warnings: sexual harassment, creepy guys being creepy (don’t worry—Daryl to the rescue)
reader pronouns: she/her

You were completely drenched in sweat and probably dusted with soil nearly from head to toe as you made your way back up to the prison. You were looking forward to taking a cold shower and cooling off in your bunk after a long afternoon working in the garden with Rick and Hershel. You caught sight of Daryl standing with Carol in the outdoor cooking area and immediately felt a flush of heat to your face which didn’t have to do with the scorching afternoon sun.

You were lost in your thoughts for a moment, distracted by his broad shoulders and strong arms, the tapering of his back toward his hips, when someone called your name. Two of the guys about your age who had come in from Woodbury were waving and they were already trotting over to you. Your gait stalled and you waited to see what they wanted. 

“Hey. How’s it going?” the first one asked you, looking you up and down not subtly at all. You did your best to ignore it.

“Fine. Hot,” you said, wiping your forehead with your forearm in a fast sweeping motion.

“You don’t say,” the second guy laughed, also eyeing you in a way that made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t flattering. It was disconcerting. It made you feel like an object he was assessing.

“What’s up?” you asked, eager to take care of whatever they needed so you could get the hell out of there.

“Settle a bet for us,” one of them said, a wide smirk on his face. “We, uhh—we were talking about positions.”

You still didn’t catch on and simply furrowed your brow at him, waiting for him to continue. “I think you look like the doggy style type but he thinks you’re more of a reverse cowgirl. Which is it?” 

You were so taken aback at his bluntness that for a moment you just stood there, frozen, blinking with wide eyes. Then your body seemed to catch up and flushed your face with heat. You felt disgusted and humiliated, like your only purpose for existing was for them to look at and fuck. You hardly knew these assholes. What the fuck?! Where the hell did they get the audacity to walk up to anyone and talk to them like that? You felt sick. And you felt scared. If they felt okay saying that to you, what would they feel okay doing? But you couldn’t seem to get any words out for a long moment. 

“Come on,” laughed the second guy. “It’s just a simple question. We’ve got lunch for the next few days riding on this,” he said jovially. 

Your voice finally came back. “What the hell is wrong with you?” At least you’d managed something, though it came out quieter and less derisive than you’d hoped. You turned away hurriedly and simply tried to escape, a cold slimy feeling permeating your skin. But a hand on your upper arm stopped you abruptly and you spun around in shock. 

“Hey—come on… it’s just a bet! It’s not a big deal!” He was laughing again. His hand was still gripping your arm. You were just staring at it. You desperately wanted to get it off of you but your body, though revolted and urgently telling you to punch him in the face, to kick, to yell, anything, was completely locked up. “Relax. We can tell you aren’t some pure little prude. Just settle the bet. Or better yet, you can show both of us later… ” he said with a smirk. There was something alarming in his eyes, some hunger or violence that set alarm bells ringing in your head.

You felt bile rising up in your throat and then all of a sudden Daryl was right there beside you. You hadn’t even heard him coming over the throb of your heart in your ears. 

“Hey! Get yer fuckin’ hand off her!” he roared, stepping in front of you, shielding you from the two guys with his body. “What the fuck do ya think yer doin’?!” he growled, stepping up right into the guy’s face.

They immediately seemed to wilt and sputter beneath his glare and stepped back, proverbial tails between their legs, trying to come up with some explanation that would save them from his anger.

But nothing would satisfy Daryl. As they tried to come up with some lame excuse, attempting to draw him in to what they believed as misogynistic assholes was “guy talk”, he’d heard more than enough. He squared his hips and roundly swung with a fist and slammed it into the jaw of the guy who had grabbed your arm. One glance at your body language and expression from across the courtyard had told Daryl all he needed to know. The guy crumpled like a pulled weed in the hot sun, hand pressed to his face.

Daryl stepped forward again, still shielding you behind him. “If I ever see ya lay another goddamn fuckin’ finger on her, Hell—if I see ya lookin’ at her, talkin’ to her, talkin’ about her, comin’ near her, I’m gonna beat ya both into the fuckin’ ground and feed ya to the walkers at the fence. Got it?”

Everyone knew Daryl was a warrior, the best there was, and you could see on their faces that they completely believed him. They rushed off like scolded children. Daryl quickly turned to face you and his demeanor changed wholly, softened and concerned. “Are ya okay?” he asked urgently. He wanted to clasp your face, but he didn’t dare to.

You gulped and nodded, rubbing at the red spot on your arm that clearly showed where the guy had grabbed you.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply and another flame of rage wicked upwards. “Are ya sure? Ya ain’t hurt? That fucker grabbed ya—I—” He let out another low growl. “I shoulda gotten over here sooner…”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m okay. Thank you,” you said. “I—I don’t know what happened. I just froze. I couldn’t—I was just so shocked by what they said…I—” you broke off, unable to verbalize why you hadn’t been able to shove the guy off you yourself, or better yet, kick him in the balls.

“Nah. Tha’s… totally understandable. Those guys are fuckin’ creeps.” He was studying you with concern. “Lemme walk ya in,” he said. “C’mon. Let’s get ya outta this sun.” You fell into stride beside him and he kept glancing over at you the whole way to the cell block, sensing that you were still upset and wanting to reassure you. “Hey—why dun ya grab yer stuff and get cleaned up in the shower room? I’ll—I’ll watch out for those two. Make sure they dun come around,” he trailed off. He was still worried. And he wanted more than anything for you to be and feel safe and secure. Nothing was fucking happening to you while he was around. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck nervously. “And then tonight—if ya want, ya can stay in my cell. Take the top bunk. Just so, ya know—so ya feel safe. And I’ll talk to Rick about them two tomorrow.”

Your muscles seemed to loosen their grip on your bones and you felt a wash of relief. “Daryl. What the hell would I do without you?” you asked him. You hurriedly leaned in, touching his arm gently to steady yourself, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” He could see on your face how much that meant to you and felt another swell of protectiveness and a rare rush of pride. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

His ears burned with a blush and he cleared his throat nervously. “S’nothin’. C’mon… go ahead and get cleaned up. I’ll be right out here…”

Words:2,972
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Reader pronouns:she/her
Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan
Warnings: intense scenarios, mentions of blood, language, violence
Summary: Y/N responds to Daryl suggesting she leave Montana and join him and his family in Alexandria.
A/N: This is part of a series! You can find all the previous parts on my Master List.

Previous Chapter

Your name: submitWhat is this?

Daryl ducked his head again. “Brian—he didn’t just ask me to come find ya. He—he wanted me to bring ya back to our group. To our home. He didn’t want ya to be alone.” He ventured another glance up at you, and you still seemed frozen.

The warm flickering of the firelight sent the shadows of your eyelashes dancing and he swore he could almost see the glow of the coals and the rising embers reflected in your eyes. They were beautiful. You were beautiful. But he couldn’t tell what was going on behind them… and now he just had to wait.

“‘Cept people. S’a lot easier if ya got people. I mean, ya said it yerself, if I hadn’t been here—that grizzly—” Daryl ducked his head, clutched by a sudden grip of fear at the thought of what had almost happened. When did just the thought of you gone start to make his entire world shift? It alarmed him. He stared down at his hands. He fiddled with the edge of the throw pillow in his lap.

“But I—there’s food here, and solar panels, and hot water… and—” You gulped. But that wasn’t just it, was it? That wasn’t what had you shaky thinking about leaving. You realized it with a sinking feeling. “This is the last place—the last connection I have to my family. To my mom, and to my dad.” Tears welled up in your eyes and Daryl saw them reflected in the low light. “And to Brian,” you choked out. “It’s the last place we were all together… alive.”

Daryl nodded. “I know. I know what I’m askin’ ya ain’t easy…” You looked overwhelmed, hastily wiping a tear that broke free from your cheek. “But—s’why I came here. Yer brother, who ended up bein’ mine too… s’what he asked me to do. And sooner or later, we all need people. S’just a matter of when.”

Daryl could sense your internal spinning. “Look, ya ain’t gotta answer now. There’s still feet of snow outside. I ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while. Just—think about it, alrigh’? And I can promise ya, if ya come, you’ll have a new group, a new family. It won’t replace what ya lost and that ain’t what ‘m tryin’ to do but… everybody would—would love ya. I know it.”

You hardly seemed to move, but you nodded, that same stunned look on your face. Your stomach was clenched into a tight knot and Daryl almost startled as you stood up abruptly. “I’m—tired. I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said.

Daryl’s expression fell and his eyes narrowed as he looked up at you. “Okay. Yeah… sure. Umm,” he scratched a non-existent itch on the back of his neck. “G’night,” he drawled. “Yeah. Long couple days…” he reasoned aloud.

“Yeah…” Your hands fiddled nervously. “Goodnight.” You hurriedly whistled to the dogs and made for your bedroom, clicking the door shut behind you. You leaned back against it as soon as it was closed, your mind racing. Leave here? The thought was terrifying and surreal. It was a miracle that Daryl had made it across the country once, could he really manage it again? Could you?

The truth was that you weren’t tired at all. Although you dutifully completed your evening routine, washing your face, brushing your teeth, pulling on your pajamas, you were quite sure that you’d be lying awake in bed until dawn.

Scratch that. You couldn’t even lie still most of the time. You paced the length of your bedroom rug on softly padding feet, wringing your hands, overwhelmed by anxiety. The dogs watched you as if you’d lost your mind, their heads and ears turning as they followed your progress back and forth. Jesus, calm the fuck down! He wasn’t asking you to go tomorrow. He just wanted you to think about it.

And was that really what Brian had wanted? This community, this group was so good that Brian wanted you to leave everything you’d ever known and go with practically a complete stranger back to… to what? What would be waiting there? Sure, Daryl had told you about Alexandria. He’d told you about his people, and he certainly didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. But you couldn’t imagine yourself in day-to-day life there… What would your “job” be? What would you wake to and spend your time on? Here, you headed out into the mountains to hunt, fish, and trap. You came home, trailing muddy feet and paws into the front room, exhausted but feeling safe and free. Mostly.

You had to admit that these strange new dead ones, the runners, were worrying you… and you did occasionally have to worry about unsavory people when you needed to scavenge supplies, but you’d done fine for yourself so far. Sure, there had been some hairy situations, but you always got out of it.

But he was right about the grizzly. You had to admit that. You’d be dead if he hadn’t been here. And eventually your luck would run out again. That’s how this world was.

But still, the thought of leaving was overwhelming.

After another bout of pacing and then lying frozen on your back on the bed, you glanced at the clock only to see that it read just after 3:00 am. The night had passed in an anxious blur and yet was dragging on excruciatingly slowly at the same time… Your room felt suddenly suffocating and you decided just to go out and make some tea, maybe stand in the frigid air in the door to the deck and draw in deep lungfuls.

You heaved a final sigh, rubbing your hands over your face, and headed to the door.

When you pulled it open, you jumped back and another “Oh” escaped you. Daryl was standing just there, his hand raised as if he’d just been about to knock.

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat. “I could hear ya awake and—I dunno… Uhh… Sorry,” he drawled, stepping back.

You only stared at him for a long moment.

“I just—wanted to make sure yer alrigh’,” he finished. Internally, he was groaning at himself. He’d been unable to sleep and he could hear you pacing for most of the night. Of course you weren’t “alright.”

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just can’t sleep…”

“Sorry,” he drawled again. “Feel like that migh’ be my fault…”

You shook your head, ducking his gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Daryl. You just told me how it is. And I should have realized that you wouldn’t just stay here forever. I was stupid not to think of it…”

“Hey.” Your eyes lifted up to meet his. “Ya ain’t stupid. And—I couldn’t—I mean… I—ya wouldn’t want me here forever,” he drawled more quietly.

This took you aback and you studied his expression. There was only the glow of the low flames in the hearth to light his face, but you saw enough to know he wasn’t joking.

“Sure I would,” you said firmly. “Why would you say that?” Your eyebrow quirked up in that familiar way it always did when you were asking a question.

His blue eyes shot up to your face again, but his expression didn’t change.

You sighed, your hand finally slipping off the doorknob. You took a step closer to him and the space between you felt suddenly intimate and like it was shrinking even though you’d stopped moving. “You could stay here for—for as long as you want. I know you said that you have to leave and—and I get that… but you could stay. I’d be happy for you to stay.”

Daryl gulped, his heart hammering. Everything seemed to have stilled; the air in the cabin, the flames on the logs, the shifting of the shadows… He felt like he was being drawn in by you, even more so than usual… because if he was honest with himself, of course he’d thought about what it’d be like to just stay. To just stay and be here, with you and your two dogs… sinking into some kind of domestic bliss that never got boring, because you certainly weren’t boring. You’d hunt together. You’d kill walkers together. You’d wander the endless woods, finding new hidden spots that would become yourstogether.

But the bubble always burst. He did have people waiting. And not knowing what they were going through right now, the idea that they needed him and he wasn’t there, that was scarier than having to cross the country again to get home. And if he could just unify those two daydreams… Your voice broke through again, however, and interrupted his thoughts.

“Of all the people my brother could have sent, I’m glad it was you.”

And Daryl felt it with certainty that moment—that urge he’d tried so hard to suppress. He wanted more than anything to just clasp your face and kiss you.

But just then, WHAM. The sound reverberated against the front window and both of you jumped. The dogs started barking and growling and you shushed them hurriedly with gentle hands, your eyes wide and fixed toward the source of the sound.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow from where it was leaning up against the coffee table and swore under his breath. “Prob’ly just that damn owl again,” he said over his shoulder.

You tried to will your heart to slow back to normal pace. “Probably,” you agreed, but you grabbed one of your knives near the front door and went to join him at the window.

But this time, when Daryl peeled back the blinds to peer outside, there was another resounding thud against the glass shortly followed by many more. “Goddammit!” He jumped slightly back and looked over at you. “Ain’t the fuckin’ owl.”

Your eyes widened and you jolted with each new strike at the glass. Dead ones. A small group of them, maybe five or six. And based on the jerky rapidity of their movements they were runners. You pulled in a steadying breath and rushed to pull on your boots, readying your knife.

“Hey, hold up—” Daryl urged you. “Let’s just plan this out!”

“Daryl, if we wait much longer they’re coming through the glass!” you argued, climbing back up to your feet. “Let’s go!”

Having not even really tried to sleep, he still had his boots on and he tensed but nodded as you gave him a harried look. “Alrigh’. Alrigh’, ‘m ready.”

And you pulled the door open and pushed out into the snow. The dogs bounded out beside you, immediately heading for the dead ones at the window, who turned and began to charge toward you as soon as the door had opened. They were just so fast… There was no room for any error.

Daryl let fly a bolt that whizzed past you and buried itself deeply in the skull of the one closest to you.

Strider and Bear each had pulled one to the ground and were fighting with them fiercely. “Off!” you yelled at the big black lab, and he darted away from the dead one and you thrust your knife into its temple. Another one of Daryl’s bolts struck its target and a body thumped into the snow beside you. A spray of blood dotted the snow on the deck as you pulled your knife out, violently red in the whiteness. You turned, readying yourself for the next dead one, but it rushed you with alarming speed and you found yourself knocked to the ground, struggling to keep its clicking teeth and clawing hands away from you.

Daryl was there in an instant, ramming it in the head with the butt end of his crossbow and knocking it off you. You felt the thick, warm wetness of its blood dribble down onto you as the weight left. Daryl finished it with another sickening bash to the head and turned hastily to check on you after it had gone still.

You were still lying on your back in the snow, chest heaving from the exertion. The wetness and cold had started to seep through your clothes. He scrambled over to you.

“Hey. Hey—ya good?” he asked desperately, falling onto a knee beside you, scrutinizing you for wounds. “Ya alrigh’?”

Heaving in breaths, the cold stinging your lungs, you nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good,” you murmured, examining your own arms. All you could see was some blood spatter. No scratches. No bites. “Thanks,” you said blinking up at him beside you.

He nodded and swung his crossbow onto his shoulder, offering you his hand. “Here. C’mon. Let’s get ya up outta the snow.” He pulled you to your feet. You paused and bent forward for a moment, still trying to catch your breath, staring at the corpses littering the deck. The frigid air on your damp clothes made you shiver. The dogs still had hair raised and were panting just a few feet away from you. You glanced around the cabin into the darkness, not even aware that one of your hands was rubbing at the stiffness in your leg. Were there more just beyond the reach of your senses? More waiting to ambush you when you weren’t expecting it?

“There’s more than one,” you said.

“Huh?” Daryl asked, straining his eyes as he too looked into the darkness.

You straightened up and gestured to the corpses. “The runners. There’s more than one,” you said again.

His eyes went back to the bodies, his brow heavily furrowed. “Yeah… that ain’t good.”

You shook your head. “Let’s just get inside,” you said, exhaustion hitting you like a tidal wave. The adrenaline had waned, and you felt the full extent of your lack of sleep and the fight. “Deal with the bodies tomorrow…”

Daryl nodded and called to the dogs, and you all headed back into the cabin. You sank down heavily on the bench by the front door, meaning to take your boots off, but you found yourself suddenly frozen, staring blankly toward the rug.

Daryl shut and bolted the door, eyeing you with concern. He set his crossbow down nearby and chewed on his bottom lip. “Y/N,” he said gently. “Ya alrigh’?”

“Huh?” His voice snapped you back. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay…” you toed off each of your boots and then glanced at the blood spatter on your arms.

Daryl frowned. “Let’s get ya cleaned up. Ya got coated pretty good,” he drawled. “C’mon.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen and you followed, shivering again from the wetness of your clothes from the snow.

He ran the water in the sink until it was warm and grabbed the nearest dishtowel, wetting a corner. You leaned up against the counter near the light he’d flicked on and accepted the damp cloth gratefully, wiping it over your face and down your neck, swiping it over the blood spatter on your arms.

Your eyes were vague and fixed ahead as you sighed, the wet dishcloth now dangling in your hand.

“Hmm?” Daryl prompted you.

You shook your head slowly. “Just thinking about that owl… maybe it was a bad omen,” you said softly.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip again. “Was just an owl,” he said. “C’mon. Ya should change outta those wet clothes. And then ya need sleep. Ya look dead on yer feet.”

You scoffed a wry laugh as you straightened up. “Poor choice of words.”

He let out a low hum. “Righ’… C’mon.”

You disappeared into your room as he sank down on the couch, having tossed another log on the fire, and then collapsed back into worried thoughts. So, there were more of them… Tomorrow he’d have to set up some alarms… maybe talk to you about more defenses around the cabin.

“Daryl.”

He looked up to see you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, in a change of dry clothes, your eyes heavy. “Hmm?”

“Do you think we could—combine forces again for tonight?” He didn’t catch your meaning at first, until you tipped your head back in toward your room behind you.

His heart jumped. “Yeah. Yeah, o’ course. I’ll be righ’ there…”

In a few minutes, both of you were settled down in your bed. The dogs were on the rug nearby, already sleeping as if nothing had happened. You shifted beneath the covers and rolled onto the flat of your back. Daryl was laying on the other side of the bed with his crossbow within easy reach.

You sighed loudly into the darkness. “So, there are more of them,” you said again.

“Yeah,” he replied into the blackness.

“We’re gonna have to change some things.” Daryl heard a note of weariness or maybe sadness in your voice. “Tomorrow. We’re gonna have to do something… I don’t know. Something.”

“Yeah,” he said again. He heard the rustling of the blankets and could sense that you’d turned onto your side and were closer to him.

“…How many more do you think there are?”

He didn’t want to tell you what he really thought. He knew that you probably already knew the answer. “I don’t know…” he drawled. Then he was surprised when he felt the weight of you so close you were almost pressed against him, and then the gentle feeling of your hand on his arm. It was still a bit cold and he wanted to cover it with his, warm it underneath his own, but he didn’t.

“I’m—I’m glad you’re here,” you said. Your voice was faint, laced with waiting sleep.

Daryl gulped. “Me too.”

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.

reader pronouns: she/her

The door banged open and you looked up to see Rick partially supporting Daryl. He had a belt tied around his upper leg to slow the bleeding of a very obvious wound in his leg. You swore under your breath and immediately rose, pulling a clean pair of gloves on.

“You’ve got to be kidding me with this, Daryl,” you scolded him. Rick helped him get onto one of the tables nearby. You hastily began pulling supplies off the shelf. “What the hell happened?”

Daryl shot you a glare, annoyed by the edge in your voice. “I hurt my fuckin’ leg,” he growled. “Can’t ya fuckin’ tell?”

Rick’s eyebrows lifted. “I wouldn’t antagonize her, Daryl. She’s the one who—”

“OW! Son of a bitch!” Daryl yelped out. You’d jabbed a needle into his leg to numb the area without warning and perhaps a little harder than necessary…

You shot him a look as Rick tried his hardest not to react.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Daryl asked, reaching for his leg. You pushed his hand away before he could get it near the injection site or the wound. “Goddamn, woman! Ya coulda fuckin’ warned me!” he growled. 

“Stop whining,” you snapped at him. “I’m sick of having to put you back together every three days, Dixon.” You started digging in a nearby cabinet for your suturing supplies but were having trouble locating what you needed. You were rifling through a drawer for the third time when his southern drawl cut through the crinkling of plastic and paper.

He let out a scoff. “Jesus, maybe ya should spend some time organizin’ this place instead of just tossing shit randomly in drawers. Maybe then ya could actually find what yer lookin’ for instead of havin’ yer patient bleed out on the table…”

You straightened up and shot him a glare that sent a chill down even Rick’s back. He stepped forward to catch your attention. “How bad is his leg?” Rick interrupted.

Without change of expression, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut Daryl’s pant leg wide open practically from knee to his belt loops. You tossed the scissors down with a loud clatter on the metal table and eyed the wound. It was wide, but the edges were clean and you’d be able to stitch it easily. It was deep enough, but not so deep that you were worried about permanent damage. “He’ll be fine,” you tossed at Rick.

“Ya just fuckin’ ruined my goddamn pants on purpose,” Daryl accused you, staring at the entirety of his now exposed upper leg. “Why the hell did ya have to cut ‘em that much?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically.

Rick ignored the bickering and cleared his throat. “Great… Alright. I’m, uhh, gonna leave you to it then,” he said, patting Daryl heavy-handedly on the shoulder and giving him a pointed look. As soon as the door shut behind the sheriff you rounded on Daryl again, your nostrils flaring with your anger. 

“You don’t come in here and tell me how to run my shit!” you snapped at him, nearly jabbing a gloved finger into his chest. “This place is organized fine! I wouldn’t have to search so hard if someone didn’t keep using up all my goddamn suturing supplies! Not to mention the antibiotics!”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed and flashed. “Hey, somebody has gotta keep your ass safe! Ain’t no joke goin’ outside the walls!”

“You think I don’t fucking know what it’s like out there? I know all too well what it’s like! And yet, despite my repeated warnings that you need to be less reckless and less of a pain in my ass, you’re the only one who seems to be entirely unable to keep themselves out of trouble for more than 24 hours at a time!” 

“Ya think I like getting torn to pieces all the time? I like it about as damn much as I do comin’ in here and havin’ ya patch me up! Yer bedside manner could use a whole lot of fuckin’ work, doc!”

You let out a growl of frustration and threw your hands up, anger flaring in your chest. He was so—he was so—UGH! “You know what? Fuck you! Next time you almost kill yourself, you can have someone else stitch you up!”

“Good! Maybe they’ll do a better job!” he yelled back, ignoring the throbbing in his leg.

That was it. Your jaw clenched and your chest was heaving in angry breaths. Your eyes were flashing with an internal light that was staggering. You looked wild and nearly feral as you glared at him, and something in Daryl couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed the lapel of your white coat and pulled your lips down on his, kissing you fiercely.

To his surprise, you kissed him back, almost melting beneath his lips, softening under his touch—but then, you seemed to come back to your senses and stumbled back, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“W—what the hell was that?” you demanded. “Why did you do that?!” You were entirely alarmed at how your body had responded to him, at how good and right kissing him had just felt. Warmth bloomed out from the center of your chest and spilled outward through the rest of you. “What the fuck, Daryl?!”

His blue eyes were still sharp and fixed on you, but there was something in them now that was different. “Yer the biggest goddamn pain in my ass, ya know that?”

You scoffed. “Me? Me? You’re—you!” You were stuttering, stumbling over your words, and you hated that.

“Ya gonna fix my leg or what?” Daryl asked, his eyes still fixed on you, slightly narrowed. 

You came back into yourself and resumed your care, ripping open sterile gauze and arranging the tools you needed. You felt his eyes on you and your cheeks grew hot. It was some infuriating mixture of anger and desire to kiss him again. “This isn’t—this isn’t over, Daryl,” you said. “You can’t just do that and then expect everything to just… go on the way it was. And I’m still mad at you!” You sighed and focused on his leg. “It’s not over…”

“I was hopin’ not…” he drawled.

Prompt: “You don’t come in here and tell me how to run my shit!”

requested and commissioned by @madhouseexe1 thank you so, so, SO much for your support! <3
prompt: You and Me by James TW (cute song btw!)

“You’ve been quiet all day,” you said to him. He was sitting across the fire from you, prodding at the coals every so often. You could sense that he was continually turning something over and over in his mind and that whatever it was, it was pressing on him. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” you asked. It was a gentle nudge. Daryl knew you’d never press him, but what he was holding in was about to burst out of him anyway. It was like a rubber band stretched to breaking point and it was about to snap.

His eyes finally drifted up from the coals of the fire to your face and there was a distinctive look of anguish in them. You straightened up, alarmed.

“Daryl—what is it?”

“I shouldn’t—I shouldn’ta kissed ya last night,” he drawled, looking away to the side, hiding the emotions swirling in his eyes.

You stomach tightened into a knot. Your heart stalled out completely. “What?”

He ducked his head, shaking it slightly. “I ain’t—I ain’t good enough for ya. I know that. And I shouldn’ta—”

A rush of air left your lungs; some combination of relief mixed with disbelief at what he’d just said. “Daryl,” you interrupted him. You climbed to your feet and moved around the fire until you were right beside him, sitting up on your heels. “Look at me,” you begged him. He kept his eyes turned away, tension flickering over his face briefly as he tried to contain his emotion. “Hey—” You cupped his face and his chin lifted at the touch of your fingers. He met your eyes, and you could see that his were glassy. “Don’t you ever, not for one second, think that.” You sighed. “As long as I have you, I’ll always have everything I need. You have no idea what you mean to me. Daryl, you are more than enough.”

You sighed again and shook your head, giving him a somewhat sad smile. The link between his past and those words leaving his lips was so clear and obvious to you… and you cursed everyone who’d every hurt him. “Sometimes I forget you can’t read my mind,” you laughed. “Because it often seems like you can. But if you knew what I thought about you, every minute of every day, you’d understand that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’ll tell you that as many times as you need to hear it to shut up those voices in your head telling you otherwise.”

He gulped and his blue eyes searched your face. There was a questioning expression on his face and you gave him a reassuring smile. 

“You kissing me last night was the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. And that includes when I found that unopened jar of peanut butter last week.”

Daryl let out an amused exhale, and his lips actually curved slightly in a smile. “You and yer damn peanut butter,” he drawled.

“Right! So, that’s really saying something!” You brushed his hair away from his eyes and felt a warmth filling you up that you only associated with him. It was safety. It was your best friend. It was home. It was everything you needed. “You’re everything, Daryl Dixon. You don’t even realize it.” You leaned in and found his lips softly with yours and the next moment his hand gently found your lower back and pulled you in more tightly. The heat between the two of you grew as he kissed you back urgently, eager to have you under his hands, and leaning against him, you didn’t need the fire anymore.

”Where the hell have ya been? I’ve been looking all over for ya!” Daryl was striding up to you as you were sitting on a bench pulling your boots off. As an answer, you tossed the small but weighty duffel bag at him and he unzipped it, revealing boxes and boxes of ammunition.

His blue eyes were narrowed and sharp as he looked back up at you. “Where’d ya get this?” he asked.

You pursed your lips and looked off to the side thoughtfully. “Mmmm… Do you want the honest answer or the one that will give you peace of mind?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed deeply. “Please tell me ya didn’t fuckin’ go back there by yerself…” You only gave him a somewhat sheepish smile and shrugged vaguely.

”I knew they had ammo, and we needed ammo! Don’t worry. I wasn’t seen and I wasn’t followed. It’s fine!”

Daryl set the duffel bag down and stepped close in front of you, gripping your shoulders gently, his face grave. “Y/N… That was real fuckin’ stupid. What if—”

You interrupted him. “Daryl, it’s fine. I—”

”Lemme finish,” he said sternly. “What if they hadseen ya? Ya could be dead. Or worse… they coulda taken ya.” The serious expression on his face melted away into fear. “What would I have done if—if somethin’ had happened?”

With his hands on you and such fear in his blue eyes, your tongue seemed to be having trouble forming any words. You gulped nervously and opened your lips to speak, but nothing came out.

”Ya gotta promise me… promise ya won’t do somethin’ like that again. Okay?” And there was no way you couldn’t promise it, not with him looking at you like that… so desperately…

Prompt: “Where did you get that?” / “Do you want the honest answer or the one that will give you peace of mind?”