Daryl Dixon X F!Reader: Together Apart Ch.4

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

he was just a baby 🥺

WAIT WAIT WAIT.... You might be onto somethin here...

The image this gave me is sending me into a deep hole 😔 I need this man

I love this video

“It’s really not”

Rick finding out ur into choking which leads to rough sex? 🤭

18+ mdni

“You like that?”

Rick scoffs, referring to the hold he had around your neck— courtesy of you.

You grabbed his arm and allowed him to wrap his fingers around you and dig his fingernails into your skin.

You loved it.

How you could see the cocky smirk on his face, you loved that he had the power and could do whatever he wanted. It only made the arousal between your legs grow and leak onto the bed.

Meekly nodding, you tighten your grip around the man’s wrist, a sign for him to continue and go harder.

He did. Squeezing his fingers around your neck, that combined with his rough pounding made you see stars.

“Mmgh, Rick!”

The man chuckled coyly, a stupid smirk on his face, “You’re pathetic, baby.” He cooed, his thumb reaching up to tauntingly stroke at your soft cheek.

By now your face was turning a shade of crimson due to his harsh hold, fat tears forming in your eyes and begging to drip.

Rick's thrust only speed up, getting more aroused at the sight of you— laid beneath him, completely at his mercy, his hand around your throat and those big eyes that stared into his. God, he loved you.

IM FUCKING SCREAMING???

The way you sent this with no words just pictures no explanation 😭 when did you send this I'm crying????

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings PT.2

Warnings: Serial killer Daryl, Daryl kills two men who tried to hurt you, rough smut, human hunting, hunting reader through woods, Daryl is mean cause killer (but soft after) soft dubcon but NO noncon

Summary: Part two to the killer!Daryl fic. Reader finds out about Daryl's favorite pastime, and he hunts her down after she runs off.

Notes: Sorry this took so long I didn't have my adhd meds and I couldn't focus on it for more than five minutes at a time. Again, I tried to keep him as in character as possible.

Daryl was surprised, and a little annoyed by the fact his obsession with you had only grown after that. He'd hoped that he'd just fuck you and get over it, get back to his usual self and only occasionally need to go out and hunt. But you only made it worse, he found himself needing to go out hunting multiple times a week.

No one was complaining about his frequent outings though, each time he'd always come back with fresh kills and that was more food in their stomachs. Carol did make a comment about the fact she was cooking deer for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but he just retorted with some playful insult, and she'd shoot him one right back. 

Your presence had become scarce after that night, and over time Daryl seriously grew worried. Even though you were currently the object of his obsession, he still viewed you as someone important to him, despite the way you made him go insane. 

What was once an occasional late-night dick jerking session became an every night type deal, sometimes twice a night. The way you had acted like nothing ever happened between the two of you made it so much worse. 

He'd expected you to get attached after that, constantly trying to get him to follow you off into the woods again, but you were just your old self, sweet and friendly but reserved. 

Daryl fucking hated that. 

His frustration started making him sloppy, and desperate. He picked up his old habit of stalking you, always out of sight but always right behind you. He knew you were unaware, he'd taken every single precaution to avoid giving you even the slightest suspicion you were being watched. 

There was one day he had followed you into the small town down the road. He'd stick one street over, behind buildings and in deep alleys, only keeping you in his sight long enough to see which turn you'd make. 

It turned out his annoyance at your stupidity was warranted. You'd run into trouble, two men who'd been scavenging an old department store and saw you walking by. They'd followed you, just as he did, bewildered by your obliviousness, just as he was. 

He knew they had the worst intentions. Rob you, kidnap, assault, or even all three, but thankfully he never had to find out. Because apparently, you were smarter than you looked, or just very fucking lucky, because you'd lost them between a group of small shops. 

He watched as they tried to find you, stumped at you seeming to vanish in thin air, and he began hunting them instead. 

They were more aware of their surroundings than you had been with Daryl. They could sense him, even though they hadn't seen or heard him, they knew he was there. They quickly switched from predator to prey as they felt his presence, constantly looking over their shoulders and making attempts at getting away through alleys. 

He could practically taste their fear. Their whale eyes flashed around the street, looking at every shop window, every door, every trash can, and in their disoriented fear driven state they ran right into him. 

Daryl moved quickly, his hands grabbing a fistful of greasy brown hair and slamming it against the brick wall next to him. As the man fell over the second whirled to face him, ending up falling right onto Daryl's knife, a shout bursting from his horrified mouth. 

Drawing the blade from his stomach he drove it into his throat, muting any further screams. He then used his elbow to slide the man off his knife.

He watched as the man fell into shock, his hands grasping his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Daryl simply watched, his eyes never leaving his face, soaking in the sensation of his hunger being satiated.

Once his legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees, Daryl turned his attention to the first man, who was slowly regaining consciousness. 

He bent down into a squat and slapped the flat of his blade against the man's cheek, forcing him back to his senses. 

The confusion in his narrowed eyes turned to wide unbridled anger. His lips pulled away from his teeth and he tried to sit upright, only to get a heavy boot to his chest, sending him smacking against the concrete. 

He didn't say anything, which was unusual for Daryl. They'd usually start with threats, insults, rage as they denied accepting the weight of their situation. Then they'd start trying to bargain with him, offer him food, guns, weapons, sometimes cars. And when Daryl wouldn't give them any type of response, only unnerving eye contact, they'd start begging. 

This man hadn’t said a damn word. He kept trying to get up, he'd scoot back away a few feet before Daryl's boot kicked him in the chest and sent him flailing down on his back again. 

“What do you want?” He finally broke the silent struggle, submitting and remaining on the concrete. 

Daryl looked down at the man with that same expressionless look on his face. After a few seconds of this he reached for the pack of cigarettes in his front shirt pocket, making the man beneath him dramatically flinch. 

As he lit the cigarette the man sputtered, trying to speak but unable to find the words. Daryl shoved the pack back in his pocket and took a deep pull, watching as he gave another attempt at getting away. 

This time he got a kick to the face. 

The pain from that alone sent the man into fight or flight. After he scrambled to his feet Daryl decided he'd had enough, and after grabbing the back of his shirt he plunged the knife into his back, drew it out, and sunk it back in in a different spot. 

Over and over he did this.

He left the man rolling on his back on the ground, his once gray tank top soon turning a dark red. 

In the hopes of maybe holding his urges off for longer, Daryl gave a few more stabs to the chest before swiping his knife clean on the dying man's jeans. He slipped it back in his belt and wiped his face with the back of his hand, only making the blood smear worse.

Daryl left the men there and made his way back to Alexandria, taking a deep and satisfying pull from his cigarette before the sight of your red sweater caught his eye.

He stopped in his tracks when his brain processed the image of you, his hand holding his cigarette a few inches from his lips. He felt like someone just pointed a remote at him and pressed pause, the only movement being the smoke curling up and away from his face.

You looked about the same. 

You had a look of shock on your face, but not the type you'd expect someone to have after witnessing a murder like that. You'd seen your fair share of people being killed, you'd had to do it yourself a few times before, but that was always a kill or be killed scenario. 

Those two men weren't trying to kill Daryl. 

You'd caught sight of them in the reflection of a store window and knew they were sneaking up on you, so you'd darted behind an old coffee shop and climbed up the ladder. Once you were sure you'd lost them you climbed down, walked past two shops and around a corner just in time to see Daryl repeatedly kicking the man to the ground, behaving like more of a leopard playing with mice. 

You'd watched the entire thing stretch on for what felt like hours, your eyes following every plunge of the knife, stabbing everywhere but the one place that would instantly dispatch that man. 

Neither of you moved for a few moments. You only finally reacted when a chunk of ash fell from Daryl's cigarettes, watching it as it floated to the ground, looking back up to his face when it landed with a puff on the sidewalk. 

“What was that?”

The innocent tone of your voice felt like he was the one who got stabbed in the chest. 

Daryl always had a perfect way of killing. He'd play his role as some dumbass redneck who looked super easy to take advantage of, and they fell for it every time. They'd try to rob him or attack him and only then did he react, grappling them with movements he'd perfected to the point of it being an art. He'd always made sure that if there was the slightest chance of Rick, Carol, or anyone in his group somehow seeing, it could be read as necessary self defense. 

But there was no way to explain away what he'd just done right out in the open, in broad daylight. Part of him wished it was Rick who'd seen him, not you, 

Rick was no stranger to the deep satisfaction killing bad people brought. But you? He remembered once back at the prison you'd been torn up for days after having to kill someone who'd been attacking you. And that was a quick bullet to the head to a man who wanted you dead. 

Finally, he took the cigarette back to his lips and took a pull before speaking. “They were gonna do worse to you.” 

You knew he wasn't lying. But by the look on your face you didn't accept that, that wasn't the real reason why. 

You inhaled deeply through your nose and looked off into the distance somewhere, Daryl could see the wheels turning behind your furrowed brow. He tried to remember all the excuses he used to think of when he was in the shower, running down every worst case scenario. 

“How many times have you done that?” Your unspecified question had him unsure of how to respond. You blinked in frustration before elaborating. “Killed someone you didn't need to like that. All emotionless.” 

“Lost count.” The boldness of his answer made you scoff.  He stepped forward till he was inches away, maintaining steadily intense eye contact. “You gonna do somethin’ bout it?” 

You weren't expecting him to challenge you so blatantly like that. Your jaw dropped as if you were about to speak, go off on him or lose your shit, but suddenly, it just didn't matter anymore. Maybe it was your brain trying to gaslight you into just moving away from the tense situation, but you closed your mouth and nodded once before turning on your heel. 

Daryl prepared himself for some speech about morals in the apocalypse but you spoke before he had the chance.

“We should get back, Carol's making soup for dinner.”

That night you had successfully rationalized what you'd seen Daryl doing(gaslit yourself). Those men were evil, if they had the upper hand or maybe more numbers they would've done worse than what Daryl did. Even though it wasn't a quick death, it was nothing compared to what they would've done to you. 

In the back of your mind though, you knew that wasn't the main reason for what he did to them. He'd shifted into a completely different being then, it wasn't human, or animal. He had become almost soulless, his actions so mechanical it looked like a set of commands he'd been wired to do. The way every single move was so calculated, the way he knew what they'd do before they did it, down to the way he cleaned the blood from his knife on their clothes. 

Your blood ran cold when you remembered that first night in the woods with Abraham and the others. The way you felt his presence behind you even though you never heard or saw him. That must have been what those men felt, the primal instinct that they were being watched. 

You felt stupid for thinking he was following you that night because he had a thing for you. You really didn't want to believe he was capable of hurting you, but that was hard when you could vividly remember how tight he squeezed your neck and the way he looked into your eyes when he did it. 

If you didn't have a good reason to avoid him before, you sure as hell did now. 

But you really didn't want to. 

Every night you'd think about it again, the specific details becoming blurry as you imagined him doing it differently. Your heart would speed up when you'd imagine yourself in their place, walking through the woods and becoming aware that you were being watched, your fear only growing worse when you'd look around and wouldn't see anyone, but the feeling of him drawing closer persisting nonetheless-

Your stomach dropped when you realized your body had reacted differently to the idea of that then you had normally. Your heart rate was fast, like usual, but instead of anxiety spreading in your chest you felt a deep flipping sensation in your core. 

It had been a few days since you saw him. You knew he was always there, inciting a deep and unsettling paranoia in you. 

Rick invited the inner group over for dinner and drinks. 

You smiled as he handed you a glass of red wine, that same sly smirk he always had for you on his face. You were standing against the wall of his living room while the later arrivals finished their meal in the dining room. 

“You've been quiet.” Rick's voice had once been enough to soothe any anxiety that you might've had. But now it did little, akin to the background humming of indifferent frogs and crickets. 

His voice called your name and you forced yourself to look up to his face, nearly crying at the sight. You wished you could tell him everything, weep into his arms and have him shush away your worries, explain it all away and go back to the way things were. 

His expression grew serious then. “You okay?”

“Have you ever…” You glanced around to make sure there were no eyes on you. Everyone was minding their own business, chattering happily as they enjoyed Rick's spaghetti and wine. 

“Killed someone you didn't have to kill?” Your quiet voice had his posture stiffening. He shifted his feet as he nodded, mulling over your words before he spoke. 

“We've all done things we're ashamed of. If it's in the past, let it rot there. Nothin' you can do to change it.”

“Have you?”

It took him a while to answer. He inhaled deeply through his nose before leaning in closer to you, his tone darker. “Why are you asking me?”

“Someone here did that. Two men. They were bad men, but… they were trying to run away.”

“Then they did the right thing. Those men could've easily come back with more people.”

You sighed, shifting closer to him. By now you were only inches away from each other, and you could smell the cologne he'd put on before dinner. “He looked like he liked doing it. It wasn't… quick.”

Rick eyed you for a few silent moments. 

“Daryl.” It wasn't a question, he already knew the answer. You looked up to him, your eyes wide and worried now, but he settled you with a firm glare. 

“Sometimes a man does things that you don't need to worry about.” He spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “All you need to know is he protects you, and keeps your belly full. Alright?” 

You didn't know how to feel about learning that Rick knew. He didn't know the full extent, no one did, no one knew about the trophies and the hunting, or the meticulous planning that went into Daryl's killing. 

“Alright.” For some reason, it sets you at ease. If your leader said it was fine, then it had to be fine with you.

Rick's expression softened and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder to give you a comforting squeeze. You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, trying your best to ignore the burning on the side of your face from the hunter in the corner of the room.

The air was unusually cold.

You tried to steady your breathing as you walked through the familiar forest outside Alexandria. 

You couldn't feel him yet, but in your bones you could sense it, almost like he had a tracking tag on him that would make your heart race faster and faster as he drew closer. 

If you concentrated hard enough you could imagine him in real time, right about now he'd just be getting into the woods, picking up your tail-

The bolt of anxiety that went through your chest at the image had you picking up your pace, walking faster down the familiar path that eventually led to a river. 

It wasn't long before you felt it. You looked over your shoulder at the scene behind you. The forest floor, covered in dead leaves, the thin trees with gray bark that were randomly spaced out, and nothing else. Your eyes burned as you tried to see as far off into the distance as possible. Nothing. You couldn't even hear the normal wildlife, no birds, crickets, cicadas. 

You turned back around and pulled the sleeves of your black turtleneck down over your cold wrists. 

The feeling grew stronger as you walked on. The sun was setting, the normal bright yellow light fading into a gentler orange. 

It started with the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You'd turn around and see the same nothingness as before, only this time not being able to see as far due to the setting sun. 

The overwhelming urge to run overcame you and you looked over your shoulder again, your stomach falling ten stories when you saw nothing. That was worse than seeing him lurking behind. At least if you could see him, you'd know where he was. He could be anywhere. Your breath trembled and you resisted the screaming in your body to run, but the sound of a stick cracking had you breaking into a jog. 

He was close now, you could feel it. You didn't turn around anymore, you couldn't, if you once again were met with nothing you'd start losing your sanity. 

Soon it would be too dark to see. The idea of trying to hide from him in the pitch black forest had you running, and you didn't stop until it was too dark for you to do so without tripping. 

You caught your breath behind a large oak and waited. The silence was starting to get to you. Where the hell were all the birds? The cicadas that are always screaming this time of year? 

Where the hell were the walkers?

It was dark now. You looked ahead of you and felt like you'd fallen into a deep freezing cold lake, your vision had dramatically decreased to around five yards in front of you. It was getting dark so fast, the silence only seemed to be growing louder, you began to doubt yourself, you were way in over your head, what were you thinking? You were the only person alive who saw Daryl Dixon stab a man to death, a man that was actively trying to escape, just because of what he might have done, and YOU thought it was a good idea to play hide and seek in the woods with him? 

You waited too long. By the time you heard the distinct sound of featherlight footsteps it was too dark, you couldn't see anything. When you looked up you couldn't even see the moon or any stars, were the trees too thick? You didn't see any clouds that day, your head spun and you tripped over your feet the second you tried to step forward. 

Adrenaline surged through your body at the animalistic fear of being vulnerable around an unseen danger. You scrambled to your feet and froze, your eyes as wide as they could be in hopes of being able to see better. 

To your left you could barely see the backdrop of the dark blue sky behind the trees. You turned in a circle, and tried to look back to the sky, but in your turning you'd completely disoriented yourself. The way you'd come was just as lost as what was once your left. 

You felt a coldness run deep in your bones when you realized you had no idea which way Daryl was. 

If this was some innocent game of hide and seek you'd complain about the unfair advantage he had over you, most of his life he'd spent out in woods just like these. 

In a last ditch effort of self preservation you remained still, kept your eyes open and unblinking, and listened. 

Nothing. You couldn't hear a single fucking thing. If not for the sound of your own breathing you'd wonder if you'd gone deaf without even realizing it. You raised your hand in front of your face and blinked hard a few times, trying to will your eyes to become as good as Daryl's. 

Time ticked by no matter what you did. Without anything for you to hear or see it became harder to keep your balance, and your arms slowly lifted from your side to steady yourself. 

Your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft. You felt a brief tingle of confusion before all at once your heart leapt into your throat and your stomach dropped to your feet when you came to the horrifying realization of what you just touched.

Fingers. 

You snatched your hand away like you'd been stung, and with how fast you did it, you spun and fell to your knees. Your body couldn't react quick enough, you could hear leaves from what sounded like every direction, and you froze. 

Was that even Daryl?

You hadn't even seen him for sure, you had no proof whatsoever, not even a hint to go by, those could be walkers. For all you knew, Daryl could be back in Alexandria skinning a deer for dinner, clueless to your absence. 

You felt a different kind of fear as your mind dug yourself deeper and deeper. All you had on you was a comically small machete and a pathetic little flashlight. You'd imagined this going very differently, which was your own damn fault. You should've learned by now you couldn't predict anything about Daryl. He'd shown you that time and time again. 

You were too busy thinking about how stupid you were to notice the silence was back. But once you did, you forced yourself to your feet, and pushed on. Your arms reached out blindly in front of you as you took baby steps, trying not to gasp each time your fingertips grazed a tree. 

It took everything in you not to scream when you felt it again. A hand, but instead of reaching out to meet your outstretched hand, it ghosted up the small of your back. You whirled around and reached out, desperately trying to grab a sleeve, a finger, anything to pull yourself to, like the ladder in a swimming pool. 

Being met with empty black air almost brought you to tears. You lurched forward, trying to predict his position, but just as silently as he arrived he had sunk out of reach. 

You were ready to beg. You were wrong, you didn't want this, you were so fucking scared.

Just as you began to work up the courage to speak, your feet flew out from under you as you were shoved in the chest, hard. A dull pain shot through your ass and you kicked your feet in the dirt in front of you, pushing yourself away from his direction. But he was five steps ahead, his fingers grazing the top of your scalp. 

You yelped, spinning around to get up on your knees, not even managing to get one foot on the ground before you were shoved back in the dirt again. 

Something about that final push set you into fight or flight, so you got to your feet and ran. 

Daryl was right about your ridiculous luck. You made it pretty far before you ran into a tree, smacking into it with the edge of your shoulder so hard it spun you around again. Once again you had no idea which direction he was in so you got up, and tried again. 

Apparently he'd grown tired of toying with you. You'd managed to run about twelve feet when your only information of his location was the sound of heavy footsteps running after you. 

The realization he was fucking chasing you, full on running, terrified you so badly you found yourself unable to form thoughts anymore, your brain turned off as your body did everything possible to survive. 

You managed to surprise him. Instead of continuing straight you veered to the left, which would have been a very impressive feat had you not run into another tree. This one was huge, and thankfully you had slowed down enough that you didn't hurt yourself running into it, but it did scare the fuck out of you. 

You used your hands on the trunk to guide you, shimmying around the edge until you were pressed on the other side, your back flush against it.  You held your breath and waited, not daring to make a single sound. 

That feeling happened again. He was looking at you, but you didn't know where. Your eyes were utterly useless but you still looked frantically in every direction, only being met with utter blackness. 

There was nothing you could do. A small part of you felt relieved, at least you didn't have to try so hard anymore. Slowly, you let out your lungful of air, trying to be quiet. But it wasn't getting out fast enough and your lips opened against your will, causing you to shudder out a terrified breath. 

He had been two feet in front of you for a while now. His eyes, although not superhuman, had over time adjusted enough to find his way through dark woods like these. He could see the outline of nearby trees, and the figure of your body pressed up against one. 

The silence had quickly become something the two of you were extremely used to. So when there was a sudden shift in the air followed by wind shifting the leaves of trees above you, it startled you both. 

The sound of leaves moving right in front of you sets you off again. You prepare to make a break to the left, but unbeknownst to you, Daryl could see the way you angled your body, your right leg braced behind you. 

He smirked and threw out his foot right as you bolted forward. Your legs flew out from under you and you landed hard on your stomach, the air being knocked from your lungs. 

Daryl watched as you tried unsuccessfully to breathe again, your lungs spasming before finally snapping back to normal. You greedily gulped in air and weakly attempted to roll over on your side. 

He crouched next to you and reached out, using the back of his knuckle to brush hair from your forehead. You jerked violently, your hands flying up to try and fight him away. That made him chuckle, and you felt a whole new rage of emotions after having his identity confirmed. 

It really was Daryl. If that was a good thing or a bad thing you weren't sure of yet, but at least you knew for sure it was him. 

“What'd you think was gonna happen, huh?” He muttered, his hand grabbing your wrist and yanking it from your face. “Go off in the woods alone again, start runnin’ in the dark, ain't nobody tell you runnin’ just makes things wanna chase you?”

The more he spoke the more aggressive he became, his other hand latching onto your other wrist to hold you firmly in place. It didn't stop you from struggling, which only made his prey drive even more active. 

“What are you gonna do?” Your voice and the way it trembled made his upper lip twitch. He stared down at your face, another sick grin forming when he saw you grow more and more terrified the longer the silence stretched on. 

“Daryl, please.” 

The grin fell from his face then, something about the way you sounded like you were about to cry setting his teeth on edge. He let go of your wrists and ran the back of his knuckles down the side of your face, his touch tender. He saw you relax a little at that and he leaned down, brushing his lips so lightly against yours you could've mistaken it for the wind.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You breathed and nodded softly; the fear of dying being replaced by a delicious different kind of terror. This could easily become an addiction.

His gentle actions slowly hardened as his fingertips trailed down from your cheek to your jaw, the pressure increasing until he reached your throat, where his hand slipped into that perfect fit around your neck. 

“I think you need a little wakeup call princess, you don't get to tease me like this and change your mind cause you get scared.” He said the last word like an insult, as if it was a ridiculous fuck up on your end. 

“Shit don't work like that anymore.” His tone took this edge of meanness, something that made your lower stomach flip. 

Your chest fluttered with your shaky breathing, and you nodded, filling him with a deep satisfaction. He squeezed his hand around your neck with no warning, no slow increase in pressure, just an immediate white knuckled squeeze. 

Right as you saw little flashes of white at the edges of your vision he relaxed his hand, but he kept it there like some kind of warning. 

He released his hand and replaced it with something cold, your mouth dried instantly when you realized it was his knife. 

“Get up.” 

You slowly stood with him, making sure to let him guide where your head went, not wanting to risk getting nicked. 

Then it was like he disappeared. 

You waited a few moments, your eyes flickering around the different shades of black. 

A bright orange glow had your pupils dilating painfully. After being in pitch black darkness for so long the small flame from his lighter felt like staring into the sun. 

He looked terrifying then. His cigarette between his lips and his cheeks dipped in as he pulled in to help the tobacco light. His eyes flicked up to you for less than a second before he snapped the lighter closed and you were left with an orange dot where his face once was. 

You stood in the same spot, not daring to breathe, your eyes locked on the orange dot as it moved from his lips to down at his side. You weren't sure what he was expecting of you, so you remained standing as long as he felt like torturing you. 

A minute later the orange orb vanished with a hiss as he put it out on his boot. You heard the light tap of it falling in the dirt, where he proceeded to grind it with his shoe. You deeply missed that orange dot, it gave you something to focus on in the black void. 

His hands were rough as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. You gasped at the sudden roughness, your heart jumping after standing in silent nothingness for so long. The knife was back on your throat, his other hand slipping up under your turtleneck. 

“What you saw the other day,” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear as his hand groped and squeezed your sides, growing more firm as he slid it up to your breasts. “Can't have anyone knowin’ ‘bout it.” 

Your first instinct was to nod, but the blade against the side of your throat made you think twice. “Mhm. I know.” You hummed out your anxious promise, your hands clinging onto his forearm for dear life. 

“I don't think you do.” His voice was calm and steady, the opposite of the angry way he pinched your nipple. Your whine caught in your throat and you clenched your teeth, baring them in a pained grimace, much like a submissive animal.

“You're a stupid bitch,” Those words held so much fiery emotion despite how cool and collected he sounded. You swallowed a whimper as he went on, “but you ain't dumb enough to go and open your mouth.” 

He didn't appreciate your lack of response, you'd been frozen from the way his hand had dipped under the waistband of your jeans, fingers barely grazing your panties. 

“Makin’ me think I might be wrong.” He growled and pressed the knife firmer against your neck, and you immediately snapped out of it.

“You're not. I won't, I promise.” Your ass moved against the hard dick beneath his jeans, making him hiss out a curse. 

In this game the two of you played, he had a level of excitement and vigor that was previously unknown to him. He rested his forehead on the back of your head and inhaled deeply, holding the flowery scent of your shampoo in his lungs like it’d get him high.

He loved the way you played this role so perfectly. Growing up watching slasher movies through puberty wasn't the sole reason for his degeneracy, but it played a large role. Drifting around selling drugs with Merle to unsavory people added to it too. 

Daryl finally dipped his fingers under your panties, taking his sweet time rubbing circles in the skin all the way down to your slit. When he felt how wet you were he sucked in a gasp before he could stop himself. You'd been working that up for a while. By the way your panties were soaked, he'd guess you got all worked up the second you slipped out of Alexandria.

Your grip on his forearm tightened as he stroked your clit, swirling his finger around a few times before dipping down through your folds. 

Without meaning to you held your breath in anticipation, begging to any higher power to have him go easy on you. You couldn't take another night like before, especially not in the middle of the woods. You strongly believed that when he finished with you and saw the state you were in, he'd just leave you to find your own way back when you stopped being a pathetic mess. 

Your prayers were answered and he angled his hand in a way that allowed him to push his middle finger inside you, your walls greedily squeezing around him. Now that you were pretty sure he wouldn't actually kill you, you allowed yourself to enjoy every drop of pleasure he'd give you. 

You moaned shamelessly when he shocked you by not just driving it in and out, but he fucking curled his finger.

“You bring any walkers over here and I'll leave your ass in the dark.” His tone held a venomous bite, but you were fairly certain he wouldn't actually do that. You weren't taking any chances though so you pressed your lips tightly together and tried to steady your breathing through your nose.

His head bumped gently against yours as he moved his attention to the top of your ear, his lips warm against the cold skin there. You nearly crumpled in his arms at the feeling, and when his tongue traced the tip of your ear you physically shuddered against his chest. He trailed a few kisses from your ear to the back of your neck, giving into his impulsives and sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. 

It took every ounce of concentration to remain quiet. He couldn't tease you like this, do every little trick in the foreplay handbook, and expect you to keep quiet? 

His finger curled again the second time, sending a jolt through your core and down your legs. When he felt your nails dig into his forearm he nudged your head again with his, tilting you so he could press his cheek against yours. 

If not for his hand down the front of your jeans and the knife he had on your neck, you would've passed for a sappy couple posing for pictures. 

Just as you'd relaxed against his chest, your head tilting back to rest against his collarbone, he started curling his finger at a consistent pace. You whined deep in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut against the frustration of pleasure, but not enough. 

His hand pulled out from your jeans so suddenly you actually made a genuine whiney noise, already frustrated and impatient. The knife returned to its former deep pressure, immediately setting you straight. 

He popped open the buttons on your pants and pulled down one side, bending his knees to pull them down over your ass, making you awkwardly twist and bend with him. 

Your body reacted subliminally to the sound of his buckle clinking as he unbuckled his belt, your back arching to press yourself closer against him. His breathing had ever so slightly gotten heavier while he worked to take his dick out, his mouth sending hot puffs of air against your ear. Your pussy throbbed at the feeling, and even more so when you felt his swollen tip bob between your legs after he freed it from his pants. 

You were lucky Daryl wasn't in the mood to take longer than necessary to fuck you. It was a bit selfish on his part, he no longer cared about your pleasure, instead choosing to solely make himself cum with your pussy. Made no difference to him if you came or not. The wind carried the faint smell of rain and he could hear the beginning rumble of thunder in the distance. 

He spit on his fingertips and slathered it over his tip, tugging on his dick a few times before guiding himself to your hole. Just as greedy as before, he pushed inside you, slapping his hand over your mouth to muffle your whines of discomfort.

Daryl's downstairs department was nothing to make light of, he was blessed with a heavy dick that was the perfect length to fill you completely so not a single millimeter of space was untouched. 

But Christ, the girth, he didn't have the type of dick he could just slide in you without giving you a stretch that burned. Unfortunately for you, he didn't really care that much, it went away after a minute and didn't feel like a big deal to him. 

You groaned into his palm, your eyes rolling back into your head when he immediately set a rough pace. The angle he fucked you in, standing upright with your ass stuck out for him, it had his tip slamming into that perfect spot every single thrust. 

The knife suddenly fell from his fingers, landing on your boot with a thump, but before you could react his hand quickly replaced it. His left arm wrapped around your waist, using it to keep your hips angled in towards him. With his right hand he squeezed your neck, gradually increasing pressure until he felt your hands on his arm start to loosen their grip. 

He released the pressure, the oxygen and blood returning to your brain to give you an amazing head rush. He waited until he felt your nails dig back into his skin before squeezing again, repeatedly bringing you to the brink of unconsciousness before letting you come crashing back down to earth. 

With the arm he had around your waist he moved his fingers over your lower stomach, feeling around for a moment before pressing the flat of his hand down right where he felt his dick. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp at the feeling, wondering where the hell he learned that, you knew he hadn't fucked anyone ever since you'd known him. And with the way he was when you first met him in Atlanta, you seriously doubt he was experienced enough to know how to do something like that. 

Daryl was a lot more simple than you were trying to figure out, he just liked the way he could feel his dick moving if he pressed down hard enough and fucked you deep enough.  The fact it felt amazing was just a lucky side effect for you. 

The next time he started choking you he squeezed a little tighter, the feeling of your throat shifting under his palm had him growling curses into the crook of your neck. Your back arched harder, your body desperate to feel him deeper. Him fucking you fast and hard, coupled with the way his grip on your neck kept cutting off blood to your head, suddenly became way too much and you came around his dick, your walls squeezing and holding onto his length with all its might. 

Daryl felt his eyes roll back in his head and his dick twitch at the feeling. “That's it girl.” He muttered out encouragement, knowing he needed you to hold out a few more minutes. If you got all whiney and weak like last time he'd have to stuff his shirt in your mouth. He was already lucky enough that somehow there were no walkers nearby, he couldn't take the chance to try and push his luck. 

His encouragement worked, your body melting against him as you soaked in the rare praise. 

“Yeah, that's it. Atta girl.” His voice was so low and deep you could feel it vibrate in his chest against the top of your back, sending little sparks of pleasure through your core. 

He picked up the pace, his hand falling from your neck to grab both sides of your hips. Carefully, and slowly, he guided you down to your knees, keeping his dick inside you as you both knelt in the dirt. He put his hands on your upper back and pushed, forcing your arms out from under you so the side of your face was on the ground. 

The feeling of his large rough hands pushing your back down had your stomach tightening again, and it only got worse when he shifted your ass higher up against his pelvis. He was back to his earlier pace in no time, thrusting hard and fast, one hand still pushing down on your back while the other did the same to the side of your head. 

It got harder to keep quiet the longer he went on. When he suddenly grabbed your ass and held it tight against him, forcing his dick in deeper, you came unexpectedly, breathing so hard it sent the dirt next to your face poofing away. You clenched down on him again, your back arching obscenely, and rode the dizzy waves of your orgasm, quickly forcing him to have one of his own. 

Daryl spit out a growl and slammed into you a few last times before he came, his grip on your hips keeping you immobile as he emptied himself inside you. Even after you twitched from the last bit of your orgasm and started moving to get up, he grabbed hold of your hair and smashed your head back down. Maybe it was a power move, because he held you down like that for a while, his dick buried so deep inside you his cum wasn't able to trickle out yet. 

You waited what felt like five minutes before you spoke up, your voice hoarse from all the heavy mouth breathing. “Daryl?”

He barely let you finish the L in his name before he cut you off. “Shut the hell up.” He muttered, his heavy hand still pressed against your face and the other holding your hips tightly against his. 

He would've been content to stay like that for a while, just to torture you some more, maybe keep you there under him until his dick got hard again. But the rumble of thunder was getting closer, and he didn't feel like getting caught out in a storm. 

When he finally released his grip on your hair and waist you sighed in relief, lifting your face from the ground to brush the dirt from your cheek. He pulled his softened dick from you and groaned when he felt the cool air on his sensitive skin. 

You were dreading getting up and the walk home when you heard the familiar hissing and groaning of a nearby walker. You pulled up your pants as slowly and quietly as humanly possible, your eyes still trying with all their might to see in the dark forest. 

Daryl clicked on a flashlight for a split second, just long enough to catch the location of the walker.

In a bright white flash you saw three of them about ten yards out. Your moaning must've attracted them, and your stomach twisted when you remembered Daryl threatening to leave you there if you drew any walkers over. 

A large warm hand slipped into yours and he helped you to your feet. It was so kind that you were almost more concerned with the action than the fact you were in pitch black darkness with three walkers heading your way. 

He slung his crossbow over from his back and clicked the flashlight on again, only for a split second. They weren't much closer. He took them out, clicked the light again, and saw a handful more far, far back. You could definitely outwalk them. You sighed in relief and wiped the dirt from your palms and face. 

“Can you walk?” He whispered as he slung his weapon back over his shoulder, slipping his flashlight in his front jean pocket. 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” You whispered in return and took his hand again, trying not to let silly childish emotions start clouding your mind. You weren't some teen girl with her first real boyfriend, you were a woman holding the hand of a cold man who killed for pleasure, a man that just hunted you through the woods like you were some fox or cougar. And he was freakishly good at it. 

He led you back to Alexandria in a way that harshly contrasted his normal exterior. His hand was gentle but firm and he didn't rush you, not once. Even when you snuck back through the back wall he stayed with you, albeit letting go of your hand. He took you to your house, made sure you got in safe, and did something at the door that had your heart pounding even more than when he chased you. 

Daryl looked at you for a moment, uncertainty clear on his face. You could tell he was thinking of hundreds of different things at once, and it kind of looked like he was nervous. 

He leaned in and placed his open hand at the base of your neck. Not squeezing, not grabbing or clenching, he just barely cupped your skin, his thumb tracing against the red and purple marks from his hands and teeth. You'd covered the last ones up with makeup, you could do the same with these. 

You opened your mouth to reassure him of this but he leaned in, and kissed your forehead. 

Then he pressed his forehead against yours. Your heart was racing painfully at this point. You watched as he looked into your eyes for a second before he closed them. You followed suit and closed your eyes, savoring the intense affection. It was so strange to you. You couldn't remember the last man or woman you'd been like this with. And the fact it was Daryl Dixon pressing his forehead against yours, right in the doorframe of your front door…

You decided then you didn't give a shit what he did for fun. You didn't give a shit if he felt the same way either. Maybe you could delude yourself into thinking that one day. You decided right then you'd walk through hell and back to get just a taste of this feeling again. 

The feeling of his hand unfolding yours had you opening your weary eyes. You looked down and blinked, seeing a small white dot in the palm of your hand. He drew away from you then, muttering a quick ‘found this earlier’ before fading down the stairs and up the street to his house. 

You rubbed your finger over your pearl earring and smiled. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial

Alone Time

Summary: Daryl needs some time alone in the woods.

Length: 2388 words

Era: Not important, Post Prison-ish?

Warnings: Mature content 18+, Male solo, thigh riding, fantasy.

Daryl PoV, Unnamed female pronouns

A/N: One of the last (if not the last) Daryl pov stories I had planned. Just finally finished it.

Daryl watched her roll on to her side, a soft sigh tumbling from her parted lips. She was dozing, just like everyone else except him and the second watch of the night. After the long day they'd had and then with her making him carry all of her shit on top of it he should have passed out damn near instantly, but that fuckin' girl was in his head. That seemed to be happening more and more. Wouldn't bother him so much if it was the usual day-to-day shit they had to worry about, but this was something different. Something he shouldn't be thinking about.

It wasn't like he meant to. He tried thinking about anything else but when he closed his eyes all he could see were little soundless clips of her his subconscious collected through the day. The way her big doe eyes looked up at him as she pleaded for him to carry her clothes in his bag because she wanted more room to carry books they found or the ruddy flush of her cheeks when she was struggling to keep up with him in the woods. It was these little things that made his cock stir and curse god that he had a half decent memory.

The more he tries to sleep the more he recalls and the more he recalls the more his cock begins to ache. The way her teeth catch her bottom lip when he's telling her some stupid story he doesn't even care about. The color deepening the longer he talks until by the end those lips look kiss swollen and red. He shouldn't even be thinking about her because she's just a friend. He almost snorts because friends don't think about how those lips would taste. No, he ain't sleepin', not like this. He needs to clear his head.

Sitting up makes the very source of his uncalled for fascination stir. "Daryl...?" his name on her lips makes his cock spasm.

"Back t' sleep." he tells her. It's barely a rasp is sound but she moans a tired hum of agreement that's a shot of lightning down his spine. Fuck clearing his head! There ain't no sleepin'. Not after that. He grabs his backpack and his crossbow, a sick idea forming somewhere in the back of his skull. If he doesn't move now he'll talk himself out of it but he has to get her off of his mind. He needs to sleep. He tosses a languid hand up to whoever is on watch before vanishing into the trees lining the old road.

Reckless is what this is, sheer fuckin' stupid. He keeps heading deeper into the trees until the group is out of sight and the firelight is just a faint winking dot. He's far enough away that he can hear them if one of them yells, but out here he's alone. No group to worry about, no girl to drive him wild, just him and his backpack and his hand.

He's disgusting for this. He tells himself that even as he palms his length over his jeans and has to choke back the sound that nearly left him. She's just a friend. She understands that side of him he's only ever been able to share with a small few and here he is thinking about what her tits would feel like smashed against his chest. Disgusting doesn't cover it but he can't help it, not now.

"Fuck..." it leaves his mouth as a sigh. He needs to go back to the group, lay back down next to her and pretend this hasn't happened. He won't though, it feels too good and he needs her too bad. Uttering a curse he drops his crossbow to the ground, sliding the back pack off his shoulders so he can lean against the tree proper. He's still palming himself, flexing his fingers around his length, the friction just heavy enough to wipe out most thought until he looks at the bag again. The blood rushes from his face, a soft trill of excitement running over his shoulders and down his spine. Her clothes are still in there.

He shouldn't.

God knows he shouldn't but he was going to.

Movements stiff and jerky he opens the zipper at his feet and fishes for the first piece of material inside. Even in the dark he knows exactly what his fingers find just by the feel of it, that ugly yellow shirt. It takes him only a second to press it to his nose, the smell of her intoxicating and overwhelming, bringing fresh life to the gentle images of her he was conjuring. His cock pulses, throbs. He leans his head back staring at the material balled in his fist. If she knew she might hate him. She might never talk to him again but her scent is tickling his nose and his cock demanding satisfaction from a woman he can't have.

He's imagining her there now; leaning against the tree across from him, head tilted back looking down her nose. Her delicate fingers toying with the end of her shirt that's barely covering her pussy and her teeth catching her lip turning it oh, so red again. He should put away her shirt, go back to the group and forget about all of this but that image is branded behind closed eyes and he just-- can't. Uttering a whispered curse he starts pulling on his belt until he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to free his dick. It's weeping at the thought of her closing the distance, practically dripping at the thought of her crawling into his lap.

He knows what she would think if she found him. He's a pervert. Daryl is repeating it in his head even as he spits in his hand and grips his length. Doesn't matter what she thinks now because whatever was left of him that felt actual shame was gone now and in his head all he can see is her. She's breathing against his ear, soft shallow pants with his knee between her legs. He's gripping her hips to keep her there, to encourage her to rock against him because as badly as he wants to be in her, he needs to see her, needs to see more.

Daryl is desperate to see that wanton pink flush tinting her cheeks, her lips parted in a tiny 'oh' as she grinds down on him. He won't kiss her, not yet. He won't do that until he's buried in her. He's too infatuated with the hazy hooded look of her eyes to think of missing the soft flutter of her lashes.

That makes him groan. His lips press in a thin line as he strokes himself in time with the imaginary version of her, no longer teasing himself with slow strokes. He's a fuckin' teenager all over again thinking about the dampness between her legs smearing over his jeans as she bears down on him. Her head falling back, a throaty moan breaking up her labored breath as her chest juts in his face. Pumping his cock he needs to see her get off. He needs her to use him, to make him a fuck toy for only her pleasure.

Daryl takes the shirt in his hand and buries his face in it taking the smell of her deep into his lungs. His muscles are shaking, straining, and he has to lean back against the tree trunk, bark scraping at his biceps. He pretends that it's her nails and not the tree biting at his shoulders. He wants to cum but it's way too soon. Not yet! Not yet. Not yet...

He stops breathing her in and spits on his palm again, a sticky glob that mixes with the wetness of his tip. He fists himself again pushing the cloth back against his mouth, tongue tasting the salt still lingering in the fabric. He's imagining it as her skin, pressing his face against her breasts, whining as he nips tender flesh. She's close, so fucking close and he can't breathe but he'd die happy. If this was love then he could learn it.

She's pulling his hair, forcing his gaze upwards to watch as her rhythm stutters in an uneven dance as she chases her high. Breath catching as she rides him, she's the most dazzling thing he's ever seen. He's awestruck as she goes rigid, chest flushed red as her back bows and there's a split second while she's frozen with pleasure tearing through her that he wants to capture forever. This is beauty, a painting he can finally appreciate in all its splendor. Then all too fast that second is over and she's gasping for air as she bucks against him but then comes the knowing that he can give her what she wants, that his body is enough for her. It's a sick sort of satisfaction, a joy, thrumming in his chest when she falls against him half out of her head from cumming on his thigh. His thigh.

He needs her. Standing there in the middle of the woods with his cock in his hand and her shirt to his nose he's never needed anything more. Now he wants to take as much as she's willing to give.Laying her down on the ground she's watching him with glazed sated eyes, tiny creases at the edge of a smile. He needs to know the greedy suck of her mouth, the press of her teeth swollen lips kissing his crown. He needs to see those ruddy cheeks bulge with his cock as he fucks the shallow of her mouth, her tongue laving his shaft. He needs, he needs, he needs…

His knees are weak, his vest catching on bark as he slips down to the ground. He's choking on the smell of her, the shirt damp from his breath as he fucks in to his tight fist. Behind his closed eyes all he can see are the sloppy strings of saliva connecting them both as her grabby hands try to bring him back. He's whimpering into the shirt, pleading with himself not to finish. He wants to drown in her and with her but his cock is so sensitive it nearly burns as he pumps furiously.

And her? She’s just lying there, her hair haloed around her head like a crown as she whispers filthy things that all too sweet smile narrowing her puffy eyes. She's praising him, her naughty boy, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He zeros in on that, the words. He's groaning, the sound muffled by the cloth. “Naughty boy. Naughty boy. Naughty boy.” It's on a loop, her eyes wild with fascination when his body shakes. His breath seizes. Her hand covers his as she looks up at him demanding his full attention as she says, “Cum baby.”

He does.

His shoulders bow inward, hips thrusting at the air as thick ropes of spend hit the ground between his booted feet. Daryl tries to stifle the sound he makes before he's choking from the force of his orgasm, unable to breath as his abdomen clenches over and over, hips twitching as he cums and cums. Her shirt falls from a loose grip as he slumps, his whole body sensitive and shaking. He's ruined and whole and ruined again, completely and utterly spent on the forest floor.

Daryl uses his bandana to clean off his shaking hands enough to light a cigarette and he fumbles the lighter twice before he gets it right. It takes him the entire thing before he can make himself stuff her shirt back in his bag and put away his dick. How the fuck was he going to look her in the eyes? How was he going to be able to see anything other than her spread out on the floor below him with her knees pressed together with want?

He'd figure it out tomorrow. Had to. It wasn't like he could avoid her, they were traveling together. The only good thing that came of him emptying his balls (other than blowing his own damn mind) was that he was tired now. Tired enough to sleep until morning and he was going to enjoy that rarity even if it was only because he didn't know if he could meet her eyes.

He groaned as he stood, his legs fighting to sit back down the entire walk back to the fire's edge. The watch had switched and was adding twigs to the flame to keep it going. If they knew what Daryl had just done they didn't say, just a nod of acknowledgement that he hadn't died and that was more than enough for him. Now all he had to do was tip-toe back to his spot on the fringes and pray he didn't wake her up.

He was careful setting his stuff down, his movements as slow and steady as he could manage praying to any god that would listen that she wouldn't wake up. Frowning he eased down on the ground next to her, the starring role of his forbidden fantasy. He'd made it to his back before she stirred beside him and without opening her eyes she whispered to him, "I'm cold." His heart slammed into his throat, his sluggish mind struggling to come up with something, anything to say to her.

“Don' care.” He muttered. Closing his eyes he silently admonished himself. He could've tried to be a little nicer but it didn't matter because she was already scooting over. She snuggled up to him, slipping her hand under his shirt to rest on his belly. “God dammit woman!” He hissed but not because it was cold.

She hushed him, pressing her body up against his side. “Daryl, go to sleep.”

Only now he couldn't because her touch was electric, tiny sparks of it dancing across his chest stirring up a weird feeling in his rib cage. He sighed, resigned to his fate, a punishment from God probably for what he did only minutes ago and stared up at the stars above them trying to count them. Anything to pretend he wasn't honed in on the pads of her fingertips drawing tiny circles near his naval.

So I'm gonna be posting the last chapter of together apart either tonight or tomorrow night (if my power goes out tonight due to the storm)

If there's anything you wanna definitely see happen send an anon request or comment/dm me and I'll see if I can make it work!

When I first started writing I had to push myself to write longer one shots

Now I've rewritten the same angsty Daryl request three fuckin times because I keep making it OVERLY LONG and I know people are gonna be like "holy SHIT wrap it up bub"