♥︎𝔐𝔯𝔰.𝔇/𝔐𝔯𝔰.𝔑 (ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔢)♥

↳ ❝ In which Chishiya meets you, who happens to be painfully lost. He barely speaks English, and you barely speak Japanese. Is helping you worth being late?

;;- chishiya x f!reader, fluff (?), umm idk... he's lowkey funny asf and sarcastic so glaze me.

;;- honestly idc if this is "ooc" because this is after the meteor shit, 5 years later. he likely changed a bit, plus he's CUTE!! i <3 him smsmsm. also lowkey inspired by something my gf & i did...

also only like 2k words, i got lazy .. i also hate the spacing but whatever

do we prefer small or big text.. im trying out big today

The bell above the convenience store door chimed softly as another customer wandered inside, disappearing into one of the narrow aisles without so much as a glance in your direction. The sound blended into the steady hum of refrigerators, everything inside feeling oddly calm compared to the overwhelming rush of the station just outside.

It should have been relaxing. Instead, you stood frozen in front of an entire wall of drinks, turning another unfamiliar bottle over in your hands as though the Japanese characters might suddenly rearrange themselves into English if you stared long enough.

No luck.

You sighed quietly, your shoulders sinking. "There's absolutely no way that's tea.." You squinted at the label. "Or maybe it is…?"

A cartoon lemon smiled back at you. That wasn't exactly helpful.

You reached for another bottle instead, comparing the two as if that somehow improved your odds.

"Excuse me."

You turned instinctively, expecting an employee.

Instead, the person speaking had been reaching into the refrigerator beside you. He looked around your age, perhaps a year or two older. His blond hair brushed just past his shoulders, naturally curling inward near the ends in a way that looked almost effortless. Despite the summer heat outside, he wore a light grey hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms.

He wasn't looking at you, he was looking at the bottle in your hand. "...No."

You blinked. "I'm sorry?"

He pointed at the drink, "...Bad."

"...Bad?"

A small nod. "Very."

His English carried a noticeable accent. Not because he pronounced words incorrectly, but you could tell he wasn't fluent.

"Oh." You glanced back at the bottle. "It tastes bad?"

"Mhm." He reached into the refrigerator, grabbing a canned coffee before stepping back. “...Bitter."

You looked at the drink again before quietly placing it back onto the shelf. "Thank you."

He dipped his head once in acknowledgment. "Mhm."

And that seemed to be the end of the interaction. He turned, beginning to walk toward the registers with the same unhurried pace he'd approached with.

You watched him go.

You probably shouldn't have stopped him—there were dozens of people outside.

Surely somebody else spoke English. Surely.

"...Wait!"

He stopped after only two steps, simply pausing before turning his head slightly to look at you again.

You suddenly realized you had absolutely no idea what to say. "...Uh..."

Brilliant start.

He waited, expression remaining almost unreadable, though there was the faintest suggestion of curiosity behind those pale brown eyes.

"Do..." You awkwardly gestured between the two of you. "...Do you speak English?"

He considered the question for several seconds. "Little." His thumb and index finger lifted, leaving barely an inch between them. "...Very little."

You laughed despite yourself. "Honestly, that's still more than my Japanese."

His eyebrows lifted just slightly. "...Japanese?"

You rubbed the back of your neck. "Almost none."

"Tourist?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

He looks like he's testing the words before he says them, pronunciation slightly off. "Vacation?"

"Mhm."

"Alone?"

You bite your lip. "Unfortunately."

His gaze drifted toward the folded transit map sticking halfway out of your bag, then back to you. "Lost?"

You let out a long breath before smiling sheepishly. "Very."

He reached toward your bag, slowly enough that you understood he wasn't trying to take anything. "Map?"

"Oh." You quickly pulled it out. "Right." You unfolded it carefully, apologizing under your breath when one of the corners ripped a little more. "I think I've folded this thing wrong about fifty times."

He accepted it carefully, eyes scanning the colorful train lines with remarkable speed. Unlike you, he didn't seem to actually read every station. He simply... knew them.

His finger traced one route. Stopped and moved to another, before he frowned ever so slightly. "...Ah."

"What?"

He tapped one station, finally looking up. "No."

"No?"

He shook his head. "Wrong."

"I gathered that much."

Another tiny pause. He searched for the words. "Hotel..." He pointed at one station. "You." Another station. "...Here."

Then he slowly moved his finger halfway across the map. "Now."

Your stomach dropped. "...I'm that far away?"

He looked at the map, then at you. "Mhm."

"Oh."

"Very far." He says awkwardly.

You nod. "Thank you."

He tilted his head slightly. "Welcome."

It sounded like he'd almost said you're welcome, thought better of it halfway through, and settled on the one word he knew would work.

You smiled anyway.

"So," You pointed uncertainly at the map. "How do I get back?"

His expression became thoughtful. "Train."

"Well,” You laughed. "I figured that much."

He blinked, "Ah." The tiniest hint of embarrassment crossed his face, though it disappeared almost immediately. He pulled a pen from the pocket of his hoodie.

You hadn't even noticed he was carrying one.

Without asking, he crouched beside one of the small shelves lining the window and spread the map carefully across his knee. His handwriting was incredibly messy. Not clean or precise.

He circled one station, then another. Then drew a clean line between them.

"This." He said while pointing. "You." Then another station. "...Change." He mimed stepping from one train to another with two fingers walking across the map.

"Oh."

"Then.." Another line. "...Go."

"...Okay." You nodded enthusiastically. "I think I understand.

"He looked at you, before shaking his head. "No."

Your head tilted. "What?"

"Not." He says firmly.

"...I don't?"

A tiny shake of his head. "Half."

You stared. "...You can tell?"

"...Face."

"My face?"

"Mhm."

"What does my face say?"

He thought for a moment. "Confused."

"...Fair."

Another silence followed.

You looked down at the map again, then back toward the station entrance visible through the convenience store's windows.

Hundreds of people crossed the intersection outside in perfectly timed waves, each one seemingly knowing exactly where they were going.

You felt your confidence slipping again. "I’m—" You hesitated. "I don't want to get lost again."

He followed your gaze outside. "Hmm." Then back at the map, then back at you.

For a few seconds, he didn't speak. You assumed he'd politely excuse himself.

Instead… he folded the map neatly, far neater than you ever had. He handed it back to you before adjusting the strap of the messenger bag resting against his shoulder. "Come."

You blinked. "Sorry?"

He gestured toward the exit. "Show."

"You'll... show me?"

"Station." His face was unreadable.

"You don't have somewhere to be?"

He looked toward the automatic doors. "University."

"Oh."

"I probably shouldn't make you late."

"Late." He nodded once. "But.." He paused again, quietly searching for the words. "You.." Another pause. "...More?”

You frowned. "More?"

He sighed very quietly, clearly dissatisfied with his own English. He looked toward the ceiling for a moment, thinking.

"You..." He pointed gently toward you. "Lost." Then toward himself. "...Late."

You stared at him for a second before understanding dawned. "...You'd rather be late than have me get more lost?"

His shoulders lifted in the smallest shrug imaginable. "Mhm."

You couldn't help smiling. "That's surprisingly kind."

His expression didn't change. "No."

"No?"

"Easy."

Your brow twitched, "Helping people is easy?"

Another shrug. "Today."

You laughed softly. "I don't think I've even asked your name."

He reached for the door, holding it open. Outside, warm summer air rushed in alongside the distant rumble of another arriving train.

"Chishiya." He said softly.

You stepped out beside him. "I'm—"

He gave a tiny shake of his head before you could finish. "Later."

You looked at him in confusion.

He glanced toward the pedestrian crossing where the light had just turned green. "Train first."

For reasons you couldn't quite explain, you found yourself smiling again. "Right."

Train first. The introductions, apparently, could wait. And somehow, despite the fact that you'd known this quiet stranger for barely ten minutes and still understood perhaps every third sentence he spoke, following him across the crowded streets of Tokyo felt like the most sensible decision you'd made all day.

The familiar melody signaled that it was safe to cross played from the traffic lights, and within seconds a sea of people moved together as though they had rehearsed it hundreds of times before. Businessmen with briefcases, students in uniforms, elderly couples carrying shopping bags—everyone walked with quiet confidence, weaving effortlessly around one another without a single collision.

You, meanwhile, nearly walked straight into a bicycle. "Oh!" You stumbled back instinctively.

The cyclist offered a quick apology before continuing down the street.

Heat rushed to your face. "I swear I'm usually not this much of a disaster."

A few steps ahead, Chishiya had stopped walking. He turned just enough to see what had happened. "Mmm."

"'Mmm' what?"

His gaze lingered on you for another second before he looked back toward the crossing. "Today," He paused, searching. "Little.."

You frowned. "A little disaster?"

A tiny nod.

You laughed under your breath. "I'll take that."

The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. It was gone before you could decide if you'd imagined it.

He resumed walking, slipping through the crowd with an ease that made it obvious he'd lived here his whole life. He wasn't particularly fast, but people seemed to naturally move around him. You found yourself weaving after him, apologizing twice after nearly bumping into strangers while trying not to lose sight of his light grey hoodie.

Every now and then he'd glance over his shoulder. Not because he expected conversation, simply to make sure you were still there. The gesture was subtle enough that you weren't sure he even realized he was doing it.

After another minute or so, the towering entrance to the station came into view again. Trains rumbled overhead while announcements echoed through the cavernous building.

You let out a relieved sigh. "I've never been so happy to see a train station."

Chishiya looked at the sign above the entrance. "Big."

"It is."

"Too big."

"You think so too?"

He gave a single nod. "Many people."

"I've noticed."

He grimaced, "Noisy."

"I thought Tokyo was supposed to be quiet."

He looked at you for a moment. "Not station."

"Fair point."

The two of you stepped inside, cool air washing over you almost immediately. The temperature change was enough to make you shiver.

Without saying anything, Chishiya slowed his pace. You didn't notice it consciously. Only that, somehow, you were no longer struggling to keep up.

・・・・・

He stopped in front of one of the large ticket machines.

You immediately recognized it. It was the same machine you'd spent nearly ten minutes arguing with earlier.

"This thing hates me."

He looked between you and the machine. "No."

"No?"

"Machine.” He nodded, "...Not hate."

You smiled. "Glad to know I'm not personally offending Japanese ticket machines."

He stared at you.

"Never mind."

He looked unconvinced but decided not to ask. Instead, he gestured toward the screen. "Ticket."

Right.

You stepped up beside him. Immediately, the screen filled with Japanese text. "Umm...." You looked hopefully toward him. "I have absolutely no clue."

He leaned forward slightly and pressed a button, the display switched to English.

You blinked. "There's an English option!?"

"Mhm."

You groaned. "I spent ten minutes this morning trying to translate every button with my camera.. And there was an English button."

"Mm."

You looked at him. "You're judging me."

His expression remained completely neutral. "Little."

You laughed. "There it is! You do have a sense of humor"

"I..." He hesitated, as though unsure whether he'd understood correctly. "Humor?"

"You were joking."

"No." He shakes his head quickly.

"You weren't?"

His head tilts slightly, "Truth."

"..That somehow makes it funnier."

A faint crease appeared between his eyebrows. It seemed he couldn't quite understand why you were smiling. He didn't ask. Instead, he pressed another button before stepping back to give you room.

"Now."

"Oh."

You hurriedly bought your ticket before looking at the small paper slip in your hand as though it might disappear. "There."

You held it up with an exaggerated grin. "I did it!”

He looked at the ticket, then at you. "Mm."

"That's all I get?"

He tilted his head. "Good."

"You sound thrilled."

"Mm." He didn't sound too pleased.

・・・・・

The station was just as overwhelming inside as it had been earlier.

People streamed toward platforms in every direction while electronic boards flickered overhead with departure times you couldn't hope to read fast enough.

Without thinking, you moved a little closer to Chishiya. Not enough to invade his space, just enough that you wouldn't lose him in the crowd.

He noticed. His eyes flicked briefly toward where you'd closed the distance before returning to the overhead signs. He didn't comment.

Instead, he lifted one hand slightly, motioning for you to stay beside him as another wave of commuters hurried between you.

You followed without question.

For several minutes, the only sounds between you were footsteps, train announcements, and the occasional rumble of passing trains.

Oddly enough… the silence wasn't awkward anymore. Back at the convenience store, every pause made you feel like you should say something.

Now, walking beside him, there didn't seem to be any pressure at all. You found yourself simply looking around instead.

Students laughed quietly near one platform. An elderly station attendant bowed politely as passengers thanked him. Somewhere nearby, the unmistakable smell of fresh bread drifted from a bakery tucked between two exits.

Your stomach growled loudly. You immediately wished the ground would open beneath your feet. "...Please pretend that didn't happen."

Chishiya looked at you. Then, almost instinctively, toward the bakery. Then back at you. "Lunch?"

You rubbed the back of your neck. "I may have forgotten."

"Forgot."

"Well..." You smiled sheepishly. "I was busy getting lost."

He stood there for a second, watching you with that same unreadable expression. "Hmm."

"What?"

He looked toward the departure board, then at his wristwatch, then back toward the bakery.

You had the distinct feeling he was calculating something.

After a few moments, he spoke. "Five."

"...Five?"

He held up an open hand. "Minutes."

You blinked. "For what?"

He nodded toward the bakery. "Eat."

"Oh, no, that's okay."

"Need."

"I can eat when I get back to the hotel."

He was already walking toward the bakery.

You hurried after him. "Chishiya—"

He stopped just outside the entrance, looking at you with curiosity.

"You've already spent enough time helping me."

"Mm."

"I mean it."

"....Mm." His face looks dissatisfied, almost grumpy.

"You keep saying 'mm,' but that doesn't answer anything."

For the first time since you'd met him, he looked incredibly thoughtful. As though trying to decide how to explain something in a language that refused to cooperate.

Finally, he spoke. "People hungry." A pause. "Think.." He frowned. "...Bad."

You waited patiently.

He looked faintly frustrated with himself before trying again. "Hungry..." He pointed toward his temple. "...Bad." Then toward the bakery. "Eat, then train."

It was a surprisingly practical explanation. Not I want to buy you lunch, or you look exhausted. Just a simple observation: hungry people don't think clearly, and lost people probably needed to think clearly.

You couldn't help smiling. "Okay."

He gave one small nod.

As the two of you stepped inside the little bakery, neither of you realized that what was meant to be a five-minute stop would end up delaying him much longer than either of you had planned. It also became the first of many small, ordinary moments that neither of you would think much about at the time—but months later, both of you would remember with startling clarity.

part 1 - coming soon! part 2 part 3

daddy dixon:

readers vibe:

im obsessed with the squirrel man, idk

taglist: lmk if you'd like to be added!

That's why he stops torturing himself by staying away at all cost. He’s still not talking, though. Wouldn’t ever consider telling you about his suffering either — no, nothing could be further from his mind. Good thing he isn’t a big talker naturally, so it goes by unnoticed, or so he hopes.

Daryl follows you around, now. Not in a creepy way! He just figures if he can't stay away anyway, he might as well devote his time to protecting you if necessary. Though it is questionable whether you really needed an escort on the way to the pantry and back.

Plus — his newest hope is that maybe exposure will make that weird feeling go away. If he spends time with you constantly, he might become immune, right? He ain’t a doctor or anything like that, but he’s pretty sure that’s how it works.

… It’s not how it works. At least judging by his personal experience. Daryl still can’t control his pulse, nor stop his palms from getting sweaty, and that’s not even mentioning the painful pang of jealousy shooting through his heart whenever you’re laughing at something someone else said. Stupid Glenn or whatever. Like, the guy had a wife, why did he have to get all close with you on top of it? Daryl almost never made you laugh. Not that he’s been trying. Collecting your smiles, yeah, but he doesn't possess the arrogance it would take to want to be the reason for it.

He’s content just watching you from afar. Or from close by. Anything as long as it involves you, really.

But yeah, he still gets jealous. And he honestly hates himself for feeling that way.

It’s so not an appropriate reaction, and it hurts, and he doesn’t ever want to make you uncomfortable. He literally has no right to feel like that when he hasn’t even talked to you in a week!

So he buries the hot anger and insecurity coiling deep in his gut. Tries really hard to forget all about it. But he doesn’t know how, and it’s infuriating. Daryl hasn’t ever been ina situation like this before. He has no idea how to stop the spiraling thoughts or the daydreams. Not that he minds the daydreams in particular— No, fuck, scratch that, he’d be happy if he at least managed to actually want to put an end to it.

Because no matter what he tells himself, he doesn’t really want it to stop. Doesn’t really want to ban you from his mind… It’s such a lonely place without you.

Tries to convince himself that alright, if that’s what it takes, he’ll just keep it this way. Indulge in fantasies as long as it keeps him satisfied, keeps him from making hopeful thinking a reality.

Only, well, he’s not satisfied. Nothing can cure him from this strange new hunger gnawing at his flesh, leaving him starving even worse than a couple of days without food.

In fact, it’s even become easier to get by without supplies for a while, because, yeah, you’re constantly on his mind. It’s a nice distraction. Yet another reason to jusitify indulging in daydreaming, he tells himself. It keeps him alive!

… Daryl probably wouldn’t be able to stop even if it was killing him. Everything is connected to you. That flower at the roadside? You would love the color. Shame that he can’t pick it to show you later, ‘cause you’d get all sad about it being dead and torn out of its home next to the grass. That tree over there? Would make a good place to watch out for walkers from above. He could climb it. Woud you climb it if you were here? Are you okay with heights? Which way up would you choose, this branch or the one next to it? Like — it doesn’t even make sense anymore at this point. Not everything is correlated to you!

It’s just that, ugh… To him it is.

He can’t escape it.

The longer he thinks about it he begins to believe that you’re the only way out of this infuriating infatuation, too. If only you’d tell him off, he might act on it. Yeah, if it was your voice crushing his hopes instead of his conscience that might actually have an effect!

If only you knew about it. Daryl wishes you did, you’d have to for this scenario, but then again, he wishes you didn’t because he doesn’t want to lose you. Fuck, he doesn’t even have you and he still fears losing you.

Damn it, put him out of his misery already!

Only problem? He’s not ever gonna tell you. He’d rather take on a horde of walkers instead of making the first step.

Which, yeah, that’s really fucking stupid. No way you’re going to find out on your own, right? Also, he probably wouldn't be able to survive long inmidst a whole horde. And if he was dead he’d be losing you for sure.

This is all so stupid. It honestly has him considering if he should make you angry at him on purpose.

But… man, that isn’t working either.

Because you did not bat an eye when he just — stopped speaking to you. Nor did you look affected in any way when he began following you around like some lost puppy. You’re so — so fucking calm about this while he is panicking inside during any interaction and for the rest of the day, reliving it in his head.

No matter how offputting he tries to be on purpose by giving in to his whims and acting like a lovesick creep… you don’t seem weirded out at all! Yesterday he brought you a skinned squirrel, just laid it down in front of your cot while you were sleeping and… Fuck. He was so sure that was the final strike but instead, he just woke up to the scent of cooked meat and you preparing breakfast for the group all cheerfully.

Daryl felt defeated, yeah, mostly because he couldn’t help that wave of giddiness that washes over him, almost drowning his heart. But then again, there was another smile for his collection.

He rubbed his eyes groggily, still dumbstruck by the fact that you had just... accepted his little offering. Blinked once to make sure this was real, and then your eyes met his over the camp. He swore he could see them softening right then. But of course, something else caught your attention right at this moment and he was left alone with the nagging thoughts again.

You knew, right? That it was him? The chance that anyone else would have given you that squirrel is very low. Plus, even though it was skinned already — he’s a gentleman, you see, no need for you to get your hands bloody — there was still a hole visible where he had impaled the animal on his arrow.

It’s then that Daryl realizes, begrudgingly, that he wants you to know. It felt good having his action acknowledged, overwhelmingly so.

And when he watched you gently handing a plate to Maggie, eyes flickering over to him yet again for just a second, he can’t help but wonder if you’ve known about his little crush this whole time.

… 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑.

On a seldom quiet afternoon, Daryl finds himself kneeled over working on his bike. The solitary pastime keeps his mind and hands busy when things get unnervingly quiet. 

His grease-covered hands are too preoccupied to wipe the sweat off his brow, let alone grab the wrench he left annoyingly out of reach. When he catches a glimpse of you passing by at the perfect time, you hear that familiar drawl call after you with surprising casualness. 

“Babe!” 

You double back just to be met with sheepishly avoidant eyes. Before either of you can really process or address the slip of tongue, Daryl gives a curt nod towards the open toolbox sitting a few feet away.

"Gimme a hand, will ya?"

You hand the wrench over along with a smug look, which earns a warning glare and a begrudging grumble of thanks in return.

Frantic voices cut through the ongoing gunfire and permeate the staticky airwaves over handheld radio. While it's reassuring to have your found-family fighting at your side, the absence of your other half when the chaos begins distracts you. Steadfast directions are thrown out to maintain some semblance of order, but it's difficult to absorb details as panic begins to rise.

Like a shining beacon, the buzz of Daryl’s worried voice cuts through the surrounding frenzy from the walkie glued to your hip. As soon as you respond, the ensuing exchange is a concise flurry of ‘where are you?’s and ‘are you okay?’s from both ends. The huff of his breath is enough to tell you that he’s rushing to you as fast as he can, but he assures you anyway.

“Jus’ hang in there, sweetheart. ‘M almost there.”

The endearing term slips through the cracks of panic, but it’s enough to steel your nerves and remind you of what you’re fighting for.

Black blood splatters on your skin and decorates your clothes as you take down your targets one by one. When a walker nearly knocks you on your ass, Daryl is there to take it out with a swift arrow to the cranium. With a sharp thwack, the walker crumples to the ground in a limp heap. A rough yank on your arm pulls you to his side.

"What's the matter wit' chu, girl?! Ya got s'mthin' to prove?” 

He takes the brief moment to lay into you before setting off again, clearing a path for the both of you back to the group. Something about the way he growls out the warning prior to effortlessly parting a sea of walkers has you following along without argument.

He may loathe your reckless insistence on sticking near the frontlines and putting yourself in harm’s way, but he has your back without fail.

Solo runs with Daryl are one of the only times you get him all to yourself nowadays. Venturing away from the group may come with its fair share of unpredictable concerns, but those worries are pushed to the back of your mind today. All you care about is the afternoon sun warming your skin, your hair whipping back like ribbons in the wind, the rumble of the bike beneath the leather seat, and the man you currently have your arms wrapped around.

It’s been so long since your last outing alone together that this feels more like a date than a supply run. The notion puts a soft smile on your face.

Those mushy thoughts are abruptly interrupted by an unanticipated lurch of the bike that sends you reeling back as it picks up speed and roars down the open road. Your resulting flinch has you clutching him tighter, palms pressed to his front as you will your racing heart to climb back out of your ass.

Daryl spares a glance over his shoulder. The glimpse you get of an amused twitch at the corner of his mouth stirs up a familiar fluttering in your stomach. He returns his attention to the road, but not without laughing at your expense—a deep rumble that you can feel more than hear.

“Watch those hands, sunshine,” he calls back over the drone of the engine. The rare levity in his voice is unmistakable. One of his hands leaves the handlebar to firmly readjust your grip around his waist.

“At least wait ‘til we stop movin’ t’ feel me up.”

You know he’s only joking, but that doesn’t stop the very tempting idea from lodging in the back of your mind for the rest of the ride.

author’s note: you just read my first ever fic! i started stitching together this teensy collection of daydreams on a whim and have been sitting on the draft for a long while now. considering sharing more substantial fics soon. lmk what you think! anyways, hope u liked it & thnx for reading ♡

Daryl burst through the door, stumbling through the threshold of your apartment. The sound made you jump in your seat, eyes fluttering open.

It was 4 in the morning.

A sick, twisted feeling coursed through your stomach. Daryl moved inside, with Merle in tow. A dry laugh escaped your lips. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Hell, any idea what day it is, Daryl?" Approaching him, the smell of alcohol filled your senses.

His voice slurred as he started speaking. "S'late. Tryin' to go to sleep. Merle's gonna crash here tonight." Daryl spoke like he had any authority in this moment, like he owned the place.

Like he owned you.

"The hell he is! I don't want him here." Wordlessly, Merle collapsed onto your couch and snored into the cushions. Your jaw tightened as you listened to Daryl's excuse.

"Sweetheart, we can talk in the morning." He rubbed his face and groaned softly in annoyance.

"You've been gone for 3 fucking days, don't sweetheart me." You fought back the tears that threatened to fall down your face, stinging your eyes.

Daryl frequently went on lengthy benders, spent days drinking and smoking with his older brother Merle. You would have broken up with him, divorced him.

If not for the 5-month-old that lay sleeping in your arms.

"You're gonna kill yourself. Merle's making you do these things, making you act like your father." The mere mention of Daryl's father from your mouth made him shut down.

"You shut your damn mouth." He mumbled.

"No, because you and I both know that this shit is going to kill you. And then what, you're just gonna leave me with her?" You looked down at your daughter.

His daughter.

"Are ya' gonna step up and be there for her? She doesn't even know what you look like." You stroked her cheek gently, a sad smile on your face.

"You don't-" His voice broke, breath hitching as he watched her. The baby's sleeping frame wriggled, closed eyes flicking around. She was dreaming.

"I'm gonna go to my parents' house in Virginia for a month. Takin' her with me, she'll get plenty of love from her grandparents." You heard almost a strangled whimper from Daryl, quickly pushing it away and moving to your shared bedroom.

Where you had a suitcase packed.

"Were you planning this? Wanted to leave all this time?" Daryl followed you close behind, sifting through all the things that you had already packed away, his hands shaking.

"I want to make this work, Daryl. I do, for her." You set your daughter in her bassinet.

"But I can't be the only one raising her. She needs a father who is here." You packed the rest of your items that you'd need for the trip.

"When you can handle this. When you're sober, we'll come back and try this again. That's all I want." You stopped in your tracks when you noticed what Daryl was doing.

He stood by the bassinet, staring at his daughter with sad eyes. Reaching down, he pulled a blanket over her body, tucking her in gently.

"Daryl, you can do this. You can move past this and be in her life again. But you gotta show me you can change." You grabbed the sides of his face gently.

He didn't respond. He accepted it, without pushing back.

That morning, Daryl watched you leave. He hadn't slept that night, and couldn't look you in the eye.

The world ended shortly after.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Phones went down within the first few days; he didn't even have a chance to call you.

Never got to see you or his daughter again.

As he moved from camp to camp with Merle, he searched the surrounding area outside of Atlanta. Looking for you, for any sign that you were here.

Any hope that you and his child were alive. His brain was frantic, coming to the worst conclusions. Realistically, how could someone raise a child in this?

When Daryl and Merle finally found Shane and his group, it was the first day that Daryl fully felt the weight of what was missing. Seeing the children in the camp, the families that were fighting through this, it made his chest tighten.

He silently cried to himself in his tent that night.

Merle caught onto his longing to see you and his baby girl right away. Watching the way Daryl would stare at Lori and Carl, like that was something he wanted.

"Bet you miss your piece of tail right about now, huh?" Merle laughed to himself. Daryl's stare shot daggers into Merle.

"Don't call her that." His stomach churned at the mention of her. She wasn't a piece of tail. She was the mother of his child, his wife.

"Just sayin', man! You oughta move on, ain't nothin' you can do about her now." Merle shrugged as he skinned a squirrel they had found, his brows furrowed as he focused on the task.

A flip switched in Daryl, and he quickly shoved Merle away. "Shut your damn mouth." His breath was rapid now, emotions heightened. "And you-" His voice cracked ever so slightly. "You're the reason she ain't here-"

Merle was the reason they had that fight that night. But Daryl knew that fight wasn't the only reason you had left.

Merle wheezed a laugh at him. "Now you know it ain't my fault, brother, that's all yours." He eyed Daryl as he was breaking into a heaving mess.

"Don't you blame me for bein' a deadbeat, did a mighty fine job of doin' that all on your own."

Deadbeat. Like his father.

The word hit Daryl like a truck, smashing his heart into pieces. Because it was true. You had spent weeks begging him to pull himself together and be there for his baby girl.

And now he'd never have the chance to see her again.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Daryl carried that guilt with him past the farm, the prison, and the horrific events that followed the group like a plague. His silent burden that would never be shared with another soul. Each tragedy, each person they lost, made Daryl feel heavier inside.

After Judith's birth, he saw Rick as the man he could never be. He showed up for her every time and was able to be who Judith needed to survive.

It reminded Daryl of what he was missing. Would his daughter have smiled up at him with big precious eyes? Would she have looked like you, with gorgeous hair and the cutest face?

When the group had been approached by Aaron to come live in Alexandria, Daryl had a feeling that this would just be another community that would fall to the circumstances.

To the dead outside.

By the time the group had reached the gates, Daryl had accepted the fact that you were gone. That he'd never wake up to see your sleeping frame next to him. That he'd never get to press a kiss to your lips again.

And that his daughter was gone, no longer alive. Even if she was alive, what kind of life was this for a child?

The gates of Alexandria slid open wide to let the group through. Daryl eyed the men who surrounded them with narrowed eyes.

Although Aaron had already explained the 'amenities' that the community boasted, it was surreal to see it in action. People were walking by pushing wheelbarrows of flowers and crops, and children of varying ages were playing on the front lawns of their homes.

Homes. The word felt unfamiliar in itself. Deanna cautiously approached the group, accompanied by her two sons.

It was almost too good to be true, like this was some kind of front for evil actions that lay behind the clean rows of housing, behind the trees that cornered every sidewalk.

"Welcome to Alexandria. I think you'll find that we are a good group here. My name is Deanna, I am the leader here. Before we do anything, I want to make sure that everyone is safe, so I'm going to have to ask all of you to drop your weapons off."

Daryl felt an immediate surge of caution. Leave his weapon?

"Y/n!" Deanna called your name to signal that she was ready for you. You were in charge of the weapons inventory in Alexandria.

A task you took seriously from the moment you came knocking on Alexandria's door near the start of the whole thing.

Daryl swallowed at the sound of your name, remembering how your name felt leaving his lips. Like pure honey.

A small sliver of hope rose in his. He knew that you were in Virginia when everything went down.

Maybe this is where you ended up?

"That lady over there is Y/n. She's our weapons inventory. She knows all there is to know about guns, bows, you name it. We will briefly take your weapons while we interview you." Deanna pointed to you.

Daryl followed Deanna's eyes, his breath stopping.

It was you.

You were here.

Breath hitching, he felt as if time had stopped in its tracks. You were alive.

Daryl's jaw went slack; he felt like the air had just been punched out of him.

Eyeing your cart, you began your speech about weapons. "Alright, everything you got, just toss it in here. We'll make sure everything goes back to the rightful owner."

Daryl couldn't even process what you were saying. His eyes went blurry, tears welling up before his brain caught up with what he was seeing.

He watched your movements, watched you fumble with your shirt nervously.

Like you did before.

A hand on your hip, you glanced up at suspicious eyes from their leader, Rick. "And I mean everything. I don't wanna have to search-"

A shiver ran through you as you made eye contact with him.

With Daryl.

Daryl stepped out from the group, his steps unsure and shaky. He felt as if his legs could give out at any moment.

Tears broke from your eyes, a hand gently slapped across your mouth to stop the loud sob that came out of you.

Nothing else mattered. The rest of the group could come in and ransack the place for all you cared. Daryl was here. This was real.

Dropping his crossbow without a second thought, he crossed the distance between you in a few long strides. He stopped in front of you, his dirty face stained with tears now.

Glancing you over, it was as if he was making sure you were real.

Daryl practically collapsed into you, enveloping you in a tight embrace. Your arms flew around him instinctively, sobs now wrecking you and coming out without thought.

His hands were shaking as he took your face in his hands. No words were shared, just a longing look that you hadn't seen in him.

Not since the two of you first shared your vows.

In the sound of the intense emotions both of you felt, Daryl just looked at you, admiring your features. His thumb brushed over your cheek, clearing the teary mess that had accumulated. He pressed his forehead to yours, one hand coursing through your hair, the other tightly wrapped around your waist.

"You-" Your voice was hoarse and barely audible. Speech felt impossible, like all you wanted to do in this moment was feel him.

Feel his hands on you, feel that he was actually here.

Daryl didn't even care about the eyes on him; he could only think of you. He pulled away to get another look at you, like he needed to check that you were still here.

Saying nothing, he then pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. One that you returned immediately, humming into his mouth. The kiss wasn't hungry, but it was deep nonetheless.

You were convinced that the man you loved was dead. That there was no way of ever seeing him again. This whole time, you spent feeling guilty, feeling like you robbed him of something.

But he came to you.

"Here. Kept them all this time." You spoke in between gasps as you grabbed your necklace, on which sat two rings.

The ring you had secretly packed away. That you would have returned to him once he got sober.

Daryl was breathing heavily, adrenaline and emotion rushing through him as you handed him the wedding band. He slipped it on after several seconds fumbling with it, his shaky hands making it hard to do much of anything.

It was all too much. Daryl buried his head into your shoulder to just hold you.

Rick stared at Daryl in confusion. Daryl had never mentioned any woman in his life. Deanna recalled your interview when you first arrived with your 1-year-old daughter.

You mentioned your husband, a man named Daryl. A soft smile came to her face as she recognized what this was.

A reunion.

"Alright, Y/n is a little busy, so I'll take over for her. All weapons go in here, don't betray our trust, and we won't betray yours." Deanna eyed the pair of you before taking over your job temporarily.

It was like there was a bubble in which the only thing that Daryl could focus on was him and you. Nothing outside of that was important right now.

After everyone had put their weapons away, Deanna approached the two of you. "Listen, I'm going to have to be mean for a second and pull him away to do an interview to make sure he's a good fit. Is that okay?"

Daryl pressed soft kisses into your shoulder, swaying you gently as he just stood there. Allowing himself to feel, to hold you in what felt like a lifetime.

"Daryl-" You tapped him. The sound of his name from your lips almost made his knees collapse from underneath him. He'd dreamt of that sound, longed for it to ever fill his ears again.

"Honey, it'll just be a second." You managed to get him to pull away from you.

You watched while the group walked with Daryl to go to where the interviews were taking place.

Rick pulled Daryl aside. "I'm assumin' you knew her?"

Knew her? What a goddamn understatement.

"My wife." Daryl felt tears well up at the mere mention of you.

Rick's eyes widened. He ran a hand over his face in shock. Daryl hid this for years. Hid his immense grief.

"We'll talk about it after your interview. We will all be right outside. If anything goes wrong, just holler for us." Rick gave Daryl a quick nod before sending him in.

Daryl was barely focused during the interview, staring out the window at you, eager to get back and make up for missed time.

Once it was over, he was practically running to you. "See? Quick." You pressed your forehead to his as his shaky hands found yours.

Daryl asked a question that had been burning in him since he saw you. "My girl?" He prayed with bated breath that she was alive, that nothing had happened to her while he was hundreds of miles away.

"She's alive." You smiled at him as he let out a shaky breath. He let tears fall again, kicking himself for being such a mess.

But he couldn't help it. It was like somebody had sifted through his dreams and made one of them a reality.

"She's here?" Daryl knew that his daughter wouldn't remember him, but just seeing her would make all the difference.

Knowing that you've kept her safe all these years.

You nodded. "Wouldn't go anywhere without her. She's a little badass, you'll see." You laughed to yourself.

Daryl closed his eyes, absolutely melting at the sound of your laugh. Hell, he hadn't heard you laugh since he started going on his benders after his baby girl was born.

Only, his baby wasn't exactly a baby anymore. He missed everything.

Her first steps, her first words.

"She won't remember me," Daryl spoke softly, like this was a dream and he'd wake up to a walker growling above his face at any moment.

"She does. Been showin' her pictures of you and tellin' stories. She asks about you every day." Your words made him fall apart all over again.

"How old is she?" Daryl felt a sadness overcome him when he thought of what he'd missed. What he never got to see his precious baby accomplish.

"She's six. And I know what you're thinkin'." You put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his thoughts.

"You have time. Time to be in her life. I think we need to give this-" You gestured between the two of you. "Some time before you see her again. Tomorrow."

Daryl inhaled sharply. What's one more day when he thought he'd never see her again?

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

The group decided to sleep in the same house for the first night, out of fear of potential safety risks. Daryl felt torn. He wanted to be able to hold you, but he also had his group to look after.

"Stay with me tonight? These are good people." Daryl was holding your hands, his affection such a drastic change from his usual grumpy nature.

"Yeah, I'll get Olivia to babysit for me."

Babysitting. In the damn apocalypse.

Daryl let out a chuckle at the absurdity of it all and reluctantly let go of your hands to let you go talk to whoever Olivia was. In that moment, Rick approached him.

"I understand if you want to stay with her tonight." He placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"Nah, don't wanna disturb her."

Rick laughed softly. "Daryl, she's been through a lot. She looks like a tough woman at that. Not much you could do to disturb her-"

"My daughter."

Rick froze in his spot, his jaw wide open. "Shit." He sighed to himself.

"You've got a wife and a kid?" Rick asked, rubbing a hand over his face. "You never told us, man."

"Wasn't proud-" Daryl cut himself off with a choked sound.

"Proud of what?"

"How I ended things. Made her leave." Daryl didn't have to explain anymore; Rick just nodded in understanding.

"I'm here for you, brother. And I'm glad you found 'em." Rick smiled. It was a little funny, seeing the archer so worked up when he was usually stone cold.

"She's staying here tonight. I-" He ran a hand through his hair. "Need her here."

Rick chuckled. "I get it, man. If you trust her, I do too."

While the sun began to set, Daryl busied himself by helping the group settle into the living room. The minute you walked through the door, Daryl dropped what he was doing with Glenn to go see you.

Glenn laughed and shook his head.

"She's okay with you bein' here?" Daryl asked about his daughter. You snicker at him.

"Are you kidding? Auntie Olivia treats her better than I do." You wrap your arms around his neck.

Daryl nodded and pressed a short kiss to your forehead.

Once everyone was settled for the night, Daryl sat in the kitchen with you. It was a little bit away from everyone else, so you were able to talk in peace.

"I can't believe you're here." You breathed out a shaky laugh, sitting on the floor with him. "Feels like a dream I'm gonna wake up from."

Daryl held your hand, now quieter than he was earlier. More reserved.

Now, you hadn't seen him for 6 years. But you knew your husband and his tells.

"What's wrong? C'mon, I'm your wife, I know when you're acting weird." His stomach flipped at you referring to yourself as 'your wife'.

He could not get you close enough in this moment. Hand-holding would not suffice. "Need you close." He mumbled.

You smiled at him before moving into his lap. It reminded you of home and how you'd sit on his lap when he'd need something to ground him.

You tried to ignore the several pairs of eyes on you from the dark living room.

"Now tell me. Get it out now so we can get some sleep." You felt him melt against your hand when you held his face.

"M'just sorry." He started, his senses burning as tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You let out a small pout and let him continue.

"Should'a been a better husband, better father." His heart was pounding out of his chest as tears were now freely flowing.

"I let you down, didn't even come lookin' for ya'." You could tell he was beating himself up for this.

Hard.

"Stop. Nobody would blame you for not comin' hundreds of miles to check if we were alive. I'd have done the same thing." You pushed some of his hair out of his face, admiring the features that had changed since you last saw him.

The hair, for one. And then the scars that were littered across his skin.

"Messed up bad. Ya' gave me a second chance 'n I never took it." He spoke through choked sobs, intentionally quiet.

The group had never seen him so emotional, and yet nobody blamed him.

"Looked for ya' everywhere we went. Promise." Daryl was holding onto you tightly now, his head lying against your chest, longing for closeness.

"I believe you."

God, this guilt was eating him alive.

"Never forgot about ya'. Thought about ya' every night." He was such a weeping mess, absolutely torn to shreds as he bared his guilt to you.

"Still love ya'." He confessed everything he could.

"I love you too. Never stopped." You held Daryl's face in your hands and pulled him in for a soft kiss, one that he melted into.

Daryl pulled away to swipe at the tears streaking his face. "Stop makin' me cry, woman." He spoke softly, partly because the group was trying to sleep.

But the other part of him felt a little embarrassed by how many times he'd broken down crying today.

"Would be weird if ya' didn't cry. Just shows how much you love me, Mr. Dixon." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, his stubble poking your skin.

"Now, we should probably get to sleep. Got a long day tomorrow, save those tears." You teased him, a wide smile on your face, hurting your cheeks slightly.

Daryl just shoved his face into your shoulder in response, utterly spent from such an emotionally exhausting few hours.

"Gotta say though, I'm likin' your new hair. It's kinda sexy." You spoke through yawns, your eyes heavy as they fought off sleep for a few seconds.

Daryl huffed against you and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

The two of you fell asleep in that position. With you straddling his lap, legs wrapped around his torso to be as close to him as possible.

Daryl was like a completely different person.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Morning came quickly, and Daryl's breath hitched at the sight of you when he woke up.

Because you were still here.

It wasn't a dream.

The group stirred awake with the sun, discussing plans for the day and whether they like the community.

Your eyes flickered open, locking in on how Daryl stared at you with infatuation, pure love.

"Good morning, Daryl." You stretched out of your position on his lap. "Sleep well?"

For the first time in years, Daryl could actually say yes.

"Do you think she's ready to see me?" Daryl was practically shaking in anticipation. Because today was the day, he'd be able to see his daughter for the first time in almost 6 years.

"Oh, she's ready. I'll have to let her know you're here and let her process that, but once she does, you can meet her." You smiled at the thought of how she'd react.

"Ya' think she'll like me?" He swallowed, feeling a rising shame start to make his stomach churn.

He'd missed so much. He doesn't even know what she likes.

"She will." You knew it was his insecurity talking, but you shut it down anyway.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Daryl was sitting on a bench outside your place, listening as you explained to your daughter. He fidgeted with the rips on his jeans, his eyes staring into the cracks in the pavement as he struggled to keep himself calm.

It was torture waiting for you, for her.

From where he was sitting, he was able to hear you clearly as you spoke to her.

"Sweeheart, I know that I've told you all about your dad." You could hardly contain the smile that grew on your face as you held your girl close to you.

"I want you to know that he found us. He's here right now." Hands wrapped around your daughter, you soothed her through her sudden excitement.

"Now, he wants to see you so bad, honey. But remember, the last time he saw you was when you were a teeny little baby. He's a little nervous, but you can help him be brave, right?" You thought back to all the stories you told her about Daryl.

"I wanna see him!" Your daughter was practically bouncing with excitement, a wide smile on her face. Daryl let out a breath of relief he hadn't known he was holding.

She wanted to see him. Wanted to know him.

"Alright, let's go!" You held your daughter's hand as you led her out to where Daryl was sitting, waiting eagerly.

Daryl hastily stood up from the bench and turned around to face the two of you. His heart was pounding, the sound echoing loudly in his ears.

There she was, walking out of the picture-perfect house. Her hair was done up nicely, as if the world outside had no real effect here.

And she looked like you. Your cute little smile, the same bouncy personality.

Daryl breathed out a laugh of disbelief. The odds of reuniting, of finding his family in a place like this.

Maybe there was a god out there listening to his prayers.

He had dreamed of meeting his daughter for years. And still, it looked nothing like this. She bounded over to him, her feet pounding against the pavement as she ran.

And once she was close enough to get a good look at him, she paused. Daryl's heart could have stopped right there as she stared up at him with a sweet smile.

With wide open arms, she wrapped around him tightly, as if she'd known him just as long as he'd known you.

A quick glance from her made him tear up. "Hi, Daddy."

That was more than he could handle. He fell to his knees and swooped her close, his large hands enveloping her as if she'd dissolve like sugar.

Daryl pulled away for a second to get another look at her. He couldn't believe that this was real. His daughter had scrapes on her knees, and her overalls were covered in what looked to be a mixture of dirt and some food mess.

She looked like her mother.

"Are you sad?" His daughter asked, her tiny hands grabbing onto his face, curiously feeling the stubble that marked his skin.

Daryl shook his head. "Just happy I found ya'." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the tears that had streamed down his face.

He felt as if he'd cried more in the past day than he had his entire life.

Then, she pulled a picture out of her pocket. "You look different!" She showed him the picture, crinkled and slightly faded.

As if she'd kept it in her pocket all this time.

Daryl let out a laugh. It was a picture of him from high school, his lanky frame sitting on a beat-up motorcycle. And his hair was practically a buzz cut compared to what it was now.

"Yer' right. Got more hair now, don't I?" He held his daughter on his hip as he lifted her off the ground. Daryl let her play with his long hair, warmth wrapping him up entirely.

"Mama said you ride motorcycles!" She brushed the hair out of his face, examining his facial features.

"She's right." Daryl snickered at the way she pulled his hair back, almost like she'd put it in a ponytail.

"Can I ride it? Please?" She begged, her puppy eyes a new experience that he wasn't expecting.

And they worked just as intended. Daryl was a pushover.

"That's up to yer' mama. Maybe later."

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Alexandria was holding a welcome event to ensure that Rick's group felt that they belonged in the community. It was nothing particularly large, just some food and drinks around a campfire.

The group had barely seen Daryl the whole day. He was following you and his daughter around like a lost dog.

In a way, he really was.

But the two of you had convinced him to show up for the event instead of sitting in your house and learning how you lived. With a fair amount of grumbling, Daryl agreed.

Approaching the group with his daughter on his hip, her hands braiding his hair as much as a 6-year-old could, Daryl ignored the looks of shock and awe.

"Who's this?" Carol spoke with a smile. The child was a spitting image of her mother, but she had Daryl's hair color.

"My girl, thought I'd never see her again." He was so proud, so eager to show his daughter off as his own.

"Daddy, you said I could ride yer' motorcycle. Mama said liars get grounded." His daughter didn't process the laughter that rang out from the rest of the group.

"She's stubborn like her dad." Carol took a sip of some of the wine that had been provided. "Has your dad shown you his bow yet?"

His daughter shook her head. "No, Daddy was crying too much." Daryl rubbed his face, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Carol pretended to gasp loudly. "Was he really?" She shot Daryl a teasing look, snickering at the hidden middle finger he held up to her.

"Yeah! He was crying a lot!" Daryl ignored his daughter's betrayal and kissed her forehead.

"That guy over there named Rick has a daughter, too. She's younger than you, but she's really cool. You wanna go say hi?" Daryl pointed to Rick's daughter, Judith.

"Okay, bye Daddy!" His daughter slid off his lap and ran up to Rick. She tapped his knee and then asked if she could play with Judith.

The two stayed nearby, playing with sticks and flowers on the ground.

Now that his daughter was preoccupied, Daryl turned his attention to you. "You kept her thinkin' about me. Thank you." He was so glad to hear that his daughter knew him and had heard stories about him.

"Didn't want her to feel like you didn't exist. Wanted her to know that you were a good guy."

"I wasn't." Daryl furrowed his brows. "But I've changed." Daryl hoped you could see it, that you weren't just pitying him.

"I know. You're sober, for one. But there's a difference in how much you care. About her and me." Your eyes traveled to your daughter as she played with Judith.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Daryl carried your daughter home, her eyes barely open as she fought off sleep. "Not tired yet!" She wriggled in his grasp.

"Judith needs her sleep." Daryl walked inside with you, one hand holding yours, and the other holding your daughter close.

"And you do too, missy." You lifted her out of Daryl's arms and instructed her to get ready for bed.

"Thank you for today, Daryl. She absolutely adores you. Told me earlier that she wanted you to live with us." You wrapped Daryl into a tight hug, breathing in his scent.

Cigarettes and wood smoke.

"Would ya' want that? Me living here?" Daryl had hoped you would say yes, but he'd also understand if you needed some space from him.

A small scoff came from your lips. "Are you kidding? She'd kill me if I didn't make you stay with us. I wouldn't mind if you lived here; we'd finally be together again."

Together again. Daryl melted at the thought of that.

"Daddy?" A quiet voice came from his daughter's room. You smiled and gestured for him to go see her.

Daryl was pulled in by her voice, his heart bursting when he saw her. His daughter was in her pajamas, already in bed with her eyes hanging low as she continued to fight sleep.

To talk with him one more time before she slept.

"What do ya' need?" Daryl stood by her bed, a smile stuck on his face.

"Tuck me in?" She asked sweetly, how could he refuse?

Poor Daryl was wrapped around her little finger. He just nodded and grabbed her blanket, fluffing it up and tucking the edges to her comfort.

Just like he had when she was a baby.

"That better?" He asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She nodded and closed her eyes. For a second, it seemed as though sleep had taken her under its wings.

"I love you, Daddy." That little voice. Those four words that made Daryl's heart hurt all over again.

He practically abandoned her when she was born, and yet she loved him?

Daryl pressed his hand to hers. "I love you too. I'll see you tomorrow." He sat in a chair adjacent to where she slept.

His eyes tracked her breathing, unsure of whether he might still be trapped in a very elaborate dream.

"Honey, you've been staring at her for like five minutes." You leaned against the doorway, the sound of your voice startling him a little as he was lost in thought.

"Wanna make sure she's okay. That she's real." He stood from the chair and made his way over to you.

"C'mere." You managed to drag him away from your daughter's room, closing the door gently.

"I know you think that this is gonna fade away when you wake up, but I promise this-" You press a kiss to his cheek. "It's real. We are real."

Daryl's hands found your waist, his large hands caressing your skin the same way he had done since the two of you made it official about 10 years ago.

"Everyone called me crazy, y'know? Said that I should move on." You scoffed, your body swaying lightly against his. "Never did."

Daryl felt his cheeks heat up at your confession. "I didn't tell anyone about you. Regrettin' that now, but I didn't stop thinkin' about ya' for one second."

"I sure hope so." You laughed, your eyes falling to his lips for a moment as they tugged up into a confused smile.

"You what?"

"I sure hope you weren't thinkin' about other women while I was here speakin' so highly of you." You smirked at him.

Daryl hummed in agreement. "Never." Which was completely true, his mind never strayed from the woman he thought he'd never see again. You liked that answer, running a hand through his long hair.

The woman he could never just "get over".

"Jus' thought about you. Only you." Daryl melted into your touch, his breath hitching at the way you lightly tugged at his hair.

"Oh yeah?" Her words sent a shiver down his spine. "What were you thinking about?" Your finger traced circles on his chest, your eyes glancing up at him with a revived energy.

Daryl's mind went blank. He stuttered out anything. Anything to keep your hands on him.

"Your touch. The way you feel." His hands gently squeezed at your waist, feeling the way you rolled your hips into his instinctively.

"Yeah? You wanna feel me?" You grabbed his hands, placing them on your tits, relishing in the way his eyes were glued to you.

Daryl felt blood rush to his face and elsewhere as he gently squeezed your breasts in his hand. "Need this off." He tugged at your shirt, pulling it over your head.

You obliged his desperation, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Daryl sucked in a quick inhale, almost as if the wind had been knocked out of him at the sight of you.

"So goddamn pretty." He pressed a kiss to your neck, humming against your soft skin. "Been thinking about you like this." He spoke between needy gasps.

"Dreaming of these-" He leaned down to press sloppy kisses against your breasts, his spit gathering as he sucked on your nipples.

"Daryl-" You pulled his face up to yours. "My bedroom. Don't want to do this here." You were still standing in the living room, gasping and rutting against each other desperately.

Daryl hummed in agreement. He didn't want his first time with you since you left to be hastily performed on a couch.

You led Daryl to your bedroom, and he had slipped his vest off somewhere in between that time, tossing the heavy garment onto the floor.

"Missed ya' so much." He spoke, his words breathy against your skin as he pressed soft kisses to your neck.

"I know, baby-" You gasped as he bit at your skin gently, leaving small, pleasurable bruises. "Missed you too."

Daryl could hardly contain himself, his brain working in overdrive to comprehend what was happening. You were here, and he had the whole night to show you just how much he thought about you on lonely nights.

And he just couldn't get enough.

His hand held the back of your head, pressing a hungry kiss onto your lips, his tongue slipping in like he had kissed you millions of times before.

Like no distance had ever been between you.

The heat between you increased, the feeling unbearable. To relieve it, you tugged at his shirt, slipping it off of his chest. Your hands found his skin, the rough scars outlining the years you had spent apart.

Before it even registered in your head, you were falling backwards onto your bed. Daryl climbed over you in an instant, his large arms landing beside your face, trapping you beneath his frame.

And then, his hands were all over you. Pressing against your skin desperately enough to leave bruises as his soft kisses made their way down your chest. Wordlessly, his hands found the button of your jeans, his rough fingers fumbling with it before releasing it.

"Daryl, please-" You whined against him, pressing your hips up against his, a desperate need for friction coursed through your veins. Acting on that impulse, Daryl pushed your hips down firmly.

"Been waitin' years to see ya' like this. Gonna need some time to look at ya'." He whispered into your ear, the sickly sweet words drawing another pathetic whine from your lips.

He silenced it this time, his mouth moving with yours, swallowing your whimpers as he yanked your jeans down your legs. The sound of the fabric slapping against the floor made you wrap your legs around his waist as he made out with you.

Daryl managed to pull away from your lips, smiling at the whine that left your mouth. "Relax, sweetheart. Not lettin' you go ever again." With that, his eyes found your body, tracing the curves that looked downright sinful against the sheets.

In your blind lust, you hadn't even seen him lower his body just off the bedframe. A hiss left your mouth as Daryl licked a stripe up your clothed cunt, his eyes lighting up at the way you reacted to him.

"Been thinkin' about how pretty this pussy is." He pressed his tongue against the cotton, humming at the taste of your arousal that had been pooling since he started kissing you out in the living room.

"Gonna let me have a taste?" Daryl knew you, knew how much you adored his mouth on you.

"Anything, fuck please!" Your hips instinctively bucked up against his lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your panties.

"Since ya' asked so nicely." He slid the garment down your thighs, his eyes immediately glued to you, and how wet you were for him.

Daryl couldn't hold himself back anymore; he grabbed your hips with a bruising grip. Pulling your body to him, his face was inches from your soaked cunt.

Making up for lost time, Daryl's mouth began working on you, tongue flicking against your clit. He took you in his mouth, sucking at your clit as you became undone above him.

Your moans echoed around the room, your hands shakily moving down to grasp at his hair. His eyes glanced up at you as he dragged his tongue across your folds, humming against your skin. Your sounds were addictive, sending waves of pleasure down to his cock as he fought back the urge to come at the sight of you.

"Keep makin' those sounds f'me." He was practically groaning against you now, his right hand keeping your hips firmly pressed against his face as his left hand palmed his painfully hard erection. "Fuck-" His mouth left your pussy for only a second as he bit back his own premature orgasm.

Then he kept going, his tongue wasting no time in pushing into your entrance. Your whimpers got louder as your hips thrusted against him. His nose pressed against your clit, the feeling making your legs shake as you held them beside Daryl's head.

"Holy shit-" A loud gasp escaped your lips as Daryl slipped a finger in, his mouth sucking at your clit. You couldn't control your movements anymore, your hands tugging at Daryl's hair for some kind of purchase.

Daryl smirked as he felt your legs threatening to close around him, your mind clouded by the absolute pleasure he was providing you with. "Ya' like that, baby?" He thrusted his finger into you, eyes watching for your reaction.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as your hips jerked with his every thrust into your cunt. Daryl couldn't get enough of this, of your delicious reactions.

To think that he ever let you walk out that door.

"Yes! Don't stop, please!" You were begging him to continue, to bring you over that edge that drew closer with every thrust.

Daryl felt it, the way your cunt fluttered around his finger as your moans of his name got higher. He wouldn't dare stop now, a look of pure awe on his messy, soaked face.

Then he remembered something. A move that drove you crazy every time he did it.

Daryl curled his finger, hitting your spot effortlessly as he stroked it. From your reaction, he could tell he did it right. Your back arched against the bed, your whole body shuddering from the immense pleasure.

"Fuck-" Your orgasm hit you suddenly, the pleasure making your vision go white as Daryl rode you through it. He lapped at your cunt needily, taking everything you were giving him as you came around his finger.

"Let me feel it, I got ya'." He mumbled against you as he worked you through your orgasm, his eyes on you the entire time, wishing he could have taken a picture in this moment. To always know how beautiful you looked when he went down on you like this.

Once you were a whining mess, Daryl slowly pulled his finger out. God, he was a mess. His beard was soaked with your wetness, his pupils dilated with adoration for you. His hair was tangled from your frantic hands.

"Need you-" You ignored the ache in your legs as you sat up to unbutton his jeans for him. "Need to feel you inside." You felt the imprint of Daryl's cock against your hand, bulging against his pants needily as you unzipped them.

Daryl helped you by shoving his jeans and underwear off hastily. You took in a sharp inhale of breath. You remembered Daryl was hung, but not like this.

"Bet you jerked off to me through the years, didn't you?" You were genuinely curious about this, and whether you were alone in the fact that you got off to the memory of him almost every night.

Daryl's hips jerked forward as you ran your thumb over his tip, his breath hitching. "When it was safe. Thought about ya'." He left out the part where he'd barely been able to keep you off his mind, and how he wouldn't last very long thinking about your beautiful body.

"Me too. Forgot what you felt like." His cock twitched in your hand, letting you know how worked up he was. How your words made him feel. Daryl was slack-jawed now, eyes glued to your hand and how you slowly pumped him. Small groans left his mouth, his brain struggling to keep up with your words.

"Gonna make you remember-" He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses against your neck. You shuddered at his words; the anticipation was killing you.

"Come show me then." You wrapped your arms around him, bringing him down with you as you lay back onto the soft, plush bed.

Daryl's mouth found yours. His kiss was still just as hungry as before. His breaths were ragged, like he was losing control over his own actions. He brought his cock into his hand and lined the tip up with your pussy. He hummed into your mouth as he slid the tip up and down your juices.

The warmth radiating from your core made him whine against you. "Ya' ready?" He would have stopped there if you needed him to; he would have settled for whatever you gave him. Daryl wanted you.

In any capacity he could have you.

With a nod, Daryl pushed into you slowly, eyeing your reactions as you took him in by inch. You were so tight, your warm cunt fluttering around him as you tried to adjust to his size. Daryl held back the urge to kiss you as your mouth flew open in an 'o' shape in a silent gasp.

He was thick, the stretch of his cock a painful yet thrilling reminder that all you'd ever wanted was here, standing in front of you.

"Doin' good f'me. Almost there." He held his forehead against yours. He listened to your shaky exhales as you tried to relax enough to take him. Once he was buried to the hilt, he pressed a kiss to your head.

"Take all the time you need, got all night." He was lying. He was so close to losing it and cumming inside you. Because he'd thought about this moment for so long. Many nights spent with his hand wrapped around his cock, a feverish layer of sweat covering his body as he jerked off to the thought of you.

You gave yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size before you gave him the okay to move. Daryl almost let out a groan at that, his hips slowly starting to thrust into you.

"God, I forgot how good you felt." You let the words slip from your mouth without thinking, your brain fogged by the sight of him above you.

Daryl let out a quiet groan at your words, his brows furrowed as he focused on you and not the throbbing desperation coursing through him.

He didn't want to rush. Not when he finally had you back in his arms, and you had the rest of your lives together.

His pace sped up. "Can't talk like that, sweetheart."

"Why? Thought about how you'd fill me up so good-" You were cut off by your own moans that echoed around the room as Daryl lifted your legs to throw them onto his shoulders. His cock thrusted into you deeper, hitting a better angle that had your eyes rolling back helplessly.

"M'bout to if you don't stop." His words held no venom, broken by shaky breaths as he fucked you into the sheets. The sound of skin smacking filled your ears as his hips pounded into yours, at a pace that was frustratingly not enough.

"Daryl, please-" You were a mess underneath him, your chest heaving as you moaned breathily. "Need more."

He obliged your command, his thrusts snapping faster into your cunt as he gripped you tighter. You were positive you'd have some bruises tomorrow, but it made this whole situation a lot more real.

"Fuck! Just like that!" Your back was arched off of the bed as his thrusts hit that exact spot that made you scream his name. Daryl groaned above you, his hands tightly wrapped around your legs to keep you on him.

As if he couldn't get deeper, Daryl leaned forward to press a kiss against your lips, pushing your legs further back to accommodate him. His cock pressed deeper into you, your body trembling as his thrusts were relentless.

"Oh my god-" You cried out his name, your hands grasping onto the sheets for something to hold on to while he drilled into you with no abandon.

Daryl made a mental note of what drove you crazy. He hadn't ever tried this position with you, but now it had become his favorite. He let out open-mouthed groans, now focused on hanging on to make you come before him.

"Please-" You felt tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure being almost too much to bear. "Please, baby, I'm so close!" The familiar pressure rose inside you, eyes shut tight as moans flowed out of you uncontrollably.

"I know, sweetheart." He could feel it, the way you fluttered around him, the way you were writhing underneath his grasp. Your cunt squeezed around him, earning a string of curses from his mouth. He was so damn close to bursting.

"Give it to me, please. Wanna feel you." It was his turn to beg now, his voice broken and dry.

As if he had control over you, your second orgasm washed over you in an all-consuming, white-hot wave. "Oh fuck!" Your hips jerked against him, meeting his thrusts as he worked you through your overwhelming climax.

"So good- fuck!" Daryl let out a strained moan as his own orgasm hit him suddenly, his thrusts became sloppy and stuttered as he spilled into you. Short gasps left his lips as his body shuddered against yours.

You both came down from your orgasms, your brains foggy from the immense pleasure still rocking through you. After a minute of cooling down, you gestured that you wanted him to hold you.

Daryl pulled out slowly, both of you cringing at the feeling. "Wasn't too rough?" He looked at the marks he left on your skin. You laugh. "Please. You've been rougher." You remembered that time your friends were concerned about the amount of hickeys on your neck and chest after a romantic night with Daryl.

Daryl grabbed a towel from your bathroom, gently swiping at the mess he'd made on your sensitive skin. Then, he collapsed on the bed next to you, his face buried in the soft blanket.

"Not fair, you don't get to go to sleep without holding me, Mr. Dixon." You whined and lightly slapped his back. He wordlessly reached an arm out to wrap around your waist and dragged you across the bed to his body.

He buried his face into your neck, ignoring the way you stifled a giggle as his stubble ran across your skin. "I love you. So much." The confession made your heart soar every time you heard it.

"I love you too."