a whore for old geezers

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Requests are Open!

RULES FOR REQUESTS

I only write Female x Reader content, as that is what I am and what I feel I am able to write.

I'll only be writing fics for Norman Reedus characters on this blog (not including the actor, the fictional characters exclusively).

You must be 18+ years of age to request NSFW content. Please do not read the content of this blog unless you are of age, thank you.

I don't write with themes/subjects of; Incest (of any kind), Rape/Non-Con, Abusive Relationships, Age Gaps/Age Play and Omega Verse.

Now, onto the Masterlist!

Tag Key

Smut (18+) = 👄

Fluff = 💛

Daryl Dixon x Reader (The Walking Dead 2010)

Series

Trials and Tribulations (Lawyer Reader x Pre-Apocalypse Daryl) 👄

Chapter One

Chapter Two.. (Coming Soon!)

One Shots

Good Morning To You Too 👄(18+) 

Summary: You and Daryl had always been good friends, but when you overhear the Newberry women talk about him at their welcome barbeque, you begin to wonder whether you may like him more than you’ve let on. 

Unspoken Truths💛(16+)

Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.

Ride His Motorcycle 👄 (18+)

Summary: You and Daryl find yourselves in tight quarters for hours on end and nothing came of it, until Daryl grows the balls to address the situation.

Sex on Fire 👄 (18+)

Y'are Beautiful, Really💛(Pre-Apocalypse, Highschool Daryl)

Van x Reader (Floating 1997)

Mini-Series

Have a Nice Summer 💛👄

Chapter One

Chapter Two (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Three (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Four (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Five (Coming Soon!)

Chapter One

Chapter Two (Coming Soon!)

You go on holidays with your family at your new lake house. You meet Van, the mysterious boy whom you discover was the original owner of this house, and the original owner of your new room. 

Murphy McManus x Reader (Boondock Saints 1999)

One Shots

Nothing so far...

Scud x Reader (Blade II, 2002)

One shots

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Pre-Apocalypse. 

Tags: #LawyerReader #PreApocalypseDaryl #SlowBurn #AngstWithFluff  #UnexpectedRomance #RoughAroundTheEdges #TensionAndChemistry #OppositesAttract #EnemiesToLovers #MerleDixon 

Word Count: 20k (approx.)

Warnings: None, except maybe do not fall for a bad boy with a heart of gold who needs legal help as it’s a conflict of interest. 

Summary: When Daryl Dixon, the gruff mechanic with a troubled past, walks into your lawyer’s office, you expect the usual—trouble, paperwork, maybe a little too much whiskey. But what you get is more complicated than that: a messy case, a man who refuses to ask for help, and the kind of chemistry that’s impossible to ignore. As Daryl’s case drags on, you find yourself learning more about the man behind the leather jacket—his complicated relationship with his brother, Merle, his troubled past, and the fact that he’s a little more vulnerable than he lets on. It’s a bumpy ride full of legal drama, awkward silences, and moments where you want to slap sense into him—and yourself for caring so much. But as the stakes rise, so do the feelings, leading to a night you’ll both remember. From enemies to lovers? Maybe. From lawyers to breakfast buddies? Definitely.

Chapter 1: The First Meeting

The office was quiet, the only sound the steady clicking of your keyboard as you worked on the ever-growing stack of case files. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the room. You had been at your desk for hours, buried under paperwork, your mind still replaying the conversation you'd had with a colleague earlier that morning about a case you couldn’t quite seem to crack. It had been a typical Monday: routine, ordinary, the weight of responsibility hanging over you like a heavy cloud.

You’d been in the law game for three years now, and though you had made a name for yourself, it didn’t feel as glamorous as people seemed to think. Sure, you had the fancy office, the leather chair, the clients who always asked for your help in navigating the legal labyrinth, but you also had a lonely apartment in the city that echoed with silence when you returned home at night. No family nearby, no significant other to ease the stress. Just you and your work.

The job had become your identity. You worked hard, stayed focused, and in return, the legal world gave you prestige—clients who needed your help, the occasional flirtation from well-dressed professionals who assumed you’d be impressed by their suits or resumes. You’d learned early on not to get caught up in the drama.

But you did have a weakness. You couldn’t help it—bad boys. You’d spent too many years trying to avoid falling for the ones who were trouble. Your first boyfriend, Jake, had been just that—rough around the edges, a criminal with a grin that could melt anyone’s defenses. You’d gotten him out of trouble more times than you could count. In the end, he died of a drug overdose, and you had sworn off men like him. It was partly because of Jake that you had decided to become a lawyer. After all, you couldn’t keep rescuing people like him without learning how to fight the system from the inside.

But despite your best efforts to keep your heart protected, it had always wandered to the kind of men who made your mother nervous—the ones with too many tattoos, too many secrets, and just the right amount of charm.

You sighed, setting your pen down and rubbing your temples. Your phone buzzed across your desk, snapping you out of your reverie. It was a message from your mother: “Are you ever going to date someone who doesn’t have a criminal record?” You chuckled to yourself. Your mom had been asking that for years, ever since you’d first met Jake in college.

You put the phone aside and returned to your work, trying to push the thought of your mother—and Jake—out of your mind. The steady hum of the office felt strangely comforting.

That’s when the door creaked open.

You didn’t look up immediately, assuming it was just another client showing up a bit early or maybe a delivery. But the presence that filled the room felt... different. It was the kind of presence that commanded attention without needing to say a word. You looked up.

He stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, his posture almost intimidating. His hair was a mess of dark waves, and his leather jacket, worn with age, looked like it had seen better days. His face was rugged, with stubble that looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in days, and his blue eyes... they were the kind of eyes that could make you feel like you were being read from the inside out.

He was rough around the edges—nothing like the well-dressed, polished clients you usually dealt with. You could tell right away that he wasn’t here for a simple consultation about a divorce or a business deal. This man didn’t belong in a lawyer’s office.

He stepped forward, his boots making a heavy thud against the floor. “You the lawyer?” His voice was low, a little rough, and he looked you over with a certain wariness, as if he were trying to size you up just as much as you were him.

You leaned back in your chair, eyeing him carefully. Something about him made your pulse quicken—a mixture of curiosity and caution. He had the look of a man who had seen things you didn’t want to imagine, things that might have turned him into someone you couldn’t quite trust.

“Who’s asking?” you replied, keeping your voice professional but with a touch of curiosity.

The man gave a small, almost reluctant nod. “Daryl.”

“Okay, Daryl... no surname?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you leaned forward slightly.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing away as if debating whether to reveal more. Then, as if giving in, he muttered, “Dixon.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the door as if considering whether to make a hasty exit. Daryl Dixon. The name didn’t mean anything to you, but the man himself? He was another story.

“Alright, Mr. Dixon,” you said, your voice firm and professional, though there was a hint of curiosity. “What brings you here today?”

Daryl shifted, his posture becoming even more uncomfortable as he glanced around the room. It was clear he wasn’t used to sitting still for long periods of time, let alone discussing his problems with a stranger. His eyes darted to the paperwork on your desk, then back to you, and you could see the hesitation in his gaze. He wasn’t someone who usually asked for help.

“I need your help,” he said quietly, his voice low and rough, like the words were heavy on his tongue. “I’m in some trouble. With people who... well, they don’t take kindly to being crossed.”

You gave a nod, a silent signal for him to continue. You had dealt with enough shady characters in your time to know when someone was being vague for a reason. The question wasn’t whether the man had gotten himself in deep—it was how deep.

“I’ve made a few bad decisions,” Daryl added, his gaze flicking back to yours, as if seeing how you’d react to the admission. “People are after me. I don’t want anyone else caught in the middle of it.”

You leaned back in your chair, studying him. He was clearly trying to play it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, but something about the way he said it told you this was serious.

“You’ve come to the right place,” you said, your tone cool but reassuring. “But I’m going to need some more details before I can help you.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing the risks of revealing more to a stranger. He seemed the type who didn’t trust easily, and you understood that. You were a lawyer, after all, but you also understood people. And this man? He had a lot of baggage.

Finally, after a long pause, he said, “Alright, I’ll tell you what you need to know. But I’m not asking for a miracle. Just... help.”

You nodded again, already thinking ahead about how you’d approach this case. But before you could continue, Daryl’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“I’ll need you to know my full name,” he said, his voice quiet, like he had just realized it wasn’t something you could just skip over. “It’s Daryl Wayne Dixon.”

You paused for a moment, writing down the name, feeling the weight of those words. Daryl Wayne Dixon. It wasn’t just the name of another client—it was the beginning of something much bigger than that.

And as he stood to leave, your mind raced. There was something about this man that made you feel like you were on the edge of something. The kind of something you weren’t sure you wanted to get involved with... but also couldn’t pull away from.

Thanks, Mrs. Lawyer,” Daryl said, his tone slightly lighter now. There was a faint flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I’ll be in touch.”

"Miss Lawyer."

“Thanks, Miss Lawyer,” Daryl said, his tone slightly lighter now. There was a faint flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I’ll be in touch.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at the correction. There was something about the way he said it—softened by the faintest trace of gratitude—that made you think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t all hard edges after all.

“Take care, Mr. Dixon,” you replied, your voice warm but still professional as he turned to leave.

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader Era: Very Early Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn and Abraham are alive, and there are no Saviors) Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group, Jealousy, Possessive Reader Warnings: None

Summary: You and Daryl had always been good friends, but when you overhear the Newberry women talk about him at their welcome barbeque, you begin to wonder whether you may like him more than you’ve let on. Beginning: You’re not the jealous type, you had right to believe that statement to be true. Until this blistering Georgian summer’s evening.

Good Morning to Ya Too (18+) 👄

You hadn’t thought you were the jealous type. No, that wasn’t you. You were never one to let your emotions get the better of you, especially when it came to Daryl. He was your friend, the one you relied on, the one who always had your back in this world gone to hell. You’d both survived too much together for any foolish feelings to get in the way. Or so you told yourself, anyway.

But then came that blistering Georgian summer evening.

It was the first official week since the Newberry group had joined you at the prison, and Rick had reluctantly agreed to Karen’s suggestion of a welcome barbecue. Not everyone was thrilled about it—Michonne’s distaste for social gatherings was well-known, and Daryl, well, Daryl wasn’t exactly the most social of people either. But you’d managed to get everyone on the same page—sort of. A small, quiet gathering was the compromise, and as far as you were concerned, it was a much-needed break from the constant fighting and running.

You were busy at the makeshift bar with Carol, drying off cups you'd scavenged during a run with Daryl. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the breeze just cool enough to offer relief from the heat of the day. Conversations and laughter floated through the air—something you hadn't experienced in what felt like ages.

Carol, on the other side of the bar, was tending to what she called sausages, though they were more like slices of steak on sticks. Still, they were a hit among the Newberrians and your group alike, and that was something you could appreciate.

"Need any help with that?" you asked, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension inside.

Carol shot you a look, one eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you’re not distracted by someone else?"

You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. Her smirk gave it away.

You glanced over at Daryl, who was off talking with the Newberry men, laughing and joking in his usual quiet way. You’d been through so much together—fighting walkers, surviving on the road—but there was something different tonight. Maybe it was the way the golden light of the setting sun cast shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, or the way his laugh, low and genuine, made your heart flutter in a way it never had before. Or maybe it was just the way the Newberry women looked at him—eyes filled with more than just admiration.

You caught snippets of their conversation, their voices just loud enough for you to hear.

“You see the way his shirt fits?” one of the women said, her voice teasing. “I swear, if I were any closer, I’d rip it off him myself.”

“Yeah, right,” another woman laughed. “But I bet that beard... I’d rather let him wear it for a while.”

The last woman, who you thought was named Lucy, sighed almost dreamily. “Mmm, the way he looks when he smirks... I'd let him get away with anything.”

You felt a pang in your chest that you couldn't explain. You tried to brush it off. This was Daryl—your friend. Sure, he was ruggedly handsome, but you’d never thought of him like that. Not before. Not until now.

Carol’s voice interrupted your thoughts, laced with a teasing tone. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on him, too?”

You laughed, trying to play it cool. “Me? Nah. He’s just a good friend. Always has been.”

Carol gave you a knowing look. "Right. Sure."

You forced yourself to focus on your task, but your eyes kept drifting to Daryl. The way the sun caught his hair as it blew in the breeze, how he leaned against the table with one arm folded across his chest, his eyes scanning the group. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to attention, but tonight, there was something different in the way people—especially the women—looked at him.

You hadn’t noticed before. You hadn’t cared before. But now? Now it felt like a weight, something heavy in your chest.

You turned back to Carol, your thoughts scrambled. "You’re right. Maybe I am distracted. But it’s not what you think."

Carol raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly do you think it is?"

Before you could answer, a deep voice broke through your thoughts.

"You want another drink?" he asked, his voice washing over you like a sweet caress. Before you could answer, he put his hand on the small of your back, burning your skin while he brushed past, grabbing drinks for the both of you. Trying your best to control your breathing, you were engulfed by Daryl's scent, and you were tempted to just lean in and bury your face in his chest. Instead, you grabbed the glass with your drink, determined to forget all about this nonsense.

Seconds later, you found yourself staring at Daryl's neck as he downed his own drink, leaving you to think about all the ways you could bite and lick his skin. Holding in a growl, you wondered if Daryl always stood so close to you. Trying to look away from him, you caught another glimpse at the girls, and the looks they gave you ranged from jealous to impressed. There was a good chance they considered you and Daryl to be a couple, and the thought brought even more heat to your body.

"Are you listening to me?" Daryl asked, making you look at him completely dumbfounded.

"What?"

Concern crawled onto Daryl’s face, and you drowned in the blue of his eyes as he lifted his hand to your face, carefully cupping your cheek. "Are you alright? You look flushed."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the soft touch, but then you managed to smile. "I just don't like the heat. Tell me about your bike."

Daryl studied you for a moment before taking his hand away. "It’s nothing, just glad that they’ve got useful tools and petrol for it, needed an upgrade, yaknow? That way, I can take passengers safely too, more conspicuous to go on supply runs or sus things out with a small bike.”

"Alright, at least I’ll have a better ride tomorrow than I usually do." Daryl smiled. "Another drink?"

You nodded, hoping the alcohol would manage to douse your confused mind. A few drinks later, there was still a tingling feeling whenever Daryl stood too close or touched you, but you stopped worrying about it.

When it was getting late, Daryl led you up the stairs to your new room. Sharing a house with the crew was the best thing to do. You were all bonded through your troubles and losses, and it was hard to pretend you were back to suburban life in separate houses. Plus, you knew you could trust each other. You walked over sleeping bodies, the sounds of snoring filling the air, and made your way up the stairs. You managed to snag a private kid’s room, just needing the seclusion while everyone else was asleep downstairs.

Daryl's arm wrapped around your waist like so many times before. You’d usually share a room as you took alternating shifts guarding, so you’d never really be in there together until late in the morning when one of you was relieved. The second you were through the door, Daryl kicked off his boots and took off his shirt.

After what you felt downstairs, you hesitated for a moment to do the same. But you’d look a lot less suspicious if you did everything as always. You took off your own shirt, and by the time you pulled down your pants, Daryl had already crawled into the bed in his underwear.

You lay down next to him, and it didn’t take long for Daryl’s breathing to change, signaling that he’d fallen asleep. With a sigh, you turned your back to him, convinced that tomorrow everything would be normal again.

The next morning, one thing is, in fact, normal. When you wake up, Daryl is basically wrapped around you. Whenever you share a bed, there's a good chance you wake up completely entangled. Usually, you wiggle your way out of his grip and get up, but today you can't bring yourself to move at all. Daryl has his arm wrapped around your waist, his whole body pressing against yours. 

His face is buried in your neck, and when his hot breath ghosts over your skin, it sends cold shivers down your spine. You think about all the things the other women wanted to do to Daryl, and it gives you a sick sort of satisfaction that you're actually in a position to do just that. 

You dare yourself to move, rolling your hips. Daryl steers with a grunt. His lips touch the skin on your neck, and then you can feel his length rubbing hard against your ass. Your heart almost beats out of your chest, but you also feel bad about doing this to him in his sleep. 

Turning around, you try to bring a little distance between the two of you, but Daryl won't have it, pulling you close again. You can feel him pressing against your thigh while your hands come to rest against his chest. There's still a chance for you to get out of this, but you don't want to. 

Instead, you run your hand over Daryl's chest and up to his neck, your grip firm since you don't want to hide what you're doing. He steers, and you venture back down, playing with the little hairs and circling Daryl's nipples with your fingertips. With a grunt, he barely opens his eyes, making your blood run cold. 

"Morning To Ya, Too ," Daryl mumbles, and you're not sure if he doesn't notice what you're doing or if he chooses not to comment on it. 

"Good morning," you say, and with your heart pounding like crazy, you dare to let your hand wander. 

You caress Daryl's stomach, enthralled by how soft the skin feels. You dig a little into the flesh until his muscles harden under your touch. 

Daryl has propped himself up a little, watching how your hand ventures even lower, and finally, his eyes grow wide. You keep looking at him while you move your hand even lower, unable to stop yourself. 

The second your hand cups the bulge in Daryl's pants, he gets in motion. With a grunt, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close. This time, it's no accident when his lips meet your neck, and he teases your skin with little licks and bites. 

Spurred on by Daryl's reaction, you get more daring. Without making a fuss, you pull his underwear down and wonder what the three women would have to say about the glorious cock that springs into your hand. Daryl growls as you stroke him, and when he lifts you up, you eagerly follow along, climbing on top of him. 

Daryl hitches up your dress and holds it in place while you rub your pussy along the length of his cock, coating him with your slick. You wish you could draw this out, but you're so turned on that you can only think about feeling Daryl inside of you. He stays still as you position yourself on top of him and closes his eyes with a deep groan when you slowly sink down onto his cock. 

The sheer size of him drives you close to the edge, so you stay still for a moment. Without looking, Daryl runs his hands up your legs and over your stomach. His touch brings goosebumps all over your skin, your nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your dress. Daryl opens his eyes, his gaze fixed on you as he ventures higher with his touches. His large hands cup your breasts, and the second he knits the soft flesh, you can't hold on any longer. 

Rolling your hips, you drive Daryl's cock in and out of you at a rough pace, unable to avoid his gaze. He's looking at you with so much fire and greed in his eyes that it takes your breath away. You thought that you maybe could get Daryl to fool around with you for a bit, but you never could have predicted something like this. For five years, you've watched Daryl say no to countless women, but here he is, saying yes to you.

As Daryl eagerly pushes the fabric of your dress aside, revealing your breasts, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement. His skilled mouth works its magic, driving you wild with pleasure. You ride him harder than any motorcycle could ever dream of, the sensation of him inside you pushing you closer and closer to the edge. With a loud moan, your mouth falls open as you reach your climax, Daryl's name echoing through the room. He continues to thrust into you, his own pleasure building with each passing moment. Finally, he pulls out, leaving a trail of come on his stomach. As you both catch your breath, you can't help but feel a deep connection between you. You want nothing more than to lie down and cuddle up to him, but a sudden thought occurs to you.

"Shit," you curse, scrambling out of bed and tossing the covers off yourself, "we're gonna be late."

Daryl groans, but he’s up right behind you, both of you rushing to get dressed. The sun’s already rising, casting a golden glow across the camp, and you’re well past the time you were supposed to leave for the supply run. You needed to be out before the sun came up, but now you’re scrambling to get everything together.

Half an hour later, you’re standing by the side of the road, trying to steady your breathing. Daryl walks over, and when he leans back against the same tree as you, his shoulder brushes against yours. You don’t flinch.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his blue eyes focused on you, looking for any hint of uncertainty.

Your mind is still spinning, and you’re not sure you’re ready for the supply run—much less what’s going to happen after it. You’re so terrified you’ve messed things up between you two, it must show on your face.

Daryl takes your hand, squeezing it lightly. "You’ll be alright. Trust me."

That, you can do. You take a deep breath, pushing away the anxiety. No matter what happens, you know you can trust Daryl. You pull your bandana over your face, your heart still racing but grounding yourself in the moment.

“Let’s do this.”

Daryl grins and pulls up his bandana, his eyes bright. "That’s my girl."

He turns toward the trees beyond Alexandria, staring out at the thick forest, his heart pounding like a damn drum in his chest. For five damn years, you and Daryl had been friends, but now? Now, for reasons he couldn’t understand, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be your man. And it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It didn’t make sense, but it did.

Daryl glances past the trees, catching sight of you across camp, talking to Rick. His heart skips, but before he can let himself get lost in the moment, he sighs and leans back, staring down at the empty page of his journal. It had been a week since that morning when you touched him in ways he didn’t know how to put into words. And ever since then, he hadn’t written or drawn a damn thing. He couldn’t. Not with what was gnawin’ at him inside.

He’s never been good with words, not really. But damn, how could he possibly explain how he felt now? Five years ago, when Daryl first met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. That simple crush turned into so much more when he got to know you. But the friendship? It felt so good, and he didn’t want to mess it up. After everything he’d been through with love, Daryl buried those feelings deep down, thinking he could forget about them.

But now? Now, he couldn’t shake it. You and him were so damn comfortable together, and he’d come to realize that just being friends wasn’t enough. The last week, though? It felt like drownin’—every time he tried to talk to you, someone else was around, and it was like he couldn’t catch a damn breath.

He just wanted to talk to you. To understand what happened. But after a week of silence, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He missed you. And his old feelings? They were back in full force, and he needed to know if you might feel the same.

Daryl scratches out a note, his handwriting barely legible from how fast his hands are movin'. He walks across camp, eyes flicking to make sure nobody’s watchin'. He hands the note to Rosita, his closest friend, and she raises an eyebrow at him, a teasing smirk creeping onto her face. "What’s this about, Dixon?" she asks, clearly curious. He can’t get the words out, but he doesn’t need to. She knows.

Rosita, always full of energy and not one to keep secrets, takes the note with a knowing grin, but before Daryl can leave, she’s already running off to share it with everyone else. He can hear her calling out to Rick, Glenn, and Michonne—his stomach drops. He didn’t think this part through. But it’s too late now.

He walks out of camp, keeping his distance, riding off on his bike until the sounds of Alexandria fade into the distance. He doesn’t care if they all know. He has to see you. He’ll wait till he gets answers, even if it’s the last damn thing he does.

Three hours later, Daryl’s sitting alone in a small room at the local hotel. He told you in the note where to meet him, and he’s not leaving until he gets to talk to you. He could use a drink to settle his nerves, but he’s not taking that chance. Not now. Not when he needs his head clear.

A knock on the door.

His heart races. He jumps up, almost knocking the door off the hinges, and flings it open. There you stand, looking small and shy, and every damn inch of him aches just seeing you. You’re holding yourself together, but he can tell you’re nervous, too. “You wanted to talk?” you ask, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Daryl replies, his voice rougher than he intended. “Come on in.”

You step past him and move to the center of the room, and Daryl stays where he is, afraid to get too close, scared of what might happen if he does. He takes a deep breath, the words he’s been thinking on for hours suddenly harder to find. “I wanted to talk about what happened last week.”

His heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it, but there’s nothing coming from his lips. He wants to say so much, but damn, what if he says the wrong thing? What if he messes this up and you walk away, not wanting to be his friend anymore? He’s stuck in his own head, trapped by the fear of losing you. But as always, you save him.

You step closer, wringing your hands, but this time you look him right in the eye. You take a deep breath and speak first. “Alright,” you start, voice steady but soft. “I’ll start. You’re my best friend, Daryl, and I don’t want to lose that. But for the last week, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be with you again. Not just as friends. I want to be—”

You hesitate, and Daryl’s heart races, but before you can finish, he blurts it out, “Lovers?”

A weak laugh escapes you, and you shrug a little. “Yeah,” you admit, “I guess. You always were the one with the words.” You laugh again, this time more freely. “Yeah. Lovers.”

Daryl feels like the ground’s shifting beneath him. Grief, heartbreak, fear—he feels it all, but it’s not bad. It’s new, this feeling, and it’s everything he ever wanted. He wants to speak, but the words are stuck.

So, he takes a step forward, and without thinkin’, he sweeps you up into his arms, lifting you off your feet. You let out a surprised squeal, but Daryl doesn’t stop. He kisses you like it’s the first and last time, holding you close. He’s done tryin’ to figure this out. There’s no more words needed between you two—just this.

Kissing your neck, Daryl carries you over to the bed to put you down on it, and seconds later, you're tearing at each other's clothes, wanting to feel each other, to be close again. Daryl crawls on top of you, and you eagerly spread your legs, letting him in. Buried deep inside of you, he takes a moment to feel that deep calmness only you're able to give him.

Daryl stares into your eyes, bathing in the way you look back at him. There's so much adoration and acceptance that it takes his breath away. You smile up at him, and while marveling at the curve of your lips, Daryl realizes that despite what happened last week, he's never had the pleasure of kissing you.

He leans in, and you lift up your chin, fuelling his courage by welcoming him once again, always the one to take him just the way he is. Daryl presses his lips to yours, the soft brush of skin on skin so tender that he completely loses himself.

Your hands are in his hair, holding on as he deepens the kiss, your tongues rubbing hot against each other. Daryl's engulfed by your taste, your scent, the way you hold on to him, needing him, trusting him. He wishes he could stay like this, preserve this moment forever, but you're both too desperate for more.

Daryl can't tell who loses control first, but all the tenderness soon makes room for shared moans between kisses, your fingers clawing at Daryl's skin as he thrusts into you, spurred on by the euphoria of venturing deeper and deeper into your tight heat.

Reality blurs as you become Daryl's whole world. Nothing matters but your touches and kisses, the sweet words you whisper into his ear before crying out his name. Still, Daryl feels guilty for not saying anything when you laid your heart bare to him. He keeps as still as he can, taking your face in his hands before searching your eyes.

"Goddamn girl, I love you," he says, his voice hoarse as the words rush out of him, a prayer that you'll hopefully accept.

The expression on your face is truly one of a goddess, not a cruel one, but so beautiful that you could shatter him on a whim. "I love you, too," you say, your voice soft, a sweet caress for Daryl's tormented soul.

He kisses you again, unable to stop now, losing himself in everything you are to him. You hold on to him, your eyes meeting again as you wrap your legs around him, forbidding him to shy away just an inch. Daryl follows your every desire, pushing into you to elicit eager moans and gasps, carrying you closer and closer to your sweet undoing.

You come with Daryl's name on your lips, your muscles clenching so hard around him that he can't hold on. Still in your grasp, Daryl thrusts into you, filling you up with his come as your nails leave desperate marks on his skin.

He buries his face against your neck and lets you pet him for a while, but then Daryl lies down next to you to unburden you from his weight. He pulls you close, and you rest your head against his chest, your fingertips caressing his stomach as if you're back at where you started a week ago, coming full circle.

"I think I was jealous," you admit to the silence between you, and Daryl moves a little to the side to look down at you.

"Jealous?"

"Last week in the saloon, these girls were talking about how good looking you were and what they would want to do to you in bed."

"Keep going," Daryl teases.

You laugh but hit his chest with not much force. "I'm trying to be serious here."

Daryl leans in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry. Are you talking about that Lucy girl?"

"You remember her name?" you say, your brows knitting together, and Daryl can't help but find your jealousy pretty endearing.

"If it makes you do to me what you did last week, I'll remember all of their names."

You laugh, but instead of hitting Daryl again, you push him onto his back to crawl on top of him. Daryl reaches down to hold you in place, enjoying how your beautiful body melts against his. You look at him with a devilish smile that brings heat to every inch of his body.

"You're going to punish me now?" Daryl asks, not minding the idea at all, but you shake your head.

"No, I won't punish you," you say, leaning down to leave some sweet kisses all over his chest. "I want to make up for lost time. Five years of lost time."

Daryl lets go off you to rest his arms over his head. "I'm all yours."

You run your fingers over his beard and the scars on his chin as if you need to rediscover him. "I hoped that you'd say that."

Over the last years, Daryl has paid for many hotel rooms, but he's never had to pay extra for a broken bed before. Judging by the bartender's stare, it might also be some time before Daryl can show his face here again without getting weird looks.

Not that he cares. Daryl follows you outside to the horses, his eyes hefted to your swaying hips. He only looks up when you turn around to him, pulling him in for a kiss. It's as if you already missed him in the few minutes you haven't been glued together.

Have a Nice Summer (18+)

Pair: Van (Floating 1997) x Reader

Tags: Floating 1997 , Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Loss of Virginity (both of em wink)

Word Count: 883 Words

Warnings: Smut, Depictions of Nudity & Coarse Language

Summary: You go on holidays with your family at your new lake house. You meet Van, the mysterious boy whom you discover was the original owner of this house, and the original owner of your new room. 

Chapter 1

The lake house smelled like cedarwood and summers you’d only seen in movies. You stood by the window, your hands clutching the faded lace curtains, starting out at the endless shimmer of water stretching beyond the dock. It was beautiful– too beautiful, maybe. Something out of a memory that didn’t belong to you. 

Your family had arrived in the afternoon, your car loaded with suitcases, grocery bags, and the lingering exhaustion of a long drive. Your parents were already downstairs, unpacking and settling in, their voices drifting up from the kitchen as they debated whether to order takeout or cook something simple for dinner. 

Your room had been the deciding factor in them buying this place. Your mother had insisted you’d love it, and to be fair, she wasn’t wrong. The space was bigger than your room back home, with enough space to set up a small desk by the window. A desk that, oddly enough, had come with the house, much like the bed already set up against the far wall. The wooden frame creaked when you sat down earlier, but the mattress was firm enough, and with your own bedding draped over it, it almost felt like yours. 

Still, there was something about the room that felt… lived in. 

It wasn’t just the floorboards that creaked in all the right places or the way the walls held onto the scent of the old wood and lake air. It was the feeling that settled in your chest when you ran your fingers over the edges of the desk, as if someone else had once sat in the same spot, tracing the grain of the wood absentmindedly, lost in thought. 

You shook the feeling off and focused on unpacking instead. Your sketchbooks and pencils were already arranged on the desk, along with a few worn paperbacks you’d brought along for the summer. The walls were still bare, the room still unfamiliar, but it was a start. 

Reaching into your bag, you pull out two posters– one you got at a Superchunk concert you went to earlier this year, and the other a Nirvana poster that came with a CD you got for Christmas. They were creased from being rolled up for too long, the edges a little worn, but you smoothed them out carefully before pinning them to the wooden walls. 

The Superchunk poster was your favourite. The show had been one of the best nights of your life– sweaty bodies crammed together, the pulse of the bass reverberating through your chest, the kind of raw energy that made you feel infinite for a couple of hours. Even now, just looking at it brought a small rush of that same excitement back. 

You stepped back, tilting your head as you took in the posters against the otherwise empty walls. It made the space feel a little more like yours. Like maybe you weren’t just a temporary visitor passing through someone else’s life. 

If only you knew someone else had noticed. 

A knock at your food pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Hey, kiddo.” your dad leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Figured we’d head into town soon. Get groceries, see if there’s a McDonalds– check the place out. You coming?”

You hesitated. “I think I’ll stay back for now. Get settled in.”

He nodded like he expected that answer. “Alright. Just don’t burn the place down while we’re gone.” He retreated down the stairs, when you heard the front door shut behind them a few minutes later, the silence felt heavier than before. You sighed, grabbed your book, and made your way down to the lake. 

The dock was warm under your bare feet, the scent of water and pine filling the air. You stretched out on your towel, book open in your lap, but your eyes kept drifting up to the trees lining the opposite side of the lake. 

Would you make friends here? Did people your age even live in this town year-round, or were they all just summer visitors like you?

Back home, this past school year had been… weird. You’d drifted from certain friends, gotten closer to others. There was a boy who had liked you, and another boy you had wished would like you. Nothing had stuck. You wondered if it would be the same here–fleeting connections, temporary attachments. 

The afternoon sun was hot against your skin. You shut your eyes, letting the sound of the water lull you into something close to sleep. 

But you weren’t alone. 

Somewhere in the trees, hidden between shifting leaves and shadows, someone else was watching. 

Later, when you left your window cracked open to let in the evening air, someone outside the house caught a glimpse of the dimly lit room. His room. Or at least, it had been. 

Van had watched the moving truck pull up that afternoon, had seen you step out with your parents, all wide-eyed and uncertain. Just another summer girl, another outsider who didn’t belong here. 

But now, standing beneath the cover of trees, his sharp eyes landed on the Superchunk poster, and something flickered in his expression. 

So, the new girl had taste– Not that it made a difference. 

She didn’t belong here. 

And if she thought this house was hers now– she had another thing coming.

A/N: Guys I am so sorry I'm like 3 years late to post this but I'm out of my cave and it is here for you!! Let me know if there's any scenes or anything you wanna see happen throughout and I'll tweak the chapters I'm working on x

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)

Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: none

Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.

@futuremilfemma hey :) i saw that your request were open and i had something in my mind 🤭 first of all i love your fics and your writing style especially in „ride his motorcycle“ when the character had this cute relationship with the women of the group and their little gossip sessions. sooo i was wondering if you could write something like this: the group finally settles down in alexandria (pre negan) the reader and daryl have known eachother since the quarry (they went hunting together. bonded over past trauma, etc.) and they have always hit it off and are now labeled as best friends but everyone around them can see that they feel more. like they try and convince them to confess and all but they just keep admiring eachother from afar especially daryl when he sees the reader getting ready for the party at deanna‘s? sorry if that‘s too much i would just love reading something like this

A/N: Thanks for the request emma, I hope this is what you were looking for. I was keke-ing while writing about the girls and guys teasing reader and daryl haha

The walls of Alexandria loomed in the distance, a symbol of safety and normalcy in a world where both had become distant memories. Daryl, perched against the frame of the front porch, watched the community come alive. People bustled about, preparing for a party Deanna was hosting that night—a strange but welcome change of pace from the endless survivalist days on the road.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. The quiet, the calm—it unnerved him. It was a stark contrast to the constant danger they’d faced since the prison, the farm; since anything in his life, even before people lost their brains: Alexandria seemed almost too good to be true.

And then there was you.

You had been with him from the beginning, always by his side during hunts, sharing long silences and stories of past hurts, unspoken but understood. Over the years, you’d become his anchor, the one person he could trust completely. The one person he didn’t feel judged by, and the one who saw past his rough exterior. You got him in a way no one else did.

Which is why it was complicated now, more than ever.