#Daryl Dixon x male!reader

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Reunion

Pairings: Daryl Dixon & teen!reader, Tyreese Williams & teen!reader, Carol Peletier & teen!reader, Judith Grimes & teen!reader (all platonic obviously)

Requested by Anonymous: when the prison fell you and Daryl got separated, this is how you meet up, based on this request

Warnings: mention of blood, fighting, mention killing walkers/zombies, killing people, Daryl hug (yes that’s a warning), knives, guns, mention of killing kids, Terminus, hopefully if you read this you’ve seen the episode and knows what it includes, but ya know typical twd stuff.

A/N did I accidentally write this way longer than I intended yes, yes, I did, now don’t get me wrong the moment where Tyreese defends Judith is iconic but for the sake of this fic I changed it up, kinda wanna make another part

For you who wants to know the episode is season 5 episode 1

Anyway I hope you enjoy this <3

Judith giggled happily in your arms as you walked on the edge of the railway. You could’ve once imagined all kinds of trains going up and down the tracks as they blew past the trees, but now you couldn’t actually remember much about trains, you had the idea of them but not much details (and if a train were to come right now that would’ve been a miracle).

Tyreese walked a few steps behind you, with Carol in the front, as she led your group of four forward. She came to a stop when a sign that states “TERMINUS” showed up once more. It was your headed path, the sanctuary called Terminus. You personally didn’t trust it, not after the Governor, but you had to find Daryl and the rest of the group. You knew that if any of them were still alive they would’ve gone to Terminus after finding the railway. Which all of them had probably done. Along with finding Daryl you also had to get Tyreese and Judith to safety. Tyreese wasn’t fit to live on the road at the moment, he refused to kill anything that came your way leaving you and Carol to kill stray walkers, or animals for food. Judith, well, she was a baby and sometimes could be screaming all day, she was mostly quiet but the times she did cry was the times walkers got attracted. A baby was no way near fit to be on the road but here you were all of you somehow still alive (except for Lizzie and Mika Samuels, but there was no loss for you over Lizzie that’s for sure).

“We’re close” Carol stated as she saw the sign. “I’m gonna get you all there, make sure you’re safe, but I’m not gonna stay” She saw your face morph into disappointment as you nodded your head, a sad smile on your face. You’d missed her while she was gone and now she would be leaving again, and you didn’t like it, not one bit and you knew Daryl would be sad over it too which didn’t help the matter.

As you heard the rustle of leaves behind you in the forest, you all turned around to see two walkers stalk forward in your direction. Tyreese motioned with his hands to take Judith from you. Judith was carefully switched over to Tyreese and both you and Carol went forward to the walkers. Both of you killed them quickly only to notice the herd that was about to come out of the forest. Carol whispered to Tyreese that more were coming, and so all of you went into the opposite side of the railway. You hid in the forest until the walkers got distracted by shots firing not too far away from all of you.

Tyreese looked worriedly at you as he started to talk. “That gunfire it could’ve been from Terminus”

“Someone was attacking them, or they were attacking someone” Carol responded

“Do we want to find out?”

This time you involved yourself in the conversation, as you believed that you did indeed need to find out. “Yeah, we need to find out, If the others are there they might need help”

With that, and Carol's instruction of walking another track that would get you there as well you all started to walk once more, this time in need to find out the truth.

Your next stop had been outside a small worn out cabin, but it wasn’t the cabin that got your attention. What got your solely attention as you hid in the forest with your companions was the man that talked in a walkie-talkie. He was putting up a bunch of fireworks, no doubt to lead the herd of walkers away from Terminus. You could faintly hear him mention a woman with a sword, and you stopped Carol from going forward. As you continued to listen you heard him mention a kid with a hat and that was all you needed to go on. You didn’t think there were that many women with a sword and kid with a hat together nearby at the same time, so it didn’t take much to know that they were talking about Michonne and Carl. Nor did it take long to realize they had done something to your group, thereby also Daryl. Especially when he mentioned bleeding the kid out.

Carol slowly started to creep up behind the man and you followed not far behind. Tyreese more hesitant but still following. She put her gun toward his head, the young man froze and put his hands up still holding the two way radio. “Keep your finger off the button and drop it”

“Listen, ya’ll don’t have to do this. Whatever you want, we got a place where everyone’s welcome”

“Shut up man” it was what all three of you were thinking but Tyreese was the one to say it.

“Okay”

“We’re friends of the chick with the sword and the kid in the hat” Carol pressed the gun against his head forward, making the man lean forward as the gun touched his head.

It didn’t take long for you and Carol to tie him up and drag him (not so carefully) into the cabin leaning him against one of the walls. Throughout the whole ordeal the man continued to tell the three of you that you didn’t have to do this, that you could all come up with a deal, but he had no luck there.

As Carol made herself ready to scout Terminus out to see what was happening Tyreese continued to hold Judith in a protective embrace. You however had been asking the man questions, finding out that ever since the first questions he had been lying. He told you he only had Carl and Michonne, that they had both attacked them out of nowhere, that they were just protecting themselves. But none of you believed him. Not with the things you heard him talk about before you confronted him.

You would of followed Carol to Terminus had it not been for your will to protect Judith and Tyreese. As much as you loved Tyreese he wasn’t in his right mind. So you stayed to help if anything bad were to happen, to walkers coming your way or your prisoner getting free somehow, it didn’t matter you were there to protect your family. You only hoped Carol wouldn’t need any help.

Talking about your prisoner he was even more shatty when Carol left. Apparently a teenager, a baby and a man who he could clearly see wasn’t going to kill him was no threat to him. It was his undoing in the end. He underestimated you both and it showed in the way he talked to you and Tyreese as you sat by Judith, who’d you made a makeshift bed to.

“She got a name?… Hey, she got a name?”

“No” you answered at the same time Tyreese answered “Judith” you glared at Tyreese as he told the stranger her name, you didn’t want to give him any information, you never knew if it would backfire.

“She your daughter or something?”

“She’s a friend”

“Huh, I don’t have any friends… I mean I know people. They’re just assholes I stay alive with. The other one your friend, the woman” the younger man nodded towards the door that was now closed. Tyreese slowly looked away at the comment being conflicted about his answer. So instead you answered.

“Yes”

The man nodded and his voice that had now started to annoy you filled the room once more. “I used to have them… used to watch football on Sundays. Went to church” he let out a small laugh as if the thought of it was unbelievable. “I know, I did, but I can’t picture it anymore… it’s funny how you don’t even notice the time go by, horrible shit just stacks up day after day, you get used to it”

Tyreese turned his attention towards the man and spoke with distaste laced in his voice. “I haven’t gotten used to it”

"Of course you haven’t, you’re the kind of guy who saves babies, it’s kinda like saving an anchor, when you’re stuck on a boat-“ you had by know decided to drown out his voice as he tried to make justiciable to let him go.

Your thoughts got filled with Daryl like they had for the most time since the prison fell. You missed him. He always looked out for you. Ever since you met you were drawn to each other. Daryl used to pretend he hated you, especially when Merle was around he couldn’t have his brother think he was soft. However everyone knew he had always secretly looked out for you ever since he met you he’d felt the need to protect you. It came to the point that whenever you wanted to go on a run to get new supplies or do anything really you’d always ask Daryl. You had never spoken about it to each other but there was a silent agreement between everyone even you and Daryl that you were his kid and he your father. It might not be by blood but it was how it had come to be. Everytime something happened to you if you got hurt or if you were sad they’d always notify Daryl, but most of the time he already knew and would be with you to try and cheer you up in his own moody way. When you’d been out on the road before you found the prison you’d always sleep next to each other making sure the other one was safe. Even in the prison your cells were next to each other. He always looked out for you. He taught you how to hunt, he taught you how to use his crossbow, and to fight people to be able to protect yourself. Like Judith was “little asskicker”, you were the “big asskicker”. You couldn’t help but to miss him and the thought of him being hurt from the people in Terminus made your stomach hurt. You didn’t really want to voice your thoughts but you needed the reassurance and Tyreese was the only one who knew who Daryl was and could give reassurance. So against the warnings your mind gave you, you voiced your concerns.

“Do you think Daryl’s okay?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected as your mind filled with more scenarios in which Daryl had gotten hurt in.

Tyreese turned from Judith to look at you. He tried to give a reassuring look on his face as he answered. “I’m sure he’s fine Y/N”

”So Daryl’s your dad, maybe boyfriend” he continued to gues what Daryl was as you made no indication of actually giving anything away to him. After a while he stopped, he wouldn’t get anywhere with you, but he was still confident that if he talked enough to Tyreese, he would let him go.

“See, you’re a good guy, saving babies and teenagers.

“You have no idea about the things I’ve done”

“You’re a good guy, that’s why you gonna die today, it’s why the baby is going to die, why Y/N is going to die” both you and Tyreese stood up taking an intimidating step towards the man, your knife pointed at him. “Or… you can get in that car, get out of here, keep on being lucky.”

“You think you’re gonna kill me?”

The man turned his sole attention to Tyreese as he answered him. “Why haven’t you killed me? How does having me alive help you? Why the hell are you even talking to me? Take the kids, take the car and go, I don’t want to do this today”

“For your information we could always use you to get more information or we could kill you now, like you said we have-“ you got cut off by an explosion going off. Tyreese rushed to the window to see what was happening and saw the smoke over the forest.

“Is that Terminus?” The man moved forward as if trying to see out through the window but he had no luck in that department as he slouched back towards the wall.

“Yeah, probably”

“Maybe you’re gonna win this, maybe your friend, I mean maybe that woman just got capped, maybe I’m gonna be the one who gets capped when she comes back”

“Nobody’s got to die today”

“Man if you believe that… then it’s definitely gonna be you and the kids, even if the place is burning to the ground”

“Man maybe you can shut up and stop talking before I kill you myself” the man took his eyes of Tyreese to look at you as you had your knife pointed at him an annoyed look on your face. He didn’t believe for a moment that a teenager would be able to kill him, nor win in a fight against him. He had a way to high ego to think that you would be able to do any harm to him, he underestimated both you and Tyreese and when he heard as well as saw Tyreese look out at the walkers coming toward the cabin he moved quickly and soon enough his hands went to hold Judith in a hold that would be easy to break her neck.

He told you both to drop your weapons and you both did so not wanting him to hurt Judith. As he saw the walkers claw at the windows he looked towards Tyreese telling him to go outside. As Tyreese went outside he went over to you and bound your hands together with some spare rope just like you had done to him earlier. He made sure the knot would hold before he went over towards the walkie-talkie and tried to connect to the woman (apparently named Cynthia) on the other side.

While he did all that you tried to desperately tie up the knot that held the rope around your wrist together. Right as you were able to get rid of the rope around your wrist (thankful Daryl taught you how to do it) the noise from outside stopped. It became deathly quiet and the man looked towards were the last pounding against the walls had been. He took out his knife and was about to kill Judith when you quietly and quickly grabbed the knife that was laying right were you left it beside you on the floor and you ran over to the man. You saw red as you knocked him over, he had threatened to kill Judith and Tyreese. Threatened your sister and one of your closest friends. You knocked him towards the floor and your hand went into the air as you threw it down onto him repeatedly stabbing the knife in your hand into him. even after he was clearly dead.

Tyreese had to carefully walk over to you as he took the knife away from you. He told you that the man couldn’t hurt them anymore nor the walkers, everything would be okay. You appreciated his comfort as you hyperventilated for a few minutes over the fact that you’d just killed a human. You’d killed walkers before but never a human being. In your mind it was justified as he was about to kill all of you anyway, but you still felt like you’d lost something inside of you.

It was a while later when you glanced out of the window and saw Carol as she walked towards the cabin, Rick not that far behind. You broke out in a relieve laugh as a smile spread briefly over you lips, this made Tyreese glance out towards where you were looking. You booth scurried to get everything as you both wanted to leave the cabin not being comfortable to stay inside any longer than you needed to.

As both you and Tyreese stepped out of the barn you glanced at the people led by Carol. Your eyes scanned the crowd looking for one person in particular.

Daryl stared at you in disbelief he couldn’t believe you were actually alive, he’d seen you get shot, and without medical attention he guessed you’d died. He hadn’t wanted to keep hoping in case he would someday find your corpse rotting away (either as a walker or actually dead).

Daryl took in your bloodied state, you’d no doubt had to fight. Dirt and blood covered most of your clothes, and your face had a few cuts covered in dried blood. Your once white shirt was miss colored and your jeans had been ripped in some places, your jacket had blood stains all over it. Daryl could only guess what you’d gone through to end up looking like that (he didn’t even look that bad). He didn’t like all the blood covering you, he didn’t like not knowing what had happened, he didn’t like being away from you, he needed to protect you, he’d lost Beth to a couple of strangers, he wouldn’t lose you too.

When your eyes finally found Daryl, you had a soft smile on your face as you saw him visibly relax at your eye contact. While Rick and Carl ran towards Judith in Tyreese’s arms, Daryl stumbled forward towards you, dropping his crossbow to the ground. You met him halfway and he engelfulled you in a tight hug. You’d never know nor would anyone else but Daryl let a few tears fall in relief as he hugged you tightly knowing you were still alive, actually alive. As he felt you wrap your arms around him he felt you hug him just as tight, the comforting sensation you both brought each other was all you needed to ground each other and know that either of you were dreaming, this was real and both of you were okay.

As Daryl heard you sniffle he realized you were crying and he hugged you even tighter, taking one hand to your head and petting it softly — not knowing fully how to comfort someone, even now, having comforted you all those times before he still was unsure if he did it right. However he did know that you were crying from relief, because he did the same thing. You had your father back and he had his kid back and knowing that, you both knew that everything would be okay in the end. You were yet to be bested by someone when together, even when apart you always won, always found your way to back to each other. You would beat this world together and that was all that you needed to know, and the fact that neither of you were planning on leaving soon.

[dietothemusic]

Can someone please write a Daryl Dixon x Black!Reader or Black!Oc story! I can hardly find any! If anyone knows of any/ makes one please let me know or tag me!

[hopefulatrocity]

From The Ashes- Chapter 10

Note: Sorry for the wait. This is probably the longest chapter I've written so far. And the next chapter is a bit bigger. More Daryl, Kismet, and Pheonyx interactions. Thank you to @garlic-the-gnome and @loganlostitall for reading my drafts and giving me advice and corrections. I'm super grateful for it. Also, don't be like Daryl. If you think someone is trans and want to ask, don't. If you have to, ask their pronouns. If a trans person wants to reveal themself as trans to you, they will. By asking, you're putting them in a shitty spot. Not only does it imply they don't pass if you have to ask, but some people just don't want to talk about it. Daryl isn't verse in this stuff though. Pheonyx can forgive him for that.

Banners by: @liminal-creations

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics & @omiyours

Chapter CW/TW: talk of drug-addict/abusive/neglectful parents, shitty childhoods in general, denial of sexuality, anxiety, PTSD, hate crime mentions

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The damn mutt wasn’t as stupid as he looked earlier. As soon as Pheonyx had him sniff Sophia’s shirt and gave him the command, the dog shot off after the little girl’s trail. Originally, Daryl had been skeptical of the pup’s skill. The only word that he could think of to describe Kismet was goofy. His muscled body was all limbs and he crashed through the underbrush and bushes with no regard for noise or tact. It was hard to believe that this dog would be trained to do more than drool and sniff his own butt. The hunting dogs that lived in his trailer park growing up were more refined. They could be noisy, especially once they treed a coon or squirrel, but when they were working in the woods, they were damn near soundless. Still dubious about the dog, he had stopped them a few hundred yards behind  the area where he and Rick had first started tracking Sophia. He wanted to see if Kismet would follow the same path they had when she first got lost. And he did. The dog held his nose to the ground and started following the area they had walked through 2 days ago. Pheonyx watched the dog with a proud look on his face before turning to Daryl and motioning towards the direction Kismet was going. 

“After you, Apollo.”

An abrupt snort left his nose. Apollo. The Greek god of archery. Of all the nicknames he’d ever been called that was probably the nicest by far. It was much preferred to Merle’s nickname for him, “Darlena.” Merle mostly did it to annoy him. But it was also a jab at his manhood. Mostly due to the fact that he didn’t pant after women like some kind of sex fiend but partially because he had a streak of kindness in him that Merle always lacked. Most people didn’t know, it wasn’t something the brothers talked about much, that Merle was Daryl’s half brother. His momma was one of the many junkies that their father went on benders with. Merle spent the first 5 years of his life being shuffled by social workers back and forth between his momma and their Pa. Each of them going through cycles of getting clean and then relapsing shortly after. They didn’t get clean for their son though. It was simply for the welfare check and food stamps that came along with having custody of a child. Right before his 6th birthday, Merle watched his momma OD. He was locked in the tiny apartment with her body for 2 days before the neighbors were able to get the cops to investigate the constant screaming of a child. From there, his brother lived solely with his father. Their Pa got better at playing a sober, loving father and Merle got better at hiding the bruises and lashes. Eventually, social services left them alone. It was just the two of them until Will Dixon married Daryl’s momma in one of his brief moments of sobriety. While she treated Merle like he was her own, the damage to his emotional well-being was already done. His brother spent years all alone. He never had anyone who truly cared for him and the only love he ever received was a facade for social workers and cops that always seemed to be snooping around. Daryl suspected that neglect was why his brother had such a hard time maintaining any sort of relationship. And his obsession with being manly, therefore not weak, was entirely due to the brainwashing their father had instilled in him. So, Daryl couldn’t entirely blame his brother for his constant bullying and name-calling. He would happily take “Apollo” over any of the ones his brother had come up with. Especially if Pheonyx was the one calling him it. The name sounded so sweet coming from his lips, and honestly it made Daryl feel wanted. Aside from his brother, he never had friends growing up. And friends gave each other meaningful nicknames. Was that what this was? Was Pheonyx trying to be friends with him? Or was there something else? He did wink at him earlier. Didn’t he? No. He couldn’t have. He must have had something in his eye. That’s all. There is no possible way that a guy like Pheonyx would be trying to flirt with a guy like Daryl. For one, Daryl was older than him by at least a decade, if not more. Second, Pheonyx was incredibly attractive. Obviously, Daryl wasn’t gay but he could objectively say that the other man was beautiful. Even with the world the way it was, he was attractive enough that he could have anyone he wanted. There was no way he could possibly want someone like Daryl. An old redneck who spent the majority of his life chasing after his older brother. The idea that Pheonyx might, though, made his cheeks and ears turn red. Swamped with embarrassment, he gripped his crossbow tightly, reassuring himself of its comforting presence. 

Daryl ducked his head, hiding the heat of his face from Pheonyx’s eyes, and began to follow after Kismet. Despite the fact that he was out of sight, the dog was easy to trail. He left a path of destruction in his wake that was akin to Godzilla destroying a city. Broken branches, trampled bushes, and large paw prints smushed into the mud were like a line of breadcrumbs that led straight to the fumbling beast. If that wasn’t enough, Kismet sniffed out the trail like he was a pig at the state fair. Each inhale was a long snort and exhaled out with a loud wheeze. The sound was like a homing beacon to the dog’s location. Daryl hoped that the everpresent sound of windchimes around them would confuse walkers enough to keep them from following after the dog, and subsequently the two humans on his trail. 

He followed Kismet’s path for a minute before he realized that Pheonyx wasn’t next to him. Looking over his shoulder, he called out,

“Ya comin’, Firebird?” 

Daryl wasn’t entirely sure where the name had come from. The word slid off his tongue like it was something he had been saying for years.  It could be just a play on the other man’s namesake. Maybe it was the fire he had seen in Pheonyx’s eyes when he was standing up to Shane earlier. Either way, the name fit him well. Since Pheonyx had given Daryl his own nickname, it seemed only fitting to have chosen one for him too. 

They spent almost two hours following after Kismet. The speckled dog was very intent on the trail, only breaking his trance to jog back and smell the shirt hanging off of Pheonyx’s belt. After he reminded himself of the scent he was supposed to be tracking, he would trot back to the area he stopped and correct his direction to follow the scent. Pheonyx knew he was on the right track though, occasionally he would catch glimpses of small footprints in the moist forest floor and broken branches at a height that was equivalent to a 12 year old girl. Daryl must have noticed those things too because he didn’t voice any objections to their pathing. 

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, and even the shade from the forest canopy wasn’t enough to mute the heat from the blazing rays. Sweat was dripping down Pheonyx’s face and creating dark spots on his gray tank top. Daryl didn’t seem to be immune to the heat either, his face was glistening with perspiration, making the dirt on his skin darker and more pronounced. Kismet was also panting heavily. He didn’t break from his job though. In past training sessions, they didn’t usually stop until the dog found the scent he was tracking. This was very different than making Jimmy run around the yard with a squirrel skin dragging behind him though. As much as Pheonyx wanted to find Sophia right away, he needed to advocate for Kismet. The pup needed a breather. 

“We need to take a break,” he said, wiping his hand across his forehead to sop up some of the sweat that was tickling his skin. 

Daryl didn’t pause though. He looked back at the younger man with a frown and a slight glare. “Nah we gotta keep movin’. Wastin’ daylight just standin’ around. Sophia could be jus up ahead.”

“If she is, we’ll find her. 10 minutes. That’s all I ask. Kismet needs water and to relax for a minute. We’re no good to Sophia if we pass out from heat stroke and dehydration,” Pheonyx said, standing his ground.  

The archer was silent for a moment, but he realized the truth in Pheonyx’s words. “Fine,” he muttered in defeat. Once he glanced around the surrounding area and concluded there were no walkers or other dangers lurking, he leaned against the nearest tree and began to bite on the skin around his thumbnail. It was a habit of his from childhood he’d never seemed to break, no matter how much Merle told him it made him look like he was sucking his thumb. 

Pheonyx smiled at him in thanks before whistling to recall Kismet. It only took a few seconds for the Tasmanian Devil to burst through the brush, his tongue hanging out in an attempt to cool his overheated body. Pulling off his backpack, Pheonyx knelt next to him and began to scrub the dog’s neck, whispering to him, “You’re doing so good, handsome. Gotta take a break though. You thirsty?” 

Daryl tried to ignore the way his body shivered at the softness in Pheonyx’s tone. He tried not to watch the small beads of sweat slide down his toned arms, making the images on his skin glisten and come to life. He tried not to notice how the neckline of his gray tank top gaped a bit from the angle the other man was kneeling and he was able to get a glimpse of raven wings across his chest.  Instead, he focused on his movements. Pheonyx pulled out three water bottles and a dog bowl from his bag. The younger man opened one up, emptied the bottle into the bowl, and placed the vessel on the ground for Kismet to drink. 

Half a smile overtook Pheonyx’s face as he watched Kismet go to town on the water. Lapping loudly, more water ended up on his muzzle and the surrounding ground than in his mouth. It was still enough to cool him down a bit though because his panting was less heavy as he sprawled on the ground afterward. Shaking his head at the ditzy dog, Pheonyx stood up and handed one of the water bottles over to Daryl, who took it gratefully. He also pulled out one of the bags of jerky from his pocket and held it out to him. 

Daryl felt a wave of reluctance. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry. He was. The group’s food supply had dwindled over the past few days, and he hadn’t been able to properly hunt since he was busy looking for Sophia. He’d only managed to swallow down a small stale granola bar before they’d made the short drive to the Greene farm. The idea of being indebted to anyone though, didn’t sit right with him. Nothing in life was free. Especially not for him and Merle. That had been a lesson he’d learned early on. Parents were supposed to provide for their children. Food, clothes, love. But Will Dixon was only a parent in the biological sense. Nothing he ever gave the boys had been from the kindness of his heart. At first, his Ma did her best to put food on the table and clothe them. Once her depression took hold though, she couldn’t work and barely managed to get out of bed everyday. He and Merle took care of themselves the majority of the time. Food was swiped from the local grocery store, picked out of the dumpsters behind restaurants, or stolen from the local food bank donation bins around Thanksgiving time. Clothes were appropriated from lost and found bins around town, or purchased from a thrift store using the meager amounts of money the boys were able to make doing chores for the older folks in the trailer park. Despite the world falling, things hadn’t changed so much for Daryl. He still did his part to earn his food and clothing within the group. If he took the food from Pheonyx, he would owe him. Or at least, he felt like he would. The water bottle he had taken without hesitation but that was different. Water was a bit more common to find, especially on a farm that likely had a well. Food was more of a scarcity and therefore more valuable. So, no matter how much his chest was telling him that Pheonyx wasn’t like that, that he wouldn’t hold some jerky over Daryl’s head, his brain was winning the fight.  

Pheonyx could see the apprehension on Daryl’s face. 

“I swear I didn’t poison it,” he said, still holding the bag out. 

“Ain’t that,” Daryl mumbled, ducking his eyes in embarrassment, still trying to win the inner battle with his mind to just accept the damn food. “Don’t want any charity is all.”

Understanding dawned on Pheonyx and he nodded his head. During the first 8 years of his life, his mom had been an insurance agent and the bread-winner of the family. She was traveling 3 weeks out of every month and, even when she was home, her attention was mentally in the office. His biological father was a “stay-at-home dad”. Which meant he stayed home drinking most of the day while Pheonyx did his best to avoid his wrath. Despite this, the family had been middle class in their finances. So, he hadn’t gone without material-wise. While love had been lacking during that time, he always had a full stomach and always had fairly decent clothing. Moving with his mother and brother to live with Hershel, hadn’t changed that. His step-father was more well-to-do than they had been previously. A lot of the money was generational but most was from Hershel’s veterinary practice. Being one of two practices that specialized in large animals, in a farming community like Senoia, brought in quite a bit of money. They lived humbly despite the financial padding. Pheonyx could understand Daryl’s reluctance though. He knew it was hard to accept help, it created a sense of weakness, a feeling of helplessness. After he left Georgia, Pheonyx struggled immensely. Most of it was mental, but the physical results of that night also plagued him. At the time, he didn’t want to ask for help. He didn’t want to be a burden. He didn’t want to owe anyone. By asking for help, his body wouldn’t be his own. It would belong to someone else. Because people didn’t typically do things without expectation of payment. He had already lost ownership of his body that night. He didn’t want to give anyone else the opportunity to take it again. Aaron had been there to help him when his problems became too much but he had been at his breaking point then. There hadn’t been any other option. 

“I promise it’s not charity. And I’m not looking for anything in return. Mom raised me to be a gentleman. And that means sharing when I have the means to. Maggie packed enough for all three of us,” Pheonyx shook the bag a little and raised his eyebrows. 

Again, Daryl hesitated but after a moment he tentatively took the plastic bag of jerky. He waited for Pheonyx to take a bite of his own portion before he popped a small piece of the dehydrated meat into his mouth. Now, Daryl Dixon was no stranger to jerky. Growing up in a house where hunting was as natural as breathing, meant that smoked and dehydrated meat were a staple of his diet. His parent’s money issues meant that fresh, healthy foods weren’t always available. There were days when all Merle and he had to eat was jerky and wild mulberries that grew rampant on the outskirts of the trailer park. The jerky he was currently chewing though, was nothing like the overly salty, yet still bland, meat he was used to making and eating. That meat was a means of survival. This felt like an indulgence. Despite the lack of moisture, the jerky was still tender and almost melted on his tongue, releasing a myriad of flavors. It was sweet and peppery with a hint of smokiness that rounded out the blend of spices. A small bit of gaminess let him know it was rabbit meat, which wasn’t his favorite overall, but if it was prepared anything like what he was chewing on, his opinion was likely to change. 

Apparently he made some sort of face because Pheonyx looked at him questioningly. Daryl averted his eyes, ears turning a flaming red, embarrassed about letting his emotions show. 

“It’s good,” he mumbled. 

The brightness of the forest seemed to increase tenfold with the proud smile Pheonyx gave him and those damn moths fluttered in his gut again. 

“Thanks! I make it myself. When people evacuated they took all their canned goods. But no one thinks to bring the spice cabinet. So, I’ve got an abundance of stuff to create different flavor profiles. My personal motto is that just because the world ended doesn’t mean you can’t have good food. Just have to know how to use what’s at your disposal.” 

At Zombie Ink(an ironic name considering their current circumstances), Pheonyx’s boss held a bi-weekly potluck for the staff, which consisted of many ethnicities and cultures. Every meeting was a blend of new flavors and cooking techniques to be learned. It was one of the few times that Pheonyx felt like he could interact with people, even if it just meant sharing recipes or learning about different cultural nuances, and had helped him make some friends. He had been trying to recreate those flavors and dishes with the monotonous food supplies they had. 

Silence lapsed as the two made quick work of the food. Pheonyx alternated between eating his own and tossing pieces of the unseasoned jerky to Kismet, who ate it enthusiastically. Daryl tried to keep his gaze averted but he kept getting drawn back to the man a few feet from him. His mind was playing through the events of the day up until that point. And he knew he had to ask Pheonyx something. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he had to make sure. 

Popping the last piece of meat into his mouth, Daryl broached the subject bluntly, “Ya a guy, right?”

Pheonyx dropped the piece of jerky that he had been about to place in his mouth, a choking noise of shock leaving his lips. Kismet dove and caught the meat before it could hit the dirt near his owner’s knees. Fear and anxiety was flitting through Pheonyx’s veins, or else he would have been worried about how the spices would affect Kismet’s stomach. He knew where the conversation was going. It was probably inevitable but the fact he was alone in the woods with the man upped the terror of the situation. While he felt comfortable around Daryl, he couldn’t help the images of the past that floated through his mind. 

“Uh yeah- I mean yes. I am.”

Daryl felt the fear in Pheonyx’s eyes like a knife to the gut. His hands twitched with the need to reach out and soothe his worries. But he didn’t. Something told him that any movements towards the other man would make things worse. So he kept his face blank, and averted his gaze to the surrounding woods. He was starting to think he shouldn’t have started this conversation, based on the other man’s fearful reactions. But there was no going back now. 

“Ya were born a girl, though?” he asked calmly, trying to make his deep voice as un-intimidating as possible. 

Pheonyx considered lying. It would be the safest option. He’d grown up around guys like Daryl. Rough conservative types. And they were usually the ones who reacted violently to anything in the realm of ‘other’. But the archer was so calm. The question had been asked so nonchalantly. As if he were discussing the weather. His words weren’t laced with accusation or scrutinizing countenance. He was just gazing calmly into the woods and fiddling with the now-empty bag that once held their afternoon snack.  

“Yes,” the whispered word slipped through Pheonyx’s mouth before he could stop it. He hoped that he hadn’t heard him, but the archer’s ears had been honed after years of hunting. 

Daryl’s eyes locked with Pheonyx’s and he knew the other man had heard him. Pheonyx flinched, eyes slamming shut, bracing himself for the pain. His heart was slamming against his chest, like the shadows did on the barn door when he walked past. Sweat coated his palms and soaked into his shirt. His breathing picked up a bit and Kismet crawled over to him, whining. The big dog pushed his nose into Pheonyx’s hand and sidled his bulky body up next to his masters. 

Pheonyx waited, barely even noticing Kismet’s attempts at calming him. 1 second, 10 seconds, a minute. He waited for the pain, whether it be vile words or physical hits. But they never came. Instead, there was a crumple of plastic and a deep, “Okay.”

A part of Daryl wanted to offer more words, to say that Pheonyx didn’t have to worry. That he wouldn’t hurt him. Because he knew that was why Pheonyx had reacted that way: sweating, flinching, practically hyperventilating. Someone had hurt him. Badly. Anger filled his body and he wanted to turn around and punch the tree he had been leaning against. That would just cement Pheonyx’s fears though. He tried not to think about why he had such a fierce reaction to the idea of someone hurting the younger man, someone he had only known for a few hours. Instead, he crumpled up the empty bag he had been holding and shoved it in his pocket. 

 Pheonyx’s eyes shot open and he gaped at the other man in shock. “Okay? That’s it? Just okay?”

“Ain’t my business what ya got goin’ on in ya pants. Just didn’ wanna make assumptions,”  the older man said simply. Like he was giving the answer to 2+2. 

It took a moment for his words to soak in. Daryl wasn’t going to hurt him. Daryl wasn’t going to yell. Daryl wasn’t going to break him. Daryl wasn’t going to try to “fix” him. Daryl wasn’t like the demons from the alley. Daryl was different. 

And Pheonyx wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He wasn’t used to people just accepting him for who he was. Maggie and Aaron had been the only ones who accepted him whole-heartedly, no questions asked. There was always some kind of push back. People asked him if he was sure, or if it was just a phase. Or telling him that god didn’t make mistakes. Or saying they accepted him but continually messing up his pronouns. So, he just cleared his throat, patted Kismet’s head, and stood up. He adjusted the cutlass on his hip, making sure all his other weapons were attached and in place. 

“Are we ready to go?”

The old Miller house had been abandoned for almost 50 years. Originally, it had belonged to Hershel’s great great aunt. She lived there with her husband and two kids. When her kids died from a severe illness, haunting memories caused the married couple to move out of Georgia. After that, the house had occasionally been offered up to farmhands and their families but nothing permanent in going on four decades. For years it stood, withering and decaying, on the far edges of the Greene property. 

The white house had two stories and faded red shutters. Paint was falling off the sides of the structure and the front awning was one wind gust away from caving in. The front door was closed with a red x spray painted across the front. At one point, it was beautiful. Now, it was just an embodiment of memories. 

Pheonyx’s hand gripped onto Kismet’s leather collar tightly. The dog whined and tried to pull them towards the house, indicating that the scent trail led there. 

“Stay, Kismet,” Pheonyx murmured to the pup. A grumble came from Kismet’s barrel chest, indicating his displeasure at being called off the search. To appease him, Pheonyx pulled some unseasoned jerky from his pocket and gave it to the dog. Wet slobber coated his palm as Kismet gobbled it down before flopping onto the ground, much akin to a dead fish. Grimacing, Pheonyx wiped his hand on his pants and looked over at Daryl, who was checking the strings on his crossbow. 

“That yer doin'?” Daryl asked, pointing at the red X on the door. 

“Yeah. I mark all the houses I search and clear. I can tell you right now that someone’s been here. Even without Kismet chomping to follow the scent.”

“How’s tha’?”

“The side door’s open. I always make sure to shut the doors when I’m done with a house. Don’t want any shadows finding their way in there and surprising the next people who make their way through,” Pheonyx explained, shrugging. He unsheathed his cutlass, the sharp edge making a slight zing as it rubbed against the metal supports of the casing. The light weight of the weapon felt comfortable in his hand, and he felt its aura of safety engulf him. 

Daryl led the way towards the house, readying his crossbow when they stepped up onto the porch. He turned his head towards Pheonyx, nodding his head at him, gauging to see if he was ready or not. Pheonyx lifted his cutlass up, slightly above his midline, and jerked his head once back at him. Daryl used that as his cue to kick the front door open. Dust flew up as the rotting wood hit the wall with a resounding bang.  

“The door was unlocked. You could have just opened it, Apollo.” Pheonyx whispered to him, in a slightly scolding tone. 

Daryl rolled his eyes but kept his attention on the house in front of him. That was probably true, but he wouldn’t admit that to the younger man. The place had obviously been abandoned a long time ago, but some furniture and knick knacks still remained. A thick layer of dust coated everything, but he was able to make out small footprints on the weathered wood floors. He wanted to call out for Sophia, his heart pounding at knowing she was, or had been, there. But they hadn’t checked the place for walkers yet. Even though there was no scent of decay, there was still a possibility of one of those geeks popping up. 

“Let’s split up,” he murmured back. 

“Let me guess. It’s not you, it’s me, right?”, Pheonyx joked, still keeping his eye on the quiet house. 

If it was anyone else, Daryl would have snapped at them for fooling around while doing something so serious, but he found himself enjoying the playful side of Pheonyx. Compared to the terrified man he’d seen only a short while ago, he would gladly take the playful one. Daryl wasn’t sure how it was possible, but even more blood rushed to his already overheated face as he thought about the syntax of the joke.  Of being in a relationship with Pheonyx. 

“Stop,” he said weakly. 

A light chuckle sounded next to him. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. The second floor is unstable so I don’t recommend going up there,” Pheonyx motioned with the short sword to the broken wooden stairs. 

Daryl nodded, glancing at the rotted steps across from them. “Ain’t seein’ any tracks up there anyways. She prolly stuck ta the first floor.” 

Pheonyx nodded at him. “I’ll check right.”

With that, they both began to search on their respective sides of the house. Daryl slowly aimed his crossbow right and left as he checked each room, glancing down slightly to track the small shoe prints imprinted on the dusty floor. Light creaking from across the house let him know that Pheonyx was also taking steady steps as he walked through his section of the first floor. Daryl was impressed at how quiet the younger man was. Both in the woods and in the house. Daryl pulled his mind from thoughts of Pheonyx and made his way through what used to be a living room. The only furniture in it was a torn couch, that something had obviously made its home evidenced by the slightly rustling cushions. Next was what he assumed was a dining room, as the only thing left in it was an overturned wooden chair and a broken bar cart. From there, he entered the kitchen area. This had more furniture left than the other parts of the house. Old cupboards lined the wall opposite a wide window, a thin door to the right indicating some sort of pantry. A rickety table was askew in the middle of the space, dirty cutlery scattered on the surface. On the wall across from the door was an old wooden hutch with dirty mason jars and random kitchen utensils. Adjacent to it was an overflowing metal trash can. A heavy fish scent led him over to the bin. Sitting on top of old crumpled newspapers and empty glass bottles, was a can of anchovies that was open and empty. It was newer than the trash it resided on, and the juices in the can hadn’t dried. Holding it towards his nose, he tried to smell any scent of spoiling. There was a slight sourness to it that meant it was just beginning to go bad. It was probably about a day old. The soured fish scent would be heavier if it were any older, especially with the high temperature in the days past. 

Glancing around at the floor, Daryl noted the plethora of tiny shoe prints that stippled the worn panels. Most of them congregated around the pantry so he stepped slowly towards the door. Keeping his crossbow raised, just in case of surprises, he pulled the door open quickly. There wasn’t anybody inside but in the small area, beneath the main shelves, was a tiny nest of blankets. The area was tight and only someone shorter than 5ft would be able to cram themselves in there comfortably. A sense of relief filled Daryl. He was upset that Sophia wasn’t there, but they were on the right track. She had been there. And if the can was any indication, she was there recently. 

A squeak of the floorboards had Daryl whirling around, aiming his crossbow directly at the source of the noise. Instead of a walker’s milky white eyes, he was met with fern green irises. Pheonyx, in the middle of sheathing his cutlass, raised his eyebrows at the other man.

“Calm down, Apollo. Just me. The rest of the house is clear. You find anything?”

Daryl lowered his weapon. He grunted in affirmation and inclined his head towards the nest of blankets at the bottom of the pantry, “We’re ‘bout a day behind her. Found a fresh can in the trash.”

A look of deep concentration came over Pheonyx’s face and he turned to one of the built-in cupboards next to the pantry door. He opened the door to the bottom-most cabinet. It was empty.

Daryl was curious about what the man was looking for but his mind went blank as he watched Pheonyx bend over. His mouth went dry and his grip tightened on the weapon in his hand. He’d never been much of an ass man(hell, he didn’t think he was any type of man before this) but the way Pheonyx’s backside filled out those jeans had him thinking thoughts that were confusing for someone who obviously wasn’t gay. 

A large smile overtook Pheonyx’s face and Daryl pushed away the troubling fantasies he was having. 

“Your girl’s chance of survival just went up.”, there was a slight squeak of excitement in the younger man’s voice that he couldn’t help. 

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the other man in confusion, so Pheonyx explained. “A month ago, I set up twelve supply drops with bug-out bags. Just in case something were to happen at the farm. One of those was here. Each bag has enough supplies to help survive a week, or more if rationed right. MRE’s, pop-up tents, water bottles, water purification tablets, survival blankets, firestarters, maps, compasses. There’s even a hunting knife in each bag. We may not have found her today but her mom should feel a little better knowing she's got some supplies."

The relief that Daryl felt was palpable and Pheonyx was glad he could at least offer him something. 

“I’d say let’s keep going but we need to start heading back now if we want to be at the farm before it gets dark,” Pheonyx said. He noted the flash of anger in Daryl’s eyes and continued softly, “Kismet and I will head out at first light tomorrow.”

The older man grunted in frustration and brought his thumb to his mouth to chew on his nail. His train of thought stopped and focused on the phrasing of the other man’s words. Thinking back he remembered Pheonyx saying they would only work together for the day. While it would probably be better to have more people spread out looking for Sophia, his stomach clenched at the idea of splitting up from Pheonyx. Obviously, because it was safer to work in pairs. Not because he was attracted to the younger man. That would be weird because he obviously wasn’t gay.  “Ya ain’t going out alone, Firebird. Me, you, n’ the mutt can search together. Might need ta talk ta Rick ‘bout his ideas fer tomorrow though.” 

Running his fingers through his sweat soaked hair, Pheonyx nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know how Kismet will do if we have a bunch of other people in the woods searching too. He did good today, but with a bunch of other smells he might get confused. I also worry about other people getting lost. Shadows aren’t the only things in these woods that can hurt you. No offense but the others in your group didn’t look like they had much experience with the outdoors.”

Daryl snorted, “Yer tellin’ me. Buncha city-slickers.”

They both headed out the back door of the house and Pheonyx whistled his three note recall to Kismet. While they waited on the dog, Daryl called out to Sophia. It was a long shot, he knew that. But he had to try. There was no response though. The only sounds he heard were the warbling melody of frogs and the distant burbling of the creek. And the chaotic sounds of a huge dog barreling his way towards them. Both men watched as Kismet, unable to stop his momentum once he reached them, slid into a boxwood bush with a loud crash. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Pheonyx grimaced, “You okay, Kismet?” he called out.

The leaves and branches shook for a moment before Kismet’s speckled face popped out from the green foliage. His tongue was hanging out, panting happily. He shook himself off before trotting over to them. A quick glance over told Pheonyx that, aside from some dirt on his sides, the dog was unscathed.  He turned his head to ask Daryl if he was ready to head out, but the words died on his lips as he watched the man pluck a Cherokee Rose from the thorny plant neighboring the boxwood that Kismet had just slid into. The story of the flower was something he was very familiar with, having learned about the Georgia state flower in elementary school. 

“You getting that for her mom?,” he asked the archer softly, taking a step to run his fingers over one of the roses still on the bush. 

Daryl nodded, “Sophia’s all she’s got left. Lost ‘er husband a week ago. Weren’t no real loss there. Guy was a prick,” he was silent for a moment, “Them girls ain’t deserve none a this shit.”

While that was a true enough statement, he couldn’t tell the truth, the real reason he was so determined to find this little girl. He couldn’t even admit it to himself. He couldn’t admit that when he saw Carol, he saw a reflection of his own mama. That first day in camp, Merle had taken to calling her “Mouse” because of how skittish and meek she was. Her husband had such a tight hold on her, every move she made was followed by a look over her shoulder to make sure Ed wasn’t there to beat her down. He’d seen the same look in his own mama’s eyes many times. By the end, the fear had torn her down so much that she was only a shell. A walker before walkers existed. 

And he certainly couldn’t admit that he saw a bit of his childhood self in Sophia. Sophia was merely a ghost. People would see flashes of her blonde hair out of the corner of their eyes, but she’d be gone by the time they’d turn their head. While Carl was a chatterbox, Sophia was damn near voiceless. Daryl had probably only heard her speak two or three times that he could remember. Just like her mom, looking at Sophia had him staring back into the past. The little boy, he used to be, lived a life of invisibility. The less he was noticed, the less pain he had to endure under his father’s belt. He spent more time hiding in the kitchen cupboards than in his own bed. But unlike him, Sophia’s abuser died. She had a chance at a normal life–as normal as one can be with the dead walking around. He needed to find her. For Carol. For his mama. For that little boy that he used to be. 

Pheonyx wanted to reach out to the man, maybe place a hand on his shoulder, but he stopped himself. Instead he gave him words. “We’ll find her. I don’t like to make promises but I will now. You and me. We’ll find her,” a grumble came from his side and he rolled his eyes, “ Kismet will help too.”

Plucking a rose from the bush, he handed it to Daryl, a physical contract of his words. Calloused hands brushed against his own and blue eyes locked with his green ones. Blood rose on both of their faces and they both looked away at the same time. Nothing more was said. 

The two men walked side by side, with a speckled hound between them, one holding a Cherokee Rose and a promise. 

Taglist: @edgyboi10000 @yoongibaybee @dixonsboy19

[janiehellion]

𝚮𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝛐𝐮𝐜𝐡 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Handjob ⋮ Teasing ⋮ Edging ⋮ Orgasm Control

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.033 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S2E05 & S2E06 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: GenderNeutral!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!" 

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

[thewalkingdilf]

can we all just agree that daryl would definitely love to smoke a cigarette while you ride his thigh.

his sex drive hasn’t always been able to compare to yours, and him being a decent bit older than you definitely doesn’t help, but he could never deny a little angel like you the pleasure that you craved so badly.

so there you were, propping yourself up in his lap excitedly, getting yourself settled in the perfect position on his denim-clad thigh, with help from daryl’s strong arms keeping you steady while you adjusted yourself, of course.

the cigarette not only helped him relax in his own way, just as you were relaxing by making a mess of his strong thigh- it also served as a way for him to stall, to test your patience, a sort of timer if you will.

you’d rut yourself against him, whining and blubbering about how bad you needed him, meanwhile he’d continue to sit back in his chair, gripping your waist with one hand while the other would be raised toward his mouth, taking a long, deep draw from the cigarette, gently blowing the smoke toward you.

occasionally, if he was in an extra good mood that day, he’d flip his cigarette around in his fingers, resting it between your lips for you to take a couple puffs as well. he was typically against you smoking; he didn’t want someone like you falling into such a bad habit like him, but he couldn’t deny how much he loved to see you like that in the moment; fucking yourself against him so desperately while you blow the smoke in his face, the small nicotine buzz making you feel a bit lightheaded and dizzy, adding to your overwhelming pleasure.

“don’t worry baby, i’ll make you feel good, just lemme finish my smoke, yeah? you can be patient and do that for me, can’t ya’?”

“daryl, please.”

“not yet baby, yer being so good f’ me, i know you can wait a lil’ longer.”

[euphoriclve]

Daryl Dixon who whimpers so pathetically every time he feels your hands on his throat, putting pressure on it and not letting him breathe. the feeling of his lungs not getting any air while being intimate with you just does something to him. just imagine him riding you and he's all subby and cute for you. the minute your hand lands on his throat and applying pressure to his windpipe, tears prick in the corners of his eyes and he lets out the prettiest moans and whimpers. :3

Daryl Dixon who has an oral fixation. he'd sit on his knees and look all pretty for you with your dick in his mouth, spit making its way down to his chin from the corners of his mouth, slight tear stains on his cheeks. ♡

Daryl Dixon who loves it when you degrade him and then praise him. it riles him up so much when those mean words leave your mouth and then sweet talk him, telling him how good he's doing or how pretty he looks. it could be anywhere, not only intimately - always seeking your praise. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Daryl Dixon who loves the thrill of getting caught by someone from the group. imagine prison era Daryl Dixon who's so unbelievably horny, always missing your touch. he'll get horny and then beg you to fuck him hard against a wall in the cell you're sharing. only a white curtain you found and hung up on the entrance of the cell is covering your lewd acts -- anyone could walk in on you guys right now ! (not any kids though..) ,,>﹏<,, <3

Daryl Dixon who'll do anything to please you. he’s such a good boy, isn’t he ? (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

@ EUPHORICLVE 2025

[kissesfordaryl]

intertwined, sewn together.

daryl dixon & his lover best friend.

(soft daryl hcs bc i love him)

daryls first instinct is to push you away. he felt that the rest of the group saw through him and only recognized his brother, but not you. never you. he didnt know why you were so nice to him- didnt even believe that you were genuine. but you persisted and eventually managed to weasel your way past his walls, following him everywhere he went. he realizes that hes most true to himself when hes with you.

you two are practically attached to the hip, never seen without each other. half the time youre not even doing anything special, only being in each others presence. as soon as youre away from him, hes asking around to see where youve gone.

you loved sneaking away from the rest of the group and into the forest, following the sounds of rushing water or watching the wildlife scurry past. although daryl knew the woods better than you, he let you lead the way.

as you secure a spot along the river, he settles in besides you, knees knocking against yours, his crossbow forgotten to the side. you pretend not to notice, but sometimes he'll stare at you for moments on end, a small smile forming.

youre basically the only one who can make him laugh- full on belly laugh. your arm is draped around his shoulders as you whisper jokes no one else can catch, and then hes doubling over in concealed laughter, a hand coming up to hide his smile.

its always just been normal to share everything between you, from food to deodorant to blankets to tents to beds to drinks. there was no yours or his. just an ours.

as new additions to the group come along, they always get the impression of daryl being rather intimidating or quiet. theyre always surprised when he sees him with you: laughing like a school-kid and bickering over something stupid.

no one else is surprised when he shows up wearing your clothes and getting defensive at all the stares hed be getting. "what? all my clothes are dirty, s'not my fault."

he only lets either carol or you call him stupid nicknames. the stupider it gets, the more funny.

one time on a run, you found these matching necklaces. he scoffs when you hand it to him, but makes you put it on for him. hes never seen without it again- and will lose his shit if he loses it.

most of the time, he'll listen to you babble on about whatever, but he could talk your ear off just as much. you laughed at how expressive he could get, hands waving around as he explained his distaste to a certain topic.

no one knows when you got together, in fact they like to make bets on it- but one random day youre leaning down to press a kiss to his lips like youve been doing that forever- and everyone just continues on.

while i was making this it crashed and didnt save so i had to write this twice.. (p.s. ive got a couple requests so know im working on all of them! just wanted to post something.. i write super slow sorry 😭)

[grimespial]

Same Differences.

Daryl Dixon x Younger Male reader who has the opposite coping mechanism

At first he thought you were just some kid like Glenn, uncomfortably positive

Probably a good family, good education, friends and a girlfriend

All he knew was you always wanted to help. The task didn't matter really, as long as you could help it was good.

And you could talk. No amount of glares or one sided conversations could get you to leave him alone.

But then he sees your scars, theyre like his, but clearly not as old, they almost mimic a rib cage with how they wrapped onto your chest.

They could almost be played off as some sort of purposeful scar, but he knew how scars aged and healed.

The physical ones that is. The emotional ones weren't something he knew how to deal with, but you seemed to do fine with that.

He was jealous. You looked happier, healed, better than him.

Until you just broke down in front of him.

You asked to help with cleaning his bolts, or his clothes, you could even skin whatever he caught

He snapped at you, everything was piling up on him and you just kept talking, he couldnt tell you to go away but he needed to stew in his feelings, even though it never helped in the long run.

Tears just pooled and you still tried to pretend they weren't there, before smiling and leaving.

It took Daryl a while to put it together that you wanted to feel useful, help people, and it made him feel shit.

He never realised how used to your presence he was, it was part of the routine, you would both just do tasks in eachother's presence

Daryl ended up apologising, and was not very subtle with looking at your scars

When you told him the story, it was suprising how similar you both were

The relationship just came along by itself, you two were practically stuck together, if one of you were going somewhere, the other would end up being brought along.

Daryl was sitting closer than usual when you just went for the kiss before leaving thinking you ruined it.

And when you avoided him, Daryl realised how he felt, he found himself looking for you without realising

When you're dating, Daryl gives you tasks to do, if hes skinning a deer, he'll ask you to clean his bolts

He takes you on runs, finds anything you can do because he knows you want to be useful, and praises you

But when it comes to kissing, you're in control, a complete opposite of your normal behaviour, making Daryl feel good is plenty enough

Daryl is practically ready to fight anyone who insults you, it's worse for him when you dont even realise that someone was insulting you

He's almost like a guard dog when it comes to other people, he just wants you to be happy instead of ending up like how he was.

You clean his hands and face if there's any blood on it, he tells you it doesn't make sense, he's already dirty, but you insist to do this little thing for him

Before the apocalypse he would've scoffed at acts like this, but it was something different with you, close to eachother while you hold him and clean him like he's some sort of doll

[dixonverse]

His Heart, My Hands

Daryl x Reader || MLM

WARNING: sexual intercourse, oral, smoking, swearing

Daryl had been in love with you for a while now, relentlessly trying to win you over. But you—emotionally unavailable and unwilling to risk the inevitable fallout—kept him at arm’s length. You knew how these things ended. If you gave in, if you let him in, it would only break apart, leaving him hurt in the end. And that was something you couldn’t allow.

But Daryl didn’t see it that way. His devotion to you was unwavering, almost desperate. He had never loved anyone before—not like this. He practically worshiped the ground you walked on, always putting you first. On runs, his priority was keeping you safe. When supplies were scarce, he’d offer you everything before even considering himself. Any excuse to be near you, to do something for you, he took it. And every time he made his feelings known, you pulled away.

Tonight was no different. The two of you sat on your porch, a cigarette passed between you, the air thick with unspoken words. The conversation was easy, routine—until Daryl broke the rhythm. His voice was quieter this time, laced with something raw, something that made it impossible to ignore him this time.

“Think ‘bout you every damn day, y’know? Can’t get ya outta my head, no matter what I do. Hell, I sleep just hopin’ I’ll see ya in my dreams, for cryin’ out loud.”

He looked down at his boots, his fingers idly picking at the fraying threads on his jeans. His expression was unreadable—too solemn, too vulnerable.

“Ain’t never loved anybody before—never. Not ‘til you. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, can’t help how damn obsessed I am. It kills me you won’t even give this a chance.”

You sighed. “Daryl, we've talked about this.” He also sighed, taking another hit from his cigarette before handing it back to you. “I know but I can't help it. I love you and you don't feel the same way and it's killin’ me.” You look down, shaking your head and taking a long drag from your cigarette before answering softly. “You know how I feel, it's not you, it's me and all that crap.” He stared down at his lap, feeling a pang of hurt and disappointment in his chest. “I know, I just wish you'd let me in, let me show you how much you mean to me. You keep pushing me away but I can't just stop feelin’ the way I do.” You nod slowly. “I know how much I mean to you, Daryl, we don't have to be dating for me to know that.” He chuckled lightly, looking up at you.

“Yeah but you also know . I want more than just being friends, more than what we have now. Why wont you just give it a try?” You shrug and shake your head, giving the cigarette back. “it’s really complicated man…” He took the cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression a mix of hope and desperation. “I don't care if it's complicated. I've been through worse, I can handle it. Just give me a chance, that's all I'm asking for.” He spoke quietly “I care about you too much for you to get hurt because of me” you sigh, his eyes softened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I'm already hurt. Being around you, loving you from afar, it's killing me. But I'd rather have that than not have you at all.” His voice was low and husky, his words laced with emotion.

“But at least I know I'm doing what I think is right, because you'd be hurt 10 times more if I broke your heart. and I just… I can't let that happen” you shook your head. He dropped his hand, his face falling, his eyes clouding over with a mix of sadness and frustration. “You think you're doing what's right, but I don't see it that way. I see you shutting me out, shutting yourself off from feeling anything at all. And that's not living. That's just existing. You deserve more than that, we both do.”

He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of you, his movements agitated. “Calm down, Daryl, sit down” You say softly, “Listen, exactly, you deserve more, you said it yourself” He stopped pacing, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He looked at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of passion and frustration, before finally sitting back down beside you, his leg brushing against yours "I know I deserve more, but I want to deserve more with you. I don't want anyone else. I want you."

His voice was low and rough, his words sending a jolt of electricity through the air. You sigh and run a hand over your face. “You know this kills me too right? But I just can’t… I've seen how I am in relationships. I ain’t good at them, I wouldn’t treat you how you deserve. I've seen the looks on peoples faces when I inevitably break their hearts. It kills me” He reached out, his hand gently grasping yours, his calloused fingers intertwining yours. "I don't care if you think you're bad at relationships. I'm not asking for a fairytale ending. I'm asking for a chance to love you, to be there for you, no matter what. I've seen you in action, I know you're tough, I know you're guarded, but I also know that there's a heart in there somewhere. And I want to be the one to bring it out."

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. You slowly take your hand out of his and shake your head, putting your head in your hands. “I don't think I can..” he felt a pang of despair as you pulled your hand away, his heart sinking in his chest. He wanted to reach out and comfort you, to hold you close and tell you it was okay, but he knew that would only make things worse.

“Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't shut me out completely. Just... just don't." he sat there, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes fixed on the ground, his body tense with a mix of longing and resignation. “It's not completely, I want you here as a friend, I do.” You said softly. He looked up, his eyes searching yours, trying to read the truth behind your words. He knew you were trying to give him something, but it wasn't enough.

He wanted more, he needed more. "Friends don't make my heart race like this. Friends don't make me feel like I'm dying inside every time I see you. I can't just be friends with you, not when I'm in love with you." His voice was low and raw, his words spilling out in a torrent of emotion. “So what, if I say no to being together you can’t be my friend anymore?” You ask quietly and hesitantly.

He looked at you, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt, before he took a deep breath and his expression softened. "No. I'll always be your friend. I'll always be there for you, no matter what. But I can't promise I won't try to win your heart. I can't promise I won't keep hoping and trying, even if it's a lost cause." His voice was laced with determination, his jaw set in a firm line. "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." He forced a small, sad smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You sighed and shook your head “But that ain’t right, yes we can still be friends but you gotta put yourself out there for other people, try and find happiness with someone else. You can’t keep trying for me, I've seen you shut everyone else out who try and make a move on you, you don’t even give them the time of day.” He let out a dry, humorless laugh, his eyes glinting with a hint of bitterness

"You think I don't know that? You think I haven't tried? I've been with people. I've tried to move on, to forget about you. But every time, every damn time, I just end up comparing them to you. And they all come up short." He looked away, his jaw clenched, his voice laced with frustration. "You're the one I want. No one can compare to you. And I can't just turn off my feelings for you. It's not that easy." He paused, his chest heaving with emotion, before looking back at you. "I'll try, for you. I'll try to be your friend and support you. But don't ask me to give up on us completely. Because I won't." You nod slowly and place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I understand. I’m not asking you to shut your feelings off okay? I’d never expect that from you, just try.”

He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing slightly as your hand made contact with his shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay," He whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll try. For you, I'll try." He opened his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and longing, before gently covering your hand on his shoulder with his own. "But don't think for a second that I'll ever stop loving you. It's a part of me now."

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unwavering, as if trying to convey the depth of his feelings through sheer willpower. You smile and nod. “Okay I won’t… but as long as you’ll try to put yourself more open i'm okay with it” He smiled back, a hint of relief and resignation in his eyes, as if he was grateful for the chance to at least try to be with you in some way. He released your hand from his shoulder and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Well, I think that's enough deep talk for one night," He said, trying to lighten the mood. "How about we go inside and watch some TV or something? I think we could both use a distraction." He extended a hand to you, a silent invitation to join him in the house. You nodded and followed him into your shared house in Alexandria. “Yeah let’s watch something, how about a horror movie? I know how much you hate those, you scaredy cat.” You say playfully shoving him as we get into the living room. He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that was music to your ears, as he caught your shove and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him on the couch.

"Hey, I'm not a scaredy cat, I just have a healthy respect for things that go bump in the night," He said, feigning indignation, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "But fine, if you want to torture me with a horror movie, go ahead. I'll try not to scream too loud." He grinned at you, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, his body warm and solid against yours. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’ll be jumping on my damn lap. How is it that we kill walkers and bad people all the time but you can’t handle a horror movie?” You say with a smile as you flip through selections. He chuckled, his chest rumbling against your shoulder, as he squeezed you tighter.

"Hey, it's not the same thing! Walkers and bad people are tangible threats, they're not going to jump out at me from the shadows or give me nightmares for weeks," He said, his voice laced with playful exasperation. "But fine, I'll try to keep my reactions to a minimum. For you," He added, giving you a sidelong glance and a wink "But don't say I didn't warn you when I'm burying my face in your neck trying to hide from the scary stuff." “Yeah, you big baby.” You say, settling on a super scary one. Thing is, you secretly like when he gets all scared and jumpy, it’s cute. Of course he’d never know that because you’d never say it. “Let’s watch this one” You say pressing play. He groaned and rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile at your teasing.

"Oh great, a super scary one. Just what I need to give me nightmares for the rest of my life," He muttered, but settled next to you on the couch, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, his body tense with anticipation. "You're going to owe me big time for this," He said, his voice low and mock-threatening, as the opening credits began to roll. “Uh huh just hush and watch it.” You say jokingly. He chuckled and shook his head, but dutifully turned his attention to the TV screen, his eyes fixed on the unfolding horror.

"Fine, fine. I'll shut up and watch the movie. But if I scream like a little girl, don't say I didn't warn you," He said, his voice laced with a mixture of bravado and trepidation. As the movie progressed, he tensed up even more, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he braced himself for the inevitable jump scares. As the movie reached a particularly scary scene, Daryl's eyes widened, and he let out a low, strangled noise in the back of his throat. He immediately buried his face in your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he tried to hide from the gruesome images on the screen.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." He muttered, his voice muffled against your skin, his body trembling slightly as he sought refuge in your presence. You chuckled, secretly loving this. “Crybaby,” you whispered. He lifted his head slightly, his face still pressed against your neck, and shot you a half-hearted glare. "Hey, I'm not a crybaby," He whispered back, his voice slightly defensive, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm just... reacting appropriately to the horrors on the screen," He said, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine. "And you're not exactly helping me stay calm, you know," He added, his voice taking on a playful tone as he nuzzled your neck.

“No, you're the biggest crybaby ever.” He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through your body, as he pressed his face back into your neck, his beard scratching against your skin. "Fine, I'm the biggest crybaby ever," He conceded, his voice muffled against your skin, but the amusement was clear in his tone. "But only when it comes to horror movies. I'm a tough guy in every other situation," He said, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer, as if seeking comfort and reassurance from your presence. “Sure whatever you say.” You say wrapping your arm around him to comfort him, not even realizing it.

He sighed, his body relaxing slightly as you wrapped your arm around him. He melted into your embrace, his face still buried in your neck. "Thanks for holding me," He whispered, his voice soft and sincere, as he snuggled closer to you, his arms tightening around you. "I don't know what I'd do without you," He said, his words laced with a deep affection and gratitude, as he found solace in your presence, even in the midst of a scary movie. You nod slowly, realizing you're holding him. But for once you don’t pull away, it feels too right. You focus your attention back on screen as it gets to even scarier parts. As the movie reaches its climax, Daryl's grip on you tightens even further, his body tense and rigid as he tries to brace himself for the inevitable jump scares.

"Oh God, oh God, it's getting worse," He whispers, his voice barely audible, his face still hidden in your neck, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, and you can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness and affection wash over you. You smile and pull him closer. Daryl's grip on you tightens in response, and he lets out a soft sigh of contentment, his body relaxing further in your embrace "Mmm, I love being held by you," He murmurs, his voice barely audible, as he snuggles closer, his face still buried in your shoulder. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and seems to find comfort in the simple act of holding you, of being held by you. Daryl's gaze lingers on you, his eyes locked on yours, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of your face.

He slowly raises his hand, his fingers trailing down the side of your face, before coming to rest on your jawline. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he traces the line of your jaw with his thumb, his eyes filled with a deep sense of longing and adoration. "I love you," He whispers, his voice filled with raw emotion, as he gazes up at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. You swallow hard and nod. “I know you do.” You say gently brushing some hair from his face. Daryl's arms tighten around you, and he lets out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours as he holds you in a warm, comforting embrace.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, simply holding each other, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Daryl's breath is warm against your skin, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, as he seems to take comfort in the simple act of being close to you. After a few more moments of quiet, Daryl pulls back slightly, his eyes still closed, and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It's a tender, loving gesture, filled with warmth and affection, as he holds you close. He lets out a soft sigh, his lips still pressed against your skin, before he slowly opens his eyes and gazes at you with a soft, loving expression. You look down at him, and for a moment something different shines in your eyes, pure love and affection, something you’ve been trying to hide.

Daryl's eyes widen slightly, as he gazes up at you, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the pure love and affection shining in your eyes. He's taken aback by the intensity of the emotion, and for a moment, he's speechless. His breath catches in his throat, and he can feel his own heart swelling with love and emotion, as he gazes back at you, his own eyes filled with a deep, unspoken longing. He wants to say something, to express how much he feels for you in that moment, but the words seem to stick in his throat, and all he can do is stare at you, his eyes locked on yours, his heart pounding in his chest.

Daryl's face slowly breaks out into a radiant smile, a smile that's filled with pure joy and happiness, as he gazes up at you. His eyes sparkle with tears, but they're tears of happiness, as he's overcome with emotion at the sight of the love and affection in your eyes. He reaches up, his hands cupping your face, as he gently pulls you down towards him, his lips seeking yours in a desperate, passionate kiss.

The kiss is filled with a deep, overwhelming longing, as if he's pouring all of his emotions into it, trying to convey everything he feels for you in that one moment. You gasp softly as he kisses you, your eyes wide. Any other time, you’d pull away, tell him you can’t do this, that it’s you not him. You find yourself melting into the kiss and deepening it with a low groan. Daryl's eyes flutter closed, as he feels you respond to the kiss, and he deepens it further, his lips moving against yours with a hunger and passion that's been building for so long.

His hands slide down from your face, wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer, as he holds you tight, his body pressed against yours. He lets out a low moan, the sound muffled against your lips, as he feels your tongue slip into his mouth, and he responds by sucking on it gently, his own tongue tangling with yours in a passionate dance. His heart is racing, his blood pounding in his ears, as he loses himself in the kiss, his entire being focused on you and the moment. You groan in response to his moan and gently pull him onto your lap and kiss him passionately, dominating the kiss with hunger.

Daryl lets out a surprised gasp, his eyes flying open for a moment, as you effortlessly pull him onto your lap and take control of the kiss, dominating his mouth with an intense hunger that leaves him reeling. He quickly melts into the kiss, his initial surprise giving way to an overwhelming wave of desire. He straddles your lap, his arms wrapping around your neck, as he surrenders to your dominance, his tongue submitting to yours in a heated tangle. His hands slide up into your hair, gripping it tightly, as he loses himself in the kiss, his body trembling with need and desire, and his heart pounding so loudly he's sure you can hear it.

As the kiss continues, Daryl's breathing becomes more and more ragged, his chest heaving against yours as he struggles to keep up with the intense passion. He can feel himself growing hard in his pants, his desire for you overwhelming him completely. He grinds against you, letting out a needy whimper into your mouth, his hands tightening in your hair as he silently begs for more, his tongue submitting to yours even further, wanting nothing more than to please you and be consumed by your passion. You moan into the kiss and buck your hips up against his, your hands gripping his hips tightly.

Daryl's eyes roll back in his head, and he lets out a loud, wanton moan, his entire body shuddering with pleasure as you buck your hips up against his. The feeling of your hands on his hips, holding him in place, sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin, making him even harder than before. He grinds down against you desperately, whimpering and moaning into the kiss, completely lost in the sensations. He's never felt so dominated, so submissive, so turned on in his life. All he can think about is you and how much he wants you to keep touching him, keep taking control. You moan deeper into the kiss, your hands guiding his hips to roll against your own as yours meet his in slow sensual grinding.

You can feel your cock growing harder, the confines of your jeans almost painful. Daryl's mind goes blank with pleasure as you begin to guide his hips in slow, sensual grinding motions, meeting his own grinding with your own. The feeling of your growing hardness against his own straining erection is almost too much for him to bear, and he lets out a string of needy whimpers and moans into your mouth. He can feel the rough denim of your jeans rubbing against his sensitive cock, the friction both pleasurable and maddening. His hands are fisted tightly in your hair, his hips moving instinctively, seeking more of the delicious friction and contact. He can feel his own jeans getting damp with precum, his desire and need for you reaching fever pitch. You grind harder and firmer and trail kisses down his jawline and neck, nipping and sucking at certain sensitive spots.

Daryl's breath hitches as you begin to grind harder and firmer against him, the sensations almost overwhelming his senses. He throws his head back, a loud, desperate moan escaping his lips as you trail kisses down his jawline and neck, nipping and sucking at sensitive spots along the way. His hips jerk erratically against yours, meeting your movements with his own desperate, needy thrusts. The feeling of your lips on his neck, sucking and nibbling, is almost too much for him to handle, and he feels like he's about to come undone right then and there. His grip on your hair tightens even further, pulling at it almost painfully as he lets out a stream of incoherent pleas and moans. You find his most sensitive spot and attack it with your mouth, nipping and sucking hard, leaving a dark bruise that’ll last for days to come. Daryl lets out a strangled cry as you find his most sensitive spot on his neck and attack it mercilessly with your mouth, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave a dark, obvious bruise that will be there for days to come.

The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through his body, making his hips jerk violently against yours and his cock twitch in his jeans. He's practically trembling with need now, reduced to a quivering mess of desire and submission. His mind is clouded with pleasure and desire, the only thought left in his head being "More, please, more." He can feel himself getting close, the grinding and hickey pushing him closer and closer to the edge with each passing moment. You reach down and palm him through his jeans, your hand moving firmly and skillfully as you suck on his sensitive skin.

Daryl lets out a loud, desperate cry as you palm his cock through his jeans, the firm, skilled movements of your hand sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. His hips buck up into your hand, seeking more friction, as his breathing becomes more and more ragged and his moans more frequent. The combination of your hand on his cock, your mouth sucking a hickey into his neck, and the grinding is almost too much for him to bear. He can feel his orgasm approaching rapidly, the pressure building up inside him like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. He's never felt so dominated, so out of control, and he loves every second of it. He lets out a choked sob of pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head as he teeters on the edge of release. You start to quickly take his jeans off, your lips not leaving his neck as you move down to his collarbone.

Daryl lifts his hips up automatically as you start to take off his jeans, a needy whine escaping his lips at the loss of contact with your hand on his cock. But it's quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of anticipation and excitement as you move your lips down to his collarbone, nipping and sucking at the skin there. He can feel his cock springing free from the confines of his jeans, hard and leaking precum onto his stomach.

He's shaking with need now, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling at it desperately as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for more, for you to touch him again, to make him come undone completely. You move positions and lay him on the couch as you hover over him and take his shirt off. Once it's off you start to kiss down his chest, finding the spots that make him shiver. You take one of his nipples and swirl it with your tongue as you take hold of his cock and start to slowly stroke him.

Daryl lets out a shuddering moan as you maneuver him onto the couch and start to remove his shirt, his cock throbbing with need as your lips trail down his chest, seeking out the sensitive spots that make him shiver. When you take one of his nipples into your mouth and start to swirl it with your tongue while stroking his cock, he nearly comes undone right then and there. He arches his back, a loud cry of pleasure tearing from his throat, his hands fisting tightly in your hair once more.

The feeling of your hot, wet mouth on his nipple, your hand slowly stroking his cock, is almost too much for him to handle. He's reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess, completely at your mercy, his mind clouded with pleasure. He looks up at you with desperate eyes, pleading with you not to stop, needing release more than anything else in the world.

Daryl's pleading eyes roll back in his head as you switch to his other nipple, swirling it with your tongue while continuing to slowly stroke his cock. His breathing is ragged and uneven, his hips jerking up into your hand with each stroke, desperate for more friction and speed. The feeling of your mouth on his chest, your hand working his cock, is like torture, driving him higher and higher towards the edge, but keeping him there, teetering on the brink of release without actually pushing him over.

He can feel his balls tightening, the pressure building to an almost unbearable level. He wants to come so badly, but he also wants to savor this moment, the feeling of being completely consumed by you. He moans desperately, his body trembling with need and desire, tears streaming down his face from the intensity of it all.

Daryl lets out a string of loud, desperate cries as you kiss and nip your way down his body, stopping to suck on his sensitive stomach. The sensations are almost too much for him to bear, and he thrashes beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair and the couch cushions, his whole body shaking with pleasure and need. When you pick up the pace with your hand, expertly stroking his cock with just the right amount of pressure and speed, he completely loses it.

His hips buck up wildly, his cock throbbing and twitching in your hand. He can feel his orgasm rushing towards him like a tidal wave, but he fights it back desperately, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting to come until you tell him to. He looks down at you, his eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for permission to come, his entire body taut with need and tension.

You lean in and nip and suck his earlobe as you stroke him faster. “Cum for me.. let me see you come undone for me..” You growl out huskily. Daryl lets out a choked sob of pleasure as you nip and suck his earlobe, your gruff command to "cum for me" sending him hurtling over the edge with a loud, desperate cry of your name. His back arches off the couch, his hips bucking up wildly into your hand as his cock erupts in a massive orgasm, thick ropes of cum shooting out and splattering all over his chest and stomach.

His eyes roll back in his head, tears streaming down his face as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him. He's never come so hard in his life, and it feels like it will never end. He writhes beneath you, completely lost in the sensations, his hands tugging desperately at your hair and the couch cushions as he continues to come undone, his moans and cries echoing throughout the room. You stroke him through his orgasm as you lavish attention all over his body with your mouth, the cum that splatters on his chest and abs you lick clean.

Daryl lets out a string of incoherent moans and whimpers as you continue to stroke him through his orgasm, your skilled hand milking him for every last drop of cum. The feeling of your lips lavishing attention all over his body, licking up the come that spilled on his chest and abs, is almost too much for him to handle. He's trembling and shaking uncontrollably, his cock twitching weakly in your hand, and tears streaming down his face from the intensity of his release.

He's never felt so vulnerable, so completely dominated and consumed by someone else. It's a feeling that both terrifies and excites him. As you continue to stroke him, bringing him to the brink of overstimulation, he looks down at you with adoration and devotion, completely under your spell. Once his orgasm subsides you stop stroking him and pull your head up to look at him, licking your lips clean of his cum.

“God you're so damn hot when you come.. and you taste so good.” You say huskily. Daryl's breath hitches as you pull your head up to look at him, licking your lips clean of his cum with a satisfied moan. The sight of you savoring the taste of his cum is almost enough to make him come again right then and there, and his cock gives a feeble twitch in response. He blushes deeply at your praise, feeling both flattered and embarrassed. He's never had anyone talk to him like that before, let alone suck his cum off his abs. He's overwhelmed with desire and need for you, feeling completely claimed and owned in that moment. He reaches up with a trembling hand and brushes a strand of hair out of your face, looking up at you with wide, adoring eyes “Please…”

You smirk. “Please what?” Daryl's breath hitches again at the gruffness of your voice. His cock twitches weakly, starting to harden again despite just having come harder than he ever had in his life. He looks up at you with desperate eyes, feeling a mix of desire, need, and submission wash over him. He wants to please you, wants to do whatever you tell him to do, wants to feel your dominance and control over him again. The words spill out of him in a rush, laced with desperation and desire. “Please.. let me taste myself on your tongue…” You smirk wider and lean in to capture his lips in a slow sensual kiss, letting him taste himself. Daryl moans into the kiss, his hips jerking up against you, his cock rubbing against your stomach, desperate for friction. He can feel himself slipping further and further under your spell, losing himself in the sensations and the feeling of your dominance.

He wants more, wants everything you have to give him, and wants to give you everything in return. He breaks the kiss, panting heavily, and looks up at you with glazed-over eyes, a mix of need and desire etched across his face. "Please…can i suck your cock.. please let me suck it…” Daryl's eyes widen in awe and desire as you remove your pants and reveal your large, perfect, aching cock. It's the most beautiful cock he's ever seen, and he feels his mouth water at the sight of it. He looks up at you with pure adoration and need, his hands moving to your hips, gripping them tightly, like a lifeline. He wants to feel it inside him, wants to choke on it, wants to worship it with his mouth.

He starts to lean forward, his lips parting eagerly, ready to take your cock into his mouth, when suddenly he stops and looks up at you again, his eyes pleading for permission. You nod with a smile, running your hand through his hair. Daryl shudders at the feeling of your hand running through his hair and your encouraging nod. He feels like he's in heaven, getting to pleasure you like this.

He looks down at your cock, takes a deep breath, and wraps his lips around the head, moaning loudly at the taste and feel of it. It's even better than he imagined, thick and heavy on his tongue, with a salty tang that drives him wild. He swirls his tongue around the head a few times, savoring the taste and feel of it, before taking more of it into his mouth, slowly bobbing his head up and down on your length. You moan deeply, your hand tightening in his hair as your head falls back in pleasure. “Fuck..” You groan.

Daryl moans around your cock at the sound of your deep, guttural moan and the feeling of your hand tightening in his hair. The vibrations from his moan send shivers through your body, and he can feel your cock twitch and throb in his mouth. He takes it as a sign to keep going, and starts bobbing his head up and down faster, taking more and more of your length into his throat with each stroke. His eyes flutter shut in pleasure, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breathe around your girthy cock, the taste and feel of it overwhelming his senses. He reaches down and starts stroking his own cock, needing some relief for the ache between his legs. You grab his wrist and shake your head, replacing his hand with your own as you start to stroke it in time with his mouth on your own cock.

Daryl lets out a choked cry of pleasure as you grab his wrist and stop him from touching himself, replacing his hand with your own. The feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking it in time with the bobbing of his head on yours, is almost too much for him to handle. He moans loudly around your cock, his hips jerking up into your hand, desperate for more friction and release. Tears stream down his face, mingling with drool and precum as he looks up at you with adoring, glazed-over eyes, feeling completely consumed by the sensations and your dominance over him.

He starts to hum around your cock, sending vibrations straight to your balls. You moan loudly and grit your teeth as your eyes roll back in pleasure and you continue to stroke him skillfully. Daryl feels a surge of pride and pleasure as your moans grow louder and more guttural, your eyes rolling back in your head in ecstasy. He knows he's doing a good job, and it spurs him on to take your cock even deeper into his throat, determined to make you feel even better. He starts to pick up the pace, bobbing his head up and down your cock with renewed vigor, slurping loudly and messily as he does so. His humming becomes more intense, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your cock and balls, his own cock throbbing and twitching in your hand as you continue to stroke him at a steady pace.

Daryl looks up at you with pleading eyes, wanting to taste your cum so badly it's driving him crazy. He can feel your cock throbbing and twitching in his mouth, taste the salty precum leaking from the tip, and hear the low, guttural sounds escaping your throat. He starts to bob his head up and down even faster, determined to make you cum down his throat. His hand on your hip digs in hard, urging you to cum, his own hips jerking up into your hand as he moans and hums around your cock, his breathing ragged and labored as he struggles to breathe around your girthy length. You gasp and moan deep and gutturally “fuckin christ… oh god… i’m gonna cum” Daryl's eyes light up with excitement and anticipation as you gasp and moan out that you're about to cum. He moans loudly around your cock, the sound muffled and desperate, and starts bobbing his head up and down even faster, his tongue swirling around the head on each upstroke.

He looks up at you with adoring eyes, silently begging you to cum down his throat, his own cock twitching and throbbing in your hand as he hums and slurps around your length, eager to swallow every drop of your load. Daryl can feel your cock start to pulse and throb in his mouth, a sure sign that you're about to explode. He pulls back slightly, taking just the head of your cock into his mouth, and starts sucking on it hard, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping loudly. He flicks his tongue rapidly over your sensitive tip, his hand on your hip squeezing tighter as he looks up at you, ready to swallow everything you give him.

His breathing is ragged and fast, his own cock about to burst from how turned on he is by the situation. Your eyes snap open and you cum immediately with his skilled ministrations. You cum deep in his throat with a loud guttural moan. Daryl's eyes widen in ecstasy as you suddenly cum deep in his throat with a loud, guttural moan. The hot, thick ropes of cum shooting down his throat make him see stars, and he lets out a choked cry of pleasure around your cock. He swallows it all down greedily, his throat working overtime to take your massive load, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breathe and keep up with the onslaught of cum. His own cock erupts in a powerful orgasm in your hand, his cum shooting out in thick spurts all over your fingers and the floor.

Daryl's orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks as you cum down his throat and continue to stroke him through it. His eyes roll back in his head, his body trembling and jerking with the force of his release. His cock twitches and jerks wildly in your hand, painting your fingers and the floor with his cum, a puddle of it forming beneath him. He swallows every last drop of your load, his throat bobbing frantically as he tries to keep up, and when you finally finish cumming, he pulls back, gasping for air, his mouth hanging open and a dazed expression on his face. He's never felt so completely used and dominated in his life, and he loves it. You groan and collapse on the couch, completely blissfully spent. “Fuuck.”

Daryl collapses to his knees, gasping for air and still shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He looks up at you, collapsed on the couch, your cock now limp and spent, and feels a surge of pride and satisfaction. He made you cum that hard. He coughs a few times, his throat raw and sore from taking your massive load, and looks down at the mess he made on the floor, feeling a mix of embarrassment and desire wash over him. He starts to get up to clean it, but his legs are shaking too much. You gently take his wrist and shake your head, pulling him down on top of you and wrapping your arms around him.

“Not now…” Daryl's heart skips a beat as you pull him down on top of you and wrap your arms around him, shaking your head when he tries to get up to clean the mess. He feels a rush of affection and desire flood through him, and he melts into your embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He loves the feeling of being held by you, of being cuddled and comforted after sucking your massive cock and cumming all over the floor. He lays on top of you, listening to your ragged breathing and feeling your strong arms around him, feeling more at peace and content than he ever has in his life.

Daryl buries his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling like he's in heaven. He can feel your cum drying on his face, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is being here with you, cuddling on the couch after you dominated him and gave him the best orgasm of his life. He starts to doze off, feeling completely spent and content, the mess on the floor and his face forgotten for the moment. He mumbles against your neck, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Love you so much…" You smile and nod sleepily “i…I love you too...” You whisper back before falling asleep. Daryl's eyes snap open at your whispered confession, his heart stopping for a moment.

He can't believe what he just heard. You love him too? The words echo in his mind, filling him with an indescribable joy and warmth. He tightens his arms around you, holding you even closer, feeling like he's dreaming. But no, this is real. You just said you love him. He looks up at your face, seeing your closed eyes and relaxed features, and feels tears prickle at the corners of his own eyes. He can't believe his luck, can't believe that after all this time pining for you, you love him back. He buries his face back into your neck, a wide grin spreading across his face, and drifts off to sleep, feeling happier than he ever thought possible.

-

Daryl wakes up the next morning still on top of you, his face buried in your neck, feeling more well-rested and happy than he ever has. For a moment, he forgets about the mess they made the night before, the cum drying on his face, and the fact that you had confessed your love to him. Then he remembers, and his heart starts to race with excitement and anticipation. He looks up at your sleeping face, feeling a surge of affection and desire, and gently kisses your neck, nuzzling his face against it, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of your confession without sounding too eager or hopeful. You groan as you awake from the kiss on your neck and look up at him with a sleepy smile “mornin”

Daryl's heart skips a beat at the sound of your sleepy morning voice and the lazy smile on your face. You look so relaxed and happy, and he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight. He can't help but grin back at you, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. He looks into your eyes, his own filled with hope and excitement, and gently runs his fingers through your messy hair, wanting to savor this moment with you for as long as possible before bringing up the confession. “Mornin’… How did you sleep?” You chuckle gruffly “Fucking amazing.” Daryl feels a shiver run down his spine at the sound of your deep, gruff chuckle and your sleepy response. He loves how rough and sexy your voice sounds in the morning, and he can feel his cock start to harden again at the thought of waking up next to you every day. He chuckles along with you, feeling giddy and elated, and gently rubs your shoulders, trying to keep his cool and not bring up the fact that you told him you loved him right away. “I bet you’re still tired. We were up pretty late last night…” You nod and speak quietly “Yeah I'm beat.”

Daryl melts into your touch as you run your fingers through his hair, feeling like he could purr with contentment. The fact that you're still running your fingers through his hair after you confessed your love to him fills him with hope and affection. He can't help but smile up at you, feeling a mix of tenderness and desire wash over him. He looks into your eyes, seeing the exhaustion there, and feels a pang of guilt for wearing you out so much the night before. But at the same time, he can't bring himself to feel too bad about it. He loved making you feel good and would do it again in a heartbeat. “Well… I should probably let you get back to sleep then..” You shake your head slowly “Nah.. It’s too late… Besides, you look like you have something on your mind”

Daryl's heart races as you shake your head and tell him that you’re already awake. He feels a mix of excitement and nervousness well up inside him as you mention that he looks like he has something on his mind. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself to bring up the subject of your confession. He looks into your eyes, seeing the sleepy yet inquisitive look in them. He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. "I… I wanted to talk to you about something.” You nod and brush some hair away from his face. “What's up?” Daryl's heart skips a beat at your casual gesture, brushing the hair away from his face like it's the most natural thing in the world. He feels his resolve start to crumble as he looks into your sleepy, affectionate eyes, the weight of your confession heavy on his mind. He takes another deep breath, steeling himself once more, and blurts out: "You told me you loved me last night…” You widen my eyes and almost choke on your saliva. “What? I did?” Daryl's own eyes widen in surprise at your response, seeing the shock and confusion on your face. He can tell by your reaction that you don’t remember telling him you loved him.

His heart sinks for a moment, feeling a pang of disappointment and disbelief. How could you not remember something like that? But then he sees the realization dawning on your face, sees the panic and embarrassment starting to set in, and feels a glimmer of hope rise up inside him again. “Shit.. Okay I think I remember.” You say sheepishly with a small smile.

Daryl's heart skips another beat as you sheepishly admit that you think you remember confessing your love to him. The glimmer of hope inside him flares up into a full-blown inferno, and he can feel himself start to tremble with anticipation and excitement. He looks up at you, seeing the sheepish smile on your face, and feels a rush of emotions wash over him. Relief, joy, disbelief, and a whole lot of hope all at once. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself, and grins up at you, feeling like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. "And what do you think it means?” You sigh and cup his face. “It means i love you stupid” You say teasingly. “I love you. I always have, probably as long as you loved me. i just… I was so damn scared of hurting you… but I don't care anymore, I don't want to hurt you and I'm gonna do everything in my power to protect you from any type of hurt, including from me.”

Daryl's heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest at your heartfelt confession, your words and touch sending him into a state of blissful euphoria. He can hardly believe what he's hearing. You love him. And not just that, but you've loved him for a long time, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to protect him, even from yourself. Tears start to spill down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them back, and he lets out a choked sob, burying his face in your neck again, overwhelmed with emotion. You hold him tight against your chest, you both bask in the love for each other, it’s content and in that moment you know that you’ll always love him, and he’s it for you, as much as your it for him. Daryl buries his face in your neck, his tears soaking into your skin as he clings to you like a lifeline. He's never felt so loved, so happy, so fulfilled in his entire life.

The weight of his love for you, the years of pining and hopeless longing, the constant worry and fear of rejection, all melt away in that moment. All that's left is pure, unadulterated love and joy. He knows in his heart that he'll always love you, that you're the only person he's ever loved like this, and that he's never going to let you go. You’re it for him, and as he feels your strong arms around him, holding him close, he knows that you feel the same way. Whatever challenges bring the future doesn’t matter in the moment, only knowing that you both love each other unconditionally right now in this moment is enough.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Daryl Dixon w/ immune reader— 'we're all infected, why does it matter if you're the cure?'

Yandere Daryl saw your scraggly ass aimlessly wandering through the abandoned pharmacy he needed to raid. Walkers, five of em', and you fought them off bare fisted. Pretty badass, and fucking stupid, if Daryl has anything to say about it. You're bleeding from your neck more than any living person should.

A bite. You're bit.

No wonder you could care less if one of the rotting corpses bites on ya.

He wants to put you down like he should. He lines up his crossbow with your head, and like a deer caught in headlights, you flee.

Goddammit all.

Shouldn't matter anyway. You'll become another walker. At the most you got some gauze.

It had to be months again before he saw you on another run. There you are—banged up and just a lil more than skin n' bones, but there you are alive none the less.

Yandere Daryl admits to himself that it's the first time he's been intrigued by someone in a long while. Maybe that's why he's insisted on going on runs by himself these past few months. Maybe just maybe deep down he wanted to see you again.

It isn't hard to simply surprise you from behind and disarm you. He knocks you out and lowers you to the sidewalk. He doesn't see any walkers near, so he can check your wound out easy.

You still have gauze over it, but it has long since needed a change. It's drenched in fresh blood and covered in old. He unwraps it to see the damn bite. He can't tell if it looks better or worse now.

"Poor sap, what am I gonna do with you? Whats good a cure if there's no docs, only greedy men in this world." He tsks.

Yandere Daryl picks you up and carries you back to the group. He wraps a slightly torn shawl around your neck. It's one he found near the store you collapsed at. There's a reason you have been out here all these months.

You could'a just given up and died.

You could'a found a group.

Instead you found him again.

"Must've been fate, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly.

The way you looked at him. You're runnin' from somethin'. He just has to figure out what.

Yandere Daryl decides you're his to take care of. When he carries you into Alexandria, he doesn't let anyone else get their hands on you. He doesn't answer anyone's questions while he walks in and towards his house. He locks himself in and tells anyone that comes by to piss off.

Screw the rules and whatever the fuck.

You're a mystery that he has to solve.

So he grabs a change of clothes and some food for you. He plops them down on the table and sits in the opposite chair.

He doesn't mind waitin' for a while. It gives him plenty o' time to think. Somethin' in him is just stirrin'. He just can't decide what.

Yandere Daryl calms you down after you wake up. You can barely form words on those pretty lips and tongue of yours. Naturally, you question him and his motives. You're defensive and don't elaborate at first.

It takes just a handful of threats about exposing you and spreading around the fact there is an immune person to unravel your need for secrecy.

Somewhat.

You only tell him that you're being hunted by a group you were once with.

"Mind elaborating, hun?" Daryl draws out while looking over your figure for what feels like the thousandth time.

"I'll tell you—but I swear to God if you use this against me I'll stab you through the head a dozen times over."

"Fair nuff."

"They would—If you get bit and are injected with... well, enough of my blood then it acts as a cure..."

They fuckin' what?

Yandere Daryl vouches for you, and you end up in Alexandria. You get no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They assign you to his house. Daryl definitely convinced Rick that since you're a newcomer and you trust him more, he could keep a watchful eye on you. It totally isn't because there's this strange all possessing feeling that keeps latching onto his heart when you're around.

He keeps your secret safe n' sound. He manages to steal enough makeup from rundown stores to keep your healing bite covered up. He makes sure you are eating and getting healthier. He checks up on you before and after he gets done with a run. Hell, he reminds you of shit he forgets about all the time.

This does extend to him killing people to keep you safe. They looked at you wrong. Maybe one of the residents feels suspicious about you. They may even have confronted Daryl and questioned him. Oh, well. Just another one pushed to the biters.

Daryl has never had a strict moral compass. So he doesn't feel bad about murdering people who he is supposed to consider his neighbors.

Of course, those who came with him to Alexandria get the privilege of questionin' you just a bit. He's quick to shut that shit down, though.

Carol is the only one who is close enough to knowing that you are immune. She knows that Daryl has something more than platonic towards you. She also knows that you were injured with something that looked suspiciously like a walker bite mark when Daryl first lugged you in. (She snuck in and looked through your scarf while Daryl wasn't aware.)

She just isn't looking for trouble. She doesn't want to believe it, as it doesn't seem plausible. There have been too many false hopes from the CDC to Eugene.

So she let's Daryl foster his feelings towards you while watching out for you both. If Daryl ever oversteps a boundary with you, Carol will be there to knock him up side the head, call him a stupid redneck, and threaten him in the most motherly way possible. 

Yandere Daryl never saw you have so much terror in the eyes as the day he mentioned The Saviors. It clicked in his mind immediately. He has only felt that rage one other time in his life: when he learned Meryl had been handcuffed to the roof and left for dead.

He didn't think, but he acted. He held you and refused to let go. It's just so fuckin' unfair. He loses everyone that has a semblance of importance to him. Not you. Not this time.

His only thought was that he was going to burn every one of those fuckers to the ground—innocent or not.

[mitzukiyapping]

YN: This really didn't go as planned..

Daryl: Is it the fact that everything is on fire that made you come to that conclusion?

[river13245]

Anniversary Present

Navigation / Main Masterlist / TWD Masterlist

Word count: 3k

Warnings : virgin reader!, Smut, and two people being in love

Author note: This was made with a FTM reader in mind but GN! reader is also great too! This is my first time ever writing smut cause im just getting comfortable with doing it. So go easy on my loves. (not proof read yet)

--------------

Daryl Dixon was a man of very few words. He wasn't very vocal about things unless he was pissed then its the most you would ever hear that man speak. It never bothered you because you talked enough for the both of you.

However despite the fact he didn't talk much. You knew exactly what he was thinking, and how he was thinking. He would become stiff and cross his arms when he's pissed. Make a little face when he was deep in thought. When he was happy he would have this smile that made your heart ache. Daryl was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Not many people understood him, or took the time too. Daryl kept his circle of friends small and sometimes had a hard time with making them feel appreciated but he did it in small ways. He would watch Carl and hold Judith, Make sure that Carol was always safe whenever she came back from somewhere.

Then when it came to you he would always keep you close. He wouldn't be super touchy in front of everyone. Usually keeping that in private, however he would hold your hand when you two went hunting together. Or kiss the top of your head before having to separate from you for a bit. He loves a good hug too, whenever you would come back from a trip the two of you would automatically go to each other. No matter how bloody or dirty you were, it never seemed to bother him.

Daryl was a good boyfriend, a great one. In fact in the beginning of your relationship. You had told him you didn't want sex, it was just something you had never felt for someone before. He was so supportive and said that he himself didn't feel the need to do it alot. So he had never pressured you into anything. Always making sure you felt loved in other ways.

Its been almost a year into the relationship now. Your anniversary is coming up and you had been wanting to take the relationship to the next level. You had never felt this attracted or loved by someone in your entire life and for the first time in your life. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend.

The easy thing was accepting the fact that you were ready, the hard part was getting Daryl into realizing that. Without coming right out and saying it. So you decided the week leading up to your anniversary you would tease him a bit and throw hints his way and if he didnt pick up on them. Then on your anniversary you would be bold and tell him.

------

Throughout the week you had touched him more than you normally did. The two of you had been attending this group gathering and instead of just holding his hand your hand rested on his arm. Then when you had to leave him you grabbed ahold of his tie and pulled him into a kiss before slowly pulling away from him to go and talk to Maggie who needed your assistance. You left him there as he blushed and had to recollect his thoughts while Rick chuckled.

You even went as far as to make plans with him. He would teach you how to use a bow and arrow. So when he was behind you helping you with your stance, you moved your body right up against his. The only reaction you got from him was a sharp inhale of breath and his hand that was on your waist tightened. "keep your body still and focus on your target" he said as calmly as he could manage.

After about a week of this it was finally your anniversary. He had not caught on to what you wanted. Just thinking you were teasing him and joking around, never really taking you serious enough. Carol had even teased him about it and to which he just told her to shut up with a roll of his eyes.

He was always respectful of you, not wanting to do anything our of your comfort zone so he didn't try to pursue you in that way. However tonight you had a special gift for him.

When you woke up this morning Daryl had been gone. At first you thought he was downstairs but when you seen his boots by the door and crossbow were gone, you knew he was out hunting or on a quick run. So it gave you time to fully plan out exactly what you were going to do.

Walking back into your bedroom you go to your dresser and decide on an outfit to wear. Deciding to wear a button down dark green shirt that showed off your toned arms and black pants that would pair well with your shirt. Then when you finish getting ready you grab a box from under your bed and open it. Revealing a book you had found on one of your own solo trips, one that you were going to gift your boyfriend when you two have your date tonight.

You put the box away and spend most of your day cleaning up the house. Then making his favorite dinner and setting the table, leaving a few candles lit around the house.

By the time everything was ready you heard heavy steps in front of the door and your boyfriend walks in. You look over at him as you take a sip of your water. He turns and looks around seeing the house had been nicely decorated and a smile forms on his face before turning to look at you.

When he looks at you your eyes meet and you swear your legs turn to jello. "Happy one year Daryl" you say and he quickly takes off his boots and opens up his bag. He then pulls out bracelet and a stuffed animal that was an otter. "one year down. Many more to come" He says and you walk up to him taking the gifts in your hands and leaning up and kissing his lips. "Is this were you went? To find something for me?" Daryl nods "I couldn't come empty handed, Carol would have yelled at me" This causes the both of you to laugh.

"thank you" You look over to the table before going up to your room. "sit down and get comfortable. Ill give you your gift after" He does exactly that and waits for you to come down and sit in front of him before starting to eat. As the two of you eat there's a comfortable silence, you two never really talked while sharing a meal. Didn't bother you because you loved the time shared with him.

Once the meal was finished he takes a sip of his drink and looks over at you. "this was very good, thank you" He says as he gets up and begins to clean up everything. "I'm glad I have enough cooking skill to not burn the place down" you joke as you get up and walk over to him in the kitchen. When the two of you finish cleaning up everything you place your hand on his arm "come to the bedroom with me. You need to recieve your gifts"

He nods and walks after you until you get to the room. When you get over to the bed he stands and runs his hand through his hair pushing it back a bit our of nervousness. He wasn't exactly used to receiving gifts but if it came from you, he would make an exception. You grab the box from under your bed and place it on top of the bed. "Damn y/n what you got in there?" he jokes a little and you laugh "just a few things. You will see soon enough"

Daryl stands and when you reach for the book you turn to look at him. "shut your eyes" He looks at you with an -are you kidding- kinda look and when you nod his eyes close. Then you grab the book and walk up to him. You grab his hands and place it on the book and then watch as he opens his eyes.

When he notices its a book he is confused for a moment before flipping it around and reading the title. His hands start to shake a bit and looks up at you with a heartfelt smile. "where did you find this?" he asks as he runs his finger against the spine of the book. This causes you to look into his eyes again "That solo trip I took that ended up being almost two weeks long. I found it and remembered you saying your mom used to read it to you when you were young. You deserve something that reminds you of the good parts of your past"

Instead of a response he places the book on the bedside table. Then places one of his hands on your waist and pulls you into a kiss. Your arms wrap around his shoulders pulling him against you. His rough chapped lips pressed up against your softer ones felt amazing. Your hands move to his hair and when he pulls away his forehead rests against yours. "thank you for the gift" there's a silence for a moment before he places his other hand on the side of your face and look down at you. "I love you"

Those three words made your heart race. Of course you both have said it before but its not as often as you would think. "i love you too" you say before kissing his cheek. Then when you pull back and look at him, your hand going to push his hair away from his face. "I have another gift for you. One that i'm nervous about but I hope you will like"

Daryl looks confused "Im sure I will like it, why are you nervous?" His voice is quiet as if he didnt want you to be startled. You take a deep breath and bring your hand to rest against his chest. "I want to make love to you" you say as you look up into his eyes. His reaction is delayed because it didn't register in his mind but when it does he places both hands on your waist. "you sure?" You nod and kiss his lips "just go slow and gentle with me. Its my first time and im a bit nervous"

His hand goes to the back of your head and kisses your lips and then they travel to your jaw. "I wouldn't hurt ya" he says and you bring your hands to the bottom of his shirt and begin to lift his shirt up off him. His arms lifting up and then tossing his shirt to the side somewhere in the room. Then his hands begin to unbutton your shirt slowly before tossing your shirt somewhere. He begins to kiss your neck before pushing you back to the bed. Your knees hit the bed and you sit in front of him.

He looks down at you for a moment before grabbing your jaw and tilting your face up to kiss you. When he pulls away he gets on his knees in front of you. "lay back gotta get these pants off ya" a blush forms on your face but you nod. Your back lays on the soft mattress and he begins to unbutton your pants and you lift your hips so he can slide them off. Once you were fully exposed in front of him he grabs your legs and spreads them. "are you sure you want to do this?" you ask him in a quiet voice and he looks at you. "course I do. Why wouldnt I?"

It takes a moment for you to respond "well I know some guys prefer not to do it. You know..I just didn't want you to feel like you needed to do it" He squeezes your thighs and shakes his head. "you are beautiful. I want to do this for you, let me take care of ya alright?" You nod and he holds your legs apart as he presses his lips to your inner thighs.

Its like he's teasing you because he's pressing his lips everywhere. Except where you need him, your breath is already heavier from the growing feeling of want for him. "Daryl...please" you whimper out and he brings his lips around your clit and suck for a moment before licking up between your lips. Your body squirms a bit before he begins to please you with his tongue.

Moans escape from you as your head tilts back against the mattress and your hands go to the back of his head and pull his hair gently. This earns you a grunt from him as his eyes shut. "fuck Daryl" you moan out. When he pulls his mouth away a whine escapes you and you blush from how needy you sound. But its soon replaced by one of his fingers pushing into you. It slides in pretty comfortably from how wet you are and a moan escapes you. He lets you get used to the feeling of his thick finger inside of you before adding another and brings his mouth back to your clit.

Your back arches from the bed at the feeling. Your hands grip onto the sheets under you. This feeling was nothing you had ever felt before, of course you had touched yourself before but it had never felt like this. He picks up the pace once you begin to move your body and when you feel a tightness in your body your eyes squeeze shut. "fuck im going to cum" he groans against your clit and it sends a vibration through you and that's all it took for you to come undone.

When you cum he licks up everything that he can and even brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks your juices from his fingers and as you watch him do this. It turns you on even more and you lean up and pull him on top of you into a kiss. A grunt if heard from him as he kisses you.

It doesn't take long before his pants are off him and hes naked on top of you. The size of him catches you off guard, of course you knew the man wasn't going to be small but its thick and you honestly wonder if its going to fit. He catches you staring and he grabs your hand and kisses it "If you want this. I promise to go slow, just tell me if you need me to stop at any time and ill stop"

He was always wanting to take care of you and you lean up to kiss him. "i will, all I know right now is I need you" a blush forms on his face as he nods and brings his hands to your legs and spreads them apart. When he lines his dick up to you his eyes meet yours "breathe and relax for me hun" You nod and take a few breaths and when he begins to move into you its a slow movement but you feel the way you stretch around him. Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a moan. Daryl's hands roam up and down your legs. "its okay, ive got ya, i'm right ere"

When your body gets used to the feeling of him you reach up to pull him into another kiss. Your legs wrapping around his waist "move please." At your words he pulls out and then thrusts into you, moans now leaving both of you. "fuck you're so tight" he says as he thrusts into you. Your back arching from the bed as Daryl kisses your chest, his lips sucking and teeth biting you gently. "fuck Daryl you feel so good. Please don't stop" Your body begins to move in time to his thrusts which makes the both of you go at a faster pace.

The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, your loud moans. You were glad that you had a house further away from anyone's or you were sure the two of you would have been heard. His hands stayed on your hips and thighs unless he brought his thumb to circle your clit. and when he did that your eyes squeezed shut at the added pleasure. "Daryl..fuck....not gonna last much longer" He doesn't stop his movements and instead goes faster.

It doesn't take much longer than that before you cum. Your cum coats his dick and when you tilt your head back he thrusts only a few more times before he pulls out and he cums all over your stomach. He then lays beside you his body collapsing onto the bed as he catches his breath.

You reach for his hand and squeeze it as your eyes close. You only open them when you feel him get up from the bed. "where you going?" you thought he was leaving but he wasn't. "i'm going to take care of you." he goes to the bathroom and gets a washcloth wet before coming back over to you and cleaning you up. He is so gentle with you the whole time and when he is finished he lays beside you and you pull him against you. His head rests on your chest, your fingers running through his hair.

A soft laugh escapes you and he squeezes your hip. "what's so funny?" he asks as you continue to touch him. "Just thinking about how vocal and loud you were. Its probably the loudest i've ever heard you" A blush forms on his face and he rolls his eyes. "yeah yeah, enjoy it cause yer the only one that gets to hear me like that"

This causes you to kiss the top of his head. "mhm I like the sound of that. I love you and thank you for doing this with me" He hovers on top of you and kisses your lips. "thank you for trusting me enough to be the one that got to do this with you. I love you too"

That night the both of you fell asleep on top of one another. Only waking up when Carol started banging on the door. Telling you to get up for patrol with her. She ended up seeing the marks on your neck and when she made a comment Daryl stayed quiet with a small blush. it caused you to laugh.

[dietothemusic]

PLEASE someone give me a Daryl Dixon x blackoc/black reader or a Daryl Dixon x poc!reader/oc!! There are barely any stories with him and a person of color especially a black person. I’m not talking about just female but for male and gender neutral. I just feel like it would create a great fanfic. I know I can’t be the only one thinking this!

Thanks for reading my rant!

[sleep-0-deprived]

Daryl Dixon NSFW hcs please? (yummy)😋

Daryl Dixon with a Male S/O nsfw head-cannons

Sorry if this is short or it isn’t well written and about the delay, anyway I hope you enjoy it :D

Female aligned dni, 18+ only mdni

Daryl is the type of man to be more plain vanilla besides being into man handling you and a slight thing for breeding he doesn’t use toys on you he prefers to be the cause or your orgasms and he knows how to give them

Loves to tease the head of your cock to the point it’s leaking and red, he traces his index finger smearing the pre cum across the tip making it all puffy before he will even stroke you or put you in his Mouth

When he fucks you he will start slow making sure your comfortable but then switch up to a rough and sharp pace pressing your prostate with each thrust, he goes at a deeper than faster pace with you enjoying how your eyes roll when he hits that one spot against your prostate over and over again

His favorite position is mating press because he can see the look on your face as he fucks you but he loves it when you tug and pull his hair, this man will shove his face against your chest when fucking you whether you have a flat chest or pecs he doesn’t care he loves hearing you whine when he teases your sensitive buds

When you suck him off he likes smearing his pre cum on your bottom lip watching as you lick the tip teasingly and take the head making his eyes roll back and rigid grunts leave his mouth once you swirl your tongue on his tip licking the vein up the side as he grips your head fucking your face and bobbing your head up and down on him until he cums in your mouth or on your face. He loves cumming in your mouth and watching the cum run down your chin as you struggle to swallow it all

[janiehellion]

𝚴𝐞𝐰 𝚩𝐥𝛐𝛐𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝚨𝐧 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝚸𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: The quietest souls have the loudest hearts, and you just found yourself staring at the sky—wondering if Daryl Dixon might be the one to make the stars in the night feel a little closer and less out of reach.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Selective Mutism ⋮ Fluff ⋮ Mild Angst ⋮ Canon Divergence

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.515 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: LATE S9 & EARLY S10 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: GenderNeutral!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

You’d always been the quiet type, even before the world fell apart. Silence wasn’t something that scared you; it was where you felt most at home. And it made survival easier too. The less noise you made, the harder it was for anyone—dead or alive—to find you.

But the sudden loss of your voice wasn’t something that had happened overnight, and it wasn’t a head injury either. No, it came quietly, over time, like a shadow that only grew darker.

You’d always had a voice—loud and clear. You’d argued with friends, laughed at the dumbest jokes, and sang along to songs so loud just to annoy people in a karaoke bar alongside your friends.

You had a life.

But then, just a few weeks before the world ended, you started to notice it. At first, you brushed it off—just a little hoarseness, maybe a harmless cold. Then, when you tried to speak like you used to, nothing came out. Not even a whisper.

The feeling was like swallowing a stone, with you choking on the problem to get the words out. The doctors couldn’t explain it at first. They said it could be stress-related, maybe an anxiety disorder and coming from trauma. They called it selective mutism in adulthood, but that didn’t help you feel any better about the situation.

You could still speak, technically, since your vocal cords weren’t damaged. But when you tried to speak, it felt like something in your brain held your voice hostage. It would just come out weak.

In moments when you were alone, you could speak freely, but it wasn’t as perfect as you wanted it to be. Your voice trembled like it wasn’t used to its own sound. Still… it was there. But around other people? You just couldn’t use it anymore.

And the silence became more than just silence—it became a prison between you and the world.

In the final days before the world ended, you stopped trying completely. The fear of trying to speak only to fail took its toll. So, you leaned into it. It was easier. You could still communicate, just not with words. You had learned sign language before, but now it was something that felt more like a lifeline than a language at times.

Even after the world fell apart, after the deaths and all the losses during all those years, you still clung to being quiet. It was safer that way. It just kept the world's horrors far enough from you.

But sometimes, late at night, when you found yourself alone with your thoughts, your voice would slip through, quiet and unsure, with nobody else but the stars in the sky around to listen.

When you crossed paths with Magna’s group, you’d been alone for so long that trying to talk again seemed almost foreign. But Connie understood that without you ever having to say a thing. She figured you out right away and never tried to get you to talk; she never pushed you toward expectations.

When you met, she just looked at you and raised her hands to start signing. She’d seen right through you, understanding that your silence wasn’t a weakness. For you, it became like a secret language, something shared between survivors who didn’t need words to know how to hold each other up.

In a way, it felt good—like being given permission to go back to silence, but without the loneliness that had followed you for so long. The group simply took you in and accepted you without any restraint.

Magna was a bit hesitant about you, but you caught the looks she’d exchanged with Connie when it came to you. Kelly, on the other hand, was curious from the start, even though she held back her questions. Luke was kinder than he had any right to be, filling in all the gaps that words used to with music. And Yumiko—well, she kept her distance at first but always nodded in respect whenever you shared a knowing glance.

For once, you didn’t feel like a liability just because you weren’t talking about every thought that crossed your mind. You found friends within them. Maybe it was Connie’s warm smiles or Kelly’s easy acceptance. Or maybe it was the way they didn’t stare too long when you used your hands instead of your voice—how they gave you room to be silent without feeling the need to fill it.

There was a safety in it—an invisibility that let you see things without being seen yourself. The new world was loud enough; you didn’t need to add to the noise. Besides, words were like a last resort. Hand signs and body language could fill in the rest.

And so the days in the new world passed by. The old one had ended, and with it, so many things you had once known. But your silence remained, and you thought it would always be that way.

Until one night changed everything.

The first time you saw Hilltop, it felt like a miracle—a place that actually looked like it could hold the world at bay. People worked the fields, tended to livestock, and repaired anything that needed to be repaired. It was almost overwhelming—the noise and the life.

Your eyes wandered, taking in everything. Connie nudged you once, signing quickly, "Are you okay?"

"Just watching," you signed back and nodded, quick enough to not draw attention. She gave you a thumbs-up and returned to whatever was happening around you.

That’s when you noticed him.

You held your ground under his stare, tilting your head slightly as if to say, "What are you looking at?"

He didn’t answer, of course, just turned back to the person he’d been talking to. His crossbow was slung over one shoulder, the weapon looking as much a part of him as his worn leather vest. He seemed like the kind of man who belonged in this world—strong, observant, and… silent.

Connie followed your eyes and smirked. She signed quickly. "That’s Daryl Dixon. Quiet, almost like you. You’ll like him."

You rolled your eyes, but a part of you wondered if she was right.

To say Daryl was wary would be an understatement. You’d watched him from a distance at first, both of you not interested in any kind of interaction at all.

But over time, it changed. Maybe it was because he saw the way you signed with Connie, or maybe he just figured he’d get more out of you by observing.

At first, it was small things. Daryl would catch you signing something to Connie—a quick exchange about the day, a comment on the weather—and his brow would furrow like he was trying to decipher a code. He didn’t do anything, not right away, but you noticed how his eyes looked at your hands more often.

He was practicing off to the side when he thought no one was looking, his fingers stiff and awkward as he tried to do a hand sign he’d seen. Once, you caught him fumbling through what looked like 'hello' and 'thank you' with some kind of concentration that might’ve been funny if it weren’t so earnest.

Sometimes, you’d sign something small—'Good morning.' or 'How are you?'—just to break the silence, and he’d respond in kind, while you’d answer with a nod or a slight smile, just enough to let him know he didn’t have to worry.

But he stuck with learning it, stubbornly repeating each sign until he got it right.

And when he finally worked up the nerve to really use it? Well, it didn’t go as smoothly as he had planned.

He approached you one afternoon, just as you were sitting down with Connie once more. He looked between the two of you, then at his hands with a bit of panic. Slowly and unsure, he signed, "Ya… okay?"

Connie held back a grin as she nudged you. You smiled, nodding at him before replying, "Yes. And you?"

The look on his face changed—relief, but still with a bit of embarrassment. "Good," he signed, then quickly ducked his head and whispered to himself, "'M still learnin’ for ya…"

But Connie wasn’t going to let him go just like that. She leaned over, her hands moving fast. "Not bad. But maybe do it even slower the next time?"

Daryl just scoffed in response, but he kept at it. His signs grew smoother over time, less clumsy, and much more confident. He’d even started picking up on the little things—how you’d tap your fingers when you were nervous or how Connie’s signs slowed when she was tired.

It wasn’t perfect, but something. And you couldn’t help but notice how often his eyes found yours during those quiet moments, like he was searching for something in the silence you shared.

And that’s how things were—a wordless connection that nobody questioned.

As the months passed by, helping with farming became your hobby. There was something relaxing about it—the rows of crops and the people working. You weren’t much of a farmer yourself, not yet, but sitting next to the fields, watching, or lending a hand when someone needed it, gave you something you hadn’t felt in years.

Sometimes, you just needed to be near it—something that grew, something that reminded you of life’s persistence, even in the darkest of times. The fields, the plants, the insects, and the small living things—they gave you a sense of belonging you couldn’t quite explain.

And Daryl? He started showing up more regularly, his eyes staying less on the dirt and more on you. He’d make little comments about the crops to himself or sign quick questions to you about what you were doing.

You found yourself signing more as well, explaining things through gestures and expressions, and he watched you like he was trying to remember every movement of your hands and fingers. Occasionally, he’d try to sign back something new he learned.

"Yer patient," he signed, seemingly out of nowhere. "With me."

You glanced at him in return, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Teachin’ me," he clarified, quickly scratching the back of his neck. "Most woulda given up by now."

You shrugged with a small smile in response. "You’re trying," you answered. "But you understand me just fine. And effort matters, too… even with your heavy accent."

He didn’t respond right away; he just ducked his head away and went back to work, but you saw the tiniest bit of a smirk before he did.

With him, the quiet moments started to feel… different.

By the end of the latest day, after almost everyone else in Hilltop was already asleep, you were still there, with Daryl, but now too lost in the way the stars twinkled in the night sky.

He had an uncomfortable look about him—the one that said, 'I’m not good at this, but I’m here.'

Daryl hesitated, sitting a few feet away, not sure whether to just hang back or leave. His eyes looked between you and the sky, clearly uncomfortable but trying not to show it.

"Ya… uh, ya do this a lot?" He asked after tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

You gestured back, "Sometimes. Have you never noticed before? I mean, it's… It's peaceful, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Peaceful," he signed back, his fingers shaking a little. "I get it. Don’ get a lotta quiet no more." He sat down closer to you without asking, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body beside you, but not too close.

The first two hours passed by, and when the stars began to shine brighter through the cloudy sky, you caught him looking upward.

You nudged him gently, signing. "Pretty, huh?"

He only shrugged. "Ain’t seen ‘em like this in a while. Too much runnin’ 'round, I guess."

You smiled, and the time stretched on, but it wasn’t awkward—it was relaxing. Soon the wind picked up, the breeze feeling colder, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

But Daryl noticed immediately. He moved behind you, pulling off his vest with a gruff. "Here. Take it."

You blinked at him, shaking your head and gesturing back quickly. "No. You’ll get cold."

He snorted, putting the vest on your lap stubbornly. "Don’ matter. Ain’t much colder’n usual for me."

You hesitated before reluctantly taking the vest and slipping it on. It was warm and quite soft, with the smell of leather and something distinctly Daryl Dixon clinging to it.

"Big on me," you signed, smiling at him before watching the clouds in the sky pass by.

He smirked to himself, looking away as if he didn't want you to know what he was thinking. "Looks better on ya anyway…"

The stars above seemed brighter somehow, and without thinking, you leaned closer to him, your shoulder touching his.

He froze for a second before relaxing, his eyes looking toward you in confusion. "Ya alright?"

"Feeling cozy already," you nodded, lifting your fingers to answer. "You know… it’s strange how big the world feels."

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, looking upward before signing back to you. "Big 'nough to make ya feel like nothin’, huh?"

"No, not nothing," you signed, shaking your head. "Small? Yeah, maybe. But not nothing."

He grunted and smirked, though his expression stayed guarded as he signed further. "Suppose so. Don’ mean it’s a bad thing, bein’ small. Keeps ya humble. Like—hell, I ain’t out here thinkin’ I’m bigger’n the stars or nothin’. That’d jus' be so damn stupid."

You bit back a grin, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. If anything, it felt right—sitting close to him and just signing along. But when another shiver went through you, it startled him out of whatever thought had his attention.

He reached out awkwardly, his hand stopping near your shoulder before pulling back to sign, since he wasn't aware of the fact you could actually listen to him, after all. "Ya still cold?"

You nodded. "A little. But I have this." You tugged at his vest, smirking a bit.

The next few minutes passed slowly, his hand touching your arm every now and then before retreating like he didn’t trust himself and thinking he might do something wrong.

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but something in his touch—or lack of it—had you leaning into him. But when you moved to sit sideways on his lap out of nowhere, his whole body stiffened like he’d just stepped into a trap, even though he didn’t push you away.

"Sharing warmth," you signed with an innocent tilt of your head, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Daryl flinched beneath you, his hands moving around like he couldn’t decide where they were supposed to go, but one finally moved near your hips.

You smiled at his reaction. "It’s okay if you don’t know what to do. I don’t, either. Believe me."

That seemed to take some of the nervousness away from him. "Ain’t that the truth? World’s gone to shit, and here we are, tryin’ to figure out how to… y’know." He gestured vaguely in front of your face.

"Be human?" You signed back, your hands moving slowly and thoughtfully.

"Yeah," he responded. "S’pose we’re doin’ fine, though. Least, I think we are."

You tilted your head to the side to look at him in the faint moonlight. He looked… softer like this. As if he was opening up in a way you never saw, and it made your heart race.

His hands brushed along your shoulder in a quick, almost hesitant motion before he brought them up again. "Ya good now? Feelin' better n' warmer?"

"Yes, I feel good," you signed, your hands moving slowly as if the moment might be destroyed if you rushed. "You make me feel… safe."

Daryl's Adam's apple bobbed hard as he swallowed, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away for sure. Instead, he just pulled you a little closer, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

"Safe’s good," he mumbled to himself. "Safe’s good. 'N stars ain’t got nothin’ on feelin' safe."

"But I still think it's strange how small we are," you signed further, your fingers lingering in the air like a painter in front of their work. "How small one can feel in this world."

"Y’ain’t small," he answered with his hands in front of your face again. "Ain’t like we’re jus', dunno… some kinda insect out here. Maybe this world’s gone to hell, but yer… bigger’n that, I guess."

You smiled, your fingers moving quickly. "And you’re not exactly a philosopher, Daryl Dixon."

He snorted at that, shaking his head. "Yeah, well… don’ needa be. 'S jus' the truth."

You shivered again, the cold breeze leaving goosebumps on your skin, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed.

"And ya still freezin'," he signed, almost accusingly, as if you hadn’t already borrowed his vest. You tilted your head, your face making it clear that the wind wasn't the only thing making you tremble.

Daryl shifted a bit, pulling his vest more tightly around your shoulders. His hands grabbed the edges of it, tugging it so it covered your chest better. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but instead, he exhaled sharply through his nose before he looked down, one of his hands twitching before moving to touch your knee.

"Damn wind," Daryl mumbled. "Can’t believe ya let it get ya like this..."

The way he said it wasn’t angry. It sounded more frustrated, like he blamed himself more than anything else as his thumb brushed over your knee, his fingers digging into your pants just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"Shit," he growled quietly, his other hand soon moving to grab your hips as if he were trying to ground himself before he leaned his head in closer. His nose touched your temple and went lower, brushing along your jawline. But Daryl didn't stop there; his lips pressed gently against your pulse point, staying there as if he wanted to remember the feel of your skin against himself all of a sudden.

"Smellin' so good… like somethin’ I don’ deserve," he whispered to himself as his hand tightened on your hips."Too close… Too close…" he growled, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Instead, he pulled you in, but only just enough, like he didn’t trust himself to go any further. "Can’t… Can’t be that close. Shouldn' be."

The muscles in his arm were twitching as if he were afraid you might slip away—afraid that if he let go, you'd disappear. He was trying to memorize it—to memorize you—trying to hold on without breaking anything inside himself.

"Why ya makin' me… feel like that?"

And then—without any warning—his tongue was dragging itself across your throat. It was slow as if he couldn’t get enough, and the feeling was almost overwhelming, like he was marking you with every slide of his tongue, each lick a little longer than the last.

His hand slid further up your back, his fingers digging into his vest around your body as if trying to pull you even closer, but his mouth never left your neck. He growled, and when he got to the curve of your jaw, he couldn’t resist—his teeth scraped against your skin, just enough to make you shiver.

"Fuckin’ hell," he growled again, but his lips never stopped moving over your skin. It was as if he needed to feel you against him, closer than close, just to make sure you were really there.

"Goddamn…" Daryl's voice cracked slightly, and you swore you felt his whole body trembling even more as he pressed closer, burying his face in the crook of your now slightly wet neck.

You wanted to sign something to him, anything, but the way his lips then moved along the curve of your neck instead of his tongue stole the thoughts right out of your mind. His nose nudged closer, and you could swear you felt him inhale deeply, his stubble brushing softly against your skin.

It was tender like a breeze but rough as a storm—the kind of closeness that set your nerves on fire and each cell ablaze.

Daryl leaned back slightly, letting you sit more fully in his lap, and the quiet groan that came out of his mouth when you adjusted your weight made your heart race and sent it into overdrive. His forehead came to rest against your cheek for a moment, his breathing uneven as if he was about to melt, his eyes half-lidded as they took you in.

His hands felt as if they were everywhere—on your back, your hips, your face—but you couldn’t focus on anything except the way he was looking at you like he was starving.

Before you could even react, Daryl's teeth sank into your shoulder, hard enough to make you wince at the soft pain, but not enough to hurt you. His mouth followed the mark he made, soothing it with his tongue before, gentle and wordlessly, his lips found your cheek.

It was slow at first, almost shy when he nudged you with his nose several times, pressing quick kisses to your cheek. But when you didn't pull away, he deepened it, his lips kissing your face with some kind of desperation that’s been building for far too long.

His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping you close to him, while his other hand still held on to your knees, holding you close enough to feel every shudder of his breath before burying his face against you again.

"Need ya…" He growled quiet and roughly against your throat, his voice hoarse, like he was trying to communicate through his actions rather than words, as if he couldn’t control himself anymore.

You leaned into him, your fingers grabbing and holding onto his shirt as he kissed his way back up to the corner of your mouth.

"Don’ lemme stop… 'cause I ain’t sure I can," he whispered, his voice soft and his eyes closed like he was trying to shut out the world and focus on the feeling of you being so close.

You could feel the way he was fighting himself, like there was a battle going on somewhere deep inside of him. It was like he was waiting for some sort of permission—while waiting to see if you’d still push him away.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching his chin, then moving down to his neck, feeling the shiver of his body beneath your touch. You didn’t rush, didn’t try to close the distance too fast. You just let the silence take a hold of time, letting him process, letting him come to terms with whatever was going on in his head.

When you finally moved, it wasn’t forceful or harsh. You tilted your head slightly, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. He froze—completely still, like the whole world had stopped.

It wasn’t the shock kind of freeze. It wasn’t fear, or panic. It was the kind that came when someone was trying to hold on to something which could break at any time, unsure if they should let go of the fragile moment. And Daryl was still fighting, still unsure. But when you didn’t pull back, when you stayed close, he let himself relax.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first. His lips barely pressed against yours, as if testing. But then, when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you a little deeper, a little more sure. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. It was gentle—sweet, like he was giving you all the time in the world to back away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

When you pulled back, his eyes looked into yours—wide, almost like he couldn’t believe it had happened. "Uh… I, uh…" He stammered, while caught somewhere between disbelief and relief.

Neither of you signed a word, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a lonely and dark place after all.

Daryl soon broke the silence, speaking more to himself than to you as he looked up at the sky. "New blood in an old place…"

You stopped breathing for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as you listened to him. It wasn’t a question, just a statement—a realization like the stars had aligned at that very moment.

New blood in an old place.

It could have meant many things, but as you let it sink in, you realized it’s his way of talking about you—about the way you’ve come into this world, this place. You were different from the ones who’ve weathered here, those who’ve learned how to survive in the rain.

Maybe you were a spark—untouched by the bitterness of a storm cloud that never really went away until now. At least… for him. It was like Daryl was seeing you in a different light that shined brighter like the stars in the night.

You leaned in slightly, a little nervous, but you finally spoke—really spoke. "Maybe it's not about being new. Maybe it's just about finding somewhere that feels… like it could be home."

Daryl’s eyes went wide. He stared at you as if he hadn’t fully processed the fact that you’d spoken—that you had actually spoken.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parted in shock. "Did ya jus'—" He stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "Yer… talkin’?"

You could feel the way his hands trembled, his eyes staring at you like he was afraid to blink.

"Say my name," he demanded, cupping your face and looking into your eyes. "Say… my name."

You hesitated, your stopping for a second before the word came out nervously. "Daryl..."

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite understand. "Jus'... say it again."

You swallowed hard, the sound of your own voice feeling not so foreign anymore with his name on your lips. "Daryl."

He didn’t say anything further. He just held you, now both his arms wrapped around you like he needed to keep you there to believe it was real.

And then, in that same instant, he leaned forward, one hand grabbing your chin, but this time with a bit more force. His lips found yours again, rougher this time, but still full of that same sweetness, like he was trying to devour you. His tongue slipped into your mouth—not slowly, not careful, just all-consuming.

It was a warning, as if he was reminding you—he wasn’t letting you go—he was marking you, claiming you. It was a kiss that spoke for him without saying any words at all, a kiss that told you that you weren’t just new blood anymore—you were a part of this place, and of him.

The world still seemed dark around you, but with him at your side and bright stars up in the sky, it didn’t seem quite as impossible to face those shadows anymore.

You were new blood—but you were home.

[thewalkingdilf]

sub daryl getting edged OR edging himself PLS SOMEONE WRITE IT AND MAKE THIS HAPPEN FOR ME !!