Daryl Dixon X F!Reader: Together Apart Ch.1

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Stars in the Dark

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected p in v, emergency contraceptives, slight alcohol consumption, reader is strong (minor description)

Summary: You're a former farm hand at the Greene Farm. You swoon over the new hunter, and he notices.

Notes: This was one of the first requests I got and I'm so sorry it took me this long to put it out! I hope you're still around anon, and you enjoy.

It was an unusually cool day. 

You sat on the front porch of the Greene house, watching as the strangers that were slowly becoming friends did their daily chores. Carol sat in the center of their camp, scrubbing clothes in a bucket next to Lori, who was hanging them up to dry. Andrea sat on the top of the RV, switching between her gun scope and her binoculars to observe the tree line. There was a man beside her, the one that was with Otis when he died, was his name Shawn? Shane?

It was hard to remember their names, there were so many of them.

But you didn't have trouble remembering Daryl’s name. Especially considering how often you would whimper it into your pillow at night. 

You felt your cheeks heat up at the idea of him, your legs switching from being crossed at your ankles to your knees, the rocking chair beneath you swaying slightly. 

Your eyes drifted to the man you'd been thinking of, watching as he walked back to the camp for lunch after spending the morning hunting. You'd been seeing more of him, especially after the whole incident with the walkers in the barn, something not even you had known about. You knew they were there, sure, but you had no idea the little girl they were looking for had been in there the whole time. 

The Greene family had kept it from you for a while. You had gone to school with Maggie, Hershel's daughter, and she was able to get you a spring job working at her farm with the horses and cattle. They were even kind enough to let you have their spare bedroom downstairs near the back door. It was tiny, but it was free lodging, and you loved it. 

That spring job turned into a summer job once the infection started. Hershel had done a pretty good job convincing you of his beliefs. You had little medical experience, mostly just patching up animals at the farm, especially the barn cat PeePoe, but you liked to believe Hershel knew what he was talking about. Even if it seemed a little farfetched. So, you kept their secret and minded your own business. 

You were sort of glad Shane forced the whole thing to happen. The walkers in the barn were starting to really creep you out, especially with how much they began to rot over time. 

The movement of two people sneaking around to the back of the house caught your eye and you saw Maggie and Glenn, something you'd grown accustomed to. She had a big smile, full of excitement and nervousness, and Glenn just looked thrilled to be there. You watched as they disappeared to the back workshop and felt envy bubble in your stomach. 

The sound of that familiar gruff voice that you'd gotten really good at imagining at night startled you. You looked up and away from beside you, your mouth slightly open in surprise, not having heard him walk up on the porch. 

“Hi?” You looked up at him, awkward and embarrassed from your earlier thoughts. You weren't used to seeing him so up close. He smelled like cigarettes and something else, something artificial, and when you saw him chewing something you realized it was the very faint scent of bubblegum. 

“Patricia said you knew the shops in town. Can't find Glenn, and we need supplies for dinner tonight.” His eyes held little emotion, a bit of annoyance maybe. Annoyance at having to ask you, or annoyance at having to go into town instead of Glenn, you weren't sure. 

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded slowly, trying to keep the filthy thoughts from your head as your eyes raked over his face and upper body, catching yourself and quickly looking back up at his face. 

“Good. C'mon.” He didn't ask, he just slung his crossbow over his bloody ripped shirt, which you assumed was from the deer he had bagged that morning. 

Patricia had mentioned to you in passing about wanting to have another group dinner that night, you didn't expect it to actually happen, given how awkward the last one had been at first. With the weather slowly fading into autumn and the crops dying from age, you figured it was necessary to get some supplies from town. 

You didn't leave often. You didn't have a desire, or a need to, but the idea of being alone with Daryl had you almost skipping to his bike. 

As much as you wanted to push Daryl against the wall of the corner store and kiss him till he passed out, you didn't feel like getting humiliated from rejection. You settled for just watching him as he moved, picking up cans and turning them over before stuffing them in his burlap potato sack. 

The sight of his eyes flickering up over the aisle and landing right on yours snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You quickly looked down to your shelf, picking up a can of corn and pretending to be interested in the ingredients in it. Hmm, yes, Corn. 

He eyed you through suspicious slits, having a hard time deciding between being concerned or annoyed.

Daryl didn't know much about you at all. He knew your name, he knew you were younger than Maggie but older than Beth and that you were a newer farmhand. The only people that ever talked about you never really spoke to him.

He did know that you were way too hot to be working on a farm shoveling horse shit. You belonged in a fuckin magazine, one of those that fashion ones Amy used to read back at their first camp in Atlanta. You were fit, you had to be for your job, what you looked like before all the labor-intensive work, he didn't know or care. 

He'd never seen someone as hot as you in person. He couldn't even think of the words to describe you. You looked so out of place at that farm, it was like taking a supermodel and putting her in a gas station. He watched as you put food in your bag, trying not to get hard as his thoughts swiftly changed from admiring your beauty to imagining how you'd look when you came. 

Daryl thought about that way too much already. He thought about it so much that he was confident he was spot on with the image of you he created in his mind. Alone in his far-off tent at night, not having to worry about getting caught, rubbing his dick raw to the thought of you naked, drooling and crying from pleasure under him. 

“Okay, my bag’s full.” Your voice ripped him from his trance and he blinked a few times, realizing he'd been staring at the same can of peas for the past two minutes. 

“Yeah. Alright.” He swept his arm across his shelf, knocking several cans into his bag and two on the floor. You jumped at the sound and he cursed, his brain still not working right with all the blood that went to his dick. 

You peeked over the shelf to see two cans on the floor, one perfectly fine and the other surrounded in a gross pile of butter beans. No loss to you. Daryl snatched the can of diced tomatoes from the floor and put it in his bag, twisting it a few times before slinging it over the shoulder that didn't have the crossbow on it. 

“How the hell are we gonna get these back?” You asked as you walked out the front door, trying not to fall head over heels when he stuck back to hold the door open for you. You thought he was being chivalrous, he just wanted to stare at your ass in those Bobbie Brooks as you walked to his bike. 

“We'll figure it out.” 

And you did, sort of, but it was incredibly awkward with a bag pressed between the two of you on the bike, and the other tied to your torso so it sat behind you. Thankfully, he drove thoughtfully slowly, and you were able to get back to the farm without incident. 

You were happy to let the other women do the cooking, trying to pay attention to the rant Andrea was currently going on about how Lori loved her social norms. 

The wind had grown a bit cooler, sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as the breeze blew through your hair. 

“You ever cook?” Andrea said suddenly, a cautious edge to her voice as if she suddenly realized she had no idea how you felt about gender roles. “Or, like it, I mean?”

“Was more of an outdoor kind of girl.” You chuckled, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair around the fire you sat at. 

Daryl was chopping wood, something you'd never been so interested in before. Andreas' conversation was getting real, real boring. 

“Yeah. I liked fishing myself.” She grew silent after that, and you looked away from Daryl to see she had a far out look in her eyes.

“You okay?” You asked in a gentle voice, only earning a silent nod from her. You took that as your leave and gave her a comforting shoulder squeeze before heading inside. The sun would set in a few hours, and you wanted to change into warmer clothes before dinner. 

You didn't expect to have Daryl sit beside you at dinner. 

You didn't really expect him to come, let alone eat with the group. Last time he’d been stuck in the bed upstairs since he’d been shot by Andrea. You basically froze when you saw the seating arrangements.

 It wasn't really his choice, honestly, everyone sat down so fast, the only two seats that were open were right beside each other. Looked like no one wanted to sit next to Shane. And from the look on his face, you didn't really want to either.

Relief flooded through you when Daryl sat down next to Shane. You took your seat beside Daryl, Andrea on your right. You smiled at Patricia in front of you, only getting a small one in return. 

It wasn't as quiet or awkward as the last dinner. Spirits were a bit higher, although tense with the whole “prisoner in the barn” fiasco. You couldn't recall the name of the man that was currently chained up, but you did know Dale made a scene of fixing him a plate, much to Shane's objection. 

You tried to distract yourself from their bickering by looking at Daryl. A quick bolt of subdued adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he was already looking at you. You looked away almost immediately out of reflex, and deciding against your better judgment, you looked back. He was still looking at you. 

Daryl couldn't figure you out. If he had a bullet for how many times he caught you looking at him, he'd be able to kill every damn walker on earth. 

It never even crossed his mind you were into him before that night. It seemed so farfetched, you were too fuckin pretty to be looking at him like that. Your features were so soft, even after all the work that had toughened your muscles, your face was still so… 

Cute.

 He didn't notice the tugging that had pulled at the corner of his mouth until it was a full-fledged smirk. He was about to look away when he realized how creepy he probably looked, staring down at you smirking without speaking, but the feeling of your knee bumping against his had his eyes locked to yours. 

His smirk slowly faded, being replaced by a more serious expression, until he saw the soft smile on your lips. 

Nah, she's just friendly. He found himself trying to explain away your actions, but a large part of him desperately wanted him to be wrong. Having such a sweet girl look up at him like that was uncharted territory, and his mind slowly drifted away to the idea of your uncharted territory. He would've snorted at the pun if not for the feel of your thigh pressing against his and staying there this time. 

Neither of you had noticed, but the bickering had finally died down, and a different and lighter conversation was taking place. 

Your silent interaction wasn't as private as it felt, the burn of Rick's eyes on his face had Daryl dragging his eyes to the leader of the group, holding so much cold annoyance towards the nosey man that it could've frozen hell. 

Rick just grinned, happy to see at least some people weren't so miserable with how things were going and went back to picking at his plate with his fork, silently chuckling. 

“Do you drink?” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts, he looked back over to you, his expression softening when he saw you. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take you out back and fuck you in the grass like an animal, or take you to your bed and kiss every inch of your body. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, his voice low and quiet amongst the chatter of the table. “Why?”

You shrugged in return, popping an apple slice in your mouth and crunching it before swallowing and speaking. “I found a bottle of wine today at the store. I don't really drink much anymore but wanted to find a reason to.” 

Your open-ended words had him overthinking once again, over analyzing what you meant. Was he the reason to drink? Or did you have one already? Before he could leave you in more silence your thigh moved against his again, bringing his attention back to you. 

“What're you askin’ me?” He needed to hear you clearly state your intentions, not wanting to humiliate himself by accepting a nonexistent request. 

“If you'll join me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and it took him a few seconds to process what you'd said. 

He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he searched your face for any sign of a trick. You smiled nervously, your eyes flickering to and fro, only settling on his eyes for a second a time. Something about you being unable to keep eye contact stirred something in him, something he was painfully unfamiliar with. He wanted to grab your chin and make you look up at him, make you speak up, make you tremble under his touch-

“You can say no.” He snapped out of it to see your smile had faded to fear of rejection. 

“No. I want to.” He answered immediately, nodding and earning another smile from you. 

You met him in the front field, holding your bundled up blanket with the wine bottle inside. You were originally going to bring glasses, but said fuck it, you could drink from the bottle. You did forget to bring a bottle opener, though, something Daryl was happy to help with. 

He took the bottle from you and sat down on the blanket beside you, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket and beginning to work it into the cork.

“Hershel said something about moving you guys inside soon.” You commented as he blew a few chunks of broken cork from his blade. 

“I'll pass.” He grunted, digging the blade back into the cork. 

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words. 

“Can't stop thinking about it.” 

“Huh?” 

“About winter.” You thought you might've just been imagining it, but you swore you saw his face drop in disappointment at your answer. 

Finally, you heard the pop of the cork finally coming out, and he took the first swig, spitting out the few pieces of cork that had fallen in after he demolished the poor thing. 

He handed it back to you and you took a deep swig, trying to get as much courage as possible. You didn't know how to act around Daryl. He was so unpredictable, nothing like the other men you'd crushed on before. They were all easy, quick to accept your subliminal hints. 

But Daryl? You could tell him you wanted to suck his dick till he couldn't breathe, and he'd probably laugh, thinking you were just joking, and go off and hunt or whatever it was he did all day. 

It was easy for your mind to wander in the silence. You handed the bottle back to Daryl as you slowly undressed him in your head, imagining him taking your clothes off, his lips all over your neck, switching between your different fantasies. Rough, violent and painful, sweet, slow and deep, or quick, needy and dirty. You wondered what he would be like, was he experienced? Would he be able to make you cum just with his fingers? Or was he the opposite? Either way you wanted him, so unreasonably bad, you'd never felt this way about a man before. If someone told you a witch put a lust spell on you strictly for him, you'd believe it in a heartbeat. You didn't even know his favorite color. Or what type of music he listened to. 

“Shit, get down.” His hand on your chest pushing you to your back had your heart in your throat. You tilted your head back to see Maggie and Glenn, sneaking away once again. Daryl relaxed at the realization that it was just them and drew his hand away from you. 

“Lucky them.” You grumbled, taking the bottle from him and taking a sip. You were happily buzzed at this point, eager to make conversation but not at the point where you'd make a fool of yourself. 

“Hmm. Yeah.” He agreed, watching as they slipped behind the stables. “Lucky.”

With your newfound courage, you decided to test the waters in a way that you felt seemed completely unsuspecting and not suspicious at all. 

“Must be nice to have someone like that to take your mind off things for a while.” You commented casually, your gaze now back at the stars. 

“Wouldn't know.” His gruff reply gave you motivation to push on. 

“Yeah, me neither.” You couldn't think of the words that wouldn't possibly spook him off. Little did you know, Daryl wasn't some cornered frightful animal, he was thinking of the same things and worse than you. He'd been looking at you, his chest rising and falling in short quick breaths, his eyes all over your body beside him. 

“Those stars look better laying down.” He felt like an obviously desperate teenager after saying that, but when you immediately laid down on the blanket he smirked a bit. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid suggestion. 

He took a deep sip of wine and looked over you, noticing you'd changed back into your jean shorts after dinner. It was odd, he thought, considering the chill in the air, but he wasn't complaining. The way he looked at your bare legs was akin to someone on a diet looking at a plate of fresh, hot salty fries. His mouth watered, not from the idea of fries, but from the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs so hard you'd be littered with bruises. 

Daryl wanted to touch you so goddamn bad. But being him, he was too disgusted by the idea of getting the nerve to reach out and touch your thigh and having you pull away, shout at him, storm off and never talk to him again. 

And you being you, you were too terrified at the idea of making the first move and getting a similar reaction. 

So you stared up at the stars, forcing yourself to concentrate, before that last bit of wine spread through your body and gave you enough confidence to look at him. 

A buzzed smile spread on your lips when you saw he was already looking at you. And not your face either, but your thighs, and to gauge his reaction you trailed your hand down your torso to casually rest at the bottom of your shorts. You toyed with it, a bit, pretending you had an itch under the fabric and slipping your fingers under the hem. 

He looked at your face then. 

“You look real good.” He blurted, and froze at his words, ready to get up and bolt if you reacted the wrong way. 

“You look really pretty.” You responded without thinking, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, in a good way, like you could model in one of those underground fashion shows-” You cut yourself off before you could humiliate yourself further, but the grin on his face put you at ease. And made you a little tiny bit bolder. 

Neither of you knew what to say. He suddenly grabbed the wine and took an exceptionally impressive sip, leaving the bottle half empty. 

It was a few moments before either of you spoke again. 

“What did you do before this?” You asked, trying to ease the tension enough to relax the both of you. 

He snorted at that question, shaking his head and looking away from you. “Same as everyone else. Lived. Paid for food.”

You took that as the best answer you'd get from him and decided to use the boldness you'd earned from the alcohol. 

“Did you have a girlfriend?” 

He must've found your question amusing, because he snorted. “Psh. No. You got a boyfriend?” 

You noticed his question was in the present tense, not past like yours. “No.” 

He grunted and shifted in his spot so his forearms rested on his knees. He toyed with the grass for a bit, snapping off blades and picking them apart into little green confetti pieces. 

Daryl gave up on talking. He looked down at you again, seeing you were looking at the stars again, but not really seeing them. With the wine induced confidence he wasn't sure if he was thankful for yet, he reached out for you, his fingertips ghosting your knee. His eyes flickered to your face, and when he saw the expression it held there, he decided he was very grateful for the wine.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your lips parted and your eyebrows a bit furrowed. It was funny, with that look you'd think he had slipped his hands in your shorts. And when his hand fully pressed down on your thigh you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, your body giving a billion silent ‘finally, finally, yes, yes, yes’. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a while.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your entire body. 

“I can't stop thinking about it.” You admitted. 

“Yeah?” Your confession had him spinning, his hand now in the pocket of your shorts, two of his fingers dipping in to pull the two of you closer together. 

You found it hard to speak, so you settled on a whiny and desperate ‘Uh-huh’. 

He smirked down at you, his fingers back at your inner thigh. His touch was lazy, but deliberate, his rough fingers slipping up your thigh to the top of your shorts again. He ached to tease you, watch you whimper and squirm under you, but it was getting progressively harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the house, seeing all the windows dark besides Beth's bedroom. He then looked over the moonlit field, concerned for a moment about walkers, but when he saw the fence he felt all concern melt away. 

Daryl's hand continued roaming over your body, relishing in each little whimper being pulled from your throat. The thought that he was doing this to you, it was him making you into this needy little mess, it gave him a new sense of pride he hadn't felt in a long time. 

“You look real damn good.” He repeated his earlier compliment. The way you looked laying down beside him, your long sleeve shirt pushed up around your stomach, your chest rising and falling sharply, had his heart racing despite the buzz he had going on. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, sending a shiver through him at the sound of it. Your body arched into his touch, desperate to have his hand move from your stomach either up or down. 

“You feel real damn good too.” He muttered, loving the way your body was responding to his touch. 

“God. So do you.” You breathed out a long exhale, looking up at him like he was the prettiest thing above you, not the stars. 

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch, a bit teasing, making you involuntarily whimper at the sound of it. He suddenly took it up ten notches, sliding his hand up your shirt to your breast. You had to bite back the moan that you knew would either call walkers or humans if you made it. While he played with your nipple, rougher than you expected, his other hand popped open the button on your shorts. 

You didn't have time to be impressed before his hand shoved its way through your tight shorts to your panties, catching you completely off guard with how suddenly forward it was. A strangled groan and the sight of your eyes squeezing shut had him teasing you again. “S’been a while, huh?” 

You nodded frantically, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your legs trembled, moving apart so he could move his hand easier. He eagerly took advantage of the new space and moved his fingers through the sides of your panties, beelining for your clit. You weren't sure if it was experience, or if he just wasn't stupid, but the way he rubbed your embarrassingly slick clit had your head reeling. 

“You want me to take care of this little ache you got goin’ on?” The fact his southern drawl had gotten much stronger was almost enough to make you cum. Coupled with the dirty words he was saying, which was something you didn't expect from Daryl at all, your face burned with embarrassment. 

“Please.” You choked out, your hands gripping onto the blanket under you, having no idea what to do with your hands. 

He put more weight on his hands as he shuffled so close that he was basically on top of you. His middle finger slid into you, and the feigned cockiness quickly left his body when he felt you. He didn't know if he'd last more than ten seconds inside you. You were unbearably hot and wet. And just by the way you squeezed his finger, he couldn't imagine how that would feel on something bigger like his dick. 

Your worries were right, your orgasm came so fast you were humiliated. He'd barely curled his fingers inside you a few times, something you had to teach him through your haze, and you groaned, low and guttural.

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening, your orgasm catching him off guard. He took his hand that was busy pinching your incredibly sore nipples and clamped it firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries, even though they were enough to give him enough material to jerk his dick to for months. 

He'd need to find somewhere he could let you scream in peace. But for now, he'd have you right here, keep his hand over your mouth and fuck you into the grass. 

Daryl watched you come undone under his fingers like it would be the last time he'd ever see it. Memorizing the way your hips rolled up into his hand, the way they pulled away when you arched your back. The way your eyebrows pulled tightly together, then the way they relaxed as you rode out your high, your eyes fluttering like they couldn't decide on opening or staying closed. 

“Jesus Christ woman.” He breathed, his eyes dark and wild, like he'd just watched a miracle being performed in front of him. To Daryl it was. He felt an unbridled sense of satisfaction knowing he was the one who did that to you. 

You relaxed fully, your hips pulling away from his rough fingers and thumb, which were still stroking your clit. 

“Ain't done with you yet.” He pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving a trail of shimmering wetness on your stomach. 

“God. You're so pretty.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him again with that damn look on your face as you struggled to sit up to take your clothes off.

“You think I'm pretty? Yeah? C'mon then, show me.” He grabbed your hands, bringing them to his chest, forcing you to touch him. Your mind spun, still recovering from the first orgasm you'd had in god knows how long, trying to take over control as he used your hands to unbutton his plaid button up, not caring if you saw him shirtless because of how dark it was. The red one with the sleeves torn off,  it was your favorite. It was almost a loss to see him remove it, that was until he brought your hands back to touch his chest again. 

You decided you liked his direction, and let him move your hands down his chest to his jeans. Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, messing up one too many times. He unbuckled it for you, deciding he was too impatient to wait on you, undoing his jeans and tugging them down just enough to get his cock out. 

When he finally tugged it out you tried your best to memorize every single detail about it. The glint of the moon on the bead of precum at the slit, the way the tip was darker than the pale base, the way his unruly pubes looked exactly like you'd imagined. 

Your hands reached out to grab the length of his cock and he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back as he muttered out a string of curses you couldn't understand through his thick accent. 

He was so fucking glad he jerked off in his tent before he came out to meet you. Or else just that touch alone would've had him busting in your hands. 

The sound of him spitting into his hand made your core do that flip and you let out a shaky breath, watching as he rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock. 

He said nothing as he manhandled you, pushing your shorts right down your thighs, ignoring your little sound of surprise. He pulled you into his lap, and the way he took full control of your body like you were a puppet had you growing wetter than you thought possible. He moved you like you weighed nothing, one hand holding your side in a firm grip to keep you hovering over his dick. He was going to spit again, but you sank down against him and he felt how wet you were, he sputtered out a groan and swallowed his spit. 

He reached down between you and grabbed his dick, trying to guide it to the right spot in the confusion of his lust clouded brain and how wet and hot everything felt. You grabbed his hand and aimed it right at your soaking entrance, and sank your hips down. 

His head barely nudged against your entrance before it slid away, up through your lips and bumping your sensitive clit roughly. You hissed at the feeling and he grunted in irritation. 

“Here-” You pulled back from him, which he objected to for a split second, the idea of you separating from him not an option he wanted to consider. But when you started laying down on your back he moved forward on top of you, grabbing your thigh to hike it up over his waist. 

The new angle made things much easier, although your tightness still proved to be a slight inconvenience. You cursed yourself for being so sexually inactive, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the burn of his tip slowly pushing inside you. 

His mouth found your neck as he lowered his body flat on yours, his weight nearly crushing your chest under his. He kissed your neck as he felt the resistance finally give, his head popping inside you and the rest of his dick pushing forward easier. 

You still saw stars when you closed your eyes, your body freezing from the mind numbing pleasure at the feeling of him filling you in a way you'd either never experienced, or had long forgotten. When the burn of the intrusion finally gave away and melted into complete bliss you relaxed under him, your hips angling up to drive him deeper. 

Daryl groaned in your neck, the sound stuttered as he fought to gain his bearings. His hand tugging his dick to the thought of you was something he never thought he'd top. The feeling of you wrapped around it was something he knew he'd never top. 

The tension between you broke and he finally began moving, dragging his dick out painfully slowly before plunging it back in, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle he'd been working on his whole life. 

He let out a low groan, sinking his teeth into the meat of your neck and bringing a high pitched cry from your mouth. 

“Nuh-uh.” He panted, his hips picking up a faster pace as he pulled away from your neck. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart.” 

“Mhmm!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to look at him above you. His eyes dark, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. The sight had you arching your back, making him groan at the feeling of you squeezing and pulling on his dick. He really did look so fucking pretty. 

Daryl looked down at you, eyes tracing over your face twisted in pleasure, and he felt you grow wetter around him. The way your body responded to him had him trembling. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed more. He grabbed your hips, his grip firm enough to keep you in place as he sped up. 

The quickening of his rough thrusts had your head lolling to the side, each thrust knocking a breathless moan from your lips. They were quiet, to be heard by him alone, which was more than enough for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought to keep his composure, the last bit of him that he had under control worried about possibly hurting you. 

But that concern quickly went out the window when you started begging. 

“Please.” Your words bubbled from your chest, hot and desperate. “Please!”

“Please what?” He hissed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he fucked deep into you. “Use your words, tell me whatcha want. I'll give it to you.” 

“More, please, I don't know.” You babbled under him, trying your best to stay quiet. “Harder, more, I don't-” 

He moved on you, suddenly putting all the weight of his upper body into his grip on your hips, right before he started fucking you so hard you lost the ability to speak. 

Each thrust sent a bolt of sharp and deep pleasure through your pussy, up your body and ending with a tingle on your scalp. You couldn't moan, even if you wanted to, his movements were so rough it felt like each snap of his hips knocked the air from your lungs. You knew there'd be a deep imprint of your ass in the dirt tomorrow from how much weight he was boring down on you, and the sensation of that alone made your head spin. 

Your sharp gasps that were in sync with his thrusts neared a dangerous volume, and he slowed his hips, using the opportunity to catch his breath. 

“Ya gotta be quiet. M’serious.” He whispered, his thumbs pressing down on the sides of your stomach when your whimpers had yet to cease. “Gonna have to stop.”

You spewed out a soft stream of no’s, your hands wrapping around his wrists as if you had the strength to keep him there. “I will, sorry.”

He nodded in response and carried back on with quicker thrusts, his mouth open as he sucked in shaky breaths. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off you. He wished he had met you a year ago, before all this happened, so he could fuck you without worrying about walkers, getting caught, he wanted desperately to hear every sound he earned from you. He was the reason you were a broken mess; he deserved to hear and have all of you. 

Your right hand let go of his wrist to snake under his stomach, your flat fingers rubbing firm massages on your greedy clit. The sight had a choked moan sounding from his throat and you whined in response, the sound sending long bolts of pleasure through your core. 

“Daryl, so close.” You whispered, your toes curling from their spot at the base of his spine. 

He understood your meaning and set a steadier pace, not too rough or fast, but deep and steady enough to guarantee your final orgasm, since his first with you was approaching. 

Daryl wasn't stupid, he meant to pull out, truly, but when you came and squeezed his cock like a fist, he couldn't help it. His body trembled and he choked, gasping and whimpering as he came with you. 

Your jaw dropped and you saw more than stars, you saw the whole damn galaxy. Daryl quickly pressed his hand over your mouth to muffle your obscene moans, his hips stuttering as he finished the last drop in his orgasm. 

“My God. My God. Oh my God.” You panted after he removed his hand, your eyes bleary and wet, your body vibrating with exhausted shakes as your ecstasy slowly faded away. Your hands and feet felt cold and numb, and when he pulled away it felt like someone had taken something from you. You whimpered in a soft objection as his wrist left your grip. 

“Goddamn.” He sat back to stuff his raw dick back in his jeans, twitching when he felt the uncomfortable friction from his boxers, it was too stimulating. 

It took you some time to put your clothes back on, when you were finally dressed you were too exhausted to do anything but lay there on the blanket and catch your breath. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in silence to regain your bearings and enjoy the final moments of buzz from sex. As soon as he came down from his high, he grabbed the abandoned bottle of wine and drank nearly the rest of it. 

“I'm gonna go shower.” You breathed, sitting upright to find your shoes and put them back on. 

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

“Goodnight Daryl. That was amazing.” You thanked him with a quick kiss that seemed to startle him.

He sucked his teeth in embarrassment, waving you off as if to say, ‘it's nothing'. He watched you walk away, scratching the backs of your arms, itching from the grass. Daryl turned back to the woods and finished the bottle before chucking it into the field, eventually leaving for his tent, bringing your blanket with him. 

You took the best bath you could manage with your supplies; it wasn't as satisfying as a hot shower with your old fancy soaps and shampoos, but you were too exhausted to do more than just clean yourself. You barely even wrapped your hair with a towel before tripping into your room and falling on your bed. 

You yelped when you felt something hard like at your back and you leaned up on your elbow to see a small box with a note. 

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

You sighed in relief when you saw it was emergency contraceptives and a pack of condoms, despite the pit in your stomach from knowing Maggie had seen you. It was something you should have already planned for yourself, the condoms, but it was hard to think straight when you were horny over Daryl Dixon. 

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

the new aphrodisiac fic is lovely 🙂‍↕️ makes me wonder how much self control rick would try to display under the same situation, but ohhh my lord daryl being both whiny and animalistic is muah chefs kiss ♥️♥️♥️

That's actually a great question cause my immediate thought is "yeah he'd have great restraint" but he's also very fond of the ladies and is real quick to start flirting lmfao so I'm not really sure 🤔 I'll think on that 😏😏

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.5

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You and Daryl grow closer due to feeling out of place in Alexandria. Just when you think you have the old Daryl back, he leaves.

Notes: I think the chapter after this one will be the last chapter, and finally have some cheesy old fashion love making :D Sorry Daryl vanishes at the end tho ):

It never seemed to end for him. In front of everyone else he was silent, emotionless, an empty body on autopilot. But when you'd walk off into the trees to search for water, it always hit him, no matter how many times he'd thought he'd cried out all out and was done with it. 

He clung to you after her death like never before, constantly walking in your shadow and wordlessly begging for some sort of comfort, reassurance, anything. You did the best you could, which ended up being more than either of you expected. You seamlessly morphed into the familiar elder sister role, mirroring the ways you would comfort your bruised baby brother. 

He put a cigarette out on his hand the one time he went off by himself, and not following him was something you came to regret. 

“Daryl,” the whisper of your voice had him cringing, the sound too empathetic and full of concern, he had to fight to keep himself from cracking when your comfort washed over him. 

“I know… I'm not good with words, or shit like this.” You sighed, maintaining a quiet tone, low enough for the sound of rain and the crackle of fire to cover. 

Daryl remained silent as you spoke. He picked at the skin around his fingers, looking down at his hands in his lap, and the sight of your smaller hand lightly touching his wrist makes him jerk. 

“I can't take away your pain, God knows I'd kill every goddamn piece of shit alive to make you feel better.” Your voice turned shaky, and the urge to cry was becoming overwhelming for the both of you. “But... I can promise you, you'll never have to worry about losing me. I just want you to know, I'm that one thing you don't need to worry about. I always will be.” 

Daryl slowly inhaled through his stuffy nose and nodded, the noise dry and shaky, his eyes burning and unblinking from their gaze on your hand. 

“I know.” He finally spoke and nodded again, as if that would magically set it in stone. “Me too.”

Slipping back into your place in the group dynamic was unpleasant after being alone with Gabriel for that long. It wasn't just one person you had to make an effort for anymore, and deep down you despised it. It was almost comparable to going back to school after summer break. You had to play by the rules again, fit into their perfect perception or risk repercussions. 

The discovery of Eugenes lies was all but a surprise to you. You didn't have some wild sense of intuition, you were just a pessimistic person. Although you kept your opinions to yourself, you didn't predict the extent of how deep his lies had been. The cure was a given, obviously, but the fact he lied about being a scientist as well? Lied about the safe place in Washington too? It took everything you had in you not to cave his face in when you saw the look of disappointment on Daryl's face. That's another reason why you hated being in a group. People didn't deserve to be able to let you down, and sure as hell not the one person you gave a shit about. 

People love to parrot that same ‘it has to get worse before it can get better’ bullshit you'd been told by concerned and empathetic authority figures all throughout your childhood. Safe to say it had lost its meaning to you, even when Daryl tried to lift your spirits. 

Well, it sure got better for everyone else. 

You weren't alone in your suspicions about Aaron. For once Rick and you agreed on something, it was a bad idea to go to Alexandria. But the group convinced him to take a chance, that the rewards greatly outweigh the risks, and you watched with a disapproving glare as Aaron led you all past the gates. 

“I'm just going to ask you a few simple questions, get to know you. You don't mind if I record this, do you?” 

You had a feeling your answer wouldn't make any difference, no matter what you said. You shook your head as you watched Deanna turn her video camera on, the big black lens feeling like an intimidating pit waiting to swallow you up if you gave an answer she didn't like. She rounded the couch and sat down, a tight and professional smile on her lips. 

“Let's start with your name.”

You told her your name, trying to behave despite your stomach growling and the sudden awareness that you smelled and looked awful. 

“Where are you from,” She repeated your name. 

“Georgia. Up North.” 

“Did you work?”

“No.”

“What were you before the outbreak?” When you didn't answer, she elaborated. “Were you a student in school, staying at home, traveling…?”

“After high school I stayed home for a couple years. Took care of my mom.” 

“I understand you're close with Daryl, is that right?” 

You must've visibly reacted to that question, because even after you answered, she pressed for more information.

“Did you grow up together?”

“Kind of, we weren't really friends or anything. He lived nearby and I'd see him around.”

Deanna nodded as if she was your therapist listening to some deep-seated trauma. 

“Did you ask anyone else these questions?” You scratched the back of your arm, beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

“I ask everyone all kinds of questions. I want to get to know you all, it's not an interrogation. You don't need to answer any that you don't want to.”

She finally changed the subject to your relationship with Rick's group. Not that you were eager to talk about it, but at least she wasn't grilling you on Daryl anymore. 

“I've been here since before Rick came and took over. Back in Atlanta. Daryl and his brother Merle came to get me when it happened. I thought maybe they were having some bad trip or somethin'. Ran into my house yelling about dead folks coming back to life and eating people. If it wasn't for them, I'd probably be dead too, but, I think they mainly came to get me because they knew my mom had a stash of cigarettes and drugs.” You were chuckling as you spoke, not realizing you had given up so much information without her even asking. You instantly shut up, the amused smile leaving your face. 

“How do you get along with other members of your group?”

You cringed at the phrasing. They weren't your group, they were Daryl's people, you were just a temporary guest without a set time to leave. 

“Fine. Haven't heard any complaints. Have you?”

“No. But I have heard you don't work well with others.” 

You shrugged. 

“Do you want to be here?” The way she would use your name at the end of every few sentences was starting to get under your skin. 

“I'm kinda stuck with wherever Daryl wants to be.” 

Deanna ended the interview after a handful of other unimportant questions and you were allowed to leave, led to your new house by one of her son's. 

You took the longest and hottest shower of your life, only getting out when Abraham started pounding on the door. It brought back that same feeling of anxiety you'd get when your mother would bang on your locked door in a fit of anger. You nearly ran him over when you burst out of the bathroom, making him drop his change of clothes and call out a disgruntled complaint. 

“Who the hell is this?” 

Daryl looked up from his bag to see you looking down at him, a teasing grin on your fresh face. The image of you being all cleaned up had him momentarily stunned. It had been a while since either of you had seen each other clean like that. 

“Daryl? No way, where's your grease?” You toyed with his damp hair before sitting next to him on the floor near the fireplace, where he'd decided to sleep for the night. 

“Nah, I don't know you. Ya don't smell like bloody rabbits.” He retorted, leaning in to dramatically sniff at you. “The hell is that? Shampoo?”

“Uh, it's shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, and toothpaste.” You replied, giving an exaggerated smile to show your clean teeth. 

You shared a few chuckles and jokes as the rest of the group cleaned up and prepared for bed. Even though you couldn't stand the place or the new people in it, the prospect of having your own room with an actual bed had you buzzing with excitement. 

Sleeping next to Daryl wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. It was an arrangement that happened more nights than not. But sleeping next to Daryl in a safe house, wrapped in clean clothes, soft blankets, and not even the slightest whiff of the outdoors? It was overwhelming. 

You turned on your side to face him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling, the dark room filled with the familiar ambiance of gentle snoring and breathing. Daryl always slept after everyone else, and that night was no exception. 

Despite your instincts telling you not to, you wiggled on the blanket to move closer to him, nuzzling your face in his nearly dry hair, closing your eyes as you inhaled his clean scent. 

He stiffened at first, an automatic reaction which soon faded and he relaxed, tilting his head until his cheek rested against your forehead. He could barely feel the warm tickle of your breath under his jaw, the feeling soliciting a subliminal relaxation. His eyes closed then, and he listened to the barely audible whistle of your nose. He listened as the whistle got softer, slower, and nearly disappeared altogether as you fell asleep. 

Daryl made sure to untangle himself from you the next morning, before anyone else had the chance to wake up and witness your private bond. No one deserved to see that part of him or you, it was intended for the two of you alone, something deeper and more personal than anyone would understand. 

Adjusting to being around people was a challenge that went all the way back to school. Even in Atlanta you struggled with it, going from being a hermit with your sick mother to an adult in a large group of people, it felt like your first day of school all over again. 

That was all nothing compared to being in Alexandria. Not only were you surrounded by people that annoyed you, but another larger group of people you knew absolutely nothing about. 

They bestowed heavy responsibilities on you as well. It wasn't just scraping by washing clothes and hunting, it was work. Hard work. Wall building, gardening, work inside Alexandria, work outside their walls, near constant supply runs, and cooking. 

Parties. Pasta for dinner. A seemingly limitless flow of sparkling amber champagne. Some kid was walking their fucking pet dog on the sidewalk. 

It felt insulting. Their first impression on you firmly implemented your personal views towards them. Spoiled, weak, wearing faces of false persona, wives chittering like hens with warm knowing smirks. Husbands and men who always smiled like the sun, going out of their way to do things they considered nice for you, then putting on a somber and humble face if anyone had praised their hard work, dedication, and sacrifices. Sacrifices that basically ensued going to the grocery store. 

You hated it. You hated them, you hated their kids, you hated their houses that looked like mansions to you, and you hated the way Rick's group treated it like they'd walked through the bright pearly gates and not the glorified pretentious prison that it was. 

To your relief Daryl didn't quite like it either. 

“They invited us to what?” You didn't believe him when he said it to you as he stared around your new room. 

“Said it was a welcoming party.” He grunted, fingers picking at the edges of a tacky poster of a puppy on the wall. 

“A party? What do you mean a party?” 

“Dunno.” He sighed, throwing his hands up in muted exasperation. “S’jus what she said.” She being Deanna, the same woman who took away your guns, which yours had grown to be quite the impressive collection. But you being your hardened and sneaky self, you'd managed to smuggle two of your handguns into your room. Daryl got to keep his crossbow, of course, and you your own recurve bow, it was the bare minimum aside from your knives, which the others were allowed to keep as well. Sadly, you'd end up breaking that bow a few days later by slinging it at Pete's head.

“And everyone's going?” You pressed on from your seat on the bedroom dresser. 

“Dunno. Goddamn, told you what she told me, you know s’much as I do.” 

You went to the party. Of fucking course you would, they had full on meals with all the food groups, they had alcohol, they had little appetizers and finger foods you'd only ever seen on tv and in magazines, you'd be an idiot not to. The only con was the house was stuffed with people. You could barely make it two steps without bumping into a new face. 

You didn't stay long at all, leaving the second your stomach felt full, and you had a decent buzz going on. You snuck out the back door and snagged the half empty bottle of champagne on your way out. 

“Ya went?” Daryl was surprised to see you walking down the sidewalk in new clothes. The black button up hung a little loose on you, the sleeves bunched up around your elbows, the hem falling all the way past your ass. 

“I may not like those people, but they make some damn good casserole.” You snickered, popping out the metal reusable cork and taking a deep drink. 

Daryl grabbed the bottle from your outstretched hand and downed nearly the whole damn thing in three gulps. 

“Yeah yeah. Go on, help yourself.” 

He gave a weak grin at your playful scoff before handing the bottle back to you. 

“You remember what I said back in Atlanta.”

You looked to your side at Daryl as the two of you walked down the dimly lit path back to your new residence. “Gotta be more specific.” 

“Bout takin’ their shit an’ hauling ass outta there.” 

“Yeah. One of my biggest regrets is talking you out of it.” You sighed, your tone no longer playful and lighthearted. “We could be all the way across the country by now. Would still have Merle bitching out ears off and ranting about some racist conspiracy theory.” 

Daryl suddenly chuckled. “You ‘member that time he was tryin’ to come up with slurs for walkers?” His amused grin spread further when you erupted into laughter at the memory. “What was it he called ‘em? Rotters? Pus-suckers?”

“Yeah, those were some of the tamer ones.” At the time you'd been annoyed by Merle's constant need to remind you that the three of you were better and more superior than anything and anyone around you, but all this time without him and his humorous outlook on life, you missed it. You even missed when he'd belittle you, at the end of the day he still was sexist, despite the obvious care he held for you. 

“Why'd you ask though?” 

“Dunno.”

“Daryl.”

“Everyone's safe now, ain't gotta worry about ‘em anymore.” 

You kept quiet as he fought for the words to convey his thoughts. It was obvious he felt like the odd man out again, it was impossible not to, in a place as nice as Alexandria. The rest of the group had effortlessly slipped into their places in the new environment, if you were an onlooker, it would look as if time had frozen in place for the small neighborhood and its citizens. 

But Daryl, and you, it wasn't easy like that. You never had a normal life like this, so you had no default state to regress to. Daryl had only changed a little since the start, and you hadn't changed much at all. Your skin felt like it was burning with electricity at the insinuation in his words. 

“I'll go wherever you go, you know that.” You nodded firmly. “Just say the word.”

He ended up going to Carol with his vague plan, and then Rick. You don't know what they said to him, but the next morning he told you he wanted to give it a few days before he made his decision.

You should've just made the decision for him. You should have grabbed your stuff, packed your bags, and stole one of their cars and left. Because a few days turned into a hell of a lot longer. 

It wasn't all bad, the two of you grew even closer due to his feelings of being an outcast once again surfacing. It was the same for you, which caused you to cling onto him tighter than before. You slept on the same ratty mattress in your room, sometimes cuddling, but most of the time on separate ends.

You watched more people die around you, which was something you'd become bitterly accustomed to. Aiden, one of Deanna’s sons, and Noah, who you'd never spoken to before. Rick made some trouble for himself getting wrapped up in the wife of the town surgeon, and all hell broke loose after that. Pete lost his shit and accidentally killed Deanna's husband, and Rick killed Pete. As if there hadn't been enough blood shed, a hoard of walkers became an issue just as things started to calm down. 

You didn't like the role that'd been assigned to you. You were being seen and tasked as a protector, sent out by Rick with Abraham and a handful of others to build strategic walls for his master plan of relocating the hoard. 

Another thing you didn't like was the way people's views towards you changed. People who once never even spared you a second thought were speaking to you, making an effort to get to know you, and it was just as unsettling as that time Rick invited you over for dinner. 

“Too pretty to be so sad all the time.” Abraham had said once as you dug a hole for the wooden pillar. 

“I'm not sad.” You muttered, stepping back as three men lifted the wood into the hole. You poured in the instant concrete and took your gloves off to get a drink of water.

“So you just always have that sour look on your face then, huh?” 

“Only when I'm around people I don't know.” Or like, you thought to yourself. 

“I've known you for how long now? Course you know me. And Sasha, and Rosita, and-”

“You're people I'm stuck with. Doesn't mean I know you.” 

“Tsh.” He snorted, folding his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “So you're just a bitch then?” 

“Yeah.” 

One would think that conversation would've been enough to get the point across. No, sadly, it only made things worse. Rick ended up giving you jobs with more people, and you quickly caught onto the convenient way Daryl was almost never in those assigned groups. 

Rick was in charge, that was undebatable, but he wasn't in charge of your free will. You did your work as he asked, most of the time faster than expected, and spent every second of your free time with Daryl, even if it meant pulling four different jobs a day. 

It worked like that for a while, and eventually you did begin to change. Not you exactly, moreso your attitude had changed. You became less closed off, no longer baring teeth and claws as a constant warning. You actually enjoyed spending time with Abraham, as he was one of the only people that called you out for being shitty, he wasn't scared of your mean mug or the harsh bite of your words. It wasn't just Abraham you started to like. Maggie, Carol, Rosita, Michonne, and sometimes Tara, the small group shifted from strangers to acquaintances, some would call you their friend. They'd eventually worn down your hard exterior and you experimented a little with conversation and generosity. Carol was the exception, it was you who had to pursue her. Trying to become genuine friends with her was hard, it made you realize how hard everyone else had been trying with you. 

You even started decorating your room a bit. Nothing fancy, just a few homemade shelves and displays for your numerous weapons. You made a special one above your futon, the only object it held was the small gold tinted shell of a used bullet. 

All good things must come to an end. 

You sat alone in your shared room for the third night in a row, silent on your lumpy mattress, your eyes burning in effort to hold back tears. 

He hadn't even told you he was leaving. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

you know where to find me

and i know where to look

We all love and remember the Matchmaker fanfic but hear me out! Imagine like a second part that happens at CDC.

I'm actually writing that now!! I think someone mentioned it in the notes, and I thought it would be one of the only times you could fuck showered Daryl on a clean bed

HEATHERMASON6060!!!!!!! YOUR AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED FIC WAS FREAK NASTAY IN THE BEST WAY WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW 😵‍💫👏👏

FUCK YEAH!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! I LOVE FREAK NASTAY

He should have had Cake: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary: You comfort Leon on the couch after Marvin turns.

Warnings: None

Contains: Leon finally getting a hug, Leon crying, comfort, angst

It was the longest day of your life. What should have been a normal back to workday after a well needed week off, was a complete disaster. All your coworkers had been killed and turned into some sort of monster. Your best friend and coworker, Amy, had been torn in two at the waist and you’d found her gurgling and crawling around the dark empty halls of the Racoon City Police Department. 

The only good thing to have happened was you met Leon Kennedy, the new cop that everyone had been so excited to see. You just worked paperwork in the back and had little experience with combat, so you were very lucky to have run into him. The two of you spent hours roaming around the building, fighting off the creatures and hiding from some sort of nuclear Arnold Schwarzenegger. You quickly became very close, confiding in each other in locker rooms, bathrooms, talking about your friends and family. You’d cried a few times, but Leon stayed strong for the most part, until now. Until Marvin turned

The look in his eyes almost made your heart break. 

"Come here." You said softly, sitting down on the break room couch, the leather creaking under you. He hesitated, fighting an internal battle of whether to give in to the strong desire to fall into your arms, or keep up the facade he had put up for you. 

Leon gave in, but not completely. He sat down next to you, body stiff and timid. He was practically shaking. He needed comfort, especially from a woman, so badly. There was a lump in his throat. His eyes burned. He couldn't look at you, he knew he'd end up crying if he saw that sweet, sympathetic look on your face.

You reached out and put your hand on his knee. His muscles tensed instantly at your touch. 

"If you need an ear, I'm here Leon." Your voice was still so soft, it almost caused a sob to bubble from his chest. He swallowed hard and shook his head. He couldn't do that. He was protecting you, the innocent, too good to be true receptionist who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He couldn't cry to you. You needed him, not the other way around. 

"I know this is scary. It was your first day. You don't have to pretend everything is alright." You moved your hand from his knee up to his face, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. He leaned into your hand, letting out a long sigh through his nose. 

"It's scary for me too." You continued, softly brushing his hair. "Like, really really scary. World shattering type fear. Who knew the walking dead could become a reality to us that fast?"

He couldn't stand it anymore and he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing your body close to him. You held him in your arms and leaned back into the couch so he laid on your chest. It felt amazing to the both of you. Seeing such a vulnerable side of Leon, the man who had been cracking jokes after killing countless zombies, it was refreshing. You stroked the top of his head and let him silently cry into your shirt. 

"They had a cake, there were streamers, party hats," He finally choked out, his voice cracking between his shaky words. "They were excited to meet me, and they're all dead. All of them. They put so much effort into it…"

Your chest felt like it was being torn in two at his words. You had to admit when you saw the 'Welcome Leon', streamers, it did upset you. They never even got to meet him. He never got to meet them. He should have had that cake, got to know his new coworkers, then settled into his desk. He should be at home right now after a long day's work, setting his alarm for 4am to do the same thing tomorrow. 

You continued brushing your fingers through his soft hair, holding him until his breathing slowed and his cheeks dried. His grip around your waist had loosened, but he still didn't let go. Neither did you. One arm held him in place around his back, and the other remained softly and gently stroking his hair. 

"Once we get out of here, we're going to go to my apartment, get you cleaned up, fed, and you're going to have the best sleep of your life. Alright Leon?" You hoped he'd accept your invitation, truly, you really needed the company. You couldn't be alone after the things you'd seen. 

He said nothing, but he slowly nodded his head. He took a moment to gather himself before sitting upright, and forcing a smile, the edges of his bleary eyes crinkling slightly. "I could really go for some fettuccine Alfredo." 

"And a hot shower. We stink. Then you can meet my cat."

"You have a cat?" He instantly perked up. 

"Yeah, her name is Buttermilk." You dug your phone out from your pocket and showed him a picture of the cream colored cat. "She hates that I chose the one apartment out of town. Takes like an hour to drive to work every morning, which is more time she's home alone. But once she gets older she's gonna love that alone time." You sighed, heart aching at the thought of her getting older. "She's a real pain in the ass but I'm gonna miss this kitten phase." 

"I love cats. I can't wait to meet her." He smiled again, but this time, it was a real smile. He had stopped crying completely at this point. 

"Then, let's get the hell out of dodge. C'mon." You stood up and offered him your hand, which he accepted with a sheepish smile.

this is so good it’s not even funny i love him i want to scream

It is time for spooky Halloween themed Daryl. I am taking this man trick or treating. The treats are blow jobs

Hi i know probably serial killer!Daryl one shot's have ended but i kinda have a idea for another smutty content so hear me out...blow job but Daryl is holding her jaw to keep her from closing it( and probably for not biting him) and making her gag

Okay yes this is very hot! I'll def write this as like a kind of dark!daryl