The Safe Zone

A Walking Dead Fan Sharing Fanfiction

[walker-bait-1973]

TWD Fanfiction Master List

Photo Credit: Found on Pinterest

Ongoing Series:

8 Years:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

We Ain't Dead:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

One Shot Stories:

Peach Pie

An Autumn Walk

Two and a Half Months

First Kicks

The Apple Orchard

We Have The Night

The Cornfield

[thewalkingdilf2]

daryl would ABSOLUTELY mock you for being so whiny and sensitive while he plows into you, fucking you into the mattress.

“nghh, you poor little thing, so fuckin’ fragile like a lil doll, can’t even handle my cock, hm?”

“you like that sweetheart? yer awfully whiny and i ain’t even finished with ya’ yet”

“so fuckin’ pretty when yer all fucked out like that, can’t even hold yerself up”

“S’ okay sunshine, surely you can cum fer me one more time, right? be a good girl”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

“We—we gotta talk ‘bout somethin’,” Daryl said suddenly. You had noticed that he was nervous all night, and it had you slightly on edge, but he’d been just as affectionate as he always was when the two of you were alone. Now, you were tucked in against him on the couch and his arm was around you, his finger aimlessly drawing circles on your shoulder and upper arm. At his words you straightened up and turned to face him more fully.

“Okay,” you said, mustering the best tight smile you could.

“It's—s'bout The Commonwealth,” he drawled, avoiding your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed, waiting for him to go on.

He ruffled his free hand through his wavy hair and you watched a tight expression cross his face. “I think—I think I need to go there with the kids,” he said finally. “And—I know ya gotta stay here to help Alexandria. I know that. But for Judith and RJ… s'the righ’ thing for 'em.” Finally, his blue eyes lifted and met yours and there was desperation in them. His voice came out in a tight whisper. “Please dun make me choose.”

Your mouth dropped open and you hurried to clasp his face between your hands. “Oh, Daryl—hey. You don’t have to choose,” you soothed him. I’m not her, you wanted to say. Leah. “I think you’re right,” you said. He looked surprised.

“…Really?”

You nodded. “Yes. Of course. It is the right thing for Jude and RJ. There’s reliable food, other kids, a school… And yes, I need to stay here for the rebuilding but—it’s temporary. There’s nothing to choose between. We’ll make it work. We always do…”

Daryl’s eyes searched your face, looking at you in vague wonder. You always made things so easy. He wasn’t used to it. “What’d I do to deserve ya?” he drawled.

“Plenty,” you smiled.

Prompt: “Please don’t make me choose.”

[cultofdixon]

Daryl: Yea hungry?

Y/N: I’m looking at a snack right now

Daryl: Y/N st—-

Y/N: *eating some berries they found*

Daryl: Oh you ain’t talking to…wait where did you find those?

Y/N: *silent, shoves the rest in their mouth*

Daryl: I swear to fuck if those are the ones that make yea sick if you eat too much

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I have ✨writer’s block ✨

Maybe I should have stuck with the whump for one more chapter. 🫤

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I got nothin', guys :(

I mean, I have something but it's a time jump that skips some stuff. Stuff would be referenced but not really detailed. I am okay with it but I don't want readers disappointed either.

The biggest thing it would skip is the walkers in the barn. Just a reference to it and the feelings involved.

I know I should write what I like but it means a lot to me to have input.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

"Carol gave me some cookies to share!"

You pressed the door handle down with your elbow and shouldered through the door with the insane tower of freshly baked goods. She had offered you a lot if you were willing to bring half over to Daryl's place, which of course you accepted. You loved those cookies!

You had worked with Daryl before, going on small runs or gathering trips but you had never really familiarized yourself with him.

And so there you stood.

Frozen.

With a comically large plate of cookies, in front of the older man who now looked nothing like his hunter self he showed to the outside world.

No knives strapped to his thighs or wrappings around his thick boots and no leather vest over a torn up button down.

In front of you stood the already pretty handsome man in what pre-apocalypse you thought to be the hottest look for a dude in his own home.

His bare feet padded onto the hardwood floor as he turned around to greet you. His faded black sweatpants that had different colored patchjobs all over hung low on his hips, just below an old, barely recognizable heavy metal band shirt from a tour long forgotten. He stretched and yawned, causing the shirt to ride up and showing a strip of his lower abdomen that held a very inviting happy trail that you had to tear your eyes away from. Luckily his smile was just as great to look at, with his greying beard and unruly hair that he now kept in a messy bun that had let a bunch of just too short strands escape over time. And the way that shirt clung to his muscled frame, the hems on the sleeves tight around his upper arms..

He looked like the guy you'd seduce at a concert and fuck in a hidden corner where no one would find you.

Ahw, fuck me.

"S'wrong? Need a drink? Ya look thirsty."

You hadn't even noticed him walking up to you until he was right in front of you, taking the plate from you and setting it down on the amall table at the couch and proceeded to grab sonething to drink for you both.

Thirsty.

He didn't know the half of it.

But you'd start off wirh some cookies and a drink, then see where the day would end.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I laughed too hard at the “thirsty. He didn’t know the half of it” 🤣

[walker-bait-1973]

What a description 😍😍😍

[thewalkingdilf2]

thinking about thigh riding with daryl and how much he would LOVE it

“god yer so desperate for me, huh? such a lil slut, ain’t tha’ right pretty girl?”

“doin’ such a good job fer me, fucking yourself out on my leg”

“ya’ gonna cum just from tha’? i ain’t even touched ya proper yet. poor lil thing, just wait till i get my turn”

[archived---account-deactivated2]

🎀 masterlist 🎀

Other smaller posts about Daryl like incorrect quotes, my commentary of TWD, and little fluff or smut blurbs can be found using my tag ;dollthoughts. Please keep in mind that my work is intended for 18+ viewing and interaction only.

Headcanons:

Daryl as a dad

Daryl x Greene Sister (part 1)

Moodboards:

Daryl taking care of you while sick

You can be the boss, Daddy

One Shots:

You Know Me

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ OBLIVIOUS PINING ~ PROMPTS about denial of feelings

requested by: anonymous request: how can i resolve very heavy denial of feelings? it doesn’t feel organic to just have a “oh crap, i like them” moment for this specific character

Feel free to use and reblog!

changing their behaviour towards the other person before they realise their own feelings

doing something nice for the other impulsively

growing softer in their attitude towards the other

finding themselves daydreaming about the other

being annoyed by how much the other occupies their thoughts/their daily life

realising certain single traits of the other they like/adore

being in the other's debt, so they can't hate them so much anymore, they 'have to' like them at least a little

getting flustered when the other is nice to them

realising they're feeling much better when they know that the other is happy

enjoying making the other smile

^ and being worried afterwards about these new strange sensations towards the other's happiness

*eye-rolling* "Well, I guess I can do that for you."

feeling bad when they're treating the other shitty

feeling bad when they're ignoring the other

telling themselves that they can be nice without that having to mean they like the other (that's totally normal, right? to give someone a gift and it doesn't mean anything)

A talking to C about B: "Yes, we're getting along better now. But I mean, it's normal, right? To do nice things, even though you weren't on good terms just a week ago. People change. Relationships change. But that doesn't mean we like each other, alright?"

spending hours wondering who the other actually is and what they mean to them

"Nothing has changed." *when in fact, everything has changed*

"It has always been like this." *when in fact, they're losing their mind about not seeing sooner how it has actually been*

"Come on, it can't come as a big surprise to you." *when in fact, it's the biggest surprise to themselves*

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Y/N, on watch with Carol: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Daryl periodically radio me and say ‘we need to talk.’

Y/N: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Daryl, over radio: Y/N. We need ta talk.

Y/N, replying over radio: You’re the best.

Daryl: No. We really need ta talk.

Y/N: …

Daryl: Nah, jus’ makin’ sure it worked.

Y/N, sweating and hyperventilating: See? Awake.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Y/N: I almost choked to death last night.

Carol: You’ll be fine. Next time, just stay still and breathe through your nose before you take more.

Y/N: I was talking about food. What the hell, Carol?

Carol: …

Carol: I was talking about…stuff in general.

Michonne: Daryl is “stuff in general.”

Daryl: -Chokes on his food-

[thewalkingdilf2]

daryl x young (BUT LEGAL) reader

teasing daryl about being an old man on his birthday so he has to pin you down and prove to you that he’s not too old for you by fucking you until you’re a shaking, whiny mess.

“remember this next time ya’ call me old, sunshine.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Let Your Heart Be Light

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria Era

Warnings: None

Summary: You want to make the holidays something special for Daryl. Throw in a little Christmas magic and it just might mean something more to you too.

*Click here to be added to taglists.

This run hadn’t been about gathering supplies or intel. This run had been about making a holiday for Judith. The adults understood that just being alive and together were gifts. But little Jude? Smart as she was— and she was smart —hadn’t yet grasped that concept. 

Things had already been gathered for her by everyone else, but Daryl had never really celebrated as a kid. Never gave gifts or received them. Before Alexandria, there was never a reasonable sense of safety that allowed for celebration. This would be a first for the archer. When you asked what he had found or made for the little girl he so obviously adored, he had appeared gutted. Of course, you had offered to go with him and help him find something. 

The sky was thick with purple clouds as you burrowed into Daryl’s back and tilted your face upward just enough to watch the puffs of lavender magic float carelessly across the limitless expanse. The wind was icy but the elements never seemed to bother the hunter. You, on the other hand, were freezing your proverbial balls off. Your heavy jacket, gloves, scarf, and toboggan hat did little against the onslaught. You couldn’t help but wonder how Daryl hadn’t turned into an ice archer. You also weren’t above pondering why the fuck he had insisted on taking the motorcycle!

When the bike rolled to a stop outside a little strip mall, you could hardly wait to jump off. You squealed about your ass being numb and zipped past him and up to the first door. Daryl started to intervene but swiftly shut his mouth when you acted accordingly, tapping the blade of your knife against the window to lure any walkers. 

When none shuffled forward, you gave him a thumbs up. “You start on that side, I’ll go here. Look for coloring books, crayons, stuffed animals. Nothing with small pieces that she could choke on.” You advised, watching him nod blankly. You smiled at his adorable cluelessness and ducked inside, willingly leaving him on his own. Usually you would pester him to stay together but you had your own search to conduct. Judith wasn’t the only one getting a gift this year. 

You did intend to help Daryl as you’d promised, but you had some selfish reasons for coming along as well. You hadn’t heard if anyone else had come up with something for the archer, but you sure as shit would. He was your best friend. Your person. This would be the start of happy memories for the season.

None of you could be sure when Christmas actually was but hell, it didn’t really matter at the end of the world. Decorations had been found here and there, enough to decorate Rick and Michonne’s house. You’d all gather there so it made the most sense. 

The store you had chosen appeared to have once been a pawn shop. Toys were in abundance so you took a moment to grab a babydoll and a stuffed monkey before heading to the display cases. The glass had long ago been broken and weapons all swiped. That wasn’t what you were looking for anyway. You wanted something less…violence oriented. No jewelry either. He wasn’t the type. You would know the perfect gift when you saw it. 

And you did. 

Grabbing it up, you stuffed it and the toys into your rucksack and headed to the next mall space, hoping it held what you needed to go along with the first present. Considering how certain items were treated like gold in those times, you didn’t hold your breath. 

You had to be sneaky or Daryl might catch on, considering the type of store. You watched for him while repeating the process to check for walkers. Met with silence, you ducked inside. Pickings were slim— almost nonexistent —just as you’d expected. You had just allowed yourself to be bummed when you spotted one peeking out from beneath the counter. After a short happy dance, you hid this one in your bag as well.  You grabbed a few newspaper pages to use as wrapping paper and started to open the door when you saw the archer walk by and into the pawn shop you had just vacated. 

Perfect!

Stepping outside, you moved off the walkway and waited for him. He emerged a moment later, looking a little concerned. 

“Thought ya’d still be in there.” He huffed, holding out two coloring books— one of safari animals and the other, Dora the Explorer  —and a box of crayons with two missing. 

“Were you worried, mister Dixon?” You smiled sweetly while taking the items to place in your bag. “Hey!” You dissolved into giggles when he pulled the front of your toboggan hat down over your face. He was already walking back toward the back by the time you fixed it. “I found a couple of toys too!”

“Got wha’ we came fer.” He swung a leg over to straddle the bike and waited for you to climb on. “Le’s head back. Snow’s comin’.” You grumbled and secured your scarf around the majority of your face. “S’the matter? Don’ like snow?”

“I love snow. Just not on a motorcycle.”  Taking your place behind him, you wrapped your arms around his middle and went ahead with burying your face in his back. You felt more than heard his chuckling. 

Without a way to predict the weather, there was no way of knowing that scattered flurries would soon turn into a complete whiteout. Daryl had pushed the bike as far as he could before the snow on the ground became too dense. You hated watching him leave it behind, but if he was distraught, he didn’t show it. 

You both had your packs, yours full of gifts and Daryl’s stuffed with a little food, a canteen, and scant medical supplies. You’d be okay for a day or two until the weather cleared. You had radioed home while the archer brought the fireplace to life. Your signal was choppy but the message was received. 

A little while later, the snow was surging down outside, making it impossible to see even the trees that were littered around the small cabin the two of you had stumbled upon. Literally. You’d almost walked into the side of it with the limited visibility. 

Your coats were hanging up near the fire to dry. You had a small meal of jerky and an apple. Now the two of you sat quietly, the silence not uncomfortable. You were bummed that you couldn’t make it back for Daryl to give Judith the gifts. More disappointed for him, really. This was supposed to give him good memories. 

Your gaze left the winter wonderland on steroids to shift over where the archer was perched by the fire. He was holding the stuffed monkey while he stared into the flames. Standing from the chair by the frosty window, your bare feet hardly made a sound as you padded across the room to sit cross-legged by his knees. 

“Don’t be sad.” You folded your hands on his thigh and rested your chin on them, looking up at him from under your lashes. 

Those ice blue eyes slid over to you and held your gaze before he looked away with a dismissive ‘pfft’, tossing the stuffed animal on top of his rucksack. “Ain’t sad.”

The smile you gave him was soft, sympathetic. “Yeah, you are. But you shouldn’t be. She’ll be just as excited tomorrow as she would have been today.” Your head tilted, smile broadening. “Judith doesn’t care what day you give her a gift. You’re Uncle Daryl. She’ll beam at you like you hung the moon no matter what.”

One corner of his mouth ticked upward. He hummed and ruffled your hair, the other side of his lips mirroring its counterpart. Sitting back, you swatted his hands away with an exaggerated series of waves. 

“We can still make this special.” Teeth worried your bottom lip but you fought to push down the anxiety slithering around in your tummy. When the archer tilted his head, waiting for an explanation, you crawled across the floor and reached into your bag. The newspaper wrapping was sloppy with no tape or bows to make it nice but it was the end of the world. You worked with what you had. Shuffling back to him on your knees, you sat back on your heels and held out the black and white papered mess. “Here.”

His face was unreadable, that scowl firmly in place as he stared at your offering. You would have felt dejected had you not seen the myriad of emotions steadily streaming through those pretty blue eyes. After what felt like hours, Daryl cleared his throat and reached for the wadded mess. 

“Ya didn’… uh…ya didn’ hafta do nothin’ like this.” It was easy to discern the slight tremor in his hands. 

“Yeah, I did. I wanted to.” You wiggled back and forth, both eager and nervous for him to unwrap it. When he just held it, you stilled. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh…” The archer carefully lowered the gift to his lap but kept his hands around it, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the newspaper. “Never really had stuff like this growin’ up…presents n’ shit.”

Rubbing your lips together, you placed a hand on his knee, just beside the gift. He didn’t look away from it. “Just open it when you’re ready. I’m in no hurry.” Keeping your hand where it was, you maneuvered into your previous position: cross-legged with your chin on the very edge of his leg. 

He was committing the moment to memory. You could tell by the way he studied the object, tilting it back and forth just so. But this is what you wanted; to break through the past he had suffered with thoughts of a future full of new memories to make. And to share. 

He cleared his throat again. It was then that you noticed the shine of moisture holding steady on his waterline. “I… got ya, uh… I got ya somethin’ too.” He balanced the gift on his lap with one hand and dug around in his pocket before finally pulling out a small, blue drawstring bag. So much hesitance; he started to hand it over before pulling it back. He did that three more times before he allowed you to take it. 

Now, your eyes began to leak. “Oh, Daryl.” You pulled the little bag toward you and pressed it against your chest. Whatever was concealed inside was hard and twisted but you didn’t venture to guess. You wanted complete surprise. 

His eyes flitted between your gift and his. Still, he made no move to open his own. The present you’d given him was quite a bit larger. Maybe he was worried that that somehow bothered you. When he finally looked up at you, your heart clenched. He was adorably lost. 

“Open it?” You suggested gently, lowering your hands to your lap with the small bag visible in your cupped palms. He was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip for several seconds before he slowly began to unfold the paper. You watched with bated breath as the items were revealed, studying his demeanor as discreetly as possible. If he didn’t like it, you wanted to know for next year. 

Next year. A bittersweet thought. How many of you would even still be there to see it? You minutely shook away the distressing notion and just in time, too. 

The corners of his mouth slowly lifted into the smallest yet most genuine smile you’d ever seen him wear. A calloused finger traced over the image of a motorcycle on the shiny Zippo. There was a carton of cigarettes and a small container of lighter fluid as well but the lighter had his complete attention. 

“Now look, mister. I don’t condone your habit but I figure we all need our guilty pleasures now more than—”

“Thank you.” So soft that you barely heard it. 

You melted in an instant into a gentle smile that he didn’t see, hiding behind a fringe of dark hair. “You’re welcome.” You waited him out. He was having a hard time with the entire concept and you may have heard a quiet sniffle but no, you didn’t. 

“Ya gon’,” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “ya gon’ open yers?” You looked down at the bag, seeing him wipe his face on the back of his hand from the corner of your eye. You’d never tell him, though. You’d let him keep that one. 

You were careful with your expression, keeping the excited gleam in your eye as you pulled the top of the bag open. It could be an acorn and you’d adore it because it was Daryl who went through the trouble of finding such a pretty little bag for it. Just for you. 

You dipped two fingers inside, curling them around cold metal, prodding your curiosity. What you began to pull out was a thin, braided chain. It was still a shiny silver. You weren’t even sure what it was made from and it didn’t matter. It would remain around your neck even if your skin turned green. Still, once the entire thing was revealed, it wasn’t the chain that held your focus. 

Your inquisitive gaze lifted to find his cheeks a shade of pink and one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“S’a…well, s’a hex nut.” Your head tilted. “From my bike.”

You stared at him in complete awe, knowing that when he finally looked at you, he was going to panic but you’d settle him once you worked through your own emotions. You carefully placed the chain over the edge of your hand so the nut laid in your palm. It was small with small knicks and dark areas, indicating use. You were so enthralled with it that you didn’t feel the tear escaping down your cheek. 

“Know s’stupid but—” 

His arms shot out to the side when you collided with him, your arms tight around his shoulders and face against his neck. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he wrapped one arm around you and then the other, his cheek against the top of your head. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.” When he huffed out a laugh, you sat back and wiped at your face with the tips of your fingers, the necklace he’d made for you still dangling from your hand. “Don’t say a word. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. It’s really the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given.” Your hand traveled out to rest against his cheek. “And I love it. Will you put it on me?” 

“Um, okay.” 

You beamed at him and held out the chain, spinning around and gathering your hair out of the way. Daryl was hesitant, you could just picture him trying to work through how to get it around your neck without invading your space. You knew it was impossible but you’d let him figure that out on his own. 

Finally you felt him reach over your right shoulder, then your left, to part the two ends and pull them back to fasten against the back of your neck. Your breath hitched when his fingertips lingered against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. 

“There ya go.” 

Your skin felt colder when he pulled away but you didn’t linger on it. You turned to face him, holding the piece out so you could look down at it with a brilliant smile. 

“Thank you.” You said again, twisting the gift back and forth. 

“Yer welcome.” He mumbled. 

Shimmying closer, you laid your head against his leg and looked at the fire, fingertips still brushing against the cool metal hanging from your neck. Above you, he was flipping the lid of the Zippo open and closing it repeatedly, as if it was the first one he’d ever seen. You were admittedly surprised he hadn’t already lit up at least three cigarettes.

“You did replace the nut you took from the bike, right?” You erupted into giggles when he bounced his leg and jostled your head.

It was almost comical to you that Daryl was this tough badass but so shy when it came to even someone as close as you were to him. It was incredibly endearing. Tilting your head back, you smiled up at him. He responded by placing his hand over the entirety of your face, his expression remaining neutral. You still saw the twinkle in his eye when you freed yourself. 

Then your smile disappeared, replaced with a sudden look of bewilderment. The archer noticed immediately, brow drawing in concern. 

“Wha’?”

You weren’t looking at him though. You were looking past him, at the ceiling. Slowly you sat up straight, tilting your head while holding your gaze steady. Daryl finally followed your line of sight to the area above your heads. 

There, hanging from the wooden rafters, was a branch of what appeared to be fresh mistletoe. A red bow was tied prettily around the stem. 

“Is that—” You began. 

“—mistletoe.” Daryl finished. 

Both your heads lowered, your eyes meeting. You could tell from the way he looked at you that he wasn’t ignorant of the tradition. Your own cheeks had grown warm just as you watched the subtle flush settle over his. 

You should have been questioning the presence of the plant. How it got there. Why it looked new in an otherwise desolate, dusty cabin. 

But those inquiries paled in comparison to the way Daryl’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up. 

“Be a shame to go against tradition.” You reasoned. 

“Yer the expert.” He gave a single-shouldered shrug. 

With a soft breath past your lips, you sat up on your knees, inching a little closer. Daryl moved toward the edge of the chair, leaning down slightly. You were so close that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

A beat. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

When your lips met, nothing else mattered. 

Not the snow that now fell in gentle flurries. 

Not the motorcycle that now leaned against the wall just outside. 

And certainly not the bare rafters above your heads where nothing was hanging.  

Taglist:

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47

[walker-bait-1973]

What a beautiful Christmas story 🥰

[the-dixon-effect]

you are the river of light, that i cling to in the empty night

a/n: im back whores

You thumbed the copper pendant daintily hanging from your neck, a little bronze sun - a testament to how much Daryl loved you before you even knew. You were Daryl's sun, the light that sustained all life, all good. Though he wouldn't say it, this was his way of telling you. Years later, your shared apartment in the commonwealth, however dreary, was the home that you had been longing for ever since the fall. Decorated with antique lamps and watercolours and soft music pouring out of the vintage record player in the corner of the room, time seemed to slow and warp when you spent your evenings with the man you loved so. Perched on the kitchen counter, you eagerly waited for him to return home.

Daryl's new job as a commonwealth soldier felt taxing to him - though he never complained in fear of boring or scaring you. Home was his sacred place; cooking, laughing, drinking, loving, a place where he could escape the past and present. The future was you, and however tempestuous and unstable life proved to be these days, you were his constant. In fear of seeming poetic, he kept his thoughts about you to himself, however badly he wanted to tell the world. Your touch was medicine, your love was rejuvenating.

As he entered, you whistled at his arrival and jumped to greet your man.

"Hey baby," he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in closer with a fistful of your hair. "Missed ya'," he moved a hand up to your cheek, adjusting your head so he could gaze into your sweet, loving eyes for a moment before moving in to kiss you with the passion of a starved man.

"And I waited for ya'," you flirted once pulling away. "Tell me 'bout your day, cause mine was boring as hell," you withdrew the embrace yet he pursued you towards the living room still holding your hand.

"Handled some rotters down the south fence, ya' know they can climb now?" you shivered, imagining Daryl surrounded by hungry walkers, all day, every day thanks to Pamela Milton and Michael Mercer, the ones that decided he needed to be here. Of course it was admriable, putting his life on the line every day, but for a government that doesn't even know his name? If you could convince him to stay in bed each morning, away from the danger, you could be ever satisfied knowing he would only exist in your arms. "Wha's wrong?" you must have frowned without answering, because he now pulled you over his thighs and held you firmly, not wanting to let you go.

You only hummed, afraid to meet his eyes covered by his chocolate bangs. "I want you... here. If somethin' happened to you out there-"

"Baby, ya' know it won't. 'M sorry," he spoke softly into your neck, gently rubbing your thighs with tenderness much unlike the stoic soldier known to you and your friends. "I love ya', I ain't givin' that up,"

"Don't try to be heroic. Don't be the person that's gotta save the day. If somethin' goes wrong, just run. Please.. promise for me," you held eye contact, stroking your fingers through his tangled tresses.

"Promise."

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Y/N, running to meet Daryl in the middle: What the hell happened?!

Daryl, hands on hips and trying to catch his breath: D’ya want the long version or the short one?

Y/N, alarmed: Sh-short?

Daryl, opens car trunk: Shit's fucked.

Y/N, even more alarmed: Christ, Daryl! Gimme the long version!

Daryl, pulls out the rocket launcher: Shit's very fucked.

Y/N, exasperated: Daryl! Can you say anything else?!

Daryl: Yeah. Run.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Gif by @r66dus

Daryl: Y/N, I need a favor.

Y/N: I’ll give you another lap dance when we get home.

Carol: Lap dance?!

Rick: Another?!

Daryl: …

Y/N, wincing: That wasn’t the favor, was it?

Daryl, aggressively blushing: No.

[hwaelysian]

I’m sorry but Daryl Dixon bending you over his motorcycle during your ‘hunt’ and touching you with his hand wearing the biker leather glove I—