentle exploration, sliding lower over the planes of his abdomen, until your fingers wrapped around his cock. It was still semi-soft from your earlier round, warm and heavy in your palm. You started pumping slowly, a light rhythm that made him go quiet, his words trailing off into a sharp inhale. A shiver ran through him, his body tensing then relaxing as you stroked him.
âThis okay?â you asked quietly, your voice softer now, hand stilling just slightly like you were ready to pull away the second he needed you to. âYou're still sensitive?âÂ
He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut for a moment, his breath hitching.
âDaryl, am I hurting you?â
âOnly if you stop.â he said, like the words had to push past something to get out.
The words sent a thrill through you and you leaned in, shifting closer so your lips could meet in a deep, lingering kiss. Your hand sped up just a fraction, fingers tightening enough to draw out his pleasure, feeling him harden fully in your grip, thick and pulsing against your skin. Daryl's breaths came in breathy whimpers against your mouth, soft sounds he couldn't hold back. They were vulnerable, needy and utterly intimate. His shyness showed in the way he trembled but he didn't pull away.
You took your time, savoring the slow build, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock gently. You teased the slit there, pressing lightly, feeling the bead of pre-cum slick your touch as you spread it down his length. Each pass made him twitch in your hand, his hips shifting subtly, chasing the sensation without demanding it.Â
âFuck, bug,â he murmured against your lips, voice breaking into a quiet whine as you dragged your thumb over that spot again, slower this time, drawing out the friction. His body arched just a little, muscles coiling under your caress and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his cock throbbed harder with every teasing stroke.
One of his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him, rough fingers digging into your skin with a mix of restraint and desperation. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, hot breaths fanning your skin, muffled whimpers escaping as you kept up the rhythmâŚpump, tease, circleâŚletting the pleasure uncoil gradually. His free hand clutched at the blanket beneath him, knuckles whitening, while you whispered encouragements into his skin, your own arousal stirring at the sounds he made.
You varied the pressure, lightening your grip to glide just your thumb along the underside, tracing the vein that pulsed there, before wrapping fully around him again, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. He shuddered against you, a low, breathy moan vibrating through your shoulder, his shyness giving way to the need you'd awakened.
You kept the pace slow and your hand moving in smooth, unhurried strokes that built the tension coiling in his body. His cock was fully hard now, slick with pre-cum that made every glide easier, hotter. You could feel him swelling thicker in your palm, the head flushing deeper pink as you teased it again with your thumb, circling the sensitive ridge before dipping into the slit to spread the wetness down. Daryl's breaths grew ragged, coming in short, desperate puffs against your neck, his body tensing with each pass of your fingers. His hips bucked subtly, instinctively seeking more and you matched the rhythm, pumping firmer, faster, drawing out those soft, whimpering sounds that made your own core ache with desire.
He was close, you could tell by the way his thighs trembled, the way his free hand fisted the blanket so tightly the fabric bunched under his knuckles. His cock twitched hard in your grip, the vein along the underside throbbing visibly now and you imagined the pressure building inside him, ready to spill. Just as you thought he might tip over the edge, his other hand released the blanket and wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into your hip with surprising strength.
âCloser,â he rasped, voice thick while pulling you up and over him in broken motion.
You shifted quickly, straddling his hips so the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance. You sank onto him slowly, feeling the stretch as he filled you inch by inch, walls clenching around his length. The sensation was immediate and intense, his thickness pressing deep as the heat of him pulsated inside you. Just as you bottomed out, settling fully against him, Daryl's body arched, a guttural whimper escaping his lips as he came.
He sat up abruptly, hands sliding up to cup the back of your head as his fingers tangled in your hair. He held you there, foreheads touching, as waves of pleasure crashed through him. You felt every throb of his cock buried deep while strong, rhythmic pulses made your inner muscles flutter in response, each spurt of his release warm and flooding, coating you from the inside. The way he jerked inside you was intimate and overwhelming, the slick heat spreading as he emptied himself, his heavy breaths mingling with yours in shaky exhales. Soft whimpers punctuated the air, his body shaking against yours while he rode it out, clinging to you like you were his anchor.
As the aftershocks faded, you both sank back down onto the bed, his hands never leaving your head, guiding you gently until you were tangled together. You hugged him close, arms wrapping around him, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against your chest. He melted into you, body going limp and warm, breaths evening out into contented sighs as the shared warmth enveloped you both, the world outside forgotten in that tender embrace.
summary. daryl begins to feel like you will get bored of him sooner or later as he is older than you, and starting to show his age. you show him just how much that doesnât matter, and that despite the grey hairs and looming wrinkles, that you still love him (6.2k)
warnings. smut, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, praise, slight hair pulling, insecure!daryl, older!daryl + younger!reader (reader is mid 30s, daryl is mid 50s), age gap relationship, mentions of death, angst, fluff
MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG đť
divider credits. @cafekitsune
The silhouette that Daryl saw in the mirror was a different man than who he had once been, he was no longer the young tracker that he was at the beginning of the outbreak. Heâd aged, and there were clear staples in his appearance that made that evident. His hair was waved with its grown out length, and he carried the definition of crows feet around his eyes; his eyes that had witnessed so much misery, that had cried when he had mourned those lost.
He was bulkier, his arms held memorised muscle from his tactical efforts of taking down walkers and fighting the bad men and disastrous women that wished to cause pain in order to earn themselves power through the transpiring impact of fear. But that weight that rested either side of his torso had also brought additional huskiness to his stomach, he was no longer slender and lean like he had been when he had met you, he was a unit of the worldâs making, and he was losing his appetite from looking at himself.
It would be a sin to deny the prize of food, he was aware of that, considering that in the past tense he had to survive days without consuming a meal, and you were preparing the finest dining that you could effectively make in the dim reality of the apocalypse. Years had gone by and heâd never once taken in his appearance so sullenly, but the chaos had calmed for the moment, and his thoughts were entangling in his insecure peripheral. Perhaps he could eat less, he thought to himself, understanding that there were men in better shape than him whom would risk their life to be sat at the dining table by your side.
Daryl squinted his eyes at the version of him that appeared in the bathroom mirror, the act bringing more attentive focus to the scar that ran down the left side of his face. It was on the right in the crafted glass which opposed the realistic truth, and he raised his hand to slant his fingertips against the damaged flesh. It was best for him not to turn, he was focally aware of the scars which were imbedded with cruel love upon his backâs damaged canvas. If he told himself that he was not troubled goods, heâd be lying to himself, he was imposed with the tragically acclaimed boulder of daunting tragedy casting a bland and aging shadow across his entire being.
The towel hung lowly on his wide hips, shielding the appendage that fuelled his testosterone from his own belittling view. He didnât want to change into his everyday clothing, heâd have to discard the material that concealed half of his body and see another mound of flaws that made his heart heavier. He was lost in the time frame in which he had been discriminating his body, it had felt as though everything had been put on pause around him. But that was idly not the certified case, the soft approaching footfalls met with his ears before the door creaked to be ajar, and Daryl whipped around on the intrusion.
It was the first time that he in fact minded being interrupted following a shower by you, heâd never once flinched at your presence, and that made a light frown appear on your surprised complexion. He had been too cooped up in picking apart all the things that he did not like about his form that he had almost forgotten that you had expected him to return to you in the kitchen, and he felt surreally guilty that you had walked in on him during such a disappointing moment. âIs everything alright Daryl?â Your tone made it clear that you were concerned, and that emotion was only emphasised when he drew his gaze to the floor.
As he did so he realised that even his feet had scuffs and blisters on them, and he felt repulsed. He was attuned with the morals that he followed, but he hated the capsule of flesh that he was trapped in whilst he routinely kept somehow striving onwards. Before there had hardly been a moment where he could ponder on all the things that he despised of himself, but now there was, he realised that he had a dislike towards everything that his body had grown into. ââm fine.â His words were not convincing, Daryl did not give you the chance however to get a conforming answer, he strode out of the bathroom, gripping his towel around himself with tight fingers as he fled from your view.
You stood there in your lonely and confusedly adjourned suffering, misunderstanding the cold attitude you had seemingly earned. All you had clambered the stairs to find Daryl was so that you could inform him that supper was ready, but he had slunk away into your bedroom, taking up the efforts of closing said door behind his retreat. Your arms wrapped around yourself as you stared into the mirror, your saddened reflection gazing tiredly at you, feeling fruitless in your attempts to make the man that you loved happy. Maybe he had fallen out of love with you, you thought with solemn afflictions, knowing that if he had it would still be impossible to hate him.
The behaviour that Daryl was displaying was strange, and you felt as though you were the root for the cause, especially since he had been aiming his attention in any direction but you. With a shaky sigh you ran your hands through your hair, tidying up the frizzed strands that had moved on their own accord from the heat of the stove. Spite boiled up inside of you as you saw your first mere strand of grey, however you held it in, shaking your head softly as you realised that there were bigger problems in the current world than your own appearance. You were in your mid thirties, making you roughly twenty years more youthful than your lover.
It had never been a problem before, your age that was, it had barely come up in conversation. With a surrender towards Daryl wishing to be left alone, you trudged back down the stairs, eating your meal by yourself and enclosing the portion that you had spared for him in a tupperware container, assuming that he would venture downstairs to eat it later. But later never came, the house remained indignantly silent and still throughout the falling dusk, and you twiddled your fingers with nerves. He needed some time to mull whatever was racketing through his brain over, and you wanted to give that to him, and so you pulled a blanket onto the couch, deciding that was where you were to lay your head tonight.
Dog curled up on your midsection, and you ran a numb hand along his back, ruffing up the fur and then smoothing it down. He was nuzzled atop of you, his chin curled in the crook of your neck, gifting you with more warmth than the blanket with. The company of the loyal canine made you feel a tad better from the distantness that Daryl had treated you with, your brain mulled over the situation as you drifted out of consciousness, feeling dread for the approaching morning. You would discover the rouse that was clouding Daryl's brain, and aid him in fixing whatever was broken within it. As you closed your eyes and drifted off, you were oblivious to Daryl's presence descending down the stairs.
The bowman watched your peaceful slumber without disturbing you, his weapon of standard choice draped over his shoulder with its leather strap. He felt guilty leaving the house in the night when you were asleep, but he found solace in clearing his head through the art of hunting. To be outside the walls was something that he had always favoured, and whilst this was his home and so were you, he was aware that he was in dire need to screw his head on straight. It wasnât fair for him to take his toll of insecurity out on you, and guilt bubbled within him from his sudden exit from the bathroom previously.
He was now draped in his outdoor wear, the same damming boots slung on his feet that had given him those gnarly blisters. There was no time for rest, he thought solemnly, it would only enforce the fact that he was growing older in your mind, and that wasnât how he wanted you to picture him. He wanted to be the lean, protective redneck that he once was, the one that you had met during the outbreak. There was a dwindling twine of sadness that harboured within him, there was no situation where he could go back into the far past, heâd been too preoccupied with searching for a future in which you would all survive that he hardly had a chance to glance backwards.
But now the calm of the storm had set, he had that opportunity, and he resented the journey that had drifted him into the arms of safety. Your arms would be the angelic wings that would console him, but admitting his insecurities would only damage the exterior that he had built up throughout the difficult years. His age was the threat that grabbed with ferocity at his throat, with each passing 365 days his body was now growing weaker, slowing down only had the capability of enforcing the democratic, virtuous stance of becoming a senior citizen.
He wished to bend down and press a featherlight kiss to the brim of your forehead before he departed, though he would be swindled with repenting guilt if he were to wake you, and so he plodded by his lonesome out the front door, Dog watching his fleeing footsteps with one eye open. The weight that pressed infinitely down onto his shoulders did not lessen as he stalked away, his eyes were withdrawn from anything that he could fixate on, he was relevantly seeking out a distraction in his mind. There was a subdued ache in his knee, and he had gotten used to the afflicting discomfort despite it making him feel eons older. He assured that the door closed with nothing more than the click of the flattened hinge, and Dog's ears pricked up from the sound, though he remained across your torso.
The sonnet of chorusing crickets rattled their legs against their emerald wings outdoors, the symphonised ruckus leading you to peel your eyes open. It was still fairly early in the morn, the dawning sunbeams casting shapes and dusty shadows across the wooden floorboards. Dog remained atop of you, groaning with a tiresome tone as you shuffled beneath him, removing yourself from the horizontal position that you had slept in so that you could simply be seated on the aged couch. You felt disdained, there was an enveloping silence in the house, and as you drifted your gaze over to the front door, you could only release a defeated sigh. Whilst the door remained in its closed state, the scarred boots that fit Daryl's feet and his companioning crossbow had vanished from their placements.
Daryl had left. Left you and your home to find the flavour of solace elsewhere, and you were conveyed with regretful sadness; you should have assured him that he was able to open up to you, followed him earnestly until you were assured that he was fine. The youngest Dixon was the man that you had heartedly fallen for, and whilst the deterrences that he had faced had impacted him, he was still the one that you loved. With shaky hands you brushed your knuckles under your eyes, refraining any tearful emotion from sloping down your face in the form of beaded salt. There was something the matter, and it was upon you in dutiful position to uncover what it was.
You remained seated, Dog beside you as you waited and waited. However your head instantaneously whipped to the side as you heard the door moan to be ajar, and watched as Daryl entered your home with the look of failure written in irritated scripture on his face. Heâd been out hunting, it was clear from his attire and stance, however there was no game strung to his belt loops, it was starved from any prey. Daryl dared not glance at you, despite how besotted with you he was - he just wasnât good enough, those words repeatedly whirled in his brain like a thorn stuck in his side. This time though, you were not going to let the silence create a divided space between the both of you, and so you stood, and crossed the entry way into the living space. Dog retreated from his seating, first going over to greet Daryl before excusing himself, no doubt going to rest on your bed in peace.
âTalk.â The command was missing the pressure that the word often enforced by it, instead your tone was as light as a feather, it brushed across his ears in a gentle caress that tickled his senses, and you hoped that it did not provoke his problem once more. You reached out with your palm, holding his jaw with sweet exasperation as you angled his irises to connect the dots with your own. âWhatever the matter is D, communicate it with me. Iâm here to listen, itâs give and take in this relationship, so donât, for the love of god, do not shut me out.â He wasnât going to back away this time, the sigh that he released with fruitless despair stated as much. Even though he was evading direct eye contact, he licked his dry lips as he began to speak, his sentence breaking your heart into helpless smithereens.
âIâm gettinâ old, sunshine, anâ one of these days, youâre gonna get bored of me.â There was a somber cast across his blue paned irises, derived from his prevailing insecurities that gripped him suffocatingly tight. âAnâ thatâs alrighâ if yer do, I get it. Jusâ wanna be with ya fer as long as I can.â The rolling pebble of emotion drifted down his waterline, despite the irony of him leaving to hunt. Perhaps it was his sorrowful minded thinking of lessening the blow on himself of the departure that would inhibit him from losing you, though his brainâs protective coping mechanisms were righteously silly, as you had not once had the intention of ever abandoning Daryl, and you never would.
âWeâre all aging honey,â you proclaimed, copiously understanding that the toll in which your partner was experiencing were enhanced due to him being your elder age wise. But since the beginning of the outbreak, none of you were as youthful as you had began your walker killing journey on, and since being induced with every inkling of distasteful grievances that outlined your persons, you certainly all appeared older than your first scuff of survival. âAnd that is definitely not a flaw; weâve lived through years of shit that has been thrown out of blue at us, and we are the ones who have lived through it. You are still Daryl Dixon, the man that I love and will always love. Your age does not define what you mean to me, and it never will. I have fought my ass off to remain beside you, and there is nobody, nobody else that I would rather have settled down with. We arenât young any more, and thereâs nothing wrong with that, weâve grown older together, and I intend to grow even older with you until our last days.â
Daryl was possessed by speechlessness, his tongue felt like it was trapped by the sharp indent of a pin that held it to the bottom of his mouth, he was strongly relieved that was your point of your view on his mental qualms, though there were still some sirens springing a constant, nightmarish lullaby in his head. âBuâ-â He felt as though his insistent problems may irritate you after your consoling speech, and he did not want to rouse the need for your forgiveness in the air. But he could not in-debt himself with remaining quiet now, not since he had opened his worrisome rambling heart up to you. âYou still attracted ta me though? Iâve got all those olâ scars, anâ Iâve got wrinkles now, anâ I ainât as fast on my feet as I used ta be.â
âDaryl, honey.â You braced your hands on the same biceps that were often once flaunted by his torn sleeveless flannels, holding him steady as you leant your face closer, the tips of your noses tapping against each other. âNone of that makes you any less beautiful to me, it shows that you have survived an eerily long time, and I cherish anything that you see as a flaw in yourself. Because to me, you donât have any flaws, sure sometimes thereâs decisions you make that I donât agree with, but we all do things in the spur of the moment. And in no moment will I up and leave you for a singular reason, as there is nothing that you could do or have upon your flesh that could ease everything that I feel toward you.â You words were viper sharp with passion, and in the midst of your sentimental wording, your bodies had drawn against one another, in the proximity that you never took advantage of. Just being close to Daryl was a gift, there was a whim of it being the last time, and so you made sure that you made the most of it.
âI love you woman, more than I ever thought I could.â He traced the outline of your form with comforted serenity, his hands picked your own in the clasp of his unshackled wrists, as his thumbs stroked across the back of them. âAnâ there ainâ nothinâ that could stop me from worshippinâ ya. Yer sweeter than those nasty berries that you and Maggie planted, anâ more peaceful than watching the river brush over itself.â His face lowered, as he nudged the hair out of your adoration filled expression, kissing you with vigorous need. You participated with as much necessity, as you breathed heavily through your nose for oxygen access. Your body was endorsed by the coursing adrenaline that travelled within your veins, your heart was palpitating uncontrollably in your chest from the premise of a sexual endeavour with the only man in the world that you were so enamoured with.
Releasing his hands, you gripped his locks, tugging at the rooted strands as Daryl cupped your waist with sensual desire. Your mouths were copiously in sync, moulded together in blissful animosity, as you devoured every inch of controllable humanity that rested in your skeletal bodies. He moaned into your mouth as you gave one last defying tug to the brunette strands attached to his scalp, before your fingers inadvertently danced with poisoned temptation upon the metal buckle of his belt. You laughed lightly as you gave yourselves a momentous breath from locking lips, as you unshackled the entrapment that encircled his waist, allowing the combination of metal and leather to fall to the ground. âBoots off too?â You enquired, and Daryl smiled, loving how well you knew him, the blisters were excruciating although he had masked the biting pain whilst you were orally entangled in arousing physicality.
âYeah.â He smiled, his cheekbones becoming brightly prominent during the emphasis of his lips; with you he felt truly happy, more so now that he knew that you accepted him with age riddling his entirety. âTake âem off sunshine.â His tone was as smooth as a block of farmhouse butter, and you were attuned to the fact that he was not referring to his tattered footwear. With the tasking tips of your fingertips, you drew down the teeth of his zipper on the jeans that he wore, descending the metal partition lower until the top of his trailed abdomen was exposed, and the tough denim became looser around his waist. The coil of starving lust swirled around in your stomach as you shimmied the hugging fabric lower until his precum ebbed length sprung up from its aroused state. He needed this, and you, and whilst he often had the preference of being the giver in these situations, he was captivated with the notion of being the centre of your devoted attention.
Daryl always looked out for others, it was a loyal tendency that he hadnât ever relinquished, and he felt proud with you being the focal point of his priorities, though it was admittedly nice for him to feel cherished by your body and mind. His hips surprisedly jolted as you wrapped your hand around the thick girth of his cock, the contact causing an array of hormones to shoot out from the core of his apocalyptic designed being. Air rasped in puffs inwards and outwards from his mouth as you stroked him, your motions being made up from slow and teasing intentions. You wanted him to feel like he was about to burst, he had to feel alive, which was the most important part of surviving as if there was no other time to breathe a last breath. The tip of his cock was a deep hue of pink like a well gardened rose petal, precum leaking from the slit at the very top.
Darylâs arousal rarely was as apparently throbbing in the visual aspect department in comparison to the present; his length would usually already been sheathed within one of your pleasurable spots, such as your mouth or cunt. Patience was not a virtue to either one of you, however you wished to admire every inch of his ridged flesh, as its weight was balanced in perfect disposition upon your palm. The desire to taste his supple flesh was crawling down your spine in a stoking manner, causing bumps of paralleled anticipation to outline the shape of your vulnerable human skin. You were salivating, the moisture wafted around your tongue as you leant closer to Darylâs shaft, the swelling waiting time lessening as you opened your mouth to take his length within its oral capacity.
âF-fuck.â His accented whisper was strewn ruggedly out from his lips as he bit stubbornly at his bottom one from the sensations that raptured his soul that had felt weakened by the clouding insecurities that bereaved any whisper of judgment into a contorted flaw which made him significantly lesser than he had once been. The feeling of your supple lips gliding down his length and towards the base of his wide cock made his mind become clouded from the affects of euphoria, it was a paradise of escape from the qualms that he often faced, and he was physically too weak to push your head away from his most personal area of his form. The large tip finally reached the back of your throat, and you swallowed down the instinct to gag, instead forcing your bodyâs primal limitations to continue applying pleasure to the man that you so wholly adored.
This was to be about him, and you found it to be your own duty to ensure it remained so, stretching your tongue out from beneath the heavenly weight of his cock to stroke farther down the parts of his shaft that you couldnât quite accommodate to fit into your mouth. Your cheeks ached in a delightful way as your lips were stretched around his width, and you had to focus your breathing through your nostrils as there was no route for airflow to make passage through your mouthful of him. In a gentle notion, one of your hands found purchase around his balls, lightly stroking the skin to grant the man that you called your own more pleasure.
Sweat framed his brow, glistening beneath the dim lighting as it trickled upon his temples, his teeth gnawing frustratedly upon his bottom lip, peeling at the blood flushed flesh. This was the solace he needed, not the sexual advances of your warm, wet mouth, though he wasnât to to complain about your heavenly lips, but you in your entirety, accepting and loving him as the same. It had riddled him with an anxiety that had rattled his bones throughout thinking that he was naught enough, contorting his mindset into one of wallowing in silence and submission that he never would be.
He was attained to wearing his flaws unto his sleeve, although you had finally brought silence to the insistent pacing of his mind. And though his body was tensed, it was for an alternative reason, as he fought off the inexplicable ending that his body would succumb to with a physical release. The motive to vanquish all tension from his body was upon him, barrelling through his veins in strokes of pleasure as your tongue danced over his sensitive flesh, but he relented, taking mouthfuls of air as he staved off from surrendering to emptying his seed into your mouth.
You were intoxicated by the careless sonnets that ripped out from his chest, they were almost that of a beast than a man. He was becoming feral, you could feel as much as his sack tightened, ready to spend all that lay within. But surprise chortled you as Daryl leant decisively backwards, pushing your head away from his nethers attentively, grasping lovingly at the line of your jaw. âSomethinâ wrong, honey?â You spoke now that your mouth was vacant of his length, ogling up at him with eyes that adored to take in his appearance, not only in moments like this.
Everything felt better now that you had consoled him with the assurance that you had no intentions of abandoning him in the now nor future, and he wanted to repay your kindness with his own actions, that too would bring him a simple manâs sin of gluttonous pleasure. He lightly pulled you up by your arms, bringing you closer to his height, his lips flush from the rotation of blood in his body that you had caused. âNah.â Daryl answered, eyes trailing across each curve that shaped your figure with his heart practically in his throat. âNot a single thing, jusâ need ta be inside ya sunshine.â
It would be the most secure embrace that would ground him to his very core, a haven from all the shit that surrounded the both of you. Times like this reminded Daryl that the difference in age between the both of you in fact was not crucial, though sometimes it did numb his mind with it as a distraction. He pulled you to him, laying you delicately on the couch as though you may break, because you were fragile, but not in the literal sense he knew. There was nothing in the world that he cherished more than you, you were his slice of peace in the fucked up reality that you both endured, and he would be damned if he cracked any mental or physical attribute that your soul attained.
You resumed your battle of tongues, playfully biting his bottom lip that stirred an animosity within him, driving him forwards to clamber over your body, pressing himself closely to you, but it was still not close enough. His hands slithered downwards, pulling with uncoordinated vigour at your pants, appreciating the aid you granted him with removing them. He was consumed by his supple lust, a man hungered for the need to be connected with the woman who he loved. All that remained was your panties that concealed you from him, and he had little patience to toy with them.
And so he tore them from your hips, the cotton splitting in two from his lack of restraint, a half in each hand which he discarded on the floor, having peeled away all of the layers that kept your sex hidden from his gaze and touch. His digits could not resist in feeling the slick that had gathered upon your core, created from the image of him lost in his pleasure. It astounded him that your attraction to him could make you so drenched, practically lathered in a river of lust; even if he was aging you found him to be as beautiful as a deity, weathered by survival but still regarded among the gods. Though he didnât see it, and you did, there was no other man remaining in the world that was like him, he was a perished breed of human that remained on the earth. A survivor, hardened by time but continually fighting for the beliefs that formed layers around his soul.
âStop teasing Daryl. I thought you needed to be inside me.â His previous words spat desperately from your tongue, as you regarded him with an impatience to feel all of him. It was merely torturous waiting to feel every inch of him within your cunt, even as he adjusted himself, taking a grasp of his shaft and angling it to slide down to your entrance that was yearning to be stretched open by his length. He sung a groan out as he felt how much your body desired him against the tip of his cock, he wanted to bury himself within your heavenly warmth and become doused in the comfort that the tightness of you wrapped around him allowed him to surrender to.
His movement was slow yet backboned with intent as he pushed into you, breathing out a strung out breath that had built in his chest for far too long. He had felt inflicted by the consciousness of his wilting appearance the last handful of times that you had made love together, and he had hidden that voice. It had been imprisoned in the corners of his mind, and he had tried with determination to push it away but it had not yielded. But all he had required to dull the commenting thoughts that digressed his own body was you to pour your adoration onto him despite the flaws that he resented. âFuuuuck.â
The tone of his voice was gravelly, stripped down by the raw emotion that he felt. Your nails imbedded themselves into his shoulder blades, sketching crescent moons into his clothed flesh as your head sank deeper into the seating of the couch. A moan was strangled out from your throat from the pleasure that sparked in your midsection as he pushed deeper into you, until he was filling you with his entirety. âYou feel so- fuck, fucking good baby.â The praise that you bestowed upon Daryl lit him up like a flame, a depraved hunger danced behind his eyes like burning embers. From your words, he leaned back, his hands on either side of your head and pulled back, only to push straight back into your pussy, bringing both of you ample pleasure.
There was nothing that could compare to being so close to the man that raked his hips to pivot against your own, his pace building as the explosions of ecstasy transcended between your bodies like a cycled blood transfusion. Not a single thing. Each movement was an act of pristine intimacy, a link that blessed your vessels with the passion of having the ability to be so vividly close to one another. âSo do you s-sunshine.â Daryl hissed out, having forgone thinking about a singular qualm that had blinded his perception of how lucky he was in this reality. He had survived this far, and not only that, but you had too, giving you the chance of a life together throughout the maelstrom like carnage that had changed the entire planet for eternity.
He felt his tongue become drowned by the gruff noises that it permitted to leave him, responding to each whimper and keen and moan that released from your parted, panting lips. His brow bone was tense with a frown put together by focus, as he stared down at your face, pride swelling in his chest as he had the knowledge that it was him giving you rolling waves of pleasure to spin uncontrollably throughout your veins. Your arousal coated him, making it far more easier to slide in and out of your succulent walls, they parted for him each time from the accustomed entry that you always granted him. He knew that he never had to worry about another man being in his position, he couldnât imagine it, and nor could you from the blissful contortion that rested heavily and without care on your features.
âGetting close Dar.â The information was heaved out from puffs of air, your lips mindlessly moving even when words were not falling from them. Daryl too could feel the oncoming tide of his own release, it crept up on him like a hunting predator, staving off the kill until the prime opportunity presented itself. There was plenty of things that he was still not certain of in this world, but one that he was sure of was that he was going to ensure that you came first - as he always did. Darylâs body continued to move, spinning the room out of focus for your eyes as he continued his motions, staggering his pace just a little, but not too much so that the looming of your high would not collapse and crumble.
Your legs bound themselves strictly around his waist, your teeth clenching as spots swayed in your vision, peppering the sight of the man fucking you with pixels of black and grey. He had you where he wanted you, topping over the edge of your orgasm as it transpired around you like an aura. He thought selfishly that he was pleased that no other soul had witnessed you appear so distracted, you were always on guard when out of the confines of your home, aware that the unexpected could traipse upon you at any second that it desired. âYou getting there?â Too fucked out to form full sentences, you tangled your hands in his hair, and that seemed to pull the trigger within him.
The sound of your name escaped Darylâs lips as he buried his head into the safety of your throat, spreading little kisses against your skin as his tension dissolved. Ropes of his seed spilled within you, filling your core as he remained inside, small, almost inaudible whimpers leaving him. You pressed your lips to the crown of his head as you brought your arms around him, cocooning him in the afterglow that you shared. He remained there for minutes longer, composing himself before he removed himself from your cunt, falling beside you on the couch that was too small for most, but for the both of you was as cozy as it could get. âThank you sunshine.â Daryl murmured as he brought you closer to be resting against his body, and you stifled a chuckle at the doziness that had befallen him
âYou donât have to thank me for sex.â Your eyes rolled, but the archer shook his head of brown locks, his hand angling around you to raise your face to meet your his own, your lips meeting in a delicately languid kiss. His fingertips traced the line of your jaw, his heart swimming with leaps of love for you and only you. Daryl was a good man, he knew that he tried his best to be, however he was delirious with how you saw him. Not everyone would find him to be a diamond in a pile of cracked rocks, but here you were, always caressing his scars with care, and reminding him that he was allowed to be loved. A long, long time ago he wouldnât have believed that he would have someone that stood by him through everything, let alone the silent battles ongoing in his mind. You had your own opinions, and you depicted them outright, always giving him time to himself when it was required, and as soon as there was a place to console him, putting yourself in it.
âNot fer thaâ, for everythinâ.â He thought of his life with you, and he could not have been more appreciative of it. It was never going to be perfect, you were both humans fighting to live in a world that wished to eradicate your species, but there were moments to be cherished when you were not trying to protect yourselves. Daryl wanted to kick himself for even attempting to protect himself from; it was foolish on his part, but you always managed to understand his mindset. That was one of the very many reasons as to why he loved you, and he could not voice it enough as he remained curled up with you, basking in the mortal emoting of the love that you held dearly for one another. He was aging, and he had hated it, but he despised it far less now that you had brought a light that only you could give to the natural process that was weaving through each of you, reminding him of the normality of it.
Daryl Dixon, who isn't big on physical contact yet never ever denies you a hug.
It starts with hugs after not seeing each other for a long time. It follows with hugs after he notices you feeling slightly under the weather. Then, it was whenever you asked for one.
If time passes and you both become even more acquainted? He'll even start asking you for hugs. Well, not outright asking you, but hinting at it. Eyes lingering on you for a moment too long, hands twitching at his sides, his body inching closer.
Then, when he notices you don't mind it, he's all over you. Not 24/7 and absolutely not in front of everyone, but he'll hug you whenever he feels like it. He's always gentle, bordering on hesitant. One arm slowly coming up to wrap around your shoulders and pull you in with a sigh. Hands exploring over your waist gently before he pulls you against his chest completely. And when you both lay in bed? He has to be tucked under your chin.
Summary: The apocalypse has left you lonely and and keeping a baby to yourself, until you stumble across a camp and a grumpy guy that seemed to like no one, has seemed to only want to be open with me
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader
Includes: secret pregnancy, fluff, grump x sunshine
â˘Masterlistâ˘
How did I get here? From being excited to have a baby, to having the guy that was suppose to love me abandoned me when he found out, now after escaping horrors dragging myself through the woods around Georgia Iâve found myself in a makeshift save haven wellâŚ..for the time being
Iâm exhausted and hungry but as I sit in a chair as the camp continues to move on around me a woman named Lori and her boy Carl drop everything to tend to me and it was the first light Iâve had since all this started
âSeems you found us at the perfect time sweetieâ Lori says as she hands me a bottle of water and a plate with a sandwich and berries, typically this would be a plain meal but right now this was a buffet to me
I munch down the sandwich as Carl points to everyone in camp filling me in on who everyone is
âWill I be a good fit here do you think little man?â I ask after gulping some water
âYes! You seem very nice you can play with me and Sophiaâ he beams excited, he was adorable
âMostly everyone here is good to get along with justâŚ..try and stay away from Merle and Daryl Dixon, theyâve got tempers, and definitely keep your distance from Ed heâs an angry hateful manâ Lori adds when she comes back with new clean clothes for me, a pair of jeans and a blue plaid
âCarl showed me Merle and Ed but who Daryl?â
âHeâs out hunting right now but heâll be back soon, getting us some yummy squirrelsâ she says laughing
Even with her warning I couldnât seem to bother myself with it right now, way too tired just wanting to relax for awhile especially with my baby that hasnât had a moment of rest since I havenât in weeks
The day moved by as the hot sun above lowered until it was on the horizon, most people were over by the fires, telling stories and having fun but I didnât want to get up, too comfortable in my chair
Then I hear rustling coming from the tree line, I turn scared, worried itâs a walker, but instead a man appears, heâs kinda dirty but he also has something about him that I canât take my eyes off of him, after he slings the line of squirrels over a log he stops when he sees me, his eyes squint in caution and speculation but ease when I smile gently
âHiâ I say feeling this odd flutter in my chest
âHmmâ he grunts giving me a quick nod of acknowledgement before walking over to his own tent and starting his own fire away from the rest of the camp, must be Daryl Dixon
â˘
The next day I groaned as I woke up after sleeping on the ground in a spare tent Shane gave me, thankfully the baby bump was still unnoticeable but it wouldnât be long before people would notice
I got out of the tent and everyone must still be asleepâŚ.except for one, Daryl was at his tent working on some arrows, I sucked in a breathe to calm down as I made my way over to him, sitting on the log across the low fire from him
âYa need somethin?â He asks, his voice low and husky and those flutters return
âOh I just wanted to come over IâŚ..Iâve been on my own for weeks now and itâs nice actually being able to talk to peopleâ he glances up at me with a raised eyebrow that he slowly lowers, noticeably relaxing
âIâm y/n by the wayâ
âDarylâ we sat in comfortable silence for a while as the sun finally rose over the horizon, shinning a warm orange hue over the camp
âHowâd ya get here?â He asks
âRunning through the woods mostly, just hoping Iâd find someoneâŚ.somethingâ
âYou were alone?â
âNoâŚwell yes, technicallyâ he looks at me like Iâm crazy but I see a subtle smirk
âTechnically?â
âForget about itâŚ.ummm I still donât know how the camp runs really, is there anyway I can get some food or help hunt for food, you know pull my weight around hereâ
He pulled his bag open and tossed me a can of spaghettiâos and a spoon, it wasnât much but in this world now it felt like he just gave me 5 star meal
âThank you, you have no idea how much this means to meâ I crack open the can and scarf down the can and it feels like heaven, not even noticing he was watching the whole time not being able to help himself from chuckling
âYou must really be starvingâ
âI really am, Iâve been even hungrier lately and with you know the whole apocalypse going on it doesnât help muchâ
His eyes rake over me like he was reading me like an open book, I felt my cheeks warm up and as he opened his mouth to say something Andrea comes over interrupting our bubble
âHey y/n, I thought Iâd show you around and down to the water where you can freshen up!â
âUhh yeah that would be great!â I turn back to Daryl smiling
âThanks again Daryl, hereâs your spoonâ he takes it and nods going back to his arrows, dropping his relaxed demeanour now that Andrea was here
â˘
After Andrea showed me the water I couldnât help but finally feel all the dirt and grime coating my skin, when the sun was high above Andrea gave me a pair of clean clothes and some soap and I made my way back down to the shore line
No one was around so I peel off the clothes Lori lent me and laid them on the sand, I make my way into the cool water and sigh at the refreshing feeling until it was up to my neck and with a final plunge I let the water surround me whole, feeling the days of dirt wash away
â˘
Darylâs pov
This new girl wasâŚ.different, I never really cared for many people, they were just there and I had to deal with them but y/n she made me feel something in my gut Iâve never felt before and itâs damn confusing
After I came back from hunting in the morning it was mid day, so I look around the camp but I canât find her anywhere, then I remember Andrea taking her down to the quarry today
I take a bag of chocolate I had found on one of my scavenges and head down hoping to catch her and see that smile again when she sees food
When I get down almost walking out of the trees I stop when I see sheâs bare naked slowly walking into the water, I look away but not before I notice a subtle bump on her lower belly, not of bloating but then her little hint earlier made sense
Sheâs pregnant
I walk back up to the camp and give her privacy but I canât help the overwhelming feeling of protection over her, shit this was all insane, I just met this girl and sheâs making me feel all this new stuff and I donât even know how to act, hell Merle canât know heâll ruin whatever could happen
Half an hour goes by as I wait for her at my camp and notice her walk over and my heart thumps once before going back to normal
Normal pov
I scruff the towel through my hair one last time as I enter the camp and toss it into the dirty laundry basket the whole camp used
As I walk to my tent I see Daryl sat at his camp and I feel a pull go over to him, I ring my hands and sit across from him just like this morning
âHi Daryl, how was hunting?â
âGood, actually found somethin fer yaâ he tosses me a bag and I recognize it instantly, itâs chocolate! A whole bag
âDaryl no way! How did you find this itâs like gold now!â
âFound it in a backpack dropped in the woods, thought ya would like itâ he shrugs his shoulder nonchalant, trying not to show how my joy made him feel happy
âI love it thank you!â I open the bag and pop a piece into my mouth and feel it melt felt like ecstasy
âCan I ask ya somethin?â He asks as his eyes look at me again with a gentleness he never showed others
âAfter this treat you can ask me anything Dixonâ I say giddy as I shovel more into my mouth but when I look back up at him he seems more serious
âWhat? What is it Daryl?â
âI came ta find ya down at the quarry, I didnât mean ta see ya soâŚ..exposedâ I nearly choke on the sweets feeling my cheeks flare in heat
âYou saw me naked?â
âYeah, but once I saw I left but thatâs not the pointâŚ..I saw yer bumpâ thankfully he wasnât a peeping tom but my heart sank that he knew, I didnât want anyone to know yet, possibly seeing me as just another burden
âNo itâs just, it just water weightâ I say wrapping my arms around my belly
âNo it ainât, ya donât gotta hide it from meâ
âPlease donât tell anyone, I just donât want everyone knowing and I donât want to be left behind because itâs just another burdenâ he freezes at my words
âYa ainât a burden, and I ainât gonna tell no one, but ya know yer gonna be showin soonâ I nod as I eat more chocolates
âI know itâs just itâs a long storyâ
âIâve got timeâ
âWhen I found out I was so happy, I always wanted a family and I finally had it in the palm of my hand, but just as quickly as I got it, it was ripped away from me, my boyfriend got angry saying he didnât want a burden to deal with soâŚ..he left, then a month later all this happened and I donât even know what Iâm doing, I think Iâm 4 months nowâ
âPiece of shit, yer better off without himâ
âYouâre probably right, I just havenât even had a moment to try and deal with this, I mean whatâll happen when I give birth, what if Iâm alone, Iâm just scared Darylâ
âYa ainât alone, I ainât letting nothing happen to ya, either of yaâ his words struck my heart leaving me breathless
âYou barely know me, Iâm not what you need to be worried aboutâ
âYa ainât making me do nothin, I want taâ
âThank you Darylâ
âWhatâre we thanking my baby brother for little ladyâ a gruff voice asks from behind me
âUhhhh for the chocolatesâ Darylâs relaxed demeanor was replaced by one of agitation
âAwe got the pretty girl a treat, how cuteâ
âShut up Merleâ
âOoooo Iâve hit a nerveâ
âI think Iâm just gonna go help Lori with dinnerâ as I walk away all I could do was smile as I hear Daryl and Merle bicker
Maybe I really wasnât alone, and the mean Dixon wasnât so bad after all
He is 100% sloppy when it comes down to having sex, letâs just be real. he got most of his educational on it from Merle and porn, so he honestly has no clue on how to be gentle or just have âlove makingâ. ya know?
âShut up, huh?â He mutters against your ear, grabbing your leg and placing it on his shoulder to get at a deeper angle. Your pornographic moans and his grunts filled the empty room in the cdc, the bed beneath you squeaking from the combined weight.
He shoved his fingers in your mouth, shutting you up as you gently sucked and moaned around them. As fast as they were in your mouth, he brought them down to your clit, making rough and heavy circular motions that had you at your peak in seconds.
Older;
After being with you for a while, he has learned that sex isnât all just chasing oneâs high and getting over it. He sees it as an act of love, one that should only be shared with someone he really cares for.
âYouâre so beautiful.â He whispered as he pressed his lips to yours, muffling the sweet moans that left your lips from his slow, yet powerful thrusts. Your hands rested on his shoulders, occasionally adding pressure and leaving crescent shape marks on his bare skin.
He pulled away, taking a look at your face as he see you nearing your end. He thought to himself, how did he get so lucky with you. âLet go, Iâve got you.â He says to you as he speeds up a bit, taking your one hand off of his shoulder and interlocking your hands together.
