#dixham.

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"Thanks for getting that one, big guy."

By: TiliBeshka ♥

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me when i actually write something (idk if it's anything don't bully me )

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planning more dixham fic, this time in their savior verse, and this interaction is SO good

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Let it be known that Peter actually unintentionally sparked a first date by inviting Daryl, innocently, to breakfast at 2am because 'hey you worked so late lets just go and buy a waffle tower I know this REALLY good place and also we can cut through the park, they just planted the year's flowerbeds!!'

When he intentionally went to ask Daryl out, he stuttered so bad he got as far as 'would you like to go.' before he just stopped and Daryl was incredibly confused

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Brown eyes are glued to his boyfriend as he works. As Daryl drops to his knees and then lays himself down flat on the little trolley he uses to push himself under cars, Peter feels his face heat up. He looks away so fast he makes himself dizzy, a tiny, guilty, giddy smile curling his lips upwards.

So this is what it feels like to be in love.

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❛ I WAKE UP, my man shoots an arrow by my head as i'm grabbing coffee 'cause there was a deer in the trees, I almost piss my pants, he reassures me it's all good and we have sex— it's a vicious cycle. ❜

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oughhh, thinking about the fact that peter sleeps marginally better when he starts sleeping with daryl. after everything he endured at the hands of his mom and paimon and yada yada yada, he has a lot of nightmares; they don't just vanish when he and daryl get together of course, but he's able to get a little more shut-eye when he's wrapped up in him. sometimes daryl can even rouse him from nightmares if he pets his head or whispers a soothing 'you're okay'

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i got no excuses, it's just dixham sunday stuff because i love them lmao. suggestive. i didn't proof and tbh i probably won't, feel free to mock my errors for eternity if you so please.

Peter wears nightgowns to bed sometimes.

They're soft colours; pale yellows and cornflower blues, often spotted with cute animals or his favourite cartoon characters. Daryl pokes fun occasionally, asks him to give him a little curtsey before climbing into bed, but the truth is that he thinks they're cute. Adorable, even.

His hand rests heavy on Peter's waist as he curls into the warmth of his body, their legs entangling, a deep exhale of contentment feeling shared in their synchronicity.

"Long day?" His voice is a deep rumble against the shell of his lover's ear as his thumb rubs wide circles over his side. The material beneath shifts in a way that Daryl can only describe as teasing. Lift it up, lemme feel the skin beneath.

Peter shivers, a quiet, impish chuckle let out as he toggles his bedside fan on before laying back down.

"It's always long without you there."

"Uh-huh," Daryl mumbles, teeth scraping gently over Peter's earlobe before he commits to a nip. "Sorry 'bout needin' t'work like an adult."

"I was working too you prick."

Daryl snorts quietly, giving his hip a reproachful squeeze as he buries his face into his neck. Lips trail languid kisses along his skin, satisfied when he feels Peter's body loosen up in his hold. He's always wound so tight and anxious, like a thrumming livewire... it does him good to feel him relax every now and again.

"Mhm, I know. Y'work hard." Calloused fingers fiddle with the hem of his partner's gown, blunt nails scraping gently along the plush flesh of his thighs. "Need'a relax..."

A hand slides up his leg, purposefully over his pelvic bone and up the toned plane of his belly. Peter sucks in a breath, doe eyes fluttering closed as he drinks in the feeling of being touched. The work wasn't even woeful, but anything feels like a waste of time compared to revelling in the rugged heat of Daryl's hold.

"Relax...?" he breathes, his previous inhale let out as a telling gasp as his lover's hand splays wide over his chest. His index finger brushes back and forth over his nipple, sending tiny shocks of pleasure down the length of his spine. When he arches back this time there's purpose in it, hips pressing firmly into Daryl's as he seeks friction. "How'm I s'pposed to do that when you're... doing these things to me...?"

"I can stop."

"Don't you dare—"

Daryl scoffs against his neck, sucking a hickey into his skin. One he can wear to the next work day.

"Ain't even wearin' underwear," he accuses lightheartedly, long index finger drawn with oh so much purpose down one of the delicate creases of Peter's pelvis. Predictably, he squirms and bucks, a pathetic noise tumbling out of his mouth as he delights in it. He's always been sensitive there; it's one of Daryl's favourite places to touch, to kiss. "Don't tell me y'weren't hopin' for somethin'..."

A guilty little giggle falls past Peter's lips, a slight kink forming in his brow as if silently admonishing himself. Like part of him feels he should play a tad harder to get. How can he, though? How can he pretend he doesn't want this man more than anything in the world when it's true?

"That's not true," he mutters, only slightly annoyed with himself for being so easy. "It's just— comfier not to."

"Uh-huh."

"It is!" He laughs quietly, though it tapers into a soft croon of approval as Daryl wraps his fingers around him and strokes. "Fuck..."

"Know what I think?"

"Mm...?"

"I think y'did it on purpose." The pace of his hand is slow, barely there, sure to drive his partner insane. "I think y'wanted me to hike this shit up 'n' have my way with you."

Peter huffs, though there's less of a rebuttal in it than he'd like. "I think you're just a pervert."

"Yeah?" His voice is hot with mounting desire, panting softly against Peter's ear as he grinds his hips into his. The point in which they meet explodes like fireworks, adrenaline coursing through his body like a current. No matter how many times they do this, it doesn't get old. He can never get his fill of Peter Graham. "...maybe."

The witch huffs through his nose triumphantly, though the way Daryl grunts kills the success immediately. There are no winners here; or they're both winning in equal measure.

"Fuck, Daryl... take your pants off already," Peter says urgently, barely holding back a moan of disapproval as his lover pulls away to do exactly as he said. The pants hugging his waist loosely are wrestled down, shimmied off of his legs and kicked off the end of the bed. "Oh—"

"What?"

Peter turns to look at him over his shoulder, eyes hooded and molten with desire. In spite of this, he looks like the cat who got the cream.

"Look at that," he taunts, his own index finger drawn over the bare v that leads to Daryl's arousal. "You're not wearing underwear either. Talk about asking for it."

In a moment of dumbfound, Daryl pauses altogether. He's utterly bewitched by the smug look Peter is giving him; chest fuelling with warmth as he realises for what must be the millionth time just how deeply in love with this idiot he is. He snorts, pulling him close once more.

"...shuddup."