Good Morning to Ya Too (18+) 👄
Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Era: Very Early Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn and Abraham are alive, and there are no Saviors)
Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group, Jealousy, Possessive Reader
Warnings: None
Summary: You and Daryl had always been good friends, but when you overhear the Newberry women talk about him at their welcome barbeque, you begin to wonder whether you may like him more than you’ve let on. Beginning: You’re not the jealous type, you had right to believe that statement to be true. Until this blistering Georgian summer’s evening.
Good Morning to Ya Too (18+) 👄
You hadn’t thought you were the jealous type. No, that wasn’t you. You were never one to let your emotions get the better of you, especially when it came to Daryl. He was your friend, the one you relied on, the one who always had your back in this world gone to hell. You’d both survived too much together for any foolish feelings to get in the way. Or so you told yourself, anyway.
But then came that blistering Georgian summer evening.
It was the first official week since the Newberry group had joined you at the prison, and Rick had reluctantly agreed to Karen’s suggestion of a welcome barbecue. Not everyone was thrilled about it—Michonne’s distaste for social gatherings was well-known, and Daryl, well, Daryl wasn’t exactly the most social of people either. But you’d managed to get everyone on the same page—sort of. A small, quiet gathering was the compromise, and as far as you were concerned, it was a much-needed break from the constant fighting and running.
You were busy at the makeshift bar with Carol, drying off cups you'd scavenged during a run with Daryl. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the breeze just cool enough to offer relief from the heat of the day. Conversations and laughter floated through the air—something you hadn't experienced in what felt like ages.
Carol, on the other side of the bar, was tending to what she called sausages, though they were more like slices of steak on sticks. Still, they were a hit among the Newberrians and your group alike, and that was something you could appreciate.
"Need any help with that?" you asked, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension inside.
Carol shot you a look, one eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you’re not distracted by someone else?"
You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. Her smirk gave it away.
You glanced over at Daryl, who was off talking with the Newberry men, laughing and joking in his usual quiet way. You’d been through so much together—fighting walkers, surviving on the road—but there was something different tonight. Maybe it was the way the golden light of the setting sun cast shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, or the way his laugh, low and genuine, made your heart flutter in a way it never had before. Or maybe it was just the way the Newberry women looked at him—eyes filled with more than just admiration.
You caught snippets of their conversation, their voices just loud enough for you to hear.
“You see the way his shirt fits?” one of the women said, her voice teasing. “I swear, if I were any closer, I’d rip it off him myself.”
“Yeah, right,” another woman laughed. “But I bet that beard... I’d rather let him wear it for a while.”
The last woman, who you thought was named Lucy, sighed almost dreamily. “Mmm, the way he looks when he smirks... I'd let him get away with anything.”
You felt a pang in your chest that you couldn't explain. You tried to brush it off. This was Daryl—your friend. Sure, he was ruggedly handsome, but you’d never thought of him like that. Not before. Not until now.
Carol’s voice interrupted your thoughts, laced with a teasing tone. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on him, too?”
You laughed, trying to play it cool. “Me? Nah. He’s just a good friend. Always has been.”
Carol gave you a knowing look. "Right. Sure."
You forced yourself to focus on your task, but your eyes kept drifting to Daryl. The way the sun caught his hair as it blew in the breeze, how he leaned against the table with one arm folded across his chest, his eyes scanning the group. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to attention, but tonight, there was something different in the way people—especially the women—looked at him.
You hadn’t noticed before. You hadn’t cared before. But now? Now it felt like a weight, something heavy in your chest.
You turned back to Carol, your thoughts scrambled. "You’re right. Maybe I am distracted. But it’s not what you think."
Carol raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly do you think it is?"
Before you could answer, a deep voice broke through your thoughts.
"You want another drink?" he asked, his voice washing over you like a sweet caress. Before you could answer, he put his hand on the small of your back, burning your skin while he brushed past, grabbing drinks for the both of you. Trying your best to control your breathing, you were engulfed by Daryl's scent, and you were tempted to just lean in and bury your face in his chest. Instead, you grabbed the glass with your drink, determined to forget all about this nonsense.
Seconds later, you found yourself staring at Daryl's neck as he downed his own drink, leaving you to think about all the ways you could bite and lick his skin. Holding in a growl, you wondered if Daryl always stood so close to you. Trying to look away from him, you caught another glimpse at the girls, and the looks they gave you ranged from jealous to impressed. There was a good chance they considered you and Daryl to be a couple, and the thought brought even more heat to your body.
"Are you listening to me?" Daryl asked, making you look at him completely dumbfounded.
Concern crawled onto Daryl’s face, and you drowned in the blue of his eyes as he lifted his hand to your face, carefully cupping your cheek. "Are you alright? You look flushed."
Your breath hitched in your throat at the soft touch, but then you managed to smile. "I just don't like the heat. Tell me about your bike."
Daryl studied you for a moment before taking his hand away. "It’s nothing, just glad that they’ve got useful tools and petrol for it, needed an upgrade, yaknow? That way, I can take passengers safely too, more conspicuous to go on supply runs or sus things out with a small bike.”
"Alright, at least I’ll have a better ride tomorrow than I usually do." Daryl smiled. "Another drink?"
You nodded, hoping the alcohol would manage to douse your confused mind. A few drinks later, there was still a tingling feeling whenever Daryl stood too close or touched you, but you stopped worrying about it.
When it was getting late, Daryl led you up the stairs to your new room. Sharing a house with the crew was the best thing to do. You were all bonded through your troubles and losses, and it was hard to pretend you were back to suburban life in separate houses. Plus, you knew you could trust each other. You walked over sleeping bodies, the sounds of snoring filling the air, and made your way up the stairs. You managed to snag a private kid’s room, just needing the seclusion while everyone else was asleep downstairs.
Daryl's arm wrapped around your waist like so many times before. You’d usually share a room as you took alternating shifts guarding, so you’d never really be in there together until late in the morning when one of you was relieved. The second you were through the door, Daryl kicked off his boots and took off his shirt.
After what you felt downstairs, you hesitated for a moment to do the same. But you’d look a lot less suspicious if you did everything as always. You took off your own shirt, and by the time you pulled down your pants, Daryl had already crawled into the bed in his underwear.
You lay down next to him, and it didn’t take long for Daryl’s breathing to change, signaling that he’d fallen asleep. With a sigh, you turned your back to him, convinced that tomorrow everything would be normal again.
The next morning, one thing is, in fact, normal. When you wake up, Daryl is basically wrapped around you. Whenever you share a bed, there's a good chance you wake up completely entangled. Usually, you wiggle your way out of his grip and get up, but today you can't bring yourself to move at all. Daryl has his arm wrapped around your waist, his whole body pressing against yours.
His face is buried in your neck, and when his hot breath ghosts over your skin, it sends cold shivers down your spine. You think about all the things the other women wanted to do to Daryl, and it gives you a sick sort of satisfaction that you're actually in a position to do just that.
You dare yourself to move, rolling your hips. Daryl steers with a grunt. His lips touch the skin on your neck, and then you can feel his length rubbing hard against your ass. Your heart almost beats out of your chest, but you also feel bad about doing this to him in his sleep.
Turning around, you try to bring a little distance between the two of you, but Daryl won't have it, pulling you close again. You can feel him pressing against your thigh while your hands come to rest against his chest. There's still a chance for you to get out of this, but you don't want to.
Instead, you run your hand over Daryl's chest and up to his neck, your grip firm since you don't want to hide what you're doing. He steers, and you venture back down, playing with the little hairs and circling Daryl's nipples with your fingertips. With a grunt, he barely opens his eyes, making your blood run cold.
"Morning To Ya, Too ," Daryl mumbles, and you're not sure if he doesn't notice what you're doing or if he chooses not to comment on it.
"Good morning," you say, and with your heart pounding like crazy, you dare to let your hand wander.
You caress Daryl's stomach, enthralled by how soft the skin feels. You dig a little into the flesh until his muscles harden under your touch.
Daryl has propped himself up a little, watching how your hand ventures even lower, and finally, his eyes grow wide. You keep looking at him while you move your hand even lower, unable to stop yourself.
The second your hand cups the bulge in Daryl's pants, he gets in motion. With a grunt, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close. This time, it's no accident when his lips meet your neck, and he teases your skin with little licks and bites.
Spurred on by Daryl's reaction, you get more daring. Without making a fuss, you pull his underwear down and wonder what the three women would have to say about the glorious cock that springs into your hand. Daryl growls as you stroke him, and when he lifts you up, you eagerly follow along, climbing on top of him.
Daryl hitches up your dress and holds it in place while you rub your pussy along the length of his cock, coating him with your slick. You wish you could draw this out, but you're so turned on that you can only think about feeling Daryl inside of you. He stays still as you position yourself on top of him and closes his eyes with a deep groan when you slowly sink down onto his cock.
The sheer size of him drives you close to the edge, so you stay still for a moment. Without looking, Daryl runs his hands up your legs and over your stomach. His touch brings goosebumps all over your skin, your nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your dress. Daryl opens his eyes, his gaze fixed on you as he ventures higher with his touches. His large hands cup your breasts, and the second he knits the soft flesh, you can't hold on any longer.
Rolling your hips, you drive Daryl's cock in and out of you at a rough pace, unable to avoid his gaze. He's looking at you with so much fire and greed in his eyes that it takes your breath away. You thought that you maybe could get Daryl to fool around with you for a bit, but you never could have predicted something like this. For five years, you've watched Daryl say no to countless women, but here he is, saying yes to you.
As Daryl eagerly pushes the fabric of your dress aside, revealing your breasts, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement. His skilled mouth works its magic, driving you wild with pleasure. You ride him harder than any motorcycle could ever dream of, the sensation of him inside you pushing you closer and closer to the edge. With a loud moan, your mouth falls open as you reach your climax, Daryl's name echoing through the room. He continues to thrust into you, his own pleasure building with each passing moment. Finally, he pulls out, leaving a trail of come on his stomach. As you both catch your breath, you can't help but feel a deep connection between you. You want nothing more than to lie down and cuddle up to him, but a sudden thought occurs to you.
"Shit," you curse, scrambling out of bed and tossing the covers off yourself, "we're gonna be late."
Daryl groans, but he’s up right behind you, both of you rushing to get dressed. The sun’s already rising, casting a golden glow across the camp, and you’re well past the time you were supposed to leave for the supply run. You needed to be out before the sun came up, but now you’re scrambling to get everything together.
Half an hour later, you’re standing by the side of the road, trying to steady your breathing. Daryl walks over, and when he leans back against the same tree as you, his shoulder brushes against yours. You don’t flinch.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his blue eyes focused on you, looking for any hint of uncertainty.
Your mind is still spinning, and you’re not sure you’re ready for the supply run—much less what’s going to happen after it. You’re so terrified you’ve messed things up between you two, it must show on your face.
Daryl takes your hand, squeezing it lightly. "You’ll be alright. Trust me."
That, you can do. You take a deep breath, pushing away the anxiety. No matter what happens, you know you can trust Daryl. You pull your bandana over your face, your heart still racing but grounding yourself in the moment.
Daryl grins and pulls up his bandana, his eyes bright. "That’s my girl."
He turns toward the trees beyond Alexandria, staring out at the thick forest, his heart pounding like a damn drum in his chest. For five damn years, you and Daryl had been friends, but now? Now, for reasons he couldn’t understand, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be your man. And it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It didn’t make sense, but it did.
Daryl glances past the trees, catching sight of you across camp, talking to Rick. His heart skips, but before he can let himself get lost in the moment, he sighs and leans back, staring down at the empty page of his journal. It had been a week since that morning when you touched him in ways he didn’t know how to put into words. And ever since then, he hadn’t written or drawn a damn thing. He couldn’t. Not with what was gnawin’ at him inside.
He’s never been good with words, not really. But damn, how could he possibly explain how he felt now? Five years ago, when Daryl first met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. That simple crush turned into so much more when he got to know you. But the friendship? It felt so good, and he didn’t want to mess it up. After everything he’d been through with love, Daryl buried those feelings deep down, thinking he could forget about them.
But now? Now, he couldn’t shake it. You and him were so damn comfortable together, and he’d come to realize that just being friends wasn’t enough. The last week, though? It felt like drownin’—every time he tried to talk to you, someone else was around, and it was like he couldn’t catch a damn breath.
He just wanted to talk to you. To understand what happened. But after a week of silence, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He missed you. And his old feelings? They were back in full force, and he needed to know if you might feel the same.
Daryl scratches out a note, his handwriting barely legible from how fast his hands are movin'. He walks across camp, eyes flicking to make sure nobody’s watchin'. He hands the note to Rosita, his closest friend, and she raises an eyebrow at him, a teasing smirk creeping onto her face. "What’s this about, Dixon?" she asks, clearly curious. He can’t get the words out, but he doesn’t need to. She knows.
Rosita, always full of energy and not one to keep secrets, takes the note with a knowing grin, but before Daryl can leave, she’s already running off to share it with everyone else. He can hear her calling out to Rick, Glenn, and Michonne—his stomach drops. He didn’t think this part through. But it’s too late now.
He walks out of camp, keeping his distance, riding off on his bike until the sounds of Alexandria fade into the distance. He doesn’t care if they all know. He has to see you. He’ll wait till he gets answers, even if it’s the last damn thing he does.
Three hours later, Daryl’s sitting alone in a small room at the local hotel. He told you in the note where to meet him, and he’s not leaving until he gets to talk to you. He could use a drink to settle his nerves, but he’s not taking that chance. Not now. Not when he needs his head clear.
His heart races. He jumps up, almost knocking the door off the hinges, and flings it open. There you stand, looking small and shy, and every damn inch of him aches just seeing you. You’re holding yourself together, but he can tell you’re nervous, too. “You wanted to talk?” you ask, voice soft.
“Yeah,” Daryl replies, his voice rougher than he intended. “Come on in.”
You step past him and move to the center of the room, and Daryl stays where he is, afraid to get too close, scared of what might happen if he does. He takes a deep breath, the words he’s been thinking on for hours suddenly harder to find. “I wanted to talk about what happened last week.”
His heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it, but there’s nothing coming from his lips. He wants to say so much, but damn, what if he says the wrong thing? What if he messes this up and you walk away, not wanting to be his friend anymore? He’s stuck in his own head, trapped by the fear of losing you. But as always, you save him.
You step closer, wringing your hands, but this time you look him right in the eye. You take a deep breath and speak first. “Alright,” you start, voice steady but soft. “I’ll start. You’re my best friend, Daryl, and I don’t want to lose that. But for the last week, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be with you again. Not just as friends. I want to be—”
You hesitate, and Daryl’s heart races, but before you can finish, he blurts it out, “Lovers?”
A weak laugh escapes you, and you shrug a little. “Yeah,” you admit, “I guess. You always were the one with the words.” You laugh again, this time more freely. “Yeah. Lovers.”
Daryl feels like the ground’s shifting beneath him. Grief, heartbreak, fear—he feels it all, but it’s not bad. It’s new, this feeling, and it’s everything he ever wanted. He wants to speak, but the words are stuck.
So, he takes a step forward, and without thinkin’, he sweeps you up into his arms, lifting you off your feet. You let out a surprised squeal, but Daryl doesn’t stop. He kisses you like it’s the first and last time, holding you close. He’s done tryin’ to figure this out. There’s no more words needed between you two—just this.
Kissing your neck, Daryl carries you over to the bed to put you down on it, and seconds later, you're tearing at each other's clothes, wanting to feel each other, to be close again. Daryl crawls on top of you, and you eagerly spread your legs, letting him in. Buried deep inside of you, he takes a moment to feel that deep calmness only you're able to give him.
Daryl stares into your eyes, bathing in the way you look back at him. There's so much adoration and acceptance that it takes his breath away. You smile up at him, and while marveling at the curve of your lips, Daryl realizes that despite what happened last week, he's never had the pleasure of kissing you.
He leans in, and you lift up your chin, fuelling his courage by welcoming him once again, always the one to take him just the way he is. Daryl presses his lips to yours, the soft brush of skin on skin so tender that he completely loses himself.
Your hands are in his hair, holding on as he deepens the kiss, your tongues rubbing hot against each other. Daryl's engulfed by your taste, your scent, the way you hold on to him, needing him, trusting him. He wishes he could stay like this, preserve this moment forever, but you're both too desperate for more.
Daryl can't tell who loses control first, but all the tenderness soon makes room for shared moans between kisses, your fingers clawing at Daryl's skin as he thrusts into you, spurred on by the euphoria of venturing deeper and deeper into your tight heat.
Reality blurs as you become Daryl's whole world. Nothing matters but your touches and kisses, the sweet words you whisper into his ear before crying out his name. Still, Daryl feels guilty for not saying anything when you laid your heart bare to him. He keeps as still as he can, taking your face in his hands before searching your eyes.
"Goddamn girl, I love you," he says, his voice hoarse as the words rush out of him, a prayer that you'll hopefully accept.
The expression on your face is truly one of a goddess, not a cruel one, but so beautiful that you could shatter him on a whim. "I love you, too," you say, your voice soft, a sweet caress for Daryl's tormented soul.
He kisses you again, unable to stop now, losing himself in everything you are to him. You hold on to him, your eyes meeting again as you wrap your legs around him, forbidding him to shy away just an inch. Daryl follows your every desire, pushing into you to elicit eager moans and gasps, carrying you closer and closer to your sweet undoing.
You come with Daryl's name on your lips, your muscles clenching so hard around him that he can't hold on. Still in your grasp, Daryl thrusts into you, filling you up with his come as your nails leave desperate marks on his skin.
He buries his face against your neck and lets you pet him for a while, but then Daryl lies down next to you to unburden you from his weight. He pulls you close, and you rest your head against his chest, your fingertips caressing his stomach as if you're back at where you started a week ago, coming full circle.
"I think I was jealous," you admit to the silence between you, and Daryl moves a little to the side to look down at you.
"Last week in the saloon, these girls were talking about how good looking you were and what they would want to do to you in bed."
"Keep going," Daryl teases.
You laugh but hit his chest with not much force. "I'm trying to be serious here."
Daryl leans in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry. Are you talking about that Lucy girl?"
"You remember her name?" you say, your brows knitting together, and Daryl can't help but find your jealousy pretty endearing.
"If it makes you do to me what you did last week, I'll remember all of their names."
You laugh, but instead of hitting Daryl again, you push him onto his back to crawl on top of him. Daryl reaches down to hold you in place, enjoying how your beautiful body melts against his. You look at him with a devilish smile that brings heat to every inch of his body.
"You're going to punish me now?" Daryl asks, not minding the idea at all, but you shake your head.
"No, I won't punish you," you say, leaning down to leave some sweet kisses all over his chest. "I want to make up for lost time. Five years of lost time."
Daryl lets go off you to rest his arms over his head. "I'm all yours."
You run your fingers over his beard and the scars on his chin as if you need to rediscover him. "I hoped that you'd say that."
Over the last years, Daryl has paid for many hotel rooms, but he's never had to pay extra for a broken bed before. Judging by the bartender's stare, it might also be some time before Daryl can show his face here again without getting weird looks.
Not that he cares. Daryl follows you outside to the horses, his eyes hefted to your swaying hips. He only looks up when you turn around to him, pulling him in for a kiss. It's as if you already missed him in the few minutes you haven't been glued together.
Daryl feels the same way, and holding you in his arms, he knows that he'd do anything for you. His friend, his lover, his girl.
