#daryl x reader

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."

Because Spencer had mistaken your politeness for encouragement.

Daryl had been away on a run with Rick and Aaron for nearly two weeks, and though he had left with his usual grumble and a promise to be back before you had the chance to miss him too much, you knew better. You missed him the moment he walked through the gates.

Besides, there were some things easier dealt with when your boyfriend happened to be terrifyingly competent with a crossbow and a permanent scowl.

You hadn't told him. Partly because you didn't want to worry him, and partly because you knew exactly how he'd react.

The mere thought of Daryl discovering another man had been making you uncomfortable was enough to picture the storm cloud that would settle over his face, so you tried to handle it yourself before he arrived.

"Spencer, seriously, quit it. I'm not interested."

"Not interested right now?" he'd asked hopefully.

"No. Not interested. Period."

And he smiled. Actually smiled.

As if his persistence would somehow change your mind.

"I get it, you're difficult."

"No, Spencer, you're being difficult. I don't want you." you pause between every word like you're speaking to a toddler.

His expression changed to something like disappointment for only a second before that easy smile returned, making your skin crawl for reasons you couldn't explain.

"Guess I'll keep trying then."

You'd stopped even replying to his greetings after that, not wanting to give the man any reasons to think he had a shot with you.

When Daryl arrived, you took a mental note to explain him everything. How annoying Spencer had been these last couple of weeks, how scary it was starting to look for you. But you waited the first day to pass, enjoying a peaceful time with him before throwing the bomb when things were calmer.

The next day, you woke up earlier than him, it had rained the night before, leaving the air cool and smelling faintly of wet earth. You had changed into one of Daryl's old shirts, the oversized sleeves hanging past your wrists, curled them up to make him breakfast, while your head wondered how you'd approach the subject without him storming out of your house immediately and stamping his fists directly onto Spencer's nose.

A knock woke you from your thoughts. You sighed deeply.

"Come on, I know you're home." the known voice said from the other side of the wall.

You closed your eyes.

Of course ignoring him had apparently encouraged him. Wonderful.

"Can we just talk?" his voice called through the door. "You've been avoiding me.". No shit.

You remained frozen on your spot. Then came another knock. Louder this time.

"Seriously?"

You were just beginning to gather your voice to yell at him to leave when footsteps sounded behind you and strong arms slid around your waist.

You nearly jumped out of your skin before a familiar warmth pressed against your back.

"Who the hell's bangin' on your door?"

"Good morning, sleepyhead." you dodged the question, turned to face him and press your lips to his. "Missed you so much these days."

"I missed ya too."

He wore only a pair of overused sweatpants, his exposed chest was marked with scars colored differently, some old and some new ones, his hair was a mess, falling over eyes still heavy and swollen with sleep, and there were faint marks from the pillow pressed against one side of his face. Confusion had settled into a frown as he glanced toward the front door and then back at you.

The knock came again. Daryl frowned.

"Seriously, hun, who's that?"

You stiffened, and immediately, he noticed.

"Who is it?"

"Promise you won't get into a fight for this."

That answer earned you a look.

"The hell's going on?"

"Spencer's been bugging me like an asshole but's gotten worse now. He's been knockin trying to get me to talk to him."

"He's-" Daryl looked between you and the door. "He's been coming to your place?" you nodded.

"I told him with all the letters I wouldn't want him painted gold but he won't listen."

Daryl's eyes darkened.

"That little prick–"

"Y/n?" Spencer called from outside.

Silence. You felt Daryl go completely still.

"Daryl?"

His head turned very slowly toward the front door.

"Daryl–" you repeated weakly.

"Sweetheart."

Another knock interrupted you.

"I know you're in there!"

Daryl released you with alarming slowness, you had witnessed walker hordes that looked less threatening. He wasn't angry at you, not even close.

But there was a very particular expression on his face that usually preceded somebody making poor life choices.

"Daryl."

"Mhm."

"Behave."

"Mhm."

"That wasn't convincing."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead so absentmindedly it nearly distracted you from the fact that he was marching toward the front door with absolutely no shirt on. He opened the door.

Spencer's confident smile vanished so quickly you wished you had recorded to replay it later.

Because as the door opened and he expected you, finally deciding to give him a chance or invite him in, stood instead Daryl Dixon, looking thoroughly unimpressed with existence itself, broad-shouldered and shirtless, like he owned the place.

And behind him, visible over his shoulder, stood you. Wearing one of Daryl's shirts.

Spencer blinked.

Daryl blinked back. Then, with all the warmth of a man discussing the weather, he asked.

"Can I help ya?"

The poor fool actually opened his mouth.

"I uh... I was looking for–"

"For my girl?"

Daryl's eyebrow lifted, he sounded calm — which made things worse.

"She's busy, pal."

Spencer's eyes widened.

My girl. The words settled warmly in your chest despite the embarrassment threatening to kill you.

"Didn't know y'all were together."

Daryl's expression got heavier.

"Well, now ya do." The message was, thankfully, finally received.

Spencer muttered something that sounded like an apology before retreating down the street with remarkable speed.

Daryl watched him until he was far enough, then closed the door, turned around and looked at you smiling like a child who just got cotton candy.

You woke to warmth. Not just the kind that came from the scratchy blanket tangled halfway down the bed, but the kind that breathed against your bare skin, slow and steady. Daryl’s arm was slung low across your waist, rough fingertips ghosting over your stomach in lazy, unconscious strokes, his breath brushing the curve of your shoulder. His leg was half-draped over yours, anchoring you to the mattress like he didn’t trust you not to up and leave.

The guard tower wasn’t exactly luxury living, but it had two things you both craved more than a decent mattress—privacy and a lock. After three days of him being gone on a hunting run, privacy had become very necessary.

Your thighs ached. So did your hips. And your voice, judging by the way it cracked the second you tried to clear your throat. Jesus.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open before Daryl stirred behind you, his mouth pressing sleepily to your shoulder blade, then lower—across your spine, trailing kisses like breadcrumbs. You shivered.

“Mornin’,” he rasped, voice all gravel, the low drawl rumbling through your spine as his hand slid up under the blanket to cup your breast—slow, possessive, and so damn familiar it sent a shiver down your aching thighs.

His thumb dragged over your nipple, coaxing it to a hard peak with infuriating gentleness. You sucked in a breath, your body twitching under his as his knee slid between your legs like muscle memory, his hips already starting that lazy grind against your ass.

“Daryl—” your voice broke off in a strained gasp as his teeth found your shoulder, biting down just enough to make your hips jerk. “Oh, fuck—baby…”

He groaned into your skin, rolling his hips again, slower this time, deeper. “One more time, cmon…”

You didn’t have the heart to stop him at first. The heat in your stomach lit fast—your body wanted him, wanted to forget how sore you were and let him take you again just because it felt so good to be under him, with him.

But your thighs trembled, already overworked, and there was a dull, nagging throb in your hip from how hard you’d gripped him last night—maybe from when he’d half-dragged you back up the wall after you’d collapsed around his fingers, begging for more.

“Daryl,” you rasped again, twisting to catch his face with your hand. His eyes were hazy, already half-lost in the feel of you, pupils blown wide as he kissed a slow line down your neck. “I can’t baby—I’m too sore.”

He froze mid-motion, forehead resting against your shoulder, panting quietly. You felt the exact moment guilt settled over him like a wet blanket.

“Shit,” he muttered again, softer this time. “Sorry. Didn’t mean—I thought…”

“You thought right,” you said with a breathless, teasing smile. “I want to. I just physically can’t.”

His face flushed as he leaned up, cupping your jaw to kiss you—slow, apologetic, worshipful. “M’sorry. Just—got home and you were already waitin’ in bed, lookin’ at me like that…”

“I was naked,” you reminded him, laughing weakly.

“Exactly.” He kissed your cheek. “What was I supposed to do? Be a gentleman?”

You laughed again, softer, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed down your chest, nosing at the curve of your breast like he wasn’t ready to let go of the idea just yet.

You turned your head just enough to catch his guilty expression. “Don’t apologize,” you rasped, still half-smiling. “Just… maybe gimme a day to re-learn how to walk.”

You gazed at him then; his hair was a mess—flattened on one side, sticking up on the other, the kind of disaster only deep sleep (and other activities) could make. Yours… probably matched. Longer, wilder, and currently hiding most of your face when you peeked up at him.

“I really thought we were gonna break that bed frame.”

“We did.” He grinned into your skin. “You didn’t hear it snap when I—?”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” He pressed another kiss between your breasts, slow and warm. “Totally worth it.”

His voice softened then, the humor fading just slightly. His lips brushed over the faint bruises he’d left on your ribs, fingertips moving with featherlight reverence like he could soothe the ache from the outside. “You really hurtin’?”

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you murmured, combing your fingers through his tangled hair. “A very sexy, grunting truck that doesn’t believe in pacing himself.”

He snorted, the sound muffled against your belly. “Told ya I missed ya.”

“I missed you too,” you said, threading both hands into his hair and tugging gently to guide him back up. “But I swear, if you even look at me with that face right now, I’ll kick you in the balls to even the score.”

He grinned, and gave you one last, lingering kiss—soft and slow, all lips and breath and whispered apology—before finally pulling back and reaching for your shirt. “Alright, alright. You win. But tonight?”

“Tonight I sleep.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t even think about waking me up with your dick.”

His expression was utterly unrepentant. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You never are.”

“Takes one ta know one,” he muttered against your skin. “I ain’t never seen you like that. Was like you were tryna kill me last night.”

“I think we both tried to kill each other,” you murmured back. “Four times.”

“Five times,” he corrected. “You don’t remember the time where you bit me?”

You blinked, confused. “Bit you?”

He leaned up, pulling his hair back with one hand to reveal a faint purpling crescent just under his jaw. You stared at it.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Oh, I do,” he said with a crooked grin.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.”

“S’fine,” he said grinning.

Faint now—barely a shadow of purple—but when his fingers brushed that mark, fresh out of bed and still hazed in the best possible way, the memory hit like a fuckin’ freight train.

He could still feel it. The pressure of your teeth sinking into that tender spot where his neck met his shoulder. Not sharp. Not cruel. Just desperate.

You didn’t mean to. You were barely there.

One minute he’d had you on your stomach, cheek pressed into the pillow, hands curled into the sheets like they were the only things keeping you tethered. He was over you, in you, grinding so deep and slow it was less a thrust and more a claiming—rhythmic, relentless. Sweat dripping off his skin onto yours. His thighs snug to the backs of yours, his hand gripping your hip so tight his knuckles ached the next morning.

Your body was boneless, trembling, oversensitive from everything he’d already done to you. He’d taken his time—fingers, mouth, words. Wrecked you soft first. Had you sobbing into his chest with nothing but a hand between your legs and his voice in your ear telling you how good you were, how sweet you tasted, how long he was gonna take his time tonight.

And then he’d flipped you.

And then he sank into you.

He hadn’t even meant to go that deep. But your hips arched into it, seeking more without words. Your mouth had fallen open in a soundless moan. Your hands fluttered—reaching for him, for the pillow, for anything—but settling on nothing. It was like your body couldn’t decide what to hold onto because it was too busy falling apart.

You didn’t say his name. You whimpered it.

And he’d lost it.

“Yeah, baby,” he’d growled into your hair, the tip of his nose dragging along your scalp. “That’s it. Doin’ so good. Attagirl.”

Your only answer was a sob. Not from pain. From need.

And then it happened.

Your head tilted. Just barely.

And your mouth latched onto the side of his neck.

Not hard. Not deep. Just enough to bite. To mark him. To hold onto something solid while your brain turned to static.

It startled him. For half a second, he paused—not his hips, not the thrust—but in his mind. That flicker of shock. Of fuck.

But then he groaned. Deep in his throat. Low.

Because it was you. Biting him like that. Because you were so far gone, so soaked and soft and open for him, that you needed your teeth to ground yourself.

And he couldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t stop.

Your cunt clenched around him like a goddamn vice and he drove into it like he was trying to become part of you. His hand slid up to the base of your neck, not to push you away, but to hold you there. Keep you close. Keep you biting.

You moaned against his skin, mouth still open, teeth still sunk into him like you didn’t even realize what you were doing—like it was just instinct. Just need.

His rhythm picked up. Harsher. Filthier. The slap of skin, the creak of the mattress, your muffled cries against his neck.

“You want it that bad?” he’d rasped, eyes shut, trying to keep himself from blowing then and there. “That gone already, huh baby?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but bite down again, just a little tighter, and whimper something that didn’t even sound like language.

He felt you break around him right there.

Felt the way your whole body tensed. The way you gasped against his neck. The way your walls fluttered around his cock like your body was trying to keep him, pull him deeper, own him.

It undid him.

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name into your shoulder, chest caving in with the force of it. It was one of those orgasms that left him shaking—like his body didn’t know how to hold itself up anymore. It felt like it went on forever, the way he kept filling you—

“Daryl?” you mumbled, voice raw and sleep-rough, laced with that hoarse rasp that hadn’t quite left since last night. “You good?”

He flinched, blinking hard—ripped clean out of the memory, the phantom feel of your teeth still tingling beneath his skin. His hand dropped immediately, and he turned slightly, eyes darting anywhere but your bare, tangled figure behind him.

“Yeah. M’fine,” he muttered, clearing his throat a little too fast, a little too loud, like that’d somehow cover up the very obvious problem still tenting the blanket.

You stirred against the sheets, shifting slow and ginger like every muscle ached. “Where’re my clothes?” you croaked, trying to sit up before groaning and falling flat again. “Oh my god. I can’t feel my spine.”

Daryl still couldn’t look at you directly. Not yet. Not while his dick was throbbing against the fabric like it had plans.

Your eyes fluttered open, searching blearily for him. “Daryl?”

He glanced toward the window to avoid the sight of your completely naked body spread out like a goddamn painting—and that’s when he saw it.

Your bra.

Swaying gently from where it had somehow ended up hooked on the balcony railing, one strap dangling out into the open air like it was waving good morning to the world.

He stared at it.

Then blinked.

Then let out the quietest “shit” under his breath.

“What?” you asked, brow furrowed.

He didn’t answer right away. Just scratched the back of his neck and nodded toward the open window. “Uh. Found it.”

You followed his line of sight.

Saw it.

And groaned like someone had punched you in the soul. “Oh no. Tell me that wasn’t out there all night.”

“Dunno,” he muttered, already moving toward the door. “Wind must’a caught it or somethin’…”

“Or you threw it,” you countered, burying your face into the pillow with a muffled scream. “Oh my god.”

He got up, throwing off the blanket and stepping out completely naked without a care in the world, grimacing slightly as the morning sun hit his bare chest. He grabbed the bra and yanked it off the railing like it had personally offended him, muttering, “Least it didn’t land in the fuckin’ tomato patch.”

You saw the moment his mind wandered. He paused there, bare back rising and falling with each deep breath, cock hard and heavy between his legs, bobbing faintly as he stood in the sun.

You watched him cross the tower, completely bare and unbothered, like the sunlight wasn’t striping every muscle of his back in gold. His steps were loose, fluid, still heavy from sleep and the kind of night that left you both bruised and breathless.

Your body ached—hips sore, thighs humming with the kind of exhaustion that edged into satisfaction—but your mouth; that still worked just fine.

And you moved.

Blanket slinking off your skin, your knees dragging slowly over the cold cement floor, crawling towards him like some animal, naked and hungry. You knelt behind him, letting the early light warm your back, and reached around him with both hands—one to steady yourself, the other to wrap around the base of him, hot and pulsing in your grip.

He twitched.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip. Soft, reverent. He didn’t say a word—just braced his palms on the railing and let you have him.

Your lips parted and you took him in slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside, feeling him swell in your mouth as his breath hitched, chest tightening. You worked him deeper, steady strokes of your hand matching the hollow of your cheeks, spit glistening as it slipped down your chin, but you didn’t care. You loved him like this—quiet and coiled, trembling under your touch, too focused on keeping still to remember how to breathe.

And then—

“Daryl?”

The voice struck like a match.

Rick. Of course.

You froze. Only for a second.

He didn’t.

His hands flexed hard on the railing. You felt every muscle in his thighs tense, the sharp pull of his stomach, the way his cock jumped against your tongue.

But he didn’t push you away.

“Yeah?” His voice cracked and he coughed, tried again. “Y-Yeah?”

You didn’t stop. You licked a stripe from base to tip, then sealed your mouth around him again and sucked slow, just to see if he’d twitch. He did.

“What’re you doin’ up there?” Rick called. “Ain’t your shift.”

Daryl’s jaw clenched. You could see it even from below. One hand stayed planted on the railing. The other dropped down to your head, fingers threading into your hair, not to guide you—just to ground himself. You weren’t sure if he was about to come or pass out.

“Laundry,” he said gruffly. “Flew up here.”

You grinned around him. He could feel it.

There was a long beat of silence.

You slid down further, taking him deeper. Your nose bumped his skin, your tongue pressed firm and flat, your hand twisting in rhythm just below your mouth.

“You alright?” Rick’s voice again. “You sound winded.”

“I’m fine,” Daryl bit out, throat straining. “Hot up here. Sun’s right on the damn glass.”

You moaned, low and thick, letting the vibration hit the base of his cock like a shockwave.

His breath stuttered. His hips jolted forward.

And you felt it—the shift.

That sharp tremble that raced up his legs, through his stomach, into his hands. He was close. Fighting it. Losing.

Rick’s voice droned on in the background, something about the southern fence line, something about wood supplies, but Daryl wasn’t listening. Couldn’t.

His grip in your hair tightened—not rough, just desperate. His body hovered on the edge, every muscle locked down, trying to stay still while his cock twitched in your throat.

And then—

Rick turned. Walked away. His boots echoed down the pavement. The sound faded.

Gone. Finally.

And Daryl broke.

He came with a groan that shook loose from his chest like it had been trapped there, hips jerking forward as his release spilled hot and fast down your throat. You took all of it—held him deep, swallowed hard, one hand still moving, coaxing every last twitch from him until he was sagging against the balcony like it was the only thing holding him up.

His breath heaved in ragged gasps, body gleaming with sweat, legs shaking.

You pulled off him with a slick pop, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and kissed the sharp jut of his hip.

He looked down at you like he couldn’t decide whether to collapse or kiss you stupid.

You were already smiling.

Still on your knees. Still wrecked from the night before. But pleased. So fucking pleased.

You arched a brow. “Still hot up here?”

He swallowed thickly. “You’re an evil woman.”

You got up, snatched the bra from him, feeling his eyes on you as you walked away. “That’s why ya love me.”

He mumbled in response, something in between a a hum of agreement and ‘shut up’.

He gave you an exasperated look before shaking his head. You just sucked him off and you're acting like it's just another Tuesday?

"It is Tuesday," you said, still smirking.

Had he said that out loud!?

“We didn’t sleep,” he said with a shrug, tugging his pants on. “Ain’t my fault.”

“You’re the one who kept saying ‘just one more time.’”

“Yeah, well…” He looked down at you and gave the softest smile, all warm and wrecked and adoring. “I missed ya.”

You stared up at him for a long second, eyes soft, before reaching out and curling your fingers around his wrist. “I missed you too, Dixon. Just… maybe tonight we try sleep instead of cardio?”

“No promises,” he muttered, bending to kiss you once more—slow, sweet, and maddeningly deep.

He bent to grab his shirt from the chair, the morning light catching the planes of his back — and your breath caught mid-inhale.

“Oh… my god.”

He half-turned, brows drawing together, but you were already moving.

“Turn around,” you murmured, low but firm, your hands already finding his hips and guiding him to face away from you.

The sight made your stomach tighten — angry red lines raked across the breadth of his back, some shallow, some deeper, all raw against his skin, with the faintest shadow of a bite mark blooming at the base of his neck. You stepped in close, the heat radiating off him soaking into your bare skin, your palms smoothing over his sides before trailing up his back, fingertips skimming the raised welts like maybe your touch could erase them.

“Baby… oh my god, does that not hurt?” The words came out soft, almost guilty, your hands still roaming over his skin like you were cataloging every mark.

“Ain’t nothin’,” he said with a shrug, but that casual dismissal only made your chest tighten more.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, stepping around to face him fully. Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat under your palms, before you hid your face behind them. “I didn’t even realize I—god, that’s embarrassing.”

Before you could retreat, his larger hands closed gently around your wrists, pulling them down until your face was bare to him again. One hand lingered, cradling your jaw, his thumb stroking along your cheek. “Ain’t nothin’,” he repeated, quieter now, like he wanted you to believe it.

You huffed, half-guilty, half-bewildered. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

His other hand slid from your wrist to your hip, holding you close enough that the warmth of his bare chest pressed against yours. “Didn’t wanna,” he muttered, eyes darting away.

Your brows lifted.

“Not ‘cause it hurt—” he rushed to add, gaze skimming over your shoulder, “just… means you were feelin’ good.”

A slow smirk tugged at your mouth, and your hands smoothed up into his hair for just a second before you pulled away toward the shelf.

“Where you goin’?” he asked, following you with his eyes.

“Still getting the aloe,” you tossed over your shoulder.

He scoffed under his breath, but didn’t move — and you caught the faintest hint of a smile, like he wouldn’t mind if you came back and fussed over him some more.

⸻

The midday sun beat down hard against the metal fence as sweat slipped past your temples, soaking into the collar of your shirt. The walkers had been pressing harder against the perimeter lately, enough that the mesh was starting to bend inward, groaning under the weight of too many rotting bodies with just enough instinct left to keep pushing. Reinforcements were long overdue, so the plan now was brute force—wedging thick wooden beams against the metal at key points to keep the wall from collapsing entirely.

“Kenny,” Daryl grunted, his shoulder wedged up beneath the weight of the log, “if you drop this damn thing, I swear—”

“I’m not gonna drop it,” Kenny shot back, clearly straining. “This thing weighs more than a truck.”

“Then maybe you should’ve stayed with the tomato plants,” you muttered as you crouched low, ducking beneath the beam. “Hold it steady—I gotta mark where we need to dig.”

“Yeah, yeah, just make it quick,” Kenny puffed, the whites of his knuckles visible as he shifted his grip.

You dropped to lie down on your back in the dirt, fingers dragging through the dry soil as you carved out a rough guide with the blade of your knife. Daryl’s boot was inches from your head, the edge of his shirt hiked up just enough to expose the shallow curve of his lower back—and the faint red streaks etched into the skin there. Your scratches. Last night’s scratches.

And then there was also the very noticeable bite mark which he had tied a bandana around, which had now shifted to reveal it.

Kenny’s eyes landed on them.

The bite. The scratches.

And then everything went to hell.

“Holy shit—is that a bite?” he barked, his voice slicing through the air like a gunshot.

You didn’t even have time to react. The beam jerked violently in his grip, and before Daryl could rebalance it, the weight tipped sideways—crashing down hard onto your ribcage.

The sound that tore out of you wasn’t quite a scream—it was a crack, and then a wheezing grunt as the air got knocked clean out of your lungs. You folded instantly, body trapped awkwardly beneath the log, head lolling back into the dirt as pain shot like lightning in your torso.

“Shit!” Daryl bellowed, his voice already ragged with fury. “Get it off her!”

A blur of boots surrounded you—Rick, Maggie, Tyreese—all rushing to help. Hands grabbed the beam and heaved, straining against the weight until it finally lifted just enough. Daryl dropped to his knees and yanked you free, cradling your body to his chest like it weighed nothing, like you were made of feathers instead of broken bones.

Kenny staggered backwards, pale and jittery, eyes locked on Daryl. “I—I saw scratches, man! Guys, he's got scratches and a bite!”

“You dropped it on her—’cause of that?” Daryl’s voice was pure fire now, a sharp growl ripping from his throat as he lunged.

Kenny stumbled, tripping over his own feet. “I didn’t mean to—!”

“Daryl!” Rick barked, intercepting just in time, shoving a firm arm across Daryl’s chest before he could close the distance. “That’s enough! Where’d the scratches and the bite come from?”

Everyone froze. All eyes were on him.

Daryl’s jaw was clenched so tight the tendons in his neck stood out, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them now that he wasn’t throttling someone.

You sucked in a shallow breath from the dirt, ribs screaming, and rasped out, “It was me, alright?”

Confusion rippled through the group.

You forced yourself upright with a grimace, brushing Daryl’s hand off as you tried to sit but failing miserably. You collapsed halfway again, coughing, and Daryl was immediately back beside you, kneeling so close his thigh pressed against your hip.

His voice dropped to that soft gravel only you ever seemed to get. “Hey. You good? Look at me.”

You turned your face toward the sound, your expression pinched but dry-eyed. “Might’ve cracked a rib,” you muttered, only half-joking. “Feels like something’s doing jazz hands in my lung.”

His hand cradled the back of your head gently, fingers weaving into your hair as his thumb brushed along your cheekbone, eyes scanning your face like he needed to memorise every twitch and wince.

“Lemme see,” he murmured, already tugging your shirt up slowly, carefully, as if touching too fast might break you further.

The collective silence behind you stretched long. You were aware of every set of eyes watching as Daryl pushed your shirt up to reveal the angry red welt blooming across your side, his palm skimming up the bare skin of your waist to brace you steady while he looked.

And that was the moment it all clicked—for everyone.

Daryl’s hand was on your bare skin, thumb moving slowly, reverently over the rising bruise like he could soothe it just by touch. The way he held you—tender, intimate, like someone he loved—left no room for confusion.

You caught Rick’s glance toward Maggie, the slight raise of her eyebrows, and Tyreese's shuffling.

Daryl didn’t care.

“You should’ve stayed back,” he muttered, still crouched beside you, still holding your shirt like he hadn’t noticed half your stomach was on display. “Told ya I’d do the damn marking.”

“Yeah, well.” You winced, leaning into his touch. “Didn’t wanna make Kenny feel useless.”

“Think he managed that all on his own.”

“Still gonna punch him?” you asked, breathless but smirking through it.

Daryl’s jaw flexed, his voice low and flat. “Later. Let’s get ya to Hershel.”

Before you could protest, his arm slid around your waist, hauling you up from the dirt like you were weightless. His palm stayed warm and steady at your side, guiding you away without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

The three still by the fence just stared at Kenny.

“What?” Kenny said, holding his hands up. “Hey, how was I supposed to know those were not walker scratches?!”

“Because he got them while he was in the watch tower, dumbass,” Rick muttered.

"But the bite-"

"He would have gotten a fever by now," said Maggie.

Kenny blinked, then his eyebrows shot up like the penny had just dropped. “Ohhh,” he said slowly, a grin spreading. “Ohhh. So that’s what that was. Damn, Dixon—”

From up ahead, without turning around, Daryl growled, “Shut up, Kenny.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, leaning a little heavier into Daryl’s side. “Guess the secret’s out,” you murmured.