Beth 🪽✨️

Daryl burst through the door of the grocery store that had most likely been barricaded when everything fell down. Debris swiftly moved through the air as he stepped inside. The scattered cans and empty shelves told Daryl exactly how long this place had been abandoned.

He searched the aisles, looking for anything that had 'baby' on it. Judith was just a month old now, and supplies weren't exactly plentiful inside the prison that the group was staying in for the time being.

Except, Daryl stared at the different kinds of baby items with a blank face. He had no clue what babies needed. He'd never had any children of his own.

Up until now, he'd thought the store was empty. Empty enough that he didn't need to clear it.

That was his mistake.

Shuffling from the next aisle over made his ears work in overdrive to hear who or what that was. He set down the cans of food he was holding and replaced them with his crossbow, raising it to take aim.

"Gonna come out or are ya' just gonna stalk me?" Daryl called out to the mystery person. The fact that growling hadn't immediately followed his words told him that this was a person.

Which made the situation all the more precarious.

With a deep sigh, you stepped out into the aisle with your hands raised. Fuck it. If you were going to get killed, at least you had a full stomach for once.

But to your surprise, the pain never came, and the man just stood there with his crossbow aimed right at your face.

In his bag, you could see baby formula sticking out. There it was, a foot in the door.

If you could help him out, maybe he'd let you go without killing you.

"How old?" You mumbled.

"What?" Daryl exhaled, and his crossbow wavered slightly, aimed squarely at your forehead.

"How old is your baby?" You spoke more firmly, words separated by short pauses to emphasize. Daryl let your harshness slide for now. This world could turn the sweetest soul into a hardened shell of a person.

"It ain't mine." Daryl started speaking.

"And I didn't ask you if it was. Do you want my help or not?" The man's eyes narrowed at you, almost in disbelief that you would help him when he had a weapon aimed right at you.

What were you playing at?

Because even Daryl would admit that if he were the one at the end of the crossbow, he probably wouldn't give a damn about the person aiming it.

"A month." He muttered, crossbow aimed at you far longer than you'd prefer, but he hadn't shot you yet.

So there was hope of getting out of here.

"You're gonna need these." You grabbed diapers, formula, and other items that would suit an infant. With a bag stuffed full of items for Judith, you bid the man farewell by tossing him one more item.

A teething ring for the baby.

Daryl had no idea what it was, but he was thankful regardless. And just as he went to show his gratitude, you were gone.

The slowly closing grocery store door hinted at where you had gone. Daryl raced after you, frantically zipping up his bag and snatching his crossbow from the dusty floor.

"Hey! Wait up-" His words made you freeze in your spot.

A woman all by herself out in the open was an easy target, and you weren't about to let yourself be one.

"Take one more step. I dare you." You spun around on your heel with a gun raised at Daryl. "Whatever this is, I want no part of it. We split ways, and you leave me alone."

Now it was Daryl's turn to raise his hands up in a way that spoke, "I'm innocent".

"Not tryin' to take nothin' from ya'." He slowly grabbed the teething ring from his bag, pulling out the pink circle and holding it in front of him.

"Jus' wanna know what this is. It's safe for babies?" Daryl's brow furrowed at the way you snorted softly to yourself.

"S'for babies. A teething ring for when the teeth come in. They chew on it." You hadn't lowered your gun yet, the expression on your face unreadable as you spoke.

Before he could get a word in, you were already placing your gun into your holster and making your way down the street. Daryl could have left then, ignored you completely.

But he decided to follow you. To chase you.

It wasn't every day that a stranger helped someone for nothing in return.

Daryl thought about the questions that Rick asks people to gauge whether they'd be a good addition to the group. It'd be better to ask you now and then beg Rick for forgiveness later.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Daryl's rough voice penetrated your racing thoughts, and it was then that you heard his footsteps trailing after you.

"Y'know, walking away from you means I don't want to keep talking." Adjusting the way your backpack sat on your shoulders, you hissed as the straps brushed over a rash that had formed from weeks of walking on the side of the road.

"How many?" Daryl pressed the topic, now walking in tandem with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Over a hundred. Not limited to killin' walkers, so don't try anything." Your threats fell somewhere in the distance between his shoulder and yours as you walked together.

Because it was like he didn't even hear it.

"How many people have you killed?" Daryl noticed the way you froze for a second. Just a brief pause where something hid.

The answer came out before you had a chance to stop it. "One." Images flashed in your mind, the very reason for your general distrust of anyone you came across.

Daryl asked his final question. "Why?"

"What, I'm just supposed to share all my secrets with you? This ain't a damn sleepover." You scowled at him, stopping in your tracks.

"Jus' wanna know."

With crossed arms, you let out a deep exhale. "Self-defense. Took all my shit and wanted to take me too." Daryl tossed you an absent nod, lost in thought. Would Rick take you in?

"You happy? Happy you got to figure me out?" It had happened a couple of months ago. The man held you up at a little pharmacy along the road and asked for all of your stuff.

Well, demanded under gunpoint.

After handing him your belongings, he was quick to try and overpower you.

The knife holstered on your ankle came in handy.

Daryl stared at you with apprehension. You were right. A pang of guilt ran through him.

He hadn't meant to badger you about this. Hadn't meant to bring up something painful, a scar that never healed properly.

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck with a deep sigh.

"I got a group." Daryl watched as you tossed your bag over a chain-link fence, hopping it with little effort. With the fence separating the two of you, he felt like his chance was slipping away.

His chance at bringing an extra pair of hands to the prison. The fact that bluntness rolled easily off your tongue was only a bonus in Daryl's mind.

"Wait-" He leaned against the metal fence, his voice just barely reaching your ears. It was somehow enough to make you turn around.

Of course you wanted to stay with a group. To have that safety. But that safety often came with strings, came with violence and hardship.

Daryl's voice broke your thoughtful trance. "We got food, guns, shelter." He knew he probably shouldn't be expelling all this information, but he was sure that you weren't a threat.

That your intimidation was all smoke and mirrors. A ruse you put on to protect yourself.

Because that was him not even 2 months ago. All those walls, all those sharp teeth pointed at everyone that dared to come near.

"We're up at the prison. Ya' know where it is?" Daryl asked you, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the metal spokes that poked out of the chain-link fence. He'd walk you back himself if he thought you would come with him.

But from the way you had retreated away from him, he could tell the chances of walking back with you were slim.

Oh you knew the prison. Your father had many stints in those cells when he'd have a rough night and too much alcohol. Many times, you had to pick him up when he had nobody else to call.

A scoff left your lips. "Yeah."

Daryl noticed the sad smile on your face, and his brows furrowed as he tried to place the reason for it. Maybe you'd been there before.

"Don't have to decide now." His eyes met yours, falling on the way you scanned the area while he spoke. "But you should know we're good people."

Part of you wanted to believe him.

"Here." Daryl pulled a half-full water bottle out of his bag and tossed it over the fence. It landed with a thud onto the grass. "Name's Daryl, by the way." He didn't ask for your name; he knew you'd never give it.

If you'd asked for his name at the start of all this mess, he'd have shrugged off the question like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

You plucked the bottle from the grass and held it in your hand, eyes never leaving the man standing in front of you. "Thanks."

With that one word still settling in the space, you turned on your heel and walked away.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

It had been about two weeks since Daryl had seen the mysteriously harsh woman who reminded him of himself. Two weeks since he offered up the location of the prison.

He hated the thought that you weren't coming. Or worse, that you had a group yourself. And now he had just willingly given up the location of the group to a woman he had just met.

While working on the fence, he'd catch himself glancing out at the expanse of forest, searching for you. Hoping that somewhere, maybe you were observing them, and that you'd come out of hiding and ask to be taken in.

And today, while tending to something inside the layers of fences with Beth, he saw it.

The same color shirt you were wearing. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, making him do a double-take.

It was real. It was you.

Rick had already set his sights on you before you could even get close to the opening. He was walking up to the entrance, hand firmly pressed to his holstered gun.

"Stop!" His low-toned shouting made you halt, just feet away from safety. At least temporary safety.

Daryl could tell that Rick was not exactly open to visitors in this moment, which was why he jogged over to help.

"Rick. Seen her before." Daryl placed a hand on Rick's shoulder to pull his attention away from the murderous intent seconds before.

This whole time, you were panting and nervously glancing around yourself. Growls were low whispers, signalling that they were close by.

Rick hadn't taken his gaze away. "You know her?"

Daryl nodded at Rick's question. "Asked her the questions. She's good."

The skepticism on Rick's face made Daryl's heart race. After the promises he made to you, after gaining even a shred of your trust, it was all about to crash down.

"It's not that I don't trust you, brother. I want to be sure." Now Rick's head was fully turned toward Daryl. Leaving you in Daryl's view.

His jaw clenched when he saw the state you were in. Your body was covered in a mixture of dried blood and dirt. He noticed the way your legs were shaking, of exhaustion no doubt.

Rick asked you the three questions again. And this time you didn't even say anything. Instead, your eyes found Daryl.

"Gonna make me repeat myself?" You asked, tone laced with something harsh and blunt.

Rick did not look happy. "Fine. We'll leave ya' out there."

Daryl answered for you. "She's killed about a hundred walkers. And one man. Self-defense."

Rick sighed. "The point is for them to tell us." He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "And why kill that one man?"

You didn't hesitate. "Took my stuff, tried to take me. I took him." You could see the way that Rick searched you for lies, watched your body language to see any classic tells.

Rick ran a hand over his mouth in realization that you were indeed telling the truth.

Or a damn good liar.

"Alright. But Daryl, if she tries anything. Anything. She's gone." Rick spoke with venom on his tongue, his tone sending a shiver down your back.

So much for a warm welcome.

"Thank you." Despite it all, you were able to mutter out something that proved to Rick you at least had some manners.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Daryl had been your sole lifeline, your one and only connection inside of the prison. He'd helped you secure yourself a nice cell beside his. He even brought you into conversations, insisting that you had a right to voice your opinion.

And sure, you talked with the other members of the group. You made conversation with Carol and Hershel, albeit stuttered and separated by quiet pauses.

They tried. They really did. Glenn and Maggie asked about your love life, to which you gave half-hearted replies and shrugs. Beth and Hershel gave you polite waves and smiles whenever you'd pass by in the cell block.

But every time, they were met with a wall. A wall that prevented anyone from getting close enough.

Today, you were carrying a basket of crops that had grown outside the fencing. The heavy weight had made your shoulders ache as you made it to the fence. Rick was near the entrance, adjusting something with the fence.

Walkers were approaching you; their growling and gurgling made your hair stand up in fear. There had been a few close calls these last few months, and you definitely did not want to have another one.

When you glanced back, Rick hadn't moved from his spot. Then you noticed it.

He had his back turned to you, hammering relentlessly against the metal of the fencing.

You dropped the basket and tried to pry open the gates yourself, fingers becoming raw from the jagged metal. If you hadn't left your gun in your cell, you would have already fired off a couple of rounds into the walkers.

All you had was a knife.

You had to rely on someone, had to ask for help now.

"Rick, can you open the gate?" You called out to him.

You grunted to yourself and took in a deep breath of air. You shouted his name loudly, loud enough for the sound to penetrate through the hammering.

Loud enough for the walkers to be alerted.

Rick perked up at the sound of you and dropped what he was carrying. He tried to sprint over to you, tried to get there on time.

Daryl had beaten him to it.

He was out hunting deer and squirrels, and he came back around the same time you did. That's when he saw you.

The numerous walkers that were approaching you. There were at least five surrounding you, mere feet away. And more stumbled out of the tree line, jaws hanging open, hungry.

And he saw Rick with his back turned, only turning when you had shouted for help.

Daryl raced over with his crossbow and took out the few that were approaching from the treeline. He continued to move closer to you, this time knifing the stray walkers that were surrounding you.

You had pulled your knife out of its holster before he came over, placing punishing blows into the heads of walkers with the sharp blade.

Once the area was mostly cleared, Daryl grabbed the basket with one arm and led you inside.

"The hell was that?" Daryl shouted at Rick after the gate was closed, after the threat of walkers was gone.

"Could'a got her killed!" Daryl knew you weren't exactly fitting in, but there was absolutely no excuse to not give you some backup out there.

Especially considering how you were still recovering from the injuries that you had when you showed up.

Rick clenched his fist and let out a deep sigh. "I didn't hear her." Guilt raced across his features.

"Next time we'll send someone out with her." Rick ran a hand over his face, his face furrowed into a deep frown.

"Ain't gonna be a next time. She'll come out with me." Daryl snapped, his eyes meeting yours for a split second, as if to ask for your approval.

But you didn't give it. Because nobody was going to be responsible for you. Nobody ever did that before, so why would they care about you now?

"I can handle myself." You muttered, shoving your knife into the holster and grabbing the basket from Daryl with a forceful pull.

You could hear the sigh escape his lips as you walked away.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

The prison outlook tower was your escape away from the rest of the group. It gave you space to think, to look upon the group members and just observe.

It made you feel guilty, being away from them so often. But you thought about Rick, and how it would have been that easy to lose everything because of blind dependency.

After the events this morning, you were wary of asking anyone for anything.

That included bandages.

When you had tried to pry open the gates yourself, you had sliced your hand open on the sharp metal. Pressing a cloth to the wound, you winced as the blood pooled onto the fabric, red stains covering your arm.

The door opened without warning, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you hid the wound from the incoming visitor.

It was Daryl.

He brought you some food and water.

"Dinner." Daryl set it down on a table and stood parallel to you. Shame boiled over inside you, having him bring you things and be nice to you.

And you had nothing to give in return.

"Gonna show me your hand?" Daryl spoke unflinchingly, eyeing the hand that was stuffed into your pocket.

Eyes widened, you met his cool gaze. "What? I don't-"

"Will ya' just show me yer' damn hand?" He reached out to you, hand gesturing for your own.

"It's fine." The throbbing in your palm was getting harder to ignore. But you could handle this. You could push away the pain so you wouldn't have everyone tending to you, wasting their resources, acting like you were family.

"Christ, woman-" He scoffed at your stubborn manner. "Just ain't gonna learn, are you?"

You froze in your spot, eyeing him with a furrowed brow. "Learn?"

"You don't have to carry everything yourself. Could let us help." Daryl watched as your eyes trailed off, lowering to stare at something as a distraction.

"I'm not like you all. I don't have anything to give." The words tumbled out, landing softly in the quiet room of the lookout. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow through the windows. All of a sudden, the group's daily routine seemed so interesting while Daryl was confirming his suspicions.

"Don't have to give nothing." He shook his head in disbelief. "Just want you to stop livin' like a damn stray."

"A stray?" The word hurt somewhere deep inside, because part of it was true. Everyone walked around with judgement in their eyes, only tossing the occasional supplies and food when you managed to get close enough.

As if tossing a scrap of food at a scrawny, starving dog.

"Yeah." Daryl gave you a tight-lipped smile. "They used to treat me the same way. Like I was gonna snap at 'em if they got too close."

You snorted softly. You could tell that Daryl was more standoffish than the rest of the group from just a few hours of observation, but you didn't know the full extent of his journey with them.

And the progress he'd made.

"Gotta trust a little bit." His hand lightly brushed your arm, eyes trailing down to the hand that was still crammed into your jean pocket.

"C'mon, at least give me a little trust." He spoke with a smile, his hands moving in a 'come here' gesture.

You thought about the grocery store, how Daryl immediately took your help with nothing but maybe a little bit of suspicion.

He trusted you enough after three questions.

He offered you what he had, expecting nothing in return.

You swallowed and pulled your hand out of your pocket, hissing at the stinging sensation. The cloth was now soaked in blood.

Daryl's eyes widened in realization. "Fuck-" He held your hand softly in his, unwrapping the cloth and gently pulling it away from your skin. "Sat in here for hours not askin' anyone for help." He tsked.

His words weren't meant to harm, but tears pricked at your eyes anyway. "Didn't want to waste supplies-" A teary sniff cut off your words.

You hated this. Hated being so emotional around him. He was just wrapping your hand, not saving you from your damn death.

Daryl's eyes found yours immediately, concern consuming his features. "S'not a waste if you need 'em." Daryl didn't know what came over him, but he felt the desire to comfort you.

He moved closer to you as he tended to your wound, his shoulder pressed against yours to ground you. The mixed warmth of your bodies did the work to calm your emotions.

As he finished wrapping the wound, he held your hand in his, fingers tracing circles on your knuckles. "Done. Was that so hard?" The smug smile on his face made you roll your eyes.

"Thanks." You swiped at the tears that had fallen down your face.

Daryl sat with you that night and ate dinner with you, sitting cross-legged with you on the floor watching the sunset.

And he made you promise that you'd put more effort into trying to open up.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

The following couple of months had been full of Daryl practically following you around and teaching you how to trust again. Your relationship had grown into something more, though neither of you made an effort to name it.

And he was always the first person to volunteer to help you.

Just as long as you asked.

Rick had assigned you and Daryl to a run together because the two of you had formed a close team. Daryl could anticipate your needs just as much as you did his. Plus, you knew more about baby products than Daryl, so Rick sent you with him in case you ran across something for Judith.

You were picking through an old suburban community, grabbing whatever you could find. As the two of you entered the house, you split up to cover more ground.

A couch was propped up against the wall, separating you and a room full of what looked like medical supplies.

In true independent fashion, you attempted to grab the couch and move it. Only, it was much too heavy for one person. You set the furniture down with a heaving sigh, hands placed on your knees so you could catch your breath.

And then you tried again, grunting helplessly as the couch didn't budge. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Daryl was standing behind you, just watching. A smirk on his face. His arms were crossed across his chest.

"You're just gonna stand there?" You placed your hands on your hips, scoffing at him.

Daryl shrugged. "Depends. You got somethin' to say to me?" He moved closer to you, hands finding your waist and pulling you firmly against him to get you out of the way.

With a roll of your eyes, you tried to shove him away from you. "Don't be so proud about it, asshole."

He quickly overpowered you, swaying teasingly. "Mhm, keep dodging the question."

Your body went limp in his grip, signalling that you'd given up. "Fine. Can you help me?" You muttered in a low voice.

Daryl moved his face closer to yours. "What was that?" He couldn't contain the wide smirk on his face.

"Can. You. Help. Me?" You spoke in stuttered, solid words. Daryl grunted in approval and moved to the couch in one stride.

The two of you lifted the couch and pushed it against another wall out of the way.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" Daryl pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Asshole." You managed to slip out of his grip to shove the medicinal products into your bag.

Taglist:

@gglittergoddess | @brideofvecna | @clussysposts | @eskalotte | @darylstargetpractice

It had been casual fun. No strings attached - until it wasn't. Catching feelings was never a part of the 'deal' - of this 'friends with benefits' situation, but as clichè as it sounded, it happened. At least for you. Diego, though, he needed a long moment to come around. Almost a month, to be precise. He pushed you away. Said he wasn't the type for a relationship - or so he thought.

Eventually, he came around - and now, almost five years later, it was astonishing what this fuck-buddy turned romantic relationship had brought the both your way.

Love, like you never experienced before. Trust, so deeply rooted like the roots of a thousand year old tree - and a child. An unplanned miracle...

"No, buddy, look again. You have to do it like that." Diego's voice was the first thing you heard as you shut the door to your car; coming home from an early shift at the little diner you worked in in town. The soft breeze rustled your dress as your eyes searched for your long-term partner in crime - for your favourite cowboy. It wasn't super hot today - luckily. Rather pleasantly warm.

It didn't take you long to find Diego and your now four-year-old son. They were standing across the yard; throwing stones at empty cans which Diego had placed on the wooden fence lining the 'garden'. Both your men were wearing a cowboy hat - naturally. Like father like son, or so they say. While your partner was sporting his ranger gear, your son wore a t-shirt and shorts.

"Look," the man said again and tossed a stone at a can - hitting it perfectly and causing it to fall from the fence. Frankie was next. The boy picked up a stone as well and tried to mimic his dad and threw the stone - missing by a few inches. "Good. That was closer. You're getting better, buddy."

You crossed your arms over your chest and watched them for a moment with a smile on your face. You called it shooting practice without a gun - yet, since the boy was definitely way too young for that. Diego called it can knockdown - a term he would never hear the end of it from you because the both of you knew exactly that it was shooting practice in disguise.

"Can knockdown again, huh?" You finally spoke up; successfully drawing both your men's attention.

"Mommy!" Frankie smiled that cute smile you loved so much and ran over to you - arms open. You crouched down and opened your arms for the little boy as well; embracing him in a big hug. "Kept your daddy on his feet, huh, young man?" He nodded and took a step back - still smiling, but now rather boyish. You giggled and slightly adjusted the cowboy hat on his head; tucking a loose strand of brownish hair out of his face. "Can I play outside some more, mommy - or do I have to go inside?" Frankie asked then – clearly being a little adventurer and definitely with ants in his pants. "Of course," you nodded. "As long as it doesn't get too hot outside." Your son nodded and stormed off.

Diego had watched the both of you; leaning against the fence with his hands shoven in the pockets of his pants. Now that Frankie was 'out of his reach', he lit himself a cigarette. You shifted your attention from your son to your partner. Walking over with a smile, you wanted to greet him properly as well.

"Hey, cowboy," you called him by the nickname he held since day one. Since you saw him all those years ago in that bar, wearing the same cowboy hat he was wearing today. Placing both your hands on his chest, you leaned into him. Diego blew smoke out of his mouth before he turned his face to kiss you; one hand still in his pocket while the other held his cigarette. "Hey, starlight." The scruff on his chin and cheeks slightly scratched your skin as his lips found yours a second time.

"Good day at work?" You nodded; watching Frankie out of the corner of your eyes. "Not much going on. Weather's too warm, I guess." "Mhm," Diego huffed out and took another drag of his cigarette. "Not gonna count for me. Got always something to do." Your expression shifted into sympathy. "I know, handsome, I-"

"Mommy, daddy, look! I found a friend for Bob!" Frankie interrupted you excitedly and caused you to turn around - and what you saw left you a little shocked. You would've lied if you said it wasn't shocking. It wasn't another Iguana like Bob is Frankie was holding, no... Your son held a snake in his hands.

A fucking snake.

"Frankie," you started - still a little overwhelmed and honestly also quite a bit scraed, 'cause it was a snake after all. Yes, it wasn't the first snake you encountered in your life. Especially since you lived with Diego, but snakes could be dangerous after all - and you were anything but a snake expert.

"That's a... freaking snake!"

Your son smiled triumphantly. "I know! Cool, right?!"

You blinked and looked appalled - seeking help and gazed behind you at Diego, who had a hard time to stop himself from laughing. "It's a California kingsnake. Harmless," he mouthed at you with a suppressed smile.

"Can we keep him, mommy? I'm going to name him... Bill! Bobby and Billy!" You sighed and inhaled deeply and slowly moved forward to crouch down again to be on Frankie's eye-level.

"Baby... I don't think Bob would like a snake as a buddy, to be honest. I think you should rather find another Bob for him." Frankie looked at you a little disappointed, but then shrugged his small shoulders, "Oh, 'kay, mommy." and gave in easier than you anticipated. He swiftly turned to bring the California kingsnake back to where he found it.

You turned back around to look at your partner again; still kinda shocked. And Diego? He just grinned. "Bob wouldn't like to have a snake as a friend, or you, starlight?" Diego teased you. Your answer was throwing him a death glare. The ranger just cracked a small laugh - and quickly reeled you in his arms once more.

"We created that," you said with a smile; shaking your head and vaguely gestured at Frankie across the yard with the hand that wasn't resting on his shoulders.

Diego huffed out another laugh. "Yeah, we did."

"Ya wanna do wha'?" Daryl asked you already the second time - still blinking and still in disbelief. "You heard me, Dar." The archer blinked, then shook his head. "Yer sum'thin' else woman. Swear 't god."

This hadn't been the first time you had come to your boyfriend with a new 'idea' or crazy suggestion. Whenever it was a run, an escape plan, pastime at home in Alexandria or even home decoration - it was never boring with you. But this... This put everything on a whole new level and admittedly changed the way Daryl saw you - at least a little. He thought he knew you well after almost six months of being your significant other, but the archer had to admit that he was wrong about this.

"'Kay..." He started, "Lemme process this real quick, sunshine..." and took a breath to sort his thoughts. "Jus' 't make sure I get this right... Ya want me 't... hunt ya down like a fuckin' deer, drag ya in a cabin or sum'thin' and..." He had to pause in order to form the right words with a blush already creeping up his face. "Take yer... yer virginity."

You nodded with a big smile and clapped your hands - like a toddler who just solved a puzzle on their own. "Exactly, babe."

Daryl just stared at you for a solid minute and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. But then...

"Nah," he said; shaking his head. "Why not?" You sighed; already pouting. "Dun wanna hurt ya or sum'thin'. Ya never... a-and I... Nah."

You were still a virgin, yes. That much was true. It took you quite a while to come around and 'confess' to your partner since the archer was your first proper boyfriend - and sex wasn't a topic you both were super confident to talk about. Daryl, though, took it with the utmost respect and gentleness. He never forced you into anything - and never would. You promised to give him your virginity - but he never anticipated that you'd go along and ask him to take it like this.

"You're not gonna hurt me, babe. I promise. We're gonna chose a safe word and all. It's gonna be fine. And hot. And thrilling! Just imagine it!" He scoffed; still not quite convinced. "Told ya I wanted 't do this right... Proper bed 'n all. Romantic shit." "And I told you I don't want romantic shit and not lose it the normal, boring way." Daryl scoffed again. He really wanted to 'do it right' - but if that was what you preferred...

The archer sighed and nodded. "'Kay." You let out an excited squeal and tugged at his biceps; rocking up and down on your heels. "But if somethin' ain't right we're gonna stop right away." You nodded again. "Promise," you smiled and pulled him down for a kiss; saying 'Thank you'.

"Ya really sure ya wanna do it? Yer ready 'n comfortable enough?" Your partner checked in on you once more; wanting to be truly on the safe side. "Yes, babe. One hundred percent sure."

A few days later, a 'plan' was made and a safe word determined, before Daryl would go 'hunting'. The weather was nice. Not too hot, not too cold. Nothing on both your schedules. Daryl gave you a head start, of course. He was a little nervous about this all - but also excited. He couldn't deny that. You were right about this whole scenario. It was kinda hot.

An hour after you left Alexandria, Daryl followed. "Going on a hunt?" Eugene asked the man since he was on guard duty. Daryl adjusted the knives on his belt. No crossbow today, but prepared and armed nevertheless. He gave his friend something close to a nod, "Sum'thin' like that, yeah." stepped out of the gates and left a confused Eugene behind.

Once outside the safety of the walls, the archer scanned his surroundings - and instantly started to track you down.

Let the game begin.

And for Daryl, this game was very easy. He was an excellent tracker. Sure, you didn't really cover your tracks, but still. It wasn't much of a challenge for him. Within about an hour, he had almost caught up to you - and once he did, the fun really began.

You tried to hide from him, of course. Naturally. Your goal was to run from him as long as possible - and the thought was thrilling.

You were hiding behind a thick tree; trying to stay as quiet as possible with your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. Adrenaline. Excitement. Anticipation - of what was to happen.

And Daryl? Daryl was locked in. You had asked for this - and he'd make sure you got what you wanted. He could've sworn he had already smelled you from a few miles away. The sweet scent of your shampoo in combination with the detergent you used. He was like a shark in the ocean... He had smelled blood - and now he was going to bite.

Daryl wetted his lips and once more scanned his surroundings; standing absolutely still and listening to every sound that urged to his ears. The different songs of birds. Bees and gnats humming. Crickets chirping. Luckily no sounds of the undead which roamed the earth.

His senses were sharpened to the brim; waiting for you to make that one mistake. Daryl knew you were close - or well, that he was close. All he needed was a last hint - and in your 'recklessness', you freely gave it to him. Since the woods around you had started to get suspiciously quiet - too quiet, you dared to risk a gaze from behind the safety of the tree which hid you - a mistake. You knew you had fucked up the very moment your eyes met the blue ones of your hunter from a distance.

So you started to run; hoping to be faster than him and able to escape.

And Daryl started to run as well; now truly hunting you down.

You were good. Quick on your feet - but not as fast as Daryl. He picked up his pace; caught up to you within seconds - and before you could even try or react, a strong, thick arm wrapped itself around your waist from behind. "Gotcha, sunshine," Daryl panted in your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't fight him, of course. Why should you? The hunter had caught his prey successfully.

Exhausted from all the running, your body slumped down - causing the archer's biceps around your body to bulge in order to hold you and let you down gently.

Sure, he helped you live out your sexual fantasy, but that didn't mean he was going to hurt you or let you hurt yourself.

As you laid on the cool forest ground; still catching your breath, Daryl towered over you - and it was without a doubt one of the hottest views you ever had of him - of a man in general. The sun shone from above him; brightening his dark brown curls and creating a halo around his silhouette. Sweat glistened on his biceps and arms. The black shirt with the torn off sleeves tightened around his upper body with each heaving breath he took; making the worn buttons fight for their life. His rugged jeans with the patches was slightly covered in dirt and resin from the hunt; hanging lower on his hips than usual from the running. Piercing blues gazing down at you.

You had always considered Daryl to be nothing but gorgeous and attractive - but this... This was a whole new dimension of sexiness - and the man didn't even try.

You swallowed hard; feeling another wave of arousel strike your core. It was nothing new, but exciting for sure.

"A'right," Daryl started and reached in the back pocket of his jeans to get the small rope he packed. "Time 't take home wha's mine. Caught ya fair 'n square," he stated with the tiniest smirk and crouched down to tie your wrists together with the rope. Work-worn, skilled hands went to work, while you just watched and stared. Fuck.

It got even worse (in the best way) when he also blindfolded you with the red rug he always carried around. Your breath hitched.

"Where are you going to take me?" It was a question fitting for your 'role', but one you truly didn't know the answer to. Finding a fitting place to do those sinful things you both had in mind had been Daryl's task. He knew the woods better than anyone, so... You left it up to him.

"Ya'll see." His deep, gruff voice announced, before he swiftly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A small queak of surprise left your lips as Daryl manhandled you easily to carry you through the woods to his chosen destination.

Despite the fact that all your senses were sharpened, you trusted Daryl with your life - literally. Blindfolded, handcuffed - easy prey for the dead and the living.

It didn't take Daryl that long to reach his destination - a hidden cabin he had found already months ago and often used as a sleeping accommodation when he was out on a run or hunting. The cabin was secluded and safe - the perfect place outside Alexandria for what Daryl was about to do to you.

Opening the wooden door, he carried you inside, made sure the safety measures applied again - he wouldn't want a walker to stumble in on you, and gently tossed you on the new King-sized mattress the archer had scavenged for the bed inside said cabin. The old one was ratty and quite frankly disgusting. He always preferred to sleep on the floor instead. But not today. Today, Daryl was prepared. He even spread out a freshly washed blanket from home over the bed. Sure, you said you didn't want to lose your virginity the 'romantic' way, but he wouldn't be Daryl if he didn't make sure that you were at least comfortable.

Then he went to untie the rope around your wrists again and take the blindfold off your eyes. You looked around; taking in your environment. You couldn't help it. Since the end of the world, your senses were sharpenend - always checking first if everything was safe. As if being able to read your thoughts, Daryl said: "Dun worry, bunny. Yer safe here. Gonna make sure 'a tha'." He shed all his knives and his angel-winged vest. "Now lemme unwrap my prey, eh?"

That sentence was - again, enough to sent a tingle down your spine.

Completely at his mercy, you let him get rid of all the unnecessary garments hiding your body - except your panties. No beating about the bush. His eyes screamed hunger, but they also held something soft; always making sure you were okay and comfortable.

Your partner admired your body; kissed your lips and every square inch he could reach, before he backed up to unbutton his black shirt and threw it aside. Daryl wasn't comfortable being shirtless around many people. You and Carol were the exception.

You were so entranced by the beauty of the man in front of you - scars and all, that you didn't even notice him stepping closer once more.

Until strong hands wrapped around your thighs - and swiftly pulled you to the edge of the bed with a little squeak leaving your lips.

"D-Dar? What are you up to?" The man looked up at you - darkness and hunger swallowing the blue in his eyes. "Caught 'm prey - only fair 't get a taste of wha's mine," he stated in a husky voice; gently pushing your legs open and keeping his palms splayed on your thighs to keep them open for him. Then he knelt down and bent over to bring his face on eye-level with your already electrified core. "Gonna devour tha' innocent lil' pussy," Daryl whispered in that deep timbre and flicked his tongue over the damp cotton of your panties; inhaling your scent - and you could've sworn that your brain crashed.

Error 404.

His words, that single gesture - it was enough to get your head spinning. A man was about to go down on you for the first time in your life. Daryl was about to go down on you for the first time ever. You'd experience things you never experienced before - and it was thrilling. The anticipation, excitement and arousal was a dangerous cocktail which flooded your veins.

"P-Please," was everything you were able to stammer out.

A little smirk tugged at the archer's lips before he licked over the fabric once again; softly suckling on the cotton - testing, teasing. You bit your lip; eyes not leaving him for even a second. Hell, you weren't even blinking; not wanting to miss a thing.

"Look atcha..." He whispered; gently tugging at your panties, "Barely even touched ya 'n yer already so ready fer me." and nibbling on them. He kept on teasing you for another moment which felt like an eternity and caused your hips to push further into him. "Dar, please..." You whined again - finally wanting to feel more; finally wanting to feel his mouth on you.

"Patience, bunny. Ya waited years fer the right man 't take yer innocence - now ya can wait five minutes longer." His words were firm but also sinful and made you whine again. Fuck. Of course, you were at his mercy and so he kept on teasing you. Biting, nibbling, mouthing at the piece of cotton underwear; driving you crazier with every passing minute.

Lucky for you, Daryl's patience wasn't eternal as well, so at one point his resolve broke as well; the arousal pumping through his veins begging him to finally eat you up like a piece of candy.

Thumbs hooked underneath the fabric and swiftly pulled them over your legs; carelessly throwing the garment aside. Without wasting another second, and before you were even able to comprehend what was going on now, he dove in.

"O-Oh my god," you squeaked out and gripped the blanket beneath you; legs quivering the moment you felt his hot, wet lips and tongue on you - and it was like an entire new world opened up to you. A feeling so intense, you never felt before. Daryl gave you one broad, lingering lick before he pulled away to ask: "Tha' good, bunny?"

A disbelieving, airy laugh slipped past your lips. "A-Are you kidding? D-Dar, it's something I've never felt before!" The archer smiled, "Good." and slightly adjusted his position. "Gonna make it even better for ya. Promise."

And he did keep that promise.

He lapped at you messily like you truly were his last meal; taking every drop of the sweet arousal you gave him. Not even five minutes in, he was nose-deep buried in your heat with your hand in his chestnut brown locks - a gesture that spurred him on even more as you discovered. Daryl growled against you and flicked his tongue faster, before he dipped the muscle inside you - switching between gently tongue-fucking you and suckling on that little sensitive nub.

And that was exactly what catapulted you quickly over the edge. "Fuck, Dar!" You literally cried out; fingers in his curls tightening before your whole body went numb against the bed as searing hot pleasure flooded you. Pleasure so intense you had never felt in your life. Daryl physically had to hold your hips down.

Of course, you had gotten yourself off before. You were a virgin - not a saint, but this... This was an entire new level. Mindblowing. Heart-stopping. You feared for a second that you were going to pass out from the intensity of it all. Daryl had positively catapulted you into another stratosphere - just with his mouth.

The man between your legs was very satisfied with his work and gently guided you through your high before pulling away. You needed a moment to recover; brain rebooting. "Ya good, sunshine?" Daryl's voice got through to you. You gave him a nod. "Ya still wanna keep goin'?" The archer broke his 'role' for a moment; checking in on you. Once again you nodded and added a hoarse, whispered: "Please." "A'right," Daryl said and adjusted his position once again; standing up.

Then you finally focused on your partner again - and his vision sent another delicious tingle straight downtown again. He was a mess. Drool and your sweet release everywhere. On his lips, chin, goatee - and even some on his nose. It almost looked like he had enjoyed this more than you had. Perhaps he did. Who knew?

Daryl's hands on your hips ripped you out of your thoughts again. He was gently pushing you further up the bed again to give him space to kneel on the mattress as well. Then he kissed up your pubic mound, navel and stomach until he reached your chest; shoving his still clothed thighs underneath yours. "Ya gonna lemme fuck ya now, bunny?" He mumbled against your skin and straightened up; watching you nod once again. "Yeah?" Daryl asked once more - to make sure, while letting his hand wander to the bulging front of his jeans. "Y-Yes. Please, Dar." He gave you a nod as well and watched how your gaze got stuck on the hand which rubbed himself over the fabric of his jeans.

Another smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Nah," he announced then; remembering that you had never seen a man's most intimate parts before - in a sexual way. "Gonna let ya feel me first. Ya want tha', bunny?" You absentmindedly licked your lips. The thought alone of feeling him - touching him caused your head to spin. "Y-Yes. Want that." "'Kay," the archer said and unzipped his jeans; making some room. "Gimme yer hand."

You sat up and did what he asked; gave him your hand. Daryl gently took your hand and guided it; slipped it inside his pants to let you feel and rub his hardness. An audible gasp left your lips at the new feeling against your hand. Firm, hot, pulsing flesh - and all just for you. "Feel tha'?" Of course, you could. "'S all for ya, bunny. Got me rock hard since I fuckin' left Alexandria." "Oh yeah?" You whispered and bit your lip while your hand kept on rubbing him. Daryl nodded; hips slightly bucking into your touch. "C-Can I... touch?"

A smile flickered over the archer's face. "'Course, ya can," he stated and instantly shifted to get rid of his pants and boxers. You watched him unpack his package with big, hungry eyes. Of course, you knew how a man's private parts were supposed to look - but you had never seen them in a sexual way. Until now.

And it caused you to gulp.

Daryl was a big boy - everything about him was, and so was his manhood as well. Thick, hot and pulsing; standing tall and proud between his legs. After shedding the rest of his clothes, he returned to his previous position between your legs; of course noticing your gaze on him.

"Whatcha sayin', bunny? All shy now or do ya still wanna touch?" "S-Still wanna touch," you answered right away; totally intrigued and more than excited. "'Kay. Gimme your hand again." You did what he asked and laid your hand in his.

Once again, Daryl guided your palm - but this time, he did something you hadn't seen coming. Something filthy - in the hottest way possible. He let some spit drool on your palm - for lubrication, and wrapped it around his length. You gasped at the feeling. He gently moved your closed fingers then up and down; letting you feel and explore. Once more you bit your lip; feeling him hot and heavy in your palm. You kept up the movements - even when Daryl's hand had already slackened around yours and fallen to your thigh. "Ya like tha', bunny? Rubbin' tha' dick? Givin' me a handjob?" You nodded; licking your lips.

"D-Do you like it? Am I doing this right?" Daryl softly squeezed the flesh of your thigh in return. "Yer doin' perfect. 'S real good." You smiled; satisfied and proud of yourself. After a long moment - when you gained a little more confidence, you increased the pace and even squeezed him gently from time to time, which caused the man's eyes to slip shut and a deep growl to fall from his lips.

Then your hand stopped - and Daryl reopened his eyes again to meet your gaze. "Do you... want to teach me how to... go down on you?" Daryl groaned again at your words. The mere thought of your mouth on him... Jesus Christ. But then again...

The archer shook his head, "Nah." and gently pried your hand away from his dick. "'M gonna show ya another time. This is 'bout ya. Not me," Daryl stated firmly and adjusted his position again; lining his hips up with yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him against you. Oh my gosh... This was real - and it was about to happen. "O-Okay," you stammered; anticipation but also slight nervousness flooding your veins. You trusted Daryl. Fully. But you couldn't help but feel your nevers a little.

The man nodded, "'N now relax." and trapped his cock between your folds. "Jus' feel." He pressed it down and moved his hips to let it glide through your slit; repeatedly bumping your little bundle of nerves. Daryl wanted to just let you adjust to the feeling and also lube himself up - making things easier. You moaned; legs twitching. Yet another sensation you hadn't felt before in your life.

The archer grinned as he felt you instinctively move your hips with his; wanting and creating more friction. "Feelin' good, bunny? Yer pussy likin' this dick, eh?" You nodded vehemently; eyes closed. He smirked again, then pulled back a little further to nudge the tip against your entrance. You gasped and literally froze; hand reaching out to grip his forearm. "D-Dar..." "Ya ready, bunny?" You nodded. "Y-Yes. Just go slow, p-please."

For a moment, Daryl's entire body language and expression shifted. "'O course, sunshine. I got ya," he said in a gentle voice - slipping from his 'role' once more. He leaned forward to kiss your forehead and steady himself properly. Then he lined himself up and slowly, carefully slipped inside you - inch after inch.

You would've lied if you said it didn't feel uncomfortable at first or even hurt a little, 'cause it was. Weird, strange - again, a whole new feeling. Once more, your breath hitched in your throat as a burning sensation spread from between your legs throughout your core. "D-Dar..." "I know, I know, 'm almost in. Doin' so good fer me, bunny," your partner whispered in a raspy voice; soothing and praising you simultaneously. "'K-Kay..."

While you clearly struggled a little to take him, Daryl had a very hard time holding himself back. He would, of course, because he didn't want to hurt you - but it took all his willpower to hold his primal instincts back. You were so tight and wet and warm - absolutely unfair. And watching you trying to swallow him whole wasn't helping as well.

With a last shift of his hips, he was buried inside you; giving you a moment to adjust and himself the opportunity to get his act together again. "'M in, bunny. Ya good?" He breathed; wanting to check in on you.

"Y-Yes, just feels... strange a-and... full." Daryl felt himself twitch at the word 'full'. Yeah, that was the point, right? "Yer gonna get used 't it. Promise. Gonna take real good 'a ya - 'n this pussy. She's mine now, after all. Claimed 'er fair 'n square." "A-All yours," you confirmed; taking deep, shaky breaths.

Another small smirk darted across his face at your words. "Tha's right. All mine," he whispered darkly and gave you an experimental thrust; slowly returning into his 'predator role'. You squeaked up - more in surprise than discomfort, but still; eyes fluttering at the sudden friction. After testing the waters, Daryl picked up a proper rhythm - slow but deep; starting out with missionary. The archer figured that this was probably the best position for your introduction into the world of sex.

Daryl's eyes were stuck on you; watching you intensely as he fucked you slow. "Feels good, bunny?" You nodded; biting your lip and fisting the blanket beneath you. "Uh.Huh. S-So good." Daryl's chest swelled with pride and he picked up the pace a little before he adjusted his hands; no longer pressing them against the mattress beneath him but rather gripping your hips. He straightened up a little to be more upright and get a better look at the delicious view of where your bodies were connected.

"Look atcha, bunny," he almost growled; watching his dick repeatedly slip in and out of you. "Pussy takin' me so good. Was made fer me." You moaned at the praise - borderline obscene, which got Daryl smiling boyish in return again; satisfied and happy that he was apparently doing his job right.

"Tha's how ya imagined this, bunny?" Daryl asked after quite a few thrusts; slightly out of breath. "Y-Yes, but..." You stammered out with a whine. It was hard to concentrate on words when your boyfriend did such sinful things to you.

"But what, bunny, huh? Use yer words. C'mon," he whispered and delivered a particular deep thrust which shortly knocked the air out of your lungs and totally threw you off track for a moment.

"M-More," you mumbled then; brain foggy with pleasure. "W-Want... more." Your words caused the archer to stop dead in his movements. He blinked and looked down at you through hazy eyes. "More? Ya want more?" You nodded; biting your lip.

And that was the moment Daryl entirely lost his composure. He had tried to hold back and keep things gentle for you and here you were now, telling him to give you more. His eyes darkened, "Ya want more?" as he adjusted his position between your legs. "Fine. 'M givin' ya more."

Daryl roughly lifted your legs up and pushed them back against your shoulders; gaining more leverage and switching into the mating press position. "Gonna give ya everything, bunny. More than ya can take," he growled lowly and started to thrust again. Hard, deep, quick; literally fucking you into the mattress. "O-Oh my god," you sobbed in pleasure; gripping his sweaty biceps tightly - nails digging into the muscular skin with your mouth hanging open in pleasure.

Nothing could be heard except your airy moans, skin slapping obscenely against skin and the occasional creaking of the bed beneath you.

"Tha' better, bunny, eh?" "F-Fuck, yes!" You cried out; holding onto him for dear life. "W-Want all of you, D-Dar!"

You words sparked something deep inside him. Something primal, dark and hidden. He was already lost in you. In the feeling of you wrapped around him, but this... This cut the last cord he had been holding on to. It brought him dangerously close to his high.

"Gonna give ya all 'a me, bunny," he growled again. "Gonna get my load." Thrust. "Gonna cum so deep inside ya." Thrust. "Ain't gonna pull out." Thrust. "Dun care if I get ya pregnant." Thrust. "Gonna look good carryin' my baby- Christ!" One more powerful thrust was enough to tip Daryl over the edge. "Hng," he stilled; feeling himself twitch and contract - breath stuttering.

And like he promised, he didn't pull out.

Then he collapsed beside you - careful not to crash you; totally spent, just like you.

Once the haze had cleared a little from his brain, he swiftly turned to face you again. "Ya okay, sunshine?" Daryl asked gently, while gently rubbing your upper arm. Predator mode entirely forgotten.

All you could do was nod; staring at the ceiling. "Wow... That... That was... wow." You couldn't find the words. What you just experienced had absolutely blown your mind - in the best way possible.

A little, proud and cute smile tugged at your partner's lips. "Tha' how ya wanted yer first time 't go? Did I, uh, do it right?" You giggled and turned to face him as well before snuggling against his bare chest. "More than right, Dar. It was perfect." The archer embraced you and reached for the second blanket he had brought here to cover the both of you up.

"Ya, uh, ya think I really got ya pregnant now?" Daryl whispered after a long moment of silence. "Nah," you said; shaking your head. "Think we're good, babe. One time won't hurt."

Well...

Turned out it did.

Exactly fourteen months later, Daryl found himself sitting on the porch of your little house in Alexandria - with a small baby girl sleeping snugly on his arm; tiny cheek squashed against his biceps. Yeah. One 'slip-up' had truly been enough. Your first time with Daryl - and it instantly managed to create a little miracle.

With literal heart eyes, the archer watched his daughter sleep and drool over the muscular skin. "There are you two," you said in a gentle voice and joined your family on the porch with a smile. Daryl's eyes lifted to meet yours. "Should've told ya we'd be out here," he answered; shifting a little to make room for you. You instantly shook your head, "No, no, it's okay. I'm just glad she's asleep now." and sat down beside your partner. The archer gave you a small nod and picked up the tasked at hand again - watching over his daughter.

"We created that..." He whispered then after a long beat of silence; voice slightly strained. Your mind travelled back in time at his words - to the very day you lost your innocence to Daryl. The day you literally became entirely his. "Yeah...," you whispered back; smiling and running a finger through the tiny dark-ish curls of fuzz on the baby's head. "We did. And I don't regret anything."

◇ Daryl wasn't much of a cook, but if there were a few things he knew how to make, it was jerky, moonshine, and most importantly, pancakes. You'd shuffle into the small kitchen in your socks, drawn awake by the buttery smell long before the coffee finished brewing. His back would be turned to you, shirtless, scarred, standing over a cast-iron skillet as the batter hissed the moment it met the hot surface. He knew exactly how you liked them—crisp around the edges and drowning in maple syrup he'd tapped and boiled down himself from the trees surrounding the land. You'd climb onto one of the kitchen chairs, tucking your legs beneath you as his shirt hung loosely over your frame. Resting your chin in your hand, you'd watch him work before breaking the comfortable silence.

Whatcha cooking, good looking?

He would only huff and shake his head.

◇ Most mornings, you'd wake to the comforting weight of Daryl beside you. But on the rare occasions he had to leave early with the group for supply exchanges or patrols, the bed would be empty by the time you opened your eyes. Sometimes, in his place, you'd find a note resting on the pillow, his handwriting messy and nearly illegible to anyone but you, telling you to stay safe. When the moment called for a little more sentiment, he'd leave behind a freshly picked flower, morning dew still clinging to its petals, a reminder that he would always make it back to you. And every year, without fail, you'd wake to a gift. Never wrapped neatly, never anything extravagant, but always thoughtful. When Daryl struggled to put his feelings into words, he never failed to show them with gifts.

◇ Even though you were both hermits by nature, living quietly on the outskirts of the gated community, Sunday mornings were different. Every week, when the Commonwealth market was in full bloom, you would make the trip together. Colorful tents lined the streets, vendors displaying handmade or scavenged goods. Daryl always kept a small wad of currency tucked in his pocket while you carried a basket filled with homemade goodies: fresh bread, preserves, and bottles of wine you had made yourself for trade. Daryl made sure they gave you what they were worth. He had a way of haggling without ever needing so much as a grunt. When a vendor once questioned whether your homemade wine was a fair trade for a silk scarf, Daryl had only folded his arms and waited, because intimidation sometimes worked better than charm.

Looks real pretty on ya, sweetheart

Everything in between

¤ Somewhere during the day, between chores and the endless work of keeping the cabin running, Daryl would sometimes disappear for a while. You would find him lying on a patch of moss beneath the open sky, one arm folded beneath his head, his crossbow resting nearby. For once, there was no tension in his shoulders, no guarded look in his eyes. Just Daryl, watching the clouds drift lazily overhead. Every now and then, he would tip his chin toward one, pointing out a shape hidden in the sea of white.

That one. Tell me that ain't somethin'

That doesn't look like a fox

Ya blind? Look at it. Got a tail 'n everythin'

¤ Around midday, when the sun sat high above the pines, a familiar face would usually stop by the cabin—sometimes to share news, sometimes to borrow or return equipment, and sometimes simply to see how the two of you were doing. Carol often arrived with a tin of homemade cookies and a pocketful of interesting stories she insisted weren't gossip, no matter how much Daryl claimed otherwise. Eugene would occasionally return a book you'd lent him, usually something about extraterrestrials, time travel, or a mystery with so many twists that not even he saw the ending coming.

I married a dork

Say that again, Daryl, I dare you

Once his responsibilities were finally out of the way, even Rick would stop by as well. He'd knock on the front door, and the moment you opened it, the warm scent of something baking would drift out into the yard. Before he could step inside, you'd remind him to leave his boots at the door, making Rick glance at Daryl, who'd simply shrug from somewhere behind you. Around your cabin, muddy boots didn't make it past the threshold, and even Rick had learned not to argue with the house rules.

Jus' listen t'her. It's strict 'round here

¤ In their home, clocks were mostly decoration. Time was measured differently there. It was the rhythm of daily habits, the familiar sounds and routines, that told him what hour it was. He would get lost in a task for hours, like the damn pickup he'd challenged himself to fix, grease streaked across his hands and brow, completely unaware of how much time had passed. Then he'd hear the familiar footsteps rounding the cabin. You would appear carrying a tray with two mugs and freshly baked sourdough bread with rosemary on top. The scent would reach him before you did—the sweetness of honey, the brightness of citrus peel, the warmth of butter melting into yellow puddles over the crust. Daryl would look up from the engine, blinking like he'd been pulled out of another world.

Three already?

Mhmm. Come sit with me

¤ With the sun setting, the sky painted in shades of pink and lavender through the pine trees, you loved taking evening walks behind the cabin to the creek. Hand in hand, the two of you would wander down the familiar path until you reached that little piece of heaven. The water stayed warm from the day's sun, shimmering beneath the fading light as fireflies began to drift through the trees. You'd slip off your shoes while Daryl tugged off his boots, both of you rolling up your pant legs before settling on the edge of the old wooden plank, your feet sinking into the gentle current.

Wanna go skinny dipping?

I'm an old man. Ya tryin'ta kill me, woman?

Nights

☆ When the summer nights came, you'd trade Daryl's shirts for wearing nothing at all, leaving the bedroom windows open in hopes of catching a breeze. As much as you loved cuddling, your husband ran hot, and while you appreciated his warmth during the winter, the last thing you wanted in the thick Southern heat was skin against skin. You kicked lightly at his ribs whenever he crossed the invisible line you'd drawn down the middle of the linen blanket. He crossed it anyway, too stubborn to sleep any way but the one he knew. One arm slipped around your waist, pulling you in until your back rested against his chest.

It's too hot

Don' care

☆ First came the curtains. Then the framed pictures on the walls. Flowers found their way onto every spare surface. Little by little, the cabin became a home—a museum of everything you loved instead of a shelter filled only with what you could carry on your back and what you needed to survive. You came home from a quick trip to see Carol to find Daryl kneeling beneath the electric panel, busy fastening something. A television. Old. Bulky. Perfect. He looked over his shoulder, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Now ya can watch them movies ya keep bringin' back from the market bins

Friday nights now ended with a movie on the couch. Your legs sprawled across his lap while the television flickered to life. If you sat close enough, the static danced across your arms until the tiny hairs stood on end. Half the time the picture rolled, the sound crackled, or the screen threatened to give out altogether, but neither of you cared.

Let's watch this one

Ain't doin' no romance

Daryl would fall asleep before the movie ended every time.

☆ It didn't matter how much time had passed or how good the day had been before he settled beneath the covers—the nightmares never left him for long. They startled him awake, his hand reaching through the darkness for you, just to make sure you were still there, still in one piece. You'd hush him back to sleep more out of instinct than thought, still caught somewhere between sleeping and waking. You'd kiss his temple and whisper that you were alright. Sometimes that was enough to lull him back to sleep. Other nights, he'd slip out of bed to check the latches on every door, even though he'd already done it during his nightly walk around the cabin. He'd step onto the porch and stare into the dark woods as though daring whatever figment lurked there to come any closer. You'd join him eventually, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the quiet, waiting for the sunrise. Only then would his shoulders drop.

☆ It was another ritual of yours to save the ending of a book for bedtime. Good, bad, or open to interpretation, it always had to wait until the stars came out and the crickets began their nightly song. Daryl would watch you, his head propped on one hand, studying your face as your expression shifted from concern to relief, from quiet smiles to wide-eyed gasps. He never needed to read the last page himself. The way you closed the book told him everything. A quick snap of the cover meant the ending hadn't earned your approval. Dog-earing the corner of the page meant it was so good you'd be reading it again by morning. He'd ask how it was with nothing more than a low grunt, and once you started talking, the words never seemed to end.

Other nights, the routine got in the way. He'd decide he'd rather have your attention than share it with a few hundred pages. As your eyes drifted from line to line, his hand reached for the book instead. You huffed and tried to pull it back, but whatever protest you had dissolved the moment his lips brushed the curve of your throat.

Want ya, sweetheart

And you want him too, always.

Note: I love, LOVE domestic Daryl. I yearn for the cabin life. I liked doing them in this format more, fleshing out a few headcanons instead of listing multiple short ones. Finished this in the midst of editing some angst just to lift my spirit. Didn't work.

This work of fiction was written while listening to...