Words: 4,562 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: la

Words:4,562
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Reader pronouns:she/her
Era:Alexandria
Warnings: language, sexuality (*wiggles eyebrows*)
Requested by:anonymous
Summary: Finally safe and feeling that this new community may actually be the real deal, Y/N finds herself looking for Daryl during the group’s first night in Alexandria.

Your name: submit What is this?

“You’re still awake.” Your voice, woven with sleep, sounded from the front door. Daryl looked over his shoulder to see you standing at the threshold to the porch in your socks. Your hair was tousled and the sight of you looking so domestic produced a profound pang in his chest, a desire for the space between him and you to vanish she he could feel the softness of you that he could see. “I woke up and you weren’t by the window. I got worried,” you went on. You were worried about him? Was it wrong that he wanted you to worry about him? To wonder where he’d gone? His heart leapt at the thought of you missing him. You shut the door softly behind you and wandered over to him. He was anxiously chewing on his thumbnail, now averting his eyes away because it felt dangerous to keep looking at you.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, his eyes still fixed out into the darkness of the still street.

You tilted your head a little skeptically. “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He hummed a vague response. You leaned back against the porch railing beside him, your eyes fixed on the silent house. Daryl was leaning on his forearms, staring out into the night. Your elbow accidentally brushed his upper arm and he gulped at the glancing contact. The settlement was still and quiet. People were sleeping deeply in their beds with no fear of the dead or a living intruder with stolen supplies or worse on their mind. You glance toward the walls which loomed securely at the edge of your vision. And although you knew they weren’t a guarantee, you were breathing deeply in a way you hadn’t for a long time. You were filling your lungs with air and letting it out slowly. You were appreciating the scent of grass damp with dew and the rose bushes next door. You glanced back over at Daryl. He was the only one of your group who hadn’t rushed to take a shower as soon as they heard the words “hot water.” His hair still hung in dirty strands, and his skin was dark with the accumulated sweat and grime of many weeks wandering in the dry, scorching heat. Even so, your heart still fluttered as you looked at him and you felt the familiar tug behind your navel, a pull that made you want to reach for him. You understood why he hadn’t cleaned up yet. Some part of him was worried it would all vanish in an instant, so what was the point of getting comfortable? Getting comfortable was dangerous. You’d all gotten comfortable at the prison and look what had happened… Still, you wanted to reassure him. “I think we’re going to be okay here,” you said.

The archer could hear hope in your voice. He hadn’t heard that since the prison fell. His stomach still clenched at the memory of it all crumbling… The smoke and chaos, the continuous din of gunfire, his frantic searching for you, screaming your name into the rubble, fear seizing him with an icy fist when he realized you could be lying dead beneath crumbled brick and stone… He tried to push the memories away but they seemed to have their own will and stayed firmly rooted in his mind’s eye. He was teetering on the edge of that dark whirlpool when you called him back, the way you always could. It was just his name at first, but your hand on his arm followed and he felt as if you’d snatched him back from the edge just in time.

There was something extra soft about you in that moment. Maybe it was the sleep you were still wearing wrapped around your shoulders. Or maybe, just maybe, he dared to hope that it was something else—something in your eyes that was just for him. He ducked his head and swallowed nervously.

“Come inside with me,” you said gently. “Please?”

He glanced back up at you in surprise. He could only guess at what you meant by “with me” but his heart pounced on it immediately and began to race. It had sounded like there was more meaning in it than simply rejoining everyone back in the main room, huddled together side by side on bedrolls like refugees. You didn’t say “with us.” You’d said “with me.” Or maybe he was just overthinking it, mixing fantasy with your words to come to a meaning he wanted.

You tilted your head slightly, the question persisting on your brow, and your fingers slipped from the bare skin of his arm. As an answer, he straightened up, chewing on his bottom lip and looking boyish with some nerves. You smiled at him; just a small one. He followed behind you as you let yourself back into the house, but he hesitated in the entryway when you bypassed the front room and made for the stairs, looking back at him to see if he would still follow.

He seemed nervous and you moved back down the few stairs you’d already climbed and crossed the space to him. You stood close, so close he could feel the heat of you, could smell the lingering scent of floral-scented shampoo. Lilac? Rose? You gently grabbed his hand and he stared down at the melding of the two of you in surprise before meeting your eyes again with yet another question on his brow. Your hand fit so perfectly in his, your fingers laced. He could feel how much smaller yours was than his and he felt a swell of protectiveness.

“Come on,” you whispered. “Everyone is down here. We’ll have upstairs to ourselves.”

His breathing kicked up.

You read his nerves on his face and gave him a small, reassuring smile, squeezing his hand lightly in yours. “Daryl—You’re always taking care of everyone else. Can I take care of you?” you asked him.

His brow furrowed. He still didn’t quite understand your meaning. Or he thought maybe he understood it, but no—that couldn’t be right. You’d never… and he’d never… What was happening? He knew something was. He’d known it as soon as you’d stopped beside him outside.

“Do you trust me?” you asked again in a low voice.

He could hardly find his voice to answer and had to clear his throat so it wouldn’t come out strangled in his throat. “Yeah. O’ course…” he drawled, gruff gravel heavy in his answer.

You tilted your head back toward the stairs. “Then come on.” You didn’t let go of his hand and tugged him gently behind you, up the stairs, peeking into each room you passed until you apparently found the one you were looking for and stepped inside.

Once you crossed the threshold, your fingers slipped from where they’d been laced with his, and he felt the loss intensely and found himself clenching his hand into a fist and stretching his fingers as the electric sensation on his skin dissipated. He watched you with curiosity as you paced toward the center of the room, your back to him, and stared at the king size bed, complete with all manner of fluffy pillows and clean bedding.

The bed. Jesus, he was far too aware of that bed. You and him and a clean, soft bed.

“Doesn’t feel real, does it?” you said over your shoulder.

Daryl took a few more steps toward you. “Nah. But ‘m not sure anythin’ really feels real anymore.” You turned and gave him a sad look, your mouth drawn and your eyebrows low over your eyes. He ducked his head and shifted anxiously again. “I ain’t even sure yer real most days. Ya could be a fuckin’ mirage,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up slightly to tell you he was joking, but you knew he was more serious than he wanted you to think.

You moved into him, one hand landing on his arm again and smoothing down the length of it to stop gently at his wrist and the other surprising him as it came to rest in the center of his chest. “I’m real.” Your eyes searched his face.

Daryl gulped. Your fingertips were setting him ablaze, fueling a fire in him he tried to pretend wasn’t there, except in the wee hours of the morning when he couldn’t sleep and his hazy mind whispered “what if”. What if he told you? What if you felt the same way? What if you’d let him put his hands on you and taste your lips and breathe in your smell? What if you’d let him take you to bed and push you into a deep pool of bliss? What if you let him hold you all night, your legs tangled together, your head resting against him. God, he wanted to kiss you. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything more in his entire life, unless it was his desperate wishing and hoping to find you again after the prison fell… his need to always keep you safe in this world. But by the time those thoughts had dashed through his brain, your touch was gone and you’d walked into the attached master bathroom and he soon heard the running of water as you turned on the shower. Daryl watched clouds of steam drifting lazily up toward the ceiling lights until you reappeared in the doorway, one hand gracefully resting on the frame, your eyes fixed on him.

His heart was beating so fast and hard he was certain you would be able to hear it. He could hear it loudly in his own ears, almost drowning out every other sound. His mind was racing as he tried to decipher what you wanted from him. You had that look in your eyes again. It was the one that was soft, but intentioned, and he tried to decode it. He was grateful that he didn’t have to whirl with uncertain guesses much longer, because suddenly you were against him, pushing his dirty hair out of his face, and finding his lips with the soft pillow of yours, kissing him with a tenderness he didn’t think he’d ever known in his entire life. You were all silky curves and soft velvet, warm and steady. But behind your gentle kiss was all the passion burning in your chest waiting to burst out, restrained as you waited for his reaction and again pulled back, searching his eyes.

He seemed stunned for a long moment, except for his eyes flickering over your face. You just gazed back at him steadily.

He seemed to draw in a hurried, fortifying breath and then he crashed down into you with the hunger of a starving man. You were the only thing that would sate the desperate need he had and you’d given him the permission he needed to seek his fill. His hands slid over your edges; curling around the curves of your rib cage and tracing the coastline of your waist to the swell of your hip, flattening out on your back and settling in the gentle bend of your spine. His other hand cupped your face. His thumb traced your jawline and his fingers slid into your hair, all while his kiss deepened and intensified and you found yourself off-balance, falling back into his hand, which kept you on your feet with gentle pressure on the small of your back. You looped your arms around his neck and pulled him more tightly into you, and his tongue darted out to sweep across your lower lip, asking permission for entrance to taste you and replace what he’d imagined so many times with reality. You melted beneath him and happily parted your lips. Everywhere your hands touched him seemed to spark with electricity and Daryl’s mind went blissfully blank, except for the sensations of you, you, you.

You sighed into his lips, humming a noise of surprised pleasure at his eagerness and he pulled back, his expression suddenly uncertain. You tried to catch your breath as you struggled to read his face. “What?” fell from your lips in a breathy whisper. “What is it?”

Daryl’s blue eyes flickered between yours. “I dun—what is this?” he drawled, his brow furrowing.

Confusion flashed across your face. “What do you mean?” you asked, not understanding his hesitation. You started to pull away. Maybe he didn’t want this the way you did…

His arms tightened around you gently, not to force you to stay, but to tell you he didn’t want you to leave. “Y/N, I—I just gotta know what this is… whatever it is…”

And then you understood his hesitation. Daryl wasn’t a hook-up, one night stand kind of guy. You knew that. He’d rejected every person who’d shown any interest in him in that way, and come to think of it even the ones who sought more. And that thought suddenly struck you hard in between the ribs. The people he cared about, he cared for fiercely for as long as he lived. Though he often tried to hide it behind a bowed head and brooding looks, he was deeply emotional and felt things profoundly. His hesitation was the fear that the two of you didn’t want the same thing—that he wanted you in a way you didn’t want him. Insecurity from his past ate into him, needled into his most intimate hopes and thoughts. You hurriedly moved into him again and your eyes closed revealing the thick frays of lashes as you kissed him, heated and sincere, your lips tasting to him like vanilla sugar with the brightness of citrus. Daryl’s fingers dimpled into the soft curve of your waist as he kissed you back.

You drew apart just enough to look into his eyes and smoothed a hand down his strong chest, pausing with your palm flush over his bounding heart. “I want you, Daryl. And not just this minute, or just this hour… I want you like I didn’t think it was possible to still want someone in this world. And I’m tired of waiting. We’re safe here—at least for now. And I just can’t bear another second of pretending like I don’t wonder what being more with you is like every second of every goddamn day. I can’t pretend that I don’t love the way you always check on me to make sure I’m eating enough or drinking enough stupid water. Or that it doesn’t drive me insane watching you work with your hands. And I can’t pretend that I can sleep, really sleep, without you close. So, that’s it. That’s what this is. You have all of me,” you hesitated, a blush rising in your cheeks as you spoke so plainly, “if you want it.”

His answer, after a moment of frozen disbelief, was to kiss you urgently again, even more desperately. “Fuck, have ya got any idea how much I want this?” he said, pressing his forehead to yours and feeling completely out of breath, his tongue a little clumsy in his mouth, drunk on you.

Your face lit up with a relieved smile. “No,” you said, with a light laugh. “I—I wasn’t sure that—I mean, I hoped you knew how special you are to me but I didn’t know if—"

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head at you. “I want this more than I admitted to myself until righ’ now… ‘cuz I didn’t believe it was—I didn’t think ya—fuck,” he ducked his head, frustrated that now of all times he couldn’t find the damn words.

But you only leaned into him and kissed his neck. The action sent a jolt through him like adrenaline with an electric sizzle. You felt his body tense beneath your hands, but you only did it again, moving your lips toward the angle of his jaw. His fingers tightened on your hips. You grazed the shell of his ear with your teeth and a chesty growl escaped him. You couldn’t suppress the smug smile of satisfaction that you were able to elicit such a response by hardly doing anything. “Our shower is waiting,” you said softly, right into his ear.

“Our… shower,” he repeated.

“Mhm. If you’re interested…” You drew back to study his face again and couldn’t help but smile at his expression.

“If?” He cursed under his breath again. “…Are ya sure?” he asked again, doubt still nagging him. “Are ya sure ya want—I mean, we can stop if—”

Your fingers floated to the top button of his shirt. “I’ve never been more fucking sure of anything in my entire life, Daryl.” Your voice was silky and dark, and another shudder almost ran through him. You gave him another look, gauging if you could continue and the hunger and near desperation on his face urged you on. You undressed him hurriedly, unable to stop your hands from drifting over every hardened muscle as the heat in your core grew more and more, and he returned the favor with somewhat clumsy fingers. But you didn’t mind when he couldn’t get a button undone, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and he finally just swore and ripped the last few off your damn flannel, dissolving you into laughter first, until his skin was pressed against yours and his lips descended on your neck and found their way to your collarbone. He wanted to kiss every part of you. He trailed kisses down the center of your chest and stomach before circling back to the swell of your breasts. You sighed, pressing your hips into his, and his hands wandered to the curve of your buttocks, his fingers dimpling into your skin. The heat you’d kindled was flushing his chest and face and you could feel it radiating off him.

“Daryl—shower,” you breathed.

He nipped at your collarbone and you let out a small noise of surprise that melted into a moan. And the next moment he was tugging you to the steam-filled bathroom and freeing you of the last of your clothing. You returned the favor and hastily pushed his jeans and boxers aside.

You nudged him under the warm spray of water and let it cascade over both of you, running your hands over his skin and through his wet hair, your fingers finding every little cut or bruise and leading you to leave a kiss on each. Daryl leaned into your every touch, closing his eyes and directing the shower spray over his face as he curled his arms around you and held you to him, skin to skin, warm water collecting between you and spilling down over the tangle of you both. You grabbed the soap and shampoo and smoothed it over his body, washing away the dirt and grime of the road, yearning growing in you every second your fingers passed over his chiseled body and drifted around the angle of his hips or broad shoulders, alternating with pangs of anger and pain when you met one of his many scars.

Both of you were clean, simply enjoying the heat of the water, when he finally walked you up against the shower wall and crashed his lips down on yours again, droplets clinging to you and him. Neither of you could wait any longer and you gasped with pleasure and ecstasy as he gained entrance to you and you wrapped a leg around him to encourage closer, almost overwhelmed at the rippling sensations running through you. You were each completely intoxicated, high on each other, and the long years of waiting, of pining, only intensified your highs.

For someone who had alluded to not having much experience, Daryl seemed to read you like a book, responding to each little sound or movement you made as if he already knew exactly how to prolong each wave of pleasure, knew just what every little expression meant, had the handbook to decode your moans and sighs. His name leaving your lips in a breathy gasp nearly pushed him over the edge every time, but he chased the peak of your pleasure, and that desire to make you feel good, that goal, held his own release at bay until finally, the two of you crested and came down together. He collapsed into you, his head finding the crook of your neck and you draped your arms lazily around him, trying to regain your breath. “Oh my God,” you breathed, running your fingernails down his back. He kissed your neck and the side of your face. And finally, when the water was starting to run cold and your legs were so shaky you almost couldn’t support yourself, he folded you into him and kissed your wet hair and your forehead. You rested your cheek against him, hearing the rushing of his heart. He fumbled for the tap and turned the water off before grabbing some towels and wrapping you up first. He memorized that moment. You were adorned with droplets of water, your wet hair sticking to your neck, looking up at him with pink, kiss-swollen lips, smiling. He marveled at what had just happened—him, a nobody red-neck, rough around the edges, and you at your softest, colliding together.

You were more relaxed than he’d ever seen you. Your eyelids were heavy with bliss as you smiled dreamily up at him, biting your bottom lip. His mouth quirked in a smile and he ducked his head for a moment, avoiding your gaze, his boyish bashfulness coming back for a moment. “Ya think ya can make it to the bed on those wobbly legs or should I carry ya?” he drawled, glancing at you again from beneath his wet strands of hair.

“I think I can make it,” you sighed. He nodded and stepped out, toweling himself off before wrapping it around his waist and going to shut and lock the bedroom door. The two of you hadn’t even realized you’d left it open…

He paused when he turned back, letting the sight of the shape of you beneath the blankets sink into the deepest corners of his core memory, your towel discarded on the floor. Your eyes were already closed, wet hair leaving a damp spot on the pillow. You lifted your head and looked at him when you didn’t feel him return to you, and the smile you gave him made his heart jump.

You peeled back the blankets to welcome him into your warmth and he didn’t hesitate a moment longer, slipping into the sheets with you and moving into your softness, breathing in the clean scent of your skin and hair. His hands traveled your frame as if they knew the way now, a landscape he loved and would travel every day of his damn life if he could. He felt you become heavier beside him, sinking into sleep, and he began to slip down with you, curling you in against him and kissing you one more time.

You both woke early to a warm, sun-tinted room. Daryl was wide awake after what he thought was the best goddamn sleep he’d ever had in his life, but he wouldn’t move a fucking inch until you came gently out of your slumber. When you did, you stretched in his arms and smiled as they tightened around you again. You turned toward him and the sleepy smile and messy hair had him weak. His mouth turned up in a soft smile.

“Hi,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his wavy hair. His eyes closed at your touch. He ran his hand gently up and down your arm, his blue eyes calm and happy.

“Hey,” he drawled. He pressed a kiss to your hair, looking a little boyish and shy even. “How’d ya sleep?”

You sighed contentedly and splayed your fingers out over his bare chest. “Amazing,” you breathed. “You?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Same.” His heart jumped as you leaned forward and kissed one of his scars before snuggling in against him, your head resting beneath his chin. Holy shit. He would die to keep you safe. He’d do anything to protect you. Of course he’d known that before but this—now? It was almost overwhelming how deeply his feelings for you ran, brought to the surface because you simply felt safe enough to reach for him, to draw him inside out of the dark and pull him into your light.

But your relaxed and happy time was shattered by frantic voices downstairs and then footsteps clattering up the stairs. Glenn’s voice sounded urgently from the other side of the bedroom door after a loud series of knocks.

“Hey! Daryl? Daryl, are you in there??”

Daryl swore under his breath as you gave him a worried look and he leaned up on his elbow. “Yeah, ‘m in here. ’S wrong?”

“Oh. Oh… okay. Thank God… We just—we didn’t know where you were. Have you seen Y/N? She’s missing from downstairs too. Rick just wants to make sure nothing—nothing sideways is going on.”

“Uhh—” He glanced over at you beside him, the dip of your waist and curve of your hip shrouded in only a sheet. You bit your bottom lip as you looked back at him. “Yeah, I saw her… this mornin’… uhh… ‘m sure she’s fine,” he drawled, shrugging at you and pulling a face.

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as Glenn sounded relieved and you heard his steps retreat down the stairs. You grinned at Daryl, light sparking in your eyes. “I’m better than fine, Daryl.”

He gave you a smile and you bit your bottom lip again, your brain going fuzzy and drifting away to the previous night in the shower, the rhythm of the two of your together, your fingernails down his back, the little bruise he’d left just below your collarbone. “Sorry. Should I have just told him ya were righ’ here, naked in bed with me?”

You shrugged. “If you wanted to. I plan to brag to everyone,” you teased him.

“I better give ya somethin’ to really brag about then,” he said, moving over you in the bed, his hands planted on either side of you. His lips descended on your neck and you sighed involuntarily, melting beneath his touch.

“I’m yours, Daryl,” you breathed.

He crashed his lips against yours and clasped your face. He brushed the strands of your sleep tousled hair away, meeting your eyes, bewilderment and disbelief still in his. “Yer mine. And ‘m yours. And we’re gonna be better than okay here.”

And that was beyond what you had hoped for as a fresh start in this new community… a blissful first night that gave way to a heated and happy new beginning.