notes: Daryl can’t get enough of you. Minors DNI, language - super smut - you’re responsible for the content you consume.
Need
“I need to fuck you.” Daryl’s voice is low, barely audible in a deep growl as he sinks blunt teeth into your throat letting rough hands roam your soapy body. “…hard.”
A gasp of consent rushes from your chest as he spins you around - forcing your palms to the shower wall while he slides his knee between your thighs spreading you wide as he rests his forehead against the back of your head, whispering how soaked you already are for him.
This is how you’ve spent the past two months, fucking any chance you get, any way you can after he caught you admiring that now ruined black dress. The first night you fell asleep in his arms, exhausted and completely spent you woke up in a panic but the desperation in his voice when he asked you not to leave him ruined you and you’ve been falling ever since.
“You’ll tell me t’stop if it’s too much?”
Just his voice alone sends a surge of pleasure through you - tightening the muscle of your heart as your head falls in a slight nod and he grazes his teeth against your skin - knowing you’ll take whatever he gives you. Daryl is a wall at your back, cock pressing hard against your ass as he slides a hand down your stomach then between your parted legs - stealing your breath as his thumb strokes your clit in slow torturous circles - bringing you further into his chest.
“Please.” You whisper grinding against his fingers as he kisses a line from your neck to your shoulder with a low groan. “Fuck, Y/N.” He pulls your back flush against his wet chest, snaking one hand possessively around your vulnerable throat while the other continues to work your clit, a low hum of pleasure building in your core. “Daryl…, please….” You feel him shift his hips forward, just enough to slip the head of his cock inside you as you suck in a shallow breath and his fingers tighten around your throat.
“Beg me—-, fuck… Y/N…, beg me to fuck you.”
There was a desperation in his quiet words as he gave you another inch, causing your eyes to close tightly from the feel of him as you brace yourself against the shower wall - warm water cascading over you as Daryl leans back, bringing you with him by the hand around your throat. You can already feel yourself slipping, clenching around him as he works your clit quickly with two fingers and sinks into you further. “…please Daryl…, fuck me.”
A gasp rushes from your throat as he thrust into you fully, burying his face in the bend of your shoulder with a groan before leaving you empty just to thrust into you again. Daryl lets his hand fall from your throat, palming your breast as he fucks into you deeply - hitting that perfect spot over and over again that has you seeing stars. “…feels so fuckin’ good…” He groans from behind you - slamming into you so hard your moans turn into half-pained sobs as you use the shower wall to push back into him with every savage thrust. “…don’t stop.” Like he could even if he wanted to - your pussy is like heroin to him. He fucking craves it. Daryl grabs the back of your neck - bending you like a bow to fuck into you faster.
“Taking me so good, girl. Your pussy was fuckin’ made for me.”
You come with a scream, moaning into Daryl’s palm as he slaps his hand over your mouth and fucks you harder, muffling your begging sobs as he pulls back enough to watch his dick disappear inside of you again and again - one hand still on your mouth as the other finds your waist bringing you back to him roughly, your pussy gripping him so tight his moans turn into desperate whimpers.
Fuck, he wants to come - wants to fill you fucking full of it but as you come down from your own release, gripping the slick shower tiles he pulls out of you and spins you around suddenly, grabbing your thighs to lift you up enough to thrust into you again - locking his blue gaze on you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, digging your nails into his back as he fucks up into you desperately. “You’re gonna make me come again.” You don’t even recognize your own voice, the words running together as you lose focus and feel that tightness coiling in your core again.
“Look at me.” Daryl’s words are so soft, not demanding but practically pleading as you cling to him - crying out as another orgasm fills your soul, the edges of your vision going black as you run your fingers into the back of his wet hair, begging him in a garbled moan to come inside of you. “Ah—-,fuck Y/N—-fuck.” Daryl holds your gaze as he comes with a deep groan, warmth flooding inside of you as his body slumps into yours - burying his face in the bend of your shoulder as you try to take in air.
“I love you.”
Your eyes go wide at his soft words as he drags air into his own lungs, kissing your throat before finally pulling away to help you to your feet. “Daryl?” You love him too, your heart racing as he lifts his eyes to you slowly, chewing on his bottom lip as he finally shuts off the water - pushing your hair back from your face as his mouth finds yours. “I love you.” He says again, louder this time against your lips as you jerk your head back - searching his vulnerable gaze. “I love you too.”
The smile he gives you sets your soul on fire.
“Yer mine, ya know that right?”
You nod, assuring him always before he’s kissing you again.
Words: 12,907
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan
Reader pronouns: she/her
Warnings: language, domestic violence and abusive relationship (reader and her partner—some description of minor injuries, threats, intimidation, verbal abuse, coercion, control), descriptions of injuries after infliction, violence, angsssst, happy ending
You glanced back over your shoulder. Daryl copied the action the next moment, checking to see how close the ragged looking group of walkers behind the two of you were. “We should probably take care of them before we get a real herd going,” you said, stepping over some brush. You loosened your knife in the sheath at your hip.
“Yeah,” he drawled. “Prob’ly.” He started to raise his bow to his shoulder and revolved in place.
You fully withdrew your knife. You turned back too now, shoulder to shoulder with him. “Do you want the group in the front or in the back?” you asked, shaking your hair out of your eyes.
Daryl firmly planted the grip of his bow into his shoulder and fired at the walker in the lead. The bolt swooshed through the air and landed with a satisfying thunk in the head of the walker in the lead, just below the left eye. “I’ll take the front,” Daryl drawled.
You gave him an appreciative smile and nodded. “I thought you would.” You peeled off from him and quickly flanked the five or six walkers left in the front, ignoring their attention and slight changes of direction as they reached for you. You heard Daryl’s bolts hitting their marks and focused instead on the group at the back. You readied your knife in your hand, but stooped to pick up a large rock sitting on the soil surface. You threw it and struck the closest walker in the side of the head, and even throwing with your non-dominant hand, it was enough to drop it. Then you went to work with your knife, quickly dealing with all but one particularly large one.
You glanced toward Daryl and saw that he had set his bow down and pulled his own knife from its sheath. You returned your attention to the hulking mass of rotting flesh slowly limping toward you. “Ugh,” you groaned. “Got a ripe one over here!” you called out.
“Yeah, well, I got my own problems,” he shouted back. Daryl was staring at the last walker which appeared more like a bipedal tumbleweed. The entire upper body and head was entangled in layers of blackberry brambles. Daryl was backing up as it advanced as he tried to figure out exactly how to take it down.
He took another step back and that’s when it happened… Something tightened around his ankle and his foot was pulled out from under him. His back hit the ground hard, forcing the breath from his lungs, and suddenly he was dangling upside down with the walker grappling toward him. His knife, dislodged from his hand by the fall, was shining on the leaf litter out of reach.
“Daryl!” you screamed, seeing him hauled up in a rush of movement and dangling from a snare. “Shit!”
That brief moment looking away from the lumbering walker in front of you was enough for it to nearly reach you. When you looked back, all you could do was throw your hands up in an attempt to push it back, but the rotting skin slipped off and your fingers squelched into the decomposing flesh. With a gag of disgust, you jumped backwards and steadied yourself, glancing frantically at Daryl again. He was grappling with the brambly mass in front of him, dangling in front of it like a worm on a hook. “Hold on!” you screamed, returning your attention to your own adversary. You wound up and kicked it as hard as you could in the stomach. The heel of your boot sunk in but the rest of the sole connected with the sternum and the walker did tumble back and fall to the ground. You rushed it and plunged your knife into its head with a grunt of effort before frantically stumbling to your feet and racing to help Daryl.
He was now straining to keep the bramble-wrapped walker away from his head and neck. You vaulted over the still corpses on the ground and raced toward him. Without a thought, you seized the tangled mess of briars in both hands and whirled it away from him, throwing it to the ground. You slammed your boot down on the body, as close to the neck as you could, and then thrust your knife through the woody tangle and down into the skull. It twitched and fell still.
The quiet seemed somehow overwhelming now as you straightened, glancing at the gore on your hands and boots. You pulled a scrap of fabric out of your back pocket and wiped off your hands. Your chest was heaving and you tried to catch your breath as you turned back to Daryl, still hanging upside down, his face bright red and his wavy hair dangling down.
“A little help?” he growled.
You stomped over, exhausted from the fight, and leaned in close to him. “Please, tell me you’re clean,” you said, searching for any bites or scratches on the parts of him you could see. You actually clasped his face between your hands while he was hanging there and turned it side to side to check.
“Nah, ‘m good. Just a little banged up. Now, would ya get me down from this damn snare before I pass the fuck out?”
You straightened up again, relieved now that the danger had passed, and laughed at the sight of him. “You should see yourself right now,” you said, grinning.
“For fuck’s sake, would ya get me down?” he growled again.
“Down? No problem,” you said, spinning your knife in your hand.
“Wait—Dun—” He dropped with a thud onto his back as you cut the rope and the air left his lungs for the second time. Your pleased laughter was a soundtrack he’d accept despite the betrayal.
You dropped down to the dirt beside him, your chest still heaving with exertion. But you were smiling and then laughing still as he looked over at you and let out a small pained noise accompanied by an unamused look. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You’re really alright though?” you asked, shuffling your boots in the litter and soil in an attempt to clean the gore off them. Daryl stared up at the canopy overhead from the flat of his back. The tree branches looked like dark fingers reaching toward the sky, silhouetted in the afternoon light. He didn’t respond so you leaned in over him. “Hmm?” you prodded him again. “You’re good?”
Your face appeared above his and you brushed some dirt from his cheek with a clean corner of the cloth from your pocket. And for the third time his breath left his lungs, but this time was much different. His eyes flickered between yours, studying their flecks of color and the ring around your pupil. Your hair hung forward, framing your face. His stomach somersaulted. “‘M good,” he finally managed. “Thanks for the save, by the way.”
“Of course,” you said, leaning back on your palms so he could sit up unobstructed.
“Ya alrigh’?” he drawled, glancing back over at you. He loosened and undid the snare around his ankle, discarding it.
“Me? All good.” But you held your palms out toward him and wiggled your fingers and he could see that your hands were actually quite cut up. “Just a bit scratched. From the blackberry briars he was tangled in.”
Daryl’s brow furrowed. “Mmm,” he hummed, reaching for his pack a short distance away. He dug inside until he found the little bag of first aid supplies that he kept stashed in the bottom. “We oughta clean those up. ‘Specially since ya were wrist deep in that slimey one just before.”
“Ugh,” you groaned, your nose wrinkling with disgust. “Don’t remind me.”
Daryl pulled out some alcohol pads and hastily tore open the packaging. “C’mon. Lemme see.”
You held your hands out, resting them palms up on your knees. Daryl gulped nervously (hoping you didn’t notice) and took each one in his in turn, rubbing the alcohol pads over your palms and fingers. You couldn’t be sure if the goosebumps rising on your skin were from his steady, gentle touch or the chill left behind as the disinfectant evaporated. You tried hard to reason it away. “Thanks,” you whispered as he finished. He only nodded.
“Getting caught in your own snare. That’s a new one,” you commented, smiling at him again.
He scoffed. “That ain’t one’a mine,” he said, grabbing the discarded line and holding it up. “Wasn’t set to catch small game neither. Somebody prob’ly put it up for the dead.”
You laughed lightly again. “They would have had a hell of a surprise if they were around to see their catch.”
“Mm,” he hummed, tossing it aside again. “Looks old. Surprised it still worked.”
You climbed to your feet, dusting off your pants. “We should probably get back. It’ll be getting dark soon.” You offered him your hand to pull him to his feet, but he didn’t take it and shot you a look.
“Yer all cut up,” he scolded you. “The hell ya thinkin’?”
You glanced at your hand again and shrugged. “It’s fine.”
Daryl shouldered his bow and bag, collected his spent bolts, and nodded. “Let’s head back to my bike. I think we’ve done enough for today.”
“Two rabbits and a few squirrels,” you said, stepping into stride behind him. “It’s hardly enough to feed even two families.” He could hear the disappointment in your voice.
He glanced over at you and gave you a small smile. “S’enough to feed a few, which is better than nothin’.”
You sighed. “I know. I was just hoping for a deer. Something substantial,” you sighed.
“I know,” Daryl said, glancing over at you. “Maybe next time, yeah?”
You walked in silence for a few minutes, heading back toward Daryl’s motorcycle. When you reached it, he strapped down his bow and pack and climbed on. He seized the helmet sitting on the back before you could and handed it to you, giving you a pointed look. “I still can’t get over that you make me wear a helmet and you don’t wear one,” you said, buckling the chin strap. He hummed some kind of non-committal response and you shook your head at him. He leaned forward and you slipped in behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle securely. You tried to ignore the heat that suddenly pooled in the middle of your chest and spilled outwards. How many times had you ridden on Daryl’s bike at this point? And yet every time—without fail—you felt yourself blushing as soon as you settled down behind him.
He cleared his throat and turned slightly to the side so you could hear him better. You leaned forward to listen, pressing your body against his, and despite the layers and layers of clothing between the two of you he felt like his skin was on fire. “Ready?” he drawled.
“Ready,” you said. Your cheek pressed into the back of his shoulder for just a moment as you adjusted your grip. “Go fast,” you sighed, and he could hear the smile in your voice.
He let out a low, gravelly laugh that you adored. “You got it, boss,” he said, and he fired the motorcycle to life.
The ride home flew by as you bathed in the wind and the exhilaration of flying down the road, and your arms around Daryl didn’t hurt either, though you tried hard not to acknowledge that to yourself... Soon, the gate was visible in the distance and Daryl slowed and weaved his way through the defensive roadblocks and around the crumbling potholes in the asphalt. Suddenly, he felt you stiffen behind him as he rolled up to the gate.
“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck…” he heard you murmur behind him.
He slowed to a stop at the gate. “What’s the matter?” he asked over the idling engine.
Your hand departed from his side and landed on his arm. “Look to the right,” you said, your voice thin. “That’s—that’s the truck they took on the run. Something must have happened. They weren’t supposed to be back for three more days,” you said. Your heart was hammering and you felt like you couldn’t get enough air. Daryl thought he could feel a slight shake in your fingers as they left his arm. “I need to get home. He’s going to be pissed,” you breathed. “Shit.”
Daryl felt his own body stiffening now too. His knuckles went white on the handlebar grips. The gate rolled back to admit the two of you and Daryl drove the bike inside. The rattle was loud and clanged in your head as it shut behind you.
“Stop here. Please,” you said urgently, almost as soon as the motorcycle had cleared the path of the gate. Your eyes darted around inside, expecting to see him standing somewhere watching for you.
“What? Ya said ya need to get home?” Daryl drawled, but you were already climbing off his bike, nearly falling as you hurried and the toe of your boot caught on the seat. Daryl flipped out the kickstand and climbed off too, watching you trying to undo the chin strap of your helmet, but your fingers were shaking. “Y/N—I can take ya right to yer house.” He moved around the bike and stopped in front of you, taking over undoing the strap on the helmet for you. You stood with your chin tilted up, and he could see the worry in your eyes. You looked nearly frantic.
“Thank you,” you murmured after he final got it undone, pulling the helmet from your head and shaking your hair out. “Me pulling up behind you on your motorcycle is not going to help the situation,” you said, holding the helmet out to him.
“Listen, if ya think he’s gonna give ya a hard time, maybe I should come with ya and—”
Your eyes were fearful and you shook your head. “No, Daryl—I appreciate it but that wouldn’t… I mean, he—I don’t think that would help either. I—I think it might make it worse. I’m sorry. I just—I have to go,” you said, already walking backwards away from him, your hands gripping the straps of your pack with white knuckles. “I’ll see you later, okay? Make sure Carl and Judith get fed with that game, alright?”
“Yeah. See ya,” he drawled, watching you turn and hurriedly jog down the sidewalk until he couldn’t see you anymore in the growing dusk. There was a hard pit in the bottom of his stomach, like he had swallowed stones. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He turned and strapped the helmet down on the back of his bike and climbed on again, riding it back to Aaron’s garage and quickly parking it. He pulled the game stringer and his gear off his bike and threw the tarp over it. His stomach was churning as he made the walk home alone.
The house was quiet with only a few lights on upstairs, but he found Carol seemingly waiting for him on the porch. She gave him a smile as he came up the steps. “Hi,” she greeted him. “How was it? Have a good day?”
He set the game down, slinging it over the porch railing. He nodded thoughtfully. “Alrigh’,” he said a little dully. “‘Til we got back.” He dug around in his pocket for a cigarette before he remembered that you’d stolen the pack earlier in the day and threw it out, telling him he needed to quit or you’d be burying him in an early grave. His teeth worried his bottom lip.
“What do you mean?” Carol asked, her bright tone diminished.
“We got back and saw that the truck they’d taken on the run was parked outside the gate. When she realized he’d be back and see that she wasn’t at home—” Daryl’s teeth ground together and the muscle in his jaw clenched. “She—she seemed scared. I mean, she was shakin’. She wouldn’t even lemme drive her back to her house and drop her off. Said it wouldn’t help the situation.”
Carol’s face was dark now, her mouth drawn in a thin line with the corners tugging down. “No. No, I don’t think that would have helped... Rosita and Glenn said the main bridge washed out. They couldn’t get to the community college. They came back until they can figure out a new route.”
Daryl leaned back against the railing and nodded. He gulped and shook his head, staring down at his boots and absently picking at a loose stitch on the sheath of his knife. “He’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he growled, shaking his head. “I dun understand why she stays with that prick…”
Carol sighed and nodded. “They were together before everything fell apart. I think that’s part of it.”
“He treats her like shit,” Daryl spat. He nestled the side of his thumbnail in between his teeth and bit down until he tasted the earthy tang of copper.
Carol’s expression was pensive. “Daryl—I think—I think it’s worse than that,” she said softly. Daryl’s head snapped up as he hurriedly looked at her, his eyes locking with hers.
“What d’ya mean?” he growled. He had his own suspicions.
She didn’t say anything but held his gaze steadily.
Daryl’s hands clenched and unclenched in a fist. “Ya think he’s puttin’ his hands on her?”
“I really don’t know. Not for sure. He’s certainly abusive to her… emotionally, mentally. He’s a controlling prick. But—I still don’t know anything for certain. I’ve tried to find out, to pay attention but I’ve never seen anything to prove it.” She shook her head. “I have seen bruises on her. She always has a story. And in this world it isn’t exactly unexpected to be bruised up, right?”
“Bruises where?” Daryl growled, his eyes narrowed and piercing.
“Her shoulders. Her arms and wrists. Once, on her neck,” Carol said. “That’s just what I’ve been able to see from time to time. But she’s always had an excuse.”
“And yer just tellin’ me this now?” Daryl growled, fuming at the mere thought of how that asshole could have put those marks on you. “How long has this been?”
“I’ve had suspicions since—since the quarry,” she admitted. Daryl swore and paced a big circle around the porch before his eyes landed on her again.
“Ya shoulda fuckin’ said something!” he barked at her. “Does Rick know? Does anybody else know?” he demanded.
“Daryl, I don’t know anything,” she said gently. Carol did look guilty, but she remembered what it was like back with Ed… The cycle of abuse was like a narcotic you were unwillingly being dosed with and she had always tried to hide it too. “There have been lots of times where he most likely couldn’t have been physically hurting her because he would have been caught. When things have been close quarters, you know? At the quarry… on the road.” “Most likely,” Daryl repeated, nodding at her. “Most likely? And is that s’posed to make it better?”
“No. No… not at all,” she sighed. “We’ve all heard them arguing, heard how he talks to her, seen how toxic that relationship is.”
Daryl’s blue eyes seemed to blaze with some inner fire as he listened to Carol. “If he’s layin’ so much as a fuckin’ finger on her and I find out, I’mma fuckin’ kill him. I’m gonna drag him outta that house and beat him into the fuckin’ ground with my bare hands,” he growled. “I dun even care what happens to me. He's done."
Carol nodded. “I know. I know you would. And that’s part of the reason why I haven’t said anything before. But I also don’t know anything for certain.”
“Have ya asked her?”
Carol nodded. “I’ve tried, a few times, in a few different ways but—any hint of me trying to talk to her about that relationship and she may as well be running the other way. I mean, no one could have convinced me to leave Ed back then... The fear keeps you trapped there. Leaving doesn’t even feel like an option because it’s so unsafe. If he beats the shit out of you for not being home when he thinks you should be, what would he do if you tried to leave?”
“But she’s got people. She’s got—she’s us. She’s got me.” Daryl sighed and his shoulders slumped, some of the rage dissipating into a helplessness. “What do we do?” He ran his hand over his mouth and chin and straightened up. “What if he’s—what if somethin’ bad is happenin’ to her righ’ now? I told ya she was scared.” He straightened up. “I’mma go over there,” he said, determined. “I gotta check on her.”
Carol sighed. “Daryl, I don’t think that’s a good idea…”
“Why? Somebody should protect her!”
“It’s not that simple. Haven’t you noticed how he gets around you? He’s threatened by you, intimidated. Jealous. It makes it worse. Unless you’re prepared to break in the door and have this all out right now—”
“Well, maybe I am,” Daryl growled.
Carol shrugged. “That’s up to you. But if they are just arguing, if he’s not physically hurting her right now, you showing up there and reminding him who she was with all day could put her in even more danger.”
Daryl paced anxiously on the porch, rubbing his hand over his face thoughtfully. “Fuck,” he growled. “She dun deserve to be with that asshole. Her of all people… She—she deserves somethin’… better. She dun deserve that.”
Carol smiled at the softness on his face as he talked about you. “No. Neither did you. Neither did I. But life isn’t fair.”
Daryl froze and his eyes shut. His breath became shaky. When he spoke again, his voice broke. “Why? Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked, looking up at Carol. His expression was desperate.
“Did you tell anyone?” she asked him and she already knew the answer.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The house was dark as you crossed the porch and made your way to the front door, but you knew better than to think he was asleep. You drew in a shaky breath and your fingertips were trembling as you reached for the doorknob. It turned and you pushed in, trying to steel yourself for whatever was to come.
You’d barely made it inside onto the rug in the entryway when he kicked the door shut, forcing it out of your hand. You couldn’t help the gasp that left you. He locked it behind you and pointedly put on the security chain. You were sandwiched between him and a sealed exit and you could read his rage in the blackness of his eyes.
You still had your pack on you but he wrenched it off you, twisting one of your arms painfully when it caught in the strap. He threw it carelessly and it slid a good distance down the hallway. Before you could do anything, you were aware of his hand withdrawing your knife from its sheath at your hip. Your breath seemed to catch and crystallize painfully in your lungs as he turned the steel blade and it glinted in the low light.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he growled, holding the point of the knife mere inches from the center of your breastbone. You had to regulate your breathing so it was shallower or you swore the tip would pierce into your skin. “I get back and the house is empty.” He wasn’t yelling at you, not yet, but this quiet tone felt maybe even more dangerous.
“I was just—out hunting,” you stammered, pressing yourself back into the wood of the door behind you, trying to gain a millimeter of space.
He kept the knife tickling at the cotton of your shirt and grabbed a fistful of your hair with the other hand, cruelly yanking your head back and down so your chin lifted and your neck was exposed. You felt some strands give way in his grip and tried not to cry out, but a whimper escaped your lips. “Then where’s the game? Huh? I don’t see a fucking rabbit or squirrel. Nothing.”
You could barely speak. “N—no luck,” you said.
He laughed a dry, perilous sounding laugh. “No surprise there. You are fucking useless,” he spat. “Who were you with?”
You stayed silent, your mind whirring. “No one. I went by myself, I swear.” You did your best to keep your voice steady.
You saw the knife glint again out of the corner of your eye and then felt the cool edge of the blade alight on your neck, just enough so he knew you could feel it. “You lying fucking whore. You think I didn’t ask around as soon as I realized you weren’t here? I leave for not even one day and you run off into the woods with that fucking redneck!” You could feel the heat of his breath and his spit landing on your skin. “Huh?!” he roared. “Answer me, bitch!”
You squeezed your eyes shut as he yelled into your ear, leaving behind a high-pitched ringing. Your whole body was shaking now. “I’m sorry,” you managed in a desperate, hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry. We were just hunting, I swear. We were just hunting! I would never—” Tears burned in your eyes, blurring your vision.
“What have I told you about him ? Huh?! We both know I can’t trust you to keep your fucking legs closed. I can’t believe this shit,” he growled. “I’m gone half a day—"
“I’m sorry,” you breathed.
He backed off, just slightly, but you could see the sneer on his face, the rage still burning in his eyes. “No, you’re not. Yet. But you’re gonna be. You wanna run around with other men like a slut? I guess I have to teach you another fucking lesson and remind you who the hell you belong to. You’re mine! You go where I say, when I say! You talk only to who I fucking say you can talk to! And you stay the fuck away from that redneck trash or I swear to God, I’ll kill him. I’ve warned you before. I’ll slit his throat in his sleep. You so much as look in his direction again, and I’ll fucking kill him. And then I might just decide I’m done with you too…” He seized you by the throat and threw you to the ground, hard. You fell to the floor on your hands and knees, bashing your kneecaps and knowing they’d be bruised the next day. Pain shot up your wrists too, but you didn’t have a moment to even catch your breath, to even try to think of a way to escape or defuse the situation. “Get up. Get the fuck up! Get upstairs and keep your mouth shut!” He grabbed you by the hair and half-dragged you to your feet before shoving you toward the staircase.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Daryl cleaned the game on the front porch and then spent the whole night awake, pacing. A few times he started to make his way toward your house, but stopped halfway as Carol’s voice rang in his mind. “You showing up there and reminding him who she was with all day could put her in even more danger.” He’d turned around and come back home, only to resume his restless, aimless waiting. He kept reaching for his pack of cigarettes absently and then remembering the way you’d leaned in and pulled them out of his shirt pocket. The touch of your fingers separated by just a thin veil of cotton had raised goosebumps and electricity up his back.
The internal conflict warring inside him was threatening to make him sick. He found himself nearly breaking the porch railing he was gripping onto it so hard. It was the wee hours of the morning when he finally surrendered, swore under his breath, and went down to his room to collapse into bed. He stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.
He waited until the house above was noisy with footsteps and sound clanging in the kitchen before, he peeled himself off the mattress and went up. Carol was in the kitchen when he stepped out and she immediately dried her hands hurriedly and nodded toward the hallway. Daryl followed her lead and walked out onto the front porch. The grass still had dewdrops clinging to it and Alexandria was still waking up.
“You look like shit,” Carol said in an undertone to him as he settled back against the railing.
He scoffed. “Thanks. Wonder why,” he snapped back. “What?”
She sighed. “Don’t be mad—”
His brow furrowed and cast his eyes in shadow. “Carol—”
“But I went to their house last night,” she said.
Daryl’s eyes snapped up to hers. “The hell ya mean? After what ya told me ‘bout makin’ it worse?” he growled.
“It’s not like I waltzed up to the door and rang the bell,” she retorted, giving him a stern look. “I watched the house from across the street. I wasn’t seen. And even if I had been, I’m not you. But I wanted to be there just in case…”
“Just in case? In case of what? What the fuck good is that gonna do if he’s beatin’ the shit outta her behind closed doors?” Daryl growled. He rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated and infuriated. “Well?” he pressed her.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I thought maybe I could hear yelling at one point but the house was completely dark, locked up. Shades all down. Nothing. It’s hard to say.”
“Why the fuck are ya even tellin’ me this then?” Daryl barked.
“I’m trying to help,” she snapped back. “Listen, Deanna has called a town meeting tonight to make some announcements or something. Everyone is going to be there. If she’s not, well, then we’ll have to do something… go over there. I don’t know.”
Daryl sighed. “If she’s not, I’m gonna break the door in. And then I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Everyone was gathered around several blazing firepits, chatting, laughing, drinks in hand. The mood was convivial, unless you were Daryl. He had posted himself out on the edge of the group where he could watch everyone come and go and so far, he’d been left alone. That was until Carol spotted him. She came over after waving at a few of the ladies she baked casseroles with and having a very animated conversation about fruit cake made with expired canned peaches.
She slid up beside him, a wide and annoying smile still plastered on her face. “You look like a gargoyle over here, Daryl,” she scolded him from the corner of her mouth.
He only continued to sweep his eyes over the crowd. “Ya think I give a shit?” he growled back.
“Well, if you’re trying to draw attention to yourself, you’re doing a great job by scowling at everyone,” she said, stopping to return a wave from Olivia from across the party.
Daryl bristled. “ ‘M sorry, but one of us is a little fuckin’ worried righ’ now,” he snapped. “I ain’t exactly in the mood to have a chat with some suburbanite about fucking peaches.”
Carol took a sip of her drink. “I’m gonna let that slide considering the circumstances, but you know perfectly well that everything I’m doing here, including chatting about peaches, is for our family.”
Daryl sighed and softened a little. “…’M sorry. S’just—”
“I know,” she interrupted him, softening now herself. The worry crept onto her face now too. “No sign of her yet?”
Daryl shook his head. “No. Or him.”
Carol checked her watch. “There’s still time.”
Each minute felt like an hour, a tortuous, slow hour. Daryl’s eyes continually swept over the crowd, checking every figure, every gap for your silhouette, and finally, when he was nearly frantic with worry, he straightened up. “Hey—” he said, nudging Carol. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. At that distance, across the party, he couldn’t tell if you were hurt. All he could really see was that your boyfriend had his arm wrapped around your back and his hand was resting on your hip. Was his grip a little too tight? Was he holding you too close, like he was asserting control over you? Or was Daryl imagining that?
Carol saw you walking in at your boyfriend’s side. Glenn and Maggie stopped the two of you and you hugged her briefly and chatted for a moment, laughing at something she said, before the two of you moved away. Carol breathed a small sigh of relief at the sight of you. “Okay,” she murmured. “She’s here…”
“Yeah,” Daryl drawled, squinting at you. Every time a shadow shifted across your face, he imagined that it was a bruise.
“At least we can see her and she’s—she’s mostly alright,” Carol said.
“Is she?” Daryl growled back, feeling another upwelling of toxic rage. He watched you follow along beside your boyfriend until you both sat down in one of the rows of chairs facing the small, makeshift podium where Deanna would speak. Your boyfriend’s hand landed on the back of the neck and he leaned in to whisper something to you and Daryl’s hands clenched into fists. It could have been just a normal touch between a couple, but to him it looked possessive and he felt another burst of hot anger in his chest. Daryl discarded his empty bottle on a table beside him and watched as you got up and made your way over to the refreshment table while your boyfriend made himself comfortable. Daryl nervously licked his lips and Carol followed his gaze.
“‘M gonna go check on her,” he drawled.
“Be careful,” she warned him. “Daryl—He’s right there.”
“I can fuckin’ handle him if I need to,” Daryl replied and then he stepped into the crowd and made his way through.
You were reading the handwritten label on a beer bottle when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and turned to see Daryl standing there. “Hey.”
“Hi,” you breathed with a nervous laugh. “You startled me.” You quickly glanced over your shoulder to see if your boyfriend was watching you. “Just—grabbing some drinks,” you said.
But Daryl was staring at you intensely and his expression was drawn and anxious. “Are ya okay?”
You swallowed at the thick lump in your throat that had just materialized. “Fine!” you said brightly, but you couldn’t look him in the eye. “I should get back—"
“Y/N—” His hand landed on your arm and your body arrested all movement without you consciously deciding to stop. His brow was furrowed heavily, his blue eyes flickering over you. “Really. Are ya okay? What—”
He heard your breath shake as you exhaled. “Daryl, I can’t. Not here. Not now… I can’t talk to you,” you said in a low voice. You glanced over your shoulder again to see that your boyfriend was (thankfully) in conversation with Deanna’s husband Reg and clearly hadn’t noticed Daryl standing with you.
His stomach sunk. “What d’ya mean ya can’t talk to me?” Your eyes snapped back to his face, to the concern, to the unease.
You looked back once more. He was a mere ten feet away, waiting. You couldn’t be seen talking to Daryl. You couldn’t. His threats rang in your mind like alarm bells. “I—I just can’t. I’m sorry. I have to go.” You withdrew from him abruptly and returned to your seat, handing your partner the beer bottle and sitting stiffly beside him. Daryl was left with that same sick feeling in his gut…
It wasn’t long before Deanna went to the podium to the sounds of applause and happy jeering. Daryl posted himself to the side of the group, almost at the exact end of the row you were seated in. You did your best to stare forward, but you didn’t hear a word out of Deanna’s mouth. All that seemed to be in your head was a rising hum and your own heartbeat. You found your eyes repeatedly drawn sideways to look at the broad-shouldered archer but would quickly catch yourself and face the front again.
For his part, Daryl looked on, fuming. Your body was rigid and far from at ease. When he watched your boyfriend reach over and place his hand on your thigh, he’d had enough and he made a hasty exit.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Carol came bounding up the steps onto the porch to find Daryl leaning back against the railing and sharpening his knife, just for something to do, something to keep his hands busy. The methodical, rhythmic movements felt at least a little calming. But Carol’s expression was dark and any calm he had achieved evaporated quickly. He gave her a questioning look. “S’goin’ on? Party all wrapped up?”
“Yeah. And I had to stop by to check on the Thompsons, that elderly couple? Their house is right across from the clinic,” she explained. “Daryl—when I was leaving, I caught a glimpse of Denise answering the door and letting Y/N inside.”
Daryl felt like his blood had run cold. He straightened up, discarded his whetstone quickly, and snapped his knife back into the sheath on his hip with a sharp sound. Carol eyed it uneasily. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she warned him.
“If I did, we both know it’d be because that fucker deserves it. But for now—I’mma just see if I can talk to her. Ya didn’t see him there ?”
Carol scoffed and rolled her eyes. “He and Pete both left the bonfire drunk.”
Daryl shook his head. “Birds of a feather,” Daryl drawled. He started down the steps. “I’ll be back later. Probably.”
Carol watched him until his broad-shouldered silhouette blended into the darkness.
There weren’t any lights on in the front of the building when Daryl reached the clinic, but he could see a faint glow from the back hallway when he pulled open the door and stepped inside. Muffled voices drifted out from the same direction as the light and Daryl made his way toward them. He recognized both you and Denise talking in low voices.
When he rounded the corner and stepped into the hallway, he saw that the first room was the source of all the light and sound and the door was standing wide open.
For a moment, his brain didn’t seem to grasp exactly what he was looking at, only really that he shouldn’t be seeing it. You were sitting on the edge of an exam table and Denise was beside you seated on a tall stool with gloves on. Daryl’s brain seemed to catch up as he froze in the doorway and he finally consciously registered what he was looking at. Your shirt was off and rumpled beside you on the table. Your upper body was bare except for your bra and Denise was stitching a wound on your side. The skin on your back, shoulders, and arms was a mottle of dark bruising, cuts, and abrasions down to some particularly angry looking marks encircling your wrists. There were constellations of little marks scattered across your skin, some new and some long-healed. He couldn’t have been in the doorway for more than a second before you and Denise realized he was there, but it was enough time for him to experience a dizzying torrent of emotions.
Your eyes went wide as you turned and realized he was standing there, and you grabbed your shirt and hastily began pulling it on, your fingers shaking as you tried to button it. “Daryl—” In the same moment you jumped down, accidentally knocking the metal tray of supplies to the floor where they clanged loudly. “Shit!” Daryl was already rushing away when you looked at Denise.
“I thought you said you locked the door!” you said.
“I—I thought I—Y/N, your stitches,” she called after you, but you were already gone, chasing after Daryl.
“Daryl! Wait—Daryl!” you called after him, still fumbling with buttons as you chased after him through the clinic.
He burst out into the night and you were just behind him, catching the door before it could completely close and racing across the porch and down the stairs.
“Daryl, please—”
He finally stopped on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps, frozen, and you caught up to him. Even standing behind him, you could tell his chest was heaving and when he turned to look at you, you read many things on his face at once. His blue eyes were glassy with tears but they seemed to shift with internal turmoil. His hands were clenched into fists. Rage was boiling beneath the surface. He spoke carefully when he finally managed it. “‘M sorry,” he drawled, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that...” he said.
You just stared back at him, your eyes still wide, your fingers still on the top button of your shirt. “It’s okay…” you said softly, your stomach churning.
Daryl gulped and paced back toward you, his eyes landing on your face again. “But he—did he—?” He couldn’t even get a fucking sentence out. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenching. He swore under his breath, trying to maintain control. “He did that to ya,” he said, his gaze intense. “Last night. Just ‘cuz ya weren’t home.” It wasn’t a question.
You felt your face burn with heat. You gulped, but didn’t answer.
Daryl’s breath came faster as he nodded. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, so hard he tasted blood. His heart hammered against his rib cage. “How long has this been goin’ on?”
Again, you didn’t answer and only ducked your head, unable to look at him anymore. Shame washed over you.
Daryl chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. Those tears in his eyes born of rage and sadness and horror at seeing all the injuries on your body blurred his vision. “I’ve heard the way that piece of shit talks to ya sometimes—I mean, we all have. The way he tries to control ya. But this? All this time he’s been doin’ this to ya, and ya didn’t tell me? Why didn’t ya tell me?” he begged you as if he needed the answer to breathe. “Or if not me, someone. Carol. Maggie. Somebody!”
Your stomach was churning and then clenching into a hard pit. You opened your mouth to answer, but it was a long moment before any words came out. “I didn’t want—to drag anyone else in,” you said weakly. “And I thought—I always thought it would stop once… I don’t know, once things were stable. Like, at the prison or once we got here. But it didn’t. And—I guess, I thought I could handle it. And I felt like I was in too deep. And I felt—I felt stupid for letting it happen to me,” you said, your voice breaking. Daryl’s heart ached. “I mean, I can fight. Why do I let it happen to me? But—when I used to try and fight him—it made it so much worse,” you said, and you ducked your head again. He watched your body start to tremble, like some involuntary fear response at the mere thought of it. “The things he’s—he’s—"
“It’s not yer fault. And ya ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of. It ain’t as simple as fightin’ back or just leavin’…” Daryl swore under his breath again and ran a hand over his face. “Fuck, Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me?” he said again. “Ya coulda told me.” He was seething now, again picturing the kaleidoscope of injuries he’d seen on you. “Some of those cuts I just saw on ya,” he said, “he used a knife? Huh?” You didn’t answer but he didn’t need you to. He shook his head. “Nah. This is done. He’s done. Go back in there and have Denise finish fixin’ ya up,” he said. “Then ya should probably stay with her tonight.”
You felt bile rising into your throat. “What are you going to do?” you asked him.
“What d’ya think? I’mma go to your house, drag his ass into the street, and beat him to a fucking pulp,” he growled.
Fear tightened your stomach into a hard pit. “Daryl, don’t—please, you can’t do that.”
“I can and I will,” he growled. “He ain’t layin’ another finger on ya.”
You shook your head, your eyes wide and fearful. “Earlier, when I said I couldn’t talk to you—he—he’s threatened to kill you. If he sees us together again... He’s jealous and—and he told me if I so much as look at you—I think he knows that—” you broke off abruptly, wondering if you were even making any sense to him at all.
Daryl gulped, his shifting suddenly going completely still. “Knows what?” he asked, his heart still hammering in his chest, but now perhaps for a slightly different reason.
You simply shook your head again. “Listen to me, Daryl—best case scenario, if you go there and attack him, you’ll get yourself exiled from Alexandria. And that’s best case. Please,” you begged him. “You can’t. Please… He won’t hesitate to kill you if he gets the chance.”
“I’d like to see him fuckin’ try,” Daryl growled.
You stepped in close to him, your expression desperate, and you gripped the front of his jacket. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” you whispered, your eyes flickering between his.
He gulped and his hands landed gently on the small of your back for just a brief second, and it was electric. “Neither do I. But turns out somethin’ real bad is already happenin’ to ya. And has been for a long time. Besides, like I said, ya think that asshole can take me? Fuck no.”
You shook your head. “Just—for tonight—please… Go home. Cool down. Think this through. Please. I’m scared of what he’ll do to you.”
Your voice was so pleading, your eyes shining with tears, that it somehow overcame his rage and he caved. He ducked his head and his shoulders slumped. “Fine. Fine… for tonight. I’ll wait. I’ll go home. But he’s gonna get dealt with. I’m gonna deal with him. And ya shouldn’t go back there...”
You let out a long sigh of relief, though you still felt jittery and sick. Your fingers slipped from the front of Daryl’s jacket. “He’s passed out drunk on the couch,” you said. “It’s the only reason I could sneak out here to see Denise.”
Daryl had the brief thought that now was the perfect time to beat the fuck out of him then. But he’d already agreed, given you his word. “Still,” he said, drawing away from you. “Go get fixed up. I’ll—‘m gonna figure this out. I promise.” He had a hard time leaving you. He watched until you were pulling the door open to the clinic again, and you glanced back at him one more time, and his heart jumped.
Daryl walked home in the lonely dark, his insides somersaulting between fury and fear for you and regret and a deep ache. Carol was waiting on the porch, pacing. She stopped as he came up the steps, her expression desperate.
On seeing his face, that look didn’t change. “What happened?” she asked.
He swallowed the nausea rising into his throat as images of your injuries flashed in his head. “He beat the shit out of her last night. She’s all bruised, all cut up. Marks all over. Bad ones on her wrists, like—like he held her down.” He didn’t want to linger on why that might’ve been. “Carol—He used a knife on her,” Daryl growled, a shadow deepening on his face.
“God,” Carol breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God…”
“Denise is putting stitches in her side, patching her up.”
“What do we do now?” Carol asked in a harsh whisper. “Should I go wake up Rick and Michonne? We can go to Deanna and—”
He shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “I promised her I wouldn’t do anything tonight,” he drawled.
Carol looked shocked. “Well, screw that! She’s in danger!”
“I couldn’t say ‘no’ to her. Ya didn’t see her. She was panickin’, beggin’ me to just wait and think shit through. Ya dun think I wish I was killin’ him with my bare fuckin’ hands righ’ now?” He broke off and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I think—bringin’ a bunch of people in, ev’rybody findin’ out—s’gonna be traumatic in a different way for her.”
“Yes,” Carol nodded. “It will be. We both know that. But to get her out of it, we have to.”
“The thing is,” he started, but he broke off and nervously sunk his teeth into the corner of his nail, “—some things she said… I think—I think she was tryin’ to protect me by stayin’ with him.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
After Denise had finished stitching you up, she’d offered you her spare room. You’d accepted, but only stayed for about an hour. Your anxiety was far too high to allow you to sleep. Some of your fear had initially passed since Daryl had agreed not to go storming off to your house tonight. But—you were slowly seized with growing worry that he’d go back on his word… You knew how angry he was. You’d seen the inferno in his eyes, burning blue like the hottest part of a flame. And when Daryl was pissed, especially in regards to the treatment of one of his own, he could be brash. “Shit,” you muttered, tossing the blankets off and hastily pulling your boots back on. You’d just go to his house and make sure he wasn’t about to do anything stupid… Yes. That’s all you’d do. You’d just go to check on him and make sure he wasn’t getting ready to go storm in on your drunken asshole of a(n) (ex)partner passed out on the couch and beat him to a pulp.
Alexandria was dark and silent except for the chirping of a few lonely crickets and the echoing of your steps as you navigated the shadowy sidewalks. Daryl’s house was dark too as you stared up at it, pausing on the small patch of lawn between the sidewalk and the walkway up to the steps. It had to be the very early hours of the morning now. You took a deep breath and went up. Surprisingly, the front door was unlocked preventing any hiccup in your plan. Soon you were standing at the top of the basement stairs.
"Daryl?" you called softly down. It was dark down there, but not entirely. You could tell he had a dim light on. He was definitely awake. Of course he was. "I'm coming down," you said.
When you passed the doorframe at the bottom of the steps, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed with a bottle in his hands. He was staring at it like the label was in a foreign language, even though you could read "Buffalo Trace" from where you stood.
"Daryl?" Your voice seemingly broke his trance. He looked up at you, almost sheepishly, but only for a split second.
Daryl gulped at the tightness in his throat and turned his gaze back to the bottle in his hands.
Your stomach somehow seemed to both sink and twist at the same time and you opened your mouth to say something but you came up empty at first. After a long moment, you managed, “Where'd you get that?” as you gestured to the bottle.
"Found it on a run a while back. I always got a bottle of somethin' tucked away, ya know. Never know when ya might need it." He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.
"So, you're just planning on getting drunk then? Is that what this is?" you asked, and you couldn't keep an edge out of your voice. For the first time since you'd come in, Daryl looked up at you—really looked. He stared for a long moment and then reached over and set the bottle down on his nightstand with a loud clack.
He stood up, his broad shoulders and chest on full display as he paced over to you, his blue eyes narrowed. You found yourself backing up and suddenly your back hit the wall. A small gasp of surprise left you. Daryl still stepped in one more time, breaching that small buffer of space you usually maintained and staying there. “Are ya plannin’ to go back with him? Stay with him?" he asked in a low voice.
You let out a shaky breath. “I—I’m trying to protect you and everyone else. What am I supposed to do?”
"Yer s'posed to leave his ass before he fuckin' kills you. Or before I kill him," Daryl growled. His anger hadn’t abated since your talk outside the clinic. On the contrary, you were sure he’d been sitting here and stewing on everything he’d seen.
You gulped, your eyes flickering between his. “If I try to leave, then he will kill me and who knows who else he’ll come after,” you whispered. You hesitated briefly. “You. He’ll probably come after you. But if I try to go, he’ll definitely kill me.”
Daryl let out a long sigh and placed his palm flat on the wall beside your head, leaning toward you. With his other hand, he brushed a stray strand of your hair away from your face. "Ya really think I'd ever let a damn thing like that happen?" he whispered. “I told ya already. I’ll deal with him. I’ll protect ya.”
Your heart was racing and your chest heaved with your breath now. You don't know for sure who started it—not for sure. It could have been that you reached up and placed your palm in the center of his chest and spoke his name. Or it could have been that Daryl simply crashed his lips down on yours, gripped your hip and pressed against you. It didn't matter. The next moment you were entirely wrapped up in him, entangled in each other. Before you knew it, he was kissing your neck and his hands were wandering your curves, gently floating over you, aware of your injuries beneath the thin layers of fabric. He couldn’t have forgotten them if he tried, and so he touched you so carefully...
Your fingers were in his hair and beneath his shirt, running over his strong muscles and hitching on his scars. Daryl lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him heatedly as he carried you toward his bed. You ignored the twinges and aches in your sore and battered body. It was easier, because kissing Daryl seemed to block out or dampen your pain. He tipped you back onto his bed gently, crawling over you, desperate to keep his lips on yours or kissing your soft skin. One hand on your hip and the other smoothing over your arm and then lacing with your fingers, the heat between the two of you building to a temperature that would surely consume you both.
But suddenly—reality came back and with a tremendous effort your ragged breathing turned into saying his name again. He felt you pulling back, pulling away. He leaned up over you and his blue eyes flickered over your face.
“I—I can't,” you gasped, and it sounded like it broke your heart to say it. “We can't...”
You watched the turmoil roiling in his eyes. You hoped he could see how desperate for him you were... and understand why you couldn't. It was a line you wouldn’t cross, despite everything he’d done to you.
"He dun deserve ya... not that I do either," he breathed, still caged over your body, the heat of him pouring into your skin. He brushed your hair back from your face so tenderly that tears filled your eyes and you pulled in a stuttered breath. "But at least I'd always treat ya righ'. I'd never lay a hand on ya. Ya know that." A tear broke out and ran down toward your temple. Daryl wiped the streak from your cheek. "I know," you said.
"We can have this. We can be happy. I can keep ya safe.”
"I can't ask you to do that."
"Then don't. Just let me do it."
Your eyes searched his face for a long moment. Another tear broke free and ran down by your temple and into your hair.
“He’s dangerous, Daryl.”
“So am I.” He ran the pad of his thumb along the line of your jaw. “So are you. So is this, us together.” He heaved a sigh. “Ya can’t be with him anymore. Ya know that. Ya think he might try to kill ya if ya leave, but he’s going to kill ya if ya stay. Please. Lemme do this for ya.” He was asking for your permission, though you doubted that not giving it would hold him back forever… Daryl had his limits. And someone laying their hands on you was far beyond them.
Finally, your lips parted and you breathed ‘okay’ into the air between the two of you.
Daryl’s fingers brushed back through your hair again. “Okay?”
You nodded. “Okay,” you whispered again, your eyes looking a little wide and fearful, or maybe surprised that you’d agreed.
Daryl breathed a sigh of relief and then his lips were on yours again. You hummed into the kiss and returned it fervently, the heat building between the two of you quickly again. What you were feeling was almost overwhelming, and you felt another tear leak out from the corner of your eye again and run downwards. Daryl clasped your face and pulled back for a moment, parting his lips from yours with a deep aching sense of loss. But he studied your expression again, his blue eyes flickering over your features as if he was memorizing them. “Are ya okay?” he asked.
You must have heaved in a stuttered breath. You nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “Daryl—” you pressed your hand to his chest and Daryl felt his skin flare with heat and electricity at your touch. “I’ve—I’ve wanted this with you for so long,” you admitted. “You have to know that. ”
He gulped nervously and nodded. “Me too,” he said. You were still caged beneath his body, his hand on your hip, but he suddenly moved to the side and laid down next to you. “But—maybe we should slow down,” he said. He wanted to be completely entangled with you, but he also greatly wanted to care for you after what you had just gone through, and what you were going through now. “Yer hurt. Have ya slept at all?” he asked, his hand running down the length of your arm from your shoulder to your wrist.
You shook your head, and it was like at that moment that all the exhaustion hit you—physical, emotional, and mental. Your body grew heavy and sunk weightily into the mattress beside him. You turned onto your side to fully face him. “No,” you murmured, studying his face.
He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya should sleep,” he said, gently slipping your hand into his. “Nobody will hurt ya tonight. Or any other night, for that matter, if I have my way ‘bout it. ‘M righ’ here,” he said. He glanced down at your hand in his and his fingers slid up, gently nudging the cuff of your shirt aside. He ran his fingers lightly over the bruising encircling your wrist and a thick lump materialized in your throat. He lifted your wrist gently and pressed a kiss to the underside, before giving you a look that you couldn’t quite put a word to—all you knew was that it shot straight to your core, and you were suddenly screaming inside about everything that had been done to you and about how much time you had wasted and about how much you had wanted to be more with Daryl and never thought you’d be free to pursue it and—
Your body betrayed you with another shuddered breath as you tried not to break down again. “I’m okay,” you breathed. “I’m okay…”
“Yer safe. I promise,” he whispered back to you. “C’mere,” Daryl said, and he pulled you in close and held you against his body. The weight of him, his steadiness, his warmth, his comforting smell… it always made you feel safe when you had glimpses of it, and now you had it as close as possible and you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt so secure.
You draped your arm over him and tucked your head up under his chin. His arms stayed around you and you felt him leave a kiss in your hair. “Go to sleep,” he drawled softly. “I’ve got ya.”
And within minutes, out of complete exhaustion, you did.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Both you and Daryl were deeply asleep, tucked against one another in his bed, for the rest of the night, until… the sharp sound of shattering glass and a hot blaze of light startled the two of you awake.
A strangled scream left you as you tried to comprehend what was happening. Daryl was instinctively shielding you with his body as both of you tried to get your bearings, but the character of the light now blazing in the previously dark room was unmistakable and quickly had him bailing out of the bed and grabbing a nearby wool blanket. Fire. Some boxes near the foot of Daryl’s bed had caught and quickly gone up in flames. Daryl tossed the wool blanket over the top and hurriedly smothered it, stamping out any remaining hot spots before standing over the scene, his chest and shoulders heaving with panicked and bewildered breaths.
You were sitting up in his bed, your back pressed against the wall and your knees pulled up to your chest. Your eyes were wide.
“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked urgently. You nodded. His eyes flickered back over the scene. The small basement window was shattered and glass was everywhere, but there was also the unmistakable sting of alcohol in the air. He rubbed a hand over his face. His eyes landed on a brick on the floor and then the round glass bottom of a bottle or jar.
You spoke it before he could. “He did this,” you said, shifting and feeling like you couldn’t catch a breath. “He—he must have seen—”
Daryl’s hands clenched into fists. He hurriedly began tugging on his boots. “Stay here,” he said, his voice a dangerous low growl.
“Daryl—”
“Nah. He’s done. This is over.”
“Daryl!” You were still scrambling out of the bed and frantically pulling your boots on, unlaced, by the time he was bounding up the stairs.
You chased after him but the front door was already open and he was barreling down the sidewalk. The sounds of your startled yells and the clattering of the two of you had awoken some of the other members of the house. You looked up the stairs to see Maggie, Glenn, and Carol standing there looking perplexed and concerned. You gulped and nervously ran your hand back through your hair before glancing at the front door standing open again. “Um—Fuck, go get Rick and Michonne,” you said urgently. “Now! Tell them to head toward my house! Daryl’s going to kill him!”
Without anything further, you tore off after Daryl. The sun wasn’t up yet but the faint pink glow in the sky was enough to illuminate Alexandria in a wash of rosy hues. You ran as fast as you could but were hindered by the looseness of your boots. It felt as if you were running in sand and time seemed to slow. All sound vanished until the only thing you could hear at all was your own rapid breathing and the pounding of your heart. Your mind raced. Your footsteps reverberated through your body, rhythmic and jarring. You had to find Daryl. You had to make sure he didn’t get himself into deep shit because of you… because after what had just happened, you had no doubt that he would kill your ex.
Sure, it would probably be seen as justified considering the Molotov cocktail that had just followed a brick through his window—your stomach clenched. That could have been so much worse than it was. What if it had landed on you and Daryl? You wondered if your ex had been staring in through the window. The thought made your skin crawl and a nauseous wave rose into your throat. But you didn’t have time to linger on this thought any longer. Your house came into view ahead and there was a crumpled, writhing form on the lawn, cast in shadow. Suddenly, time returned to normal speed. As you got closer, the shadowy mass dissolved into two distinct human figures.
“Daryl!” you yelled. You ran as fast as you could and skidded to a stop. Daryl had your ex on the ground, firmly beneath him, and was pummeling him in the face and body with hit after hit. He didn’t even seem to hear you. “Daryl, stop!” You rushed forward and grabbed his shoulder but he shook you off absently.
The overwhelming smell of booze seemed to ooze outward in a cloud around your ex and that explained why it looked like he’d barely been able to put up any kind of resistance.
Rapid footsteps ran up behind you and you turned to see Rick, Michonne, and many of the other members of your family standing behind you. “Rick—do something! He’s going to kill him!”
Without hesitation, Rick and Michonne rushed forward and took hold of Daryl, hauling him off the now still and battered figure laying on the grass. Daryl continued to struggle against them, swearing under his breath and yelling threats at the prone body ahead. What finally stopped his pacing and frantic efforts to get back to dealing out a hefty prescription of justice was you.
You rushed forward and skirted around Rick to clasp Daryl’s face in both hands and make him look at you. “It’s over!” you said urgently. “It’s over! You got him. It’s okay!”
When his eyes found yours, the strain and tension in his body melted away and he stopped fighting. Your hands slipped down to his chest and you pressed your palms to him gently. He softened, his chest still heaving as he caught his breath. “Are ya—are ya okay?” he asked you again.
You nodded and then looked down at his clenched fists, which were shaking. “Your hands,” you said quietly. His knuckles were cracked and already swelling.
“‘M fine,” he said.
Rick left your ex’s side and returned to Daryl’s, looking at him with an intense expression that clearly suggested he needed a fucking explanation in less than three seconds.
“Ah, fuck,” Daryl murmured under his breath, ducking his head. You stepped to his side so he could speak with Michonne and Rick, but you kept your arm looped through his and your palm flush to the bare skin of his forearm. He was grateful. It was grounding him. “This asshole—just tried to kill us,” Daryl said between breaths. “He broke my fuckin’ window with a brick and then threw a goddamn Molotov through the window, barely missing catching my fuckin’ bed on fire.”
Rick’s jaw clenched but he paused and took a measured beat. “How do you know it was him?” he asked.
Daryl scoffed. “Ya mean besides the fact that when I went tearin’ out here he was runnin’ as fast as his drunk ass could away from our place?” Daryl glanced over at you and you tried your best to give him an encouraging nod. “How ‘bout ‘cuz I had someone he considers ‘his girl’ sleepin’ next to me in my bed because he beat the fuck outta her two days ago? She had to sneak off to even get help from Denise. Rick, man, he’s been hurtin’ her this entire time. Who else would it be?”
Rick’s face darkened and you saw the muscle in his jaw tense again. He glanced at you. “Is that true?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Denise has been helping me since we got here when I—when he hurts me too badly but I made her swear not to tell her anyone. But it’s been going on almost as long as he and I have been together. Years. You can talk to Denise. I’ll tell her it’s okay…”
Carol stepped forward. “Rick, I’ve had suspicions since the quarry,” she agreed, trying to give you a small, but sad, reassuring smile.
“There’s glass and scorch marks all over my room,” Daryl said. “This asshole deserves every hit I gave him and more. It coulda gone way worse…”
Rick exchanged a look with Michonne and sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Alright… All of you, go on back to the house. We don’t need a bigger scene than we’ve already got. Michonne, go get Denise to have a look at him and then—we’ll move him somewhere secure. I’ll talk to Deanna once the sun’s up…” He rubbed a hand over his forehead and sighed again.
Now that your adrenaline was waning, exhaustion returned along with a tremendous amount of pain in your body from pushing it to run. It must have been visible on your face, because Daryl asked again in a low voice, “Are ya alrigh’?” His brow furrowed deeply over his eyes.
You gulped, feeling the weight of the last few days like an iron anchor on your chest. You nodded. “Yeah. I—I think so. Sore. Tired.”
“C’mon. Let’s go home,” he said, gently touching the small of your back. Fluttering erupted in your chest.
You briefly stared up at the house that had been your “home” since shortly after you’d found Alexandria. But Daryl had always been your true home… and you’d known it since almost the moment you’d met him. You turned your back on it and walked with Daryl and the others to the only place where you felt truly safe.
Maggie and Carol had managed to squeeze you into hugs tightly on the front porch, but you had no energy or desire for anything else besides tending to Daryl’s hands and collapsing back into bed, even if there was still shattered glass and the smell of smoke in the room.
Daryl sat you down on the edge of the bed and insisted on patching up the window with cardboard and clearing away the remnants of your ex’s attack. You tugged him down to sit beside you when he’d finished and dabbed at his knuckles with a damp cloth, cleaning away the dried blood. Your eyes lifted to fix on the speckles of blood on his shirt and Daryl quickly glanced down and saw what you were staring at. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously.
“Let’s get you a clean shirt,” you said gently, reaching for the top button. “Can I?” you asked. He nodded. Not a moment of hesitation. You undid the buttons, your fingertips occasionally brushing his bare skin and sending him reeling or gulping thickly, and pushed the shirt back off his shoulders, finally tugging it free. Your eyes traveled over the scars on his chest and stomach. You’d seen them a few times over the years, but it struck you at that moment how alike you both were in this way. You too had constellations of violence on your skin. Your hands pressed gently to his chest and your eyes were glassy when you looked up and met his again. Daryl seemed to understand in that moment, what you were trying to say… You went to a clean pile of clothing draped over a chair in the corner and brought him a clean t-shirt. He quickly pulled it on and then gave you a long look.
“Ya ain’t scared of me now, are ya?” he asked, and your eyes shot back up to his.
“What? Are you kidding?” you brushed your fingers into his hair, moving it away from his face. “Of course not, Daryl. I’ve seen you fight bad men before now.”
He nudged his nose up in a nod, relieved. “I dun ever wanna scare ya,” he said.
Your warm hand came to rest on the side of his neck. He loved the weight and softness of it. “I know,” you said. “You won’t. You never have.”
Your eyes closed and you leaned in and found his lips with yours, kissing him softly and slowly. His arms wrapped around you and tugged you in, held you close. The kiss deepened, hungry and eager and filled with unsaid things. When you finally broke apart, Daryl nodded toward the pillows. “Think ya can sleep?”
“If you’re here? Yes.”
The two of you settled down beneath blankets and on soft pillows, but the most comforting was Daryl’s touch and weight against you.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Daryl tightened the chin strap on your helmet and gave you a small, fond smile. You grinned up at him, brimming with life and light. And you should be. Your ex was long gone, exiled from Alexandria and dropped off in parts unknown with a few supplies. Daryl had made sure he was there when it happened and also made sure that he knew if he saw him again, he’d get a bolt in his head before he could open his mouth.
Daryl leaned in kissed your cheek and then snuck another one on your neck, causing you to laugh. Your hair stood on end with the best kind of goosebumps. You bit you bottom lip and smiled up at him again. “C’mon. Let’s go show ev’rybody what we got today,” he said, patting a hand down on the deer meat strapped on the back of his bike.
He climbed onto his bike and leaned forward and you slipped in behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle and settling in close. The heat that pooled in the middle of your chest was the same as always. How many times had you ridden on Daryl’s bike at this point? And yet every time—without fail—you felt it as you settled down behind him. His hand left his handlebar and smoothed over yours for a moment.
“Ready?” he drawled.
“Ready,” you said. Your cheek pressed into the back of his shoulder as you hugged yourself to him. “Go fast!” you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice.
He let out a joyful laugh that you adored and smiled to himself. “You got it, boss,” he said, and he fired the motorcycle to life.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story. I made some intentional choices about the reader that reflect the fact that anyone, ANYONE, can be a victim of domestic abuse and violence. She is a survivor who knows how to fight, but still is subject to the abuse of her toxic and violent relationship. She had a support system, but still was unable to leave. She felt shame and guilt and hid it as is very common. DV is all too common and is very complex. Most people must attempt to leave an average of seven times before they are successful. If only we all had Daryl Dixon to rescue us. <3 Protect yourself by running a background check on people you date and being cautious about online dating. Watch for signs of a potentially dangerous relationship such as love bombing, insisting on moving things forward too fast, controlling behavior, and isolating you from your family and friends. Trust your gut. Trust that if ALL your friends and family don't like someone you date, there's probably a reason. Be safe. Love you. <3
If you or someone you know needs assistance with domestic violence (USA) call 800-799-7233 or text BEGIN to 88788. In the UK, help is available here: https://www.gov.uk/guidance/domestic-abuse-how-to-get-help#get-help-and-support
Summary: You call Daryl over the radio and tell him you're tired of the games, and want to finally have sex. Daryl drops everything he's doing to get to you.
Notes: The idea of Daryl wanting to have sex with someone so badly that he literally just gets on his bike and rides hours to do it????? It's just so hot????
There was the sound of creaking, shuffling, paper or boxes. You're breathing louder, and closer to the mic, he could almost feel your warm breath tickling his ear if he closed his eyes.
“I wanna talk to you.” A soft and breathy tone, it sent a freezing chill down his spine. He knew what that sound meant.
He raised his eyes from his fingers in his lap, glancing around the room. No one was paying him any attention. Maggie still looking out the window, Glenn still upstairs, and Michonne digging around in the kitchen.
“Yeah?” He responded, his voice coming out much lower than he intended.
“Yeah.” You sighed, and he could hear the same creaking sound. You were in a chair, moving around, restless, he could hear that now. “As hot as this is, what we've been doing…”
You and Daryl had been playing this game for a few months.
It started with caught glances, red cheeks, and then all of a sudden you were showing off for each other. Subtle, but obvious to anyone who'd caught sight of it.
You would be walking around Alexandria in those Bobbie Brooks shorts you and Daryl loved. Daryl started dressing nicer, swapping those long sleeved shirts for his older cutoff button ups, his biceps as eye-catching as a big red circle, a handful of arrows lit up with little gold neon lights, blinking and flickering ‘hey, look at me, all for you, look, please’.
Then came the flirting. Daryl was absolutely awful at it. You seemed like a professional compared to him, with your bedroom eyes and lip biting, that sweet sly grin you'd have after teasing him.
Daryl started with what made him hard when he'd catch you'd do it, which was staring shamelessly. He'd go out of his way to check out your ass when you'd walk in the other direction and give a simple smile when you'd look over your shoulder and catch him.
You always looked to see if he looked, and he always did.
“Daryl?”
He cleared his throat, blinking away the memory of your ass in those sinful jean shorts. He turned down the volume on his radio and raised it closer to his face. “Hmm. M’here.”
“How fast do you think you can get back?”
The question and what it alluded to had his dick twitching in his jeans. “Three hours.” He answered immediately, avoiding the curious look Maggie gave him from across the room.
“Think anyone's on this channel?” The sound of you humming was accompanied by footsteps, boots against the hardwood floor of your house.
“Shouldn't be.” He muttered, picking up his gun and bag and making his way to the front door.
“Everything okay?” Maggie asked, watching Daryl as she kept a lookout through the downstairs windows. They were on a supply run, going further out than usual, most places near Alexandria had been wiped clean.
“Yeah. S'fine. Got somethin’ to take care of. How much longer y'all gonna be?” Daryl slipped his shoulder through the strap on his crossbow, his radio still clutched tightly in his other hand.
“Gonna check a few other houses down this road, then the factory.” Maggie nodded. “We'll be back before sunset.”
Daryl offered a returned nod, unable to meet her eyes, the excitement of knowing he was about to have his dick in you making him jumpy.
He thought he was gonna have to be the one to ask, you'd always seemed so composed and patient, content with blue balling him and leaving your panties in his room.
“Be safe.” She called out after him as he walked down the concrete pathway, and he raised a hand in acknowledgment.
“You still there?” Even though he turned down the volume he could still hear you over the sound of his heavy boots over the concrete, and he raised his radio back to his face.
“Yeah. M’on my way.” He couldn't remember a time he'd felt so excited about something. No fear, no anxiety, no dread, just heart hammering anticipation.
His mouth watered as he fished out the keys to his bike from his pocket.
“Don't get a speeding ticket.”
Daryl chuckled, and got on his bike.
If cops were still a thing, he'd get a lot more than a ticket for the way he drove back home. He and the others took three hours to get to that town from Alexandria, and he made it back there in two. He hadn't had a ride like that since he was young, maybe back at the Greene farm or in Atlanta. He drove like he had a helmet, hell, like he had a full suit of armor, and gas was readily available at any of the gas stations he passed by.
You were standing in your closest when he finally tried to reach you. Standing completely still, biting your bottom lip to keep from giggling.
“Where?” You had to turn down the volume to keep from being found.
“You gotta find me.” You breathed, your cheeks aching from the smile on your face. He'd come through your room twice already, the second time confused, and now he was no doubt checking his room.
“Gotta find you?” He repeated, the image of his bewildered face was easy to imagine.
“Mhm. See if you can find me before I come.” You whispered, your smile fading the lower your hand slipped down the front of your shorts.
“Oh, shit.” You mumbled. Your fingertips grazed against your clit, finding that you were already soaking. You hadn't touched yourself before then, but it felt like you'd been going at it for hours.
Daryl's muffled grunt came through the radio, either annoyance or something else. Maybe hearing you make those noises was enough to get him hard. You didn't know he'd been hard off and on since he got on his bike.
“I don't, I don't think you've got a lot of time-”
Heavy boots sounded coming up the stairs again, quicker than your racing heartbeat. The sound sent a bolt of excitement through your chest, knowing he was ready to start flipping over tables just to find you, just to touch you.
“Warmer.” You stifled your moan, moving your fingers quicker against your clit. He paused for a second, you could hear him at the end of the hall. He walked into Michonne's bedroom and you had to fight away the laugh that threatened to give you away.
“Cold.”
His footsteps echoed down the hall as he came back to your room once again. You held your breath and slowed your movements, watching through the cracks in the closet door.
God, the sight of him standing in your doorway looking for you was enough to come to. He looked so… dedicated, fueled by the motivation to get you in his hands and make you regret teasing him like that.
“Hot.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched, your wide eyes illuminated by the daylight through the lines in the door. He walked into your room, looking under the bed, getting on his knees.
He stood, flicking his head to get the hair from his face.
He flipped the comforter of your bed and it almost made you giggle that he thought you could somehow be hiding under it.
Your heart stopped when he turned his head to look at the closet door. The only other place you could be.
His boots sounded like they were weighed down with bricks as he approached the door, each step sending your heart racing faster and faster. You pulled your hands from your shorts and unbuttoned them, the sound making him let out the scoff of a man very pleased with himself.
You turned off the radio as he slid the doors open, greeting you with a lopsided grin.
“I win.” His proclamation was almost innocent, proud of himself and eager to make his accomplishment known.
“Yeah.” Your fingers worked to unbuckle his belt as you grinned up at him. “What happened to three hours?”
“Light traffic.”
You laughed as he went back to shut and lock your door, turning on your speaker in the process. He didn't want to risk anyone hearing the sounds he intended on dragging out of you, and ruining the moment. It was a sweet gesture.
He was back in front of you in a few short seconds to continue the game of undressing each other, something that could've been done quicker if you just did it to yourselves. That would be a lot less fun.
His hands on your face caught you off guard. Gentle fingertips graced your lips, the scent of hand soap filling your nose, and you smiled. He'd washed his fucking hands.
“God.” You shook your head in disbelief, unzipping his pants as you slowly walked him backwards to your bed. “You're something else.”
He snorted, slipping his thumb between your lips. “Yeah?”
“Mhm. You washed your hands.”
“Course I did.”
He sat down on the bottom of your bed, his hands moving from your face to slide down your sides, resting at your hips. “Been wantin’ to feel you inside. Ain't gonna do that with dirt and blood on my fingers.”
You closed your eyes and sighed, from his words and the feel of said hands tugging your shorts down your thighs. “Somethin’ else.” You repeated.
Although Daryl looked absolutely breathtaking covered in blood, you were grateful he'd been so thoughtful. UTIs in the apocalypse were no joke.
You worked on the buttons of your shirt as he pushed his pants down, and you'd be lying if the sight of him pulling his cock out didn't make you swoon.
His hands were clean, but he still looked like he'd been through hell and back. He was sweaty, his biceps gleaming, the crevices of his muscles made darker from the dirt and whatever else he'd been rolling in out there. His hair messy and ruffled from driving god knows how fast on that motorcycle.
The feeling of his hot breath on your bare stomach had you sniffing in surprise. You opened your eyes and looked down, letting out a soft whimper at the sight of the top of his head. He planted a kiss between your ribs, keeping his hands on your sides to keep you steady as he worked his way down your stomach, every other kiss his tongue would slip out of his lips and trace deep circles in your skin.
You watched him bury his face in the front of your panties, nuzzling his nose against the fabric before breathing in like he was smelling flowers. You couldn't help but grin at the comparison, your fingers now in his hair and brushing the tangles out.
“Smell-” he muttered through kisses to the fabric, “-so good.” He kissed up to the waistband, moving from the front to the side where your hip bones sat. He opened his mouth and bit down, his teeth grinding your skin between them, causing you to let out a rather loud whine of surprise.
“C'mere.” He didn't wait for you to respond or even acknowledge him before grabbing hold of your ass in his hands, lifting you and bringing you into his lap.
Being manhandled like that was another thing that drove you crazy. You whimpered and shifted in his lap, sucking in a sharp breath when you felt his heavy cock brushing against the crotch of your panties.
He groaned, the sound muffled from the way he grits his teeth. He must've been caught off guard by how embarrassingly wet you were, he could feel all of it against his bare dick. Warm and wet, fabric catching and grinding on his length, he had to focus on his breathing to avoid coming right there and then.
“Here.” He muttered, his fingers looping in the sides of your panties and urging you to maneuver your legs so he could pull them off of you. Once he did he shuddered, the breath vibrating in his chest.
The sight of you, wet and on partial display, sitting right on his dick, it could've killed him. He pulled himself together and moved his hands between your thighs, wasting no time in touching you like he'd dreamed of for months.
“Hmm.” He grunted, his jaw visibly flexing from how hard he was clenching down.
You could barely keep your eyes open. It was a lot. He moved his fingers the same way they felt, rough and forceful. He tried to be smart, circling your clit, lightly pinching it, but he lost his patience fairly quickly and began moving all four of his fingers in flat circles over your entire pussy.
“Mmmm, god.” You shuddered, grabbing onto his shoulders which felt massive under your hands. He was being sloppy and impatient, but god it felt amazing. He was enjoying touching you like this almost as much as you were receiving it.
He looked up at you and you lost it. Seeing those eyes on your face had you gasping, trembling, your thighs trying to close around his hand but his waist prevented it. You forced yourself to look at him, your eyes flickering from his eyes, wide and attentive, doing the same thing yours were, to his parted lips. His fingers were relentless on your slippery cunt, growing more rough and fast, sliding over your clit and quickly overstimulating you.
You tried to crawl off of him and get away from his hands, but he kept you in place with his free hand and dipped a slick finger inside you.
“Nn-” you gasped, your hips jerking in his lap. He held you tight against him, his finger too thick and too hot, it was too much, you tossed your head back and whined like you'd been stabbed.
“Fuck.” Daryl whispered, his eyes still on your face, filled with awe at the sight in front of him. His dick twitched under you and his hand, precum oozing from the slit in his tip. Your cheeks looked like you'd been slapped, red and hot, and tears beaded at the corners of your wet eyes, which couldn't decide if they wanted to stay closed or look back at him in something akin to horror.
He curled his finger, a simple experiment, and the way your hips ground down against him led him to continue, his middle finger digging deeper and deeper inside you, curling and twisting until you actually begged him to stop. His thumb rubbing quick and deep circles against your clit was more intense than anything you could ever dream of doing to yourself.
“Stop, s’too much.” You slurred, pushing on his shoulders.
“Alright, alright, shh.” He cooed, drawing his fingers from between your legs and wiping them against your trembling lips.
“Gonna,” you shivered against his chest, fighting to catch your breath. “Gonna show you what that's like.”
He grinned and nodded.
Once you gave him the nod to continue, he grabbed onto your waist and laid you down on your back. The cool air felt amazing against your throbbing cunt, but that relief was soon replaced by Daryl's hot mouth.
“Oh, god, Daryl, wait.” You laughed, a mix of nervousness and excitement. If he was as sloppy and eager as he was with his fingers then you'd be in for the filthiest oral of your life.
“Shh, c'mon.” He breathed, his breath tickling your clit. “Lemme taste.” His eyes flicked up to you and chills ran down your entire body. “Jus' a taste.”
You breathed, looking down at him over your torso. The image of him between your thighs had a tired smile spreading on your lips and you nodded, earning a wicked grin from Daryl. He was a whore for winning, that was for sure.
He lowered his mouth back on you, keeping his eyes on your face as he tried different movements. His gaze had you fucking stunlocked. You couldn't look away, couldn't close your eyes or move from your position, propped up on your elbows, watching him watch you.
You were right, he was just as primal as he was with his fingers. He licked you like you were the inside of a chip bag, digging his tongue into every crevice and fold, determined on making you cum on his lips.
He was doing a damn good job at it.
You groaned and took in a trembling breath. Your eyelids grew heavy and it became hard to watch him.
“Oh my god.” You wailed weakly. Your thighs started twitching, bumping against the sides of his head. You tried to sit still, but your orgasm came and your hips took on a life of their own, bucking and grinding up against his fervid mouth.
He grunted, grinding his own hips into the mattress. He panted as he watched you cum, having lost his breath giving you the best head of your fucking life.
“Like the way you do that.” He crawled up your body, leaving wet kisses up your torso, giving special attention to the nipples he neglected earlier. “Never seen somethin' like that b‘fore.”
You moaned in response, grabbing his hair. Your heart was breaking a goddamn record, it had to be, it never raced like this even when running from walkers in the woods.
He took a nipple between his teeth, rolling and biting the same way he bit your hip. You whimpered and gasped, trying to regain your bearings, but he made it so, so hard. Especially when he tortured your nipples like he was trying to pierce them with his teeth.
“Never thought you'd be so…” You were cut off with a yelp when your other nipple was pinched, making you suddenly extremely grateful that he didn't pinch your clit like that.
“What?” He muttered, his teeth still clamped around your nipple, and rolled his hips against you. His bare dick pushed through your folds, quickly becoming soaked.
You groaned, low and deep.
“Aggressive.” You finished.
“Wan’ me to stop?” He pulled his mouth off of you momentarily, now looking down at your poor messy face. It made him feel proud, knowing he was the reason you looked like such a mess. Hair already wild and frazzled, eyes still wet and cheeks even darker in color.
“I can be gentle.” He drawled with a sick grin, and ground his pelvis into you again.
Another groan dragged through your raw throat. “Nnn, no.”
He snorted, and snaked his hand down between your bodies.
You drew in a deep breath. You felt the tip of him drag through your folds again, just as much of a tease as his voice, up to your raw clit and your aching hole.
Now Daryl was the one shuddering against you. You could hear his teeth grinding together as he lined himself up with you, his shoulders heaving above you, and finally, he pushed in.
He was too rushed and too forceful, so his head just slipped back up your folds and drove against your clit. You whimpered at the sharp tingles, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth to muffle the noises.
Daryl muttered a curse and lined himself up again, learning from his mistake, and pushed in slower.
Your body trembled. Your back arched, your jaw dropped, and your eyes rolled back into your head. It was indescribable. He was so thick and you were so sensitive, one would think all the foreplay would've made it easy for him to slip inside, but your walls pushed against him in desperate protest. You tried to relax but it was all so much, your cunt was spent and fought against you and his dick.
He won, again, and bottomed out in the first thrust.
The sounds that left both of your mouths were ten times better than any song your stereo could play. Daryl choked on a gasp, the sweet sound melting into your name.
You could've sobbed. You almost did, your moan bubbling against your lips, low and whiny.
Again your name was whimpered, and you responded with a strangled whimper of your own, your fists curled around his leather vest with all the strength left in your hands.
You could tell he was trying his best to treat you right after the torture he put you through, dragging his dick out slow and gentle, but each time he pushed back into you his exhale came out ragged and raw.
It was funny, how you were begging him to ease up on you earlier but now you were about to beg him to fuck you until you couldn't breathe. You supposed that's what your body wanted the entire time, his mouth and fingers were amazing, but your greedy walls wanted his cock more than anything.
“More, Daryl, please-”
You barely got the words out before he was obliging, snapping his hips forward like he'd been waiting for your permission. The blunt force of the thrust knocked a crude moan from you.
You got what you wanted, he started fucking you until you literally couldn't breathe. His chest had fallen against yours, and his arms slipped under your back to hold you tight against him.
He buried his face in your neck, his teeth and lips making the skin there wet and red. It was incredibly hot how much he enjoyed biting, it was so animalistic and primal, something he didn't think too deeply into before doing it. It wasn't that he wanted to mark you, claim you, he just wanted to bite, bite, and bite.
The way your moans changed to sobs of ecstasy sent a jolt of pleasure through his dick. With a deep growl, he pulled your hips up hard, pelvis rolling down to meet you with a swift and forceful motion, sending a surge of pleasure through your walls and lower stomach.
You moaned something, a mix of about seven different words, your core fluttering and flipping each time he rammed his hips into you, forcing his dick as deep as possible.
He clamped his teeth around the skin where neck meets shoulder, another way to keep you in place, as if his arms and legs weren't doing a good enough job. He'd twisted his legs around your ankles, something you couldn't picture or comprehend, but your feet were rendered immobile by his thighs and it was sexy enough for you not to question it.
“Fuck!” He growled, slamming his pelvis into you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs.
“God oh, hnn-Daryl!” You whimpered with your eyes squeezed shut. He was hammering into you like you were paying a goddamn debt, knocking your headboard into the wall so hard you were sure Carol or Rick would burst in with their guns drawn, thinking a walker had you fighting for your life.
“Shit.” He choked, and came without any further warning, his hands moving from your back to grip your hips and yank you up on his cock. You cried out, wriggling your feet free from his legs to twist around his waist.
He blurted your name into your neck, gasping and panting. He rolled his hips with quick and frantic movements, fucking his cum deep inside you. He ground down into you until his body shook, and then his muscles relaxed.
“Turn over.” You breathed, and he did.
He was expecting you to climb off, maybe fall down beside him and share the mutual blissful exhaustion.
You kept his softening dick inside you as you settled on top of him, managing a weak smirk when you saw the sleepy confusion on his face.
Your hips rolled, and he whimpered.
You savored the way confusion bled to regret, his eyebrows relaxing and his lips parting.
His hands grabbed onto your hips, wanting to hold you in place and prevent your walls from dragging up his sensitive dick, but he knew he deserved it. You told him you'd show him what it was like.
“How's it feel, hmm.” You moved your hips back and forth in his lap, biting your lip at the many stages of guilt and pleasure that went through his sweaty face.
He couldn't speak, so he just settled on a nod, his eyes falling closed as his throat bobbed with a dry swallow.
You went on for another minute before you physically couldn't anymore. You gave one last roll of your hips, making sure to clench down on him, and lifted up until his dick was dragged out of you.
“Goddamn.” He mumbled.
It felt amazing to be empty and bare, it was enough to make you moan, your body falling to the side to lay next to him. The silence was welcome.
"Daryl?" You breathed, using the back of your hand to push your hair from your face.
"Hm?" The sound was gravelly and sleepy, he was clearly only seconds away from sleep.
"You ever drive like that again and I'll tell Carol."
"Not my fault ya' decided ya' wanted to fuck me now."
a/n: hi guys ! sorry it’s been a little while, i’ve honestly not had much motivation but i managed to get this out for the person that requested ! i think i may have a little writers block, but i’m gonna try and rewatch twd to help me out with my inspo 🫶🏻 i apologise that it’s short, but hey, what can we do !
if you enjoy my writing, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! your support always means the world to me 🫶🏻 requests are currently closed, but i will be opening them up soon hopefully !
summary: daryl thinks he isn’t good enough for you because he’s too “old”
requested: @/nuhogom requested; could you do an age gap fic with daryl? reader is well into her/their 20’s though!! i’d love a secret relationship too! maybe if it’s set in twd, it’s because daryl is still kinda insecure etc.
warnings: none ! a bit of angst maybe???
word count: 879
resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight
➵ rules
➵ masterlist
➵ ask box
it was late at hilltop, and the faint hum of crickets mixed with the occasional groan of a walker beyond the walls. inside, everything felt peaceful. you sat in your little trailer, curled beneath a blanket, waiting for daryl. he didn’t stop by every night, much to your dismay, but you could always sense when he would. there was something between you—something electric, fragile, and unspoken, like a current neither of you dared disturb.
a soft knock echoed through the quiet, followed by the slow creak of the door opening. there he was, crossbow slung over his shoulder, eyes a mix of stoic and softened by the dim light of your trailer. his gaze found yours immediately, warm and inviting.
“thought you weren’t comin’,” you said, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as you watched him, your eyes tracing every one of his movements.
“had to finish a run for tara,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly. he didn’t need to explain further—his presence was enough. it always had been. words had never been necessary between the two of you.
you’d been seeing each other for months now, in secret. daryl, being in his forties, knew that people would talk if they found out. they’d whisper, judge, say you were too young for him, too bright for someone as worn as him. he hated the idea of being the one to pull you into those whispers, to tarnish you with their judgments. but at the same time, he couldn’t stay away.
you didn’t care about any of that, though. not in a world like this. what did other people’s opinions matter when survival was all that was left?
“no one’s gonna know,” you whispered, sitting up a bit and placing a hand on his arm. “it’s just us here.”
he hesitated, glancing away for a moment before his eyes settled back on you. “it ain’t right. yer young. people’ll talk, make it worse.”
you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his need to protect you warred with his desire to be close. but you weren’t a kid anymore. you were capable of making your own decisions, and you had chosen him.
“i don’t care what they think,” you said softly but firmly. “none of that matters. i care about you—that’s all i need.”
daryl sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he shook his head, but his hand found yours. his fingers, rough and calloused from years of surviving, wrapped gently around yours. he pulled you closer, tucking you under his arm as you leaned into him, your head resting against his chest. his other arm came around you, solid and protective, as though he were the only thing standing between you and the chaos of the world outside.
“don’t know why you want someone like me,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.
you tilted your head to look up at him, his expression clouded with doubt. “i want someone like you because you’re kind, and you care more than you let on. you see me for who i am, not for who people think i should be.”
his brow furrowed slightly, the weight of your words sinking in. it wasn’t often that anyone took the time to look past the walls he kept up, and fewer still bothered to try.
you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “stop worrying about them. it’s just us.”
daryl didn’t reply, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you in until you were practically in his lap. your head rested against his chest, and you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a sound that brought you more comfort than you ever thought possible.
his fingers slowly combed through your hair as the silence stretched between you, easy and familiar. your eyes drifted closed, feeling the tension seep out of him as his body relaxed against yours. this was a side of him no one else saw—vulnerable, unguarded, and you cherished it, every rare moment of it.
time seemed to blur, the rest of the world fading away as you sat there together. daryl’s hand never stopped moving through your hair, his touch so tender it was hard to believe it came from someone so hardened by life.
“i ain’t good at this,” he mumbled after a while, his voice low and almost apologetic. “don’ know how to do relationships—how to… be what you need.”
you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “you’re already everything i need, daryl.”
his eyes softened at your words, the usual tension in his features melting away. he leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. it wasn’t rushed, as though he wanted to savor every second, commit it all to memory.
when you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, breathing him in. “i’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “not unless you want me to.”
he shook his head, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “ain’t ever gonna want that.”
your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, nestling back into his chest, his arms keeping you close, holding onto you like you were his anchor in the storm.
Would you do a jealous daryl fic? Im pretty open to whatever, I just like it when he gets all riled up.
Play Date.
•Summary: You confess to Daryl, but he doesn’t take it serious, leaving you heartbroken. But when he sees you with Spencer the next day, it sparks jealousy in him he didn’t know he had. (Fem reader)
•Warnings: 18+, No established relationship, angst, fluff
•Word Count: 3.5k
•Setting: Alexandria
•A/N: thank you for the request anon! I’m sorry if you aren’t happy with the results. It took me awhile to write this 🫶🏼 I think if Daryl were actually in a relationship with you, he’d be more trusting so he wouldn’t be as jealous.
The walls of Alexandria were a stark contrast to the world outside. It wasn’t just the literal separation between life and death, safety and chaos; it was the reminder of what life had been before everything fell apart. It wasn’t long ago that the world had been buzzing with electricity, the hum of cities, and the simple luxuries they all took for granted. But now? Now, the very idea of safety felt alien.
You glanced over at the furniture as you walked around the home you had been given, the group clustered around you like a protective herd. You all had been in Alexandria for only a day or two, and even though everyone was supposed to be settling in, there was an air of distrust hanging over the group. Rick, in particular, was on edge, his eyes scanning every corner of the street for unseen threats.
Daryl, meanwhile, looked as out of place as he felt. His clothes were worn and dirty, his hair hanging down over his face, but it wasn’t just his appearance that set him apart from the clean-cut Alexandrians. It was the way he held himself, like a caged animal, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.
You’d known Daryl long enough to recognize the signs. He didn’t belong in a place like this, and he knew it. Hell, none of them did. But Daryl? He was different. He’d always been more comfortable in the wild even before the fall, so here, with their pristine houses and manicured lawns, he felt suffocated.
When Deanna invited everyone to the party, Daryl’s reaction was immediate and expected.
“I ain’t goin’,” he grunted, not even looking at you as he adjusted the strap on his crossbow. He was standing on the porch of the house you were all sharing, still on edge about sleeping inside, feeling a need to stay outside and keep watch to protect them from any and all possible dangers.
“Daryl…” you started, your voice soft, knowing that reasoning with him required patience. “It’s just for a little while. We’ve been out there so long, and Deanna’s trying to make us feel at home. I know it’s not what you want, but could you come? For me?”
Daryl stopped, his fingers stilling on the strap, and he turned to look at you, his blue eyes piercing through the shadows of his messy hair. You saw the hesitation in him, the way he always struggled with doing things for others when they weren’t strictly necessary for survival. But you weren’t asking for much—just his presence.
“Fine,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “‘But I ain’t puttin’ on no tie.”
A small smile tugged at your lips. “Deal.”
The party was already in full swing by the time you had arrived. People were mingling, drinks in hand, laughter filling the air in a way that felt foreign to the group that had spent so long fighting for their lives. It was strange, surreal even, to see people acting as though the world outside wasn’t in ruins. You noticed how uncomfortable Daryl looked almost immediately, his broad shoulders hunched in his black button up shirt while his eyes scanned the crowd as if he were looking for an escape route.
Daryl didn’t say much, hovering behind you like a shadow, his discomfort evident in every tense movement. People from Alexandria approached you, eager to learn about the new arrivals. They asked questions—about where your group had came from, how long they’d been on the road, and how you were all adjusting. You answered politely, but there was always a part of you that held back, a part that still didn’t fully trust this place.
Daryl, meanwhile, was grateful that no one spoke to him, even if the reason they didn’t was because they feared him. He stayed quiet, following you from conversation to conversation, his eyes flicking between you and the people who approached. He felt out of place, like he didn’t belong among these clean, well-fed people who seemed oblivious to the horrors faced outside those walls. But he stayed because you, the person he loved, asked him to.
Eventually, Deanna approached, her smile warm as she introduced you and Daryl to her husband, Reg.
“It’s so nice to meet you both.” Reg began, glancing between the two of them with a kind smile. “So, how long have you two been together?”
Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly corrected him, laughing nervously. “Oh, no, we’re not… we’re not together.”
Daryl stayed silent, his heart was racing but he said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air for a second too long before Deanna’s smile widened knowingly.
“Well, you make a good team,” she said before moving on, leaving them both standing there in the midst of the party.
You felt a strange mix of emotions swirl inside you—embarrassment, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You glanced at Daryl, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the floor.
Before you could say anything, Spencer appeared, smiling that easy, charming smile of his as he greeted you. Daryl tensed immediately, his eyes narrowing as Spencer completely ignored his presence and focused all his attention on you, like everyone at this party had done.
“Glad to see you’re fitting in,” Spencer said, his tone just a little too smooth. He leaned in slightly, his body language relaxed but… suggestive. You noticed it, but tried to push the thought aside, assuming you were reading too much into it.
You both made small talk for a few minutes, Spencer doing most of the talking while you nodded politely, trying not to let your discomfort show. Daryl, on the other hand, could see right through Spencer’s act. He recognized the way Spencer’s eyes lingered a little too long, the way his smile was just a little too practiced.
His jaw tightened as he watched Spencer flirt with you right in front of him. It wasn’t that he thought you were his—but the way Spencer looked at you, like you were a conquest, made him feel frustrated, made him feel emotions he’s never felt for anyone before, feelings he didn’t think he was capable of feeling.
“I’m gon’ get a drink.” Daryl muttered under his breath, though he had no intention of actually getting one. Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for the door, needing to get away before he did something stupid. You barely noticed as he walked away, too caught up in Spencer’s conversation. It wasn’t until Spencer asked, “So, do you have a boyfriend?” that your mind shifted to Daryl.
You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you thought about your feelings for Daryl. You weren’t together, but you couldn’t deny that your heart had long since gravitated toward him.
“No,” you finally answered, voice quiet.
Spencer’s smile widened, and before you could say anything else, he asked, “Then how about we go out sometime?” The question caught you off guard, but you recovered quickly, offering him a polite smile as you shook your head. “I’m not really interested, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t really handle the awkwardness of the conversation, so you began to walk away, but Spencer wasn’t one to take no for an answer. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist a little too tightly, his smile fading into something harder. “Come on,” he said, his tone insistent. “It’s just a date.”
You tensed immediately, your eyes narrowing as you tried to pull your wrist free. “Let go,” you said firmly, your voice was low enough that no one else at the party noticed.
For a moment, Spencer hesitated, his grip tightening. But then he seemed to remember where they were—surrounded by both Alexandrians and people
of Rick’s group—and he released you, his expression shifting back into a smooth, apologetic smile.
“Sorry about that,” he said quickly, but the red mark on your wrist told a different story.
Without another word, you turned and walked away, heading toward the table with the drinks to look for Daryl. But when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. What you did see, though, was Spencer already chatting up Sasha, his flirtatious smile back in full force.
You sighed, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over you. The night wasn’t turning out the way you had hoped. You wanted to enjoy it, to maybe have a quiet moment with Daryl, but instead, it felt like everything was falling apart.
Needing some air, you stepped outside, the cool night breeze brushing against your skin. It didn’t take long to spot Daryl, leaning against a nearby fence, a cigarette between his lips as he stared out into the darkness.
You approached him slowly, your heart still racing from the interaction with Spencer. As you got closer, Daryl’s eyes shifted to you, and the moment he saw the red mark on your wrist, his entire demeanor changed.
“Wha’ happened?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.
You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but you knew there was no point in lying to him. “Spencer grabbed me when I tried to leave,” you really didn’t want to already start problems. “It’s fine. He let go.”
Daryl’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching as he tossed the cigarette to the ground, already turning to head back toward the house. “I’m gon’ kill ‘im.”
“Daryl, wait,” quickly, you stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I want to spend the night with you. Not dealing with that. Please.”
He stopped, his fists still clenched, his eyes blazing with barely contained anger. But something about the way you said it—the way you asked him to stay with you—made him pause. He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm the storm inside him.
“If he gets near ya again, I swear…”
You smiled softly, touched by his protectiveness. “I know. But you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you—and the rest of the group—watching out for me. I’m fine.”
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggled with the emotions swirling inside him. He wanted to protect you, wanted to make sure no one ever laid a hand on you, but there was something else gnawing at him—something he didn’t quite know how to deal with.
Jealousy.
He didn’t think he had a right to feel it, but it was there, a bitter taste in his mouth. Spencer was younger, cleaner, probably the kind of guy you deserved. And him? He was older, rough around the edges, scarred in more ways than one.
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you spoke again, voice steady. “Daryl… you don’t have to worry about Spencer or anyone else. My heart… it already belongs to you.”
For a moment, Daryl froze, his mind going blank as your words sank in. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. You couldn’t be serious. There was no way someone like you—someone strong, kind, beautiful—could feel that way about him.
A defensive scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head while giving your shoulder a playful nudge.
Your smile faltered, and you felt the sting of his actions deep in your chest. You’d laid your heart bare, and he’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But you didn’t let the hurt show. Instead, you forced a small laugh, playing it off like it was a joke.
But inside, your heart was breaking.
Without another word, you turned and began walking back in the direction toward your shared home with the others, your chest tight with the weight of his rejection. You felt like you had taken a leap, only to be pushed away, and now all you wanted to do was disappear.
Daryl watched you go as he lit another cigarette, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t untangle. His jealously, his feelings for you, things he’d never discuss out loud.
After arriving, you realized you were alone in the house. Everyone was still at the party and the silence was too deafening, leaving you unable to shake the pit in your stomach. The night stretched on endlessly as you rested on the worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling, the events of what happened playing on a loop in your mind.
Rejection. The taste of it still burned in your chest. You had put your heart on the line, and Daryl didn’t seem to notice. It had felt like a punch to the gut, leaving you winded and second-guessing everything. He hadn’t even said anything real—just brushed it off like you were joking, and now, the quiet gnawed at you, making you feel smaller by the minute. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and that thought consumed you throughout the night.
The next day passed in a blur. You barely caught a glimpse of Daryl, knowing he was out with Aaron, who had given him a new job as a recruiting partner after he had invited him over for dinner. Every step he took away from you felt like another brick in the wall that was forming between you two. You wrestled with your feelings, considering maybe it was time to let loose.
And maybe it was time to open your options with someone else.
That afternoon, while you sat on the porch, a warm breeze brushing against your skin, Spencer appeared, looking sheepish. “Hey, about yesterday...” His voice was shaky, unsure. He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting to the ground before he finally met your eyes. “I’m really sorry for grabbing your wrist like that. I had too much to drink and I was way out of line.”
You remembered the incident from the party—the way he had grabbed you, too rough, too desperate. But now, seeing the guilt in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pity.
“It’s fine,” you forced a small smile. “You were buzzed. I totally get it.”
Relief washed over his face, and he grinned, more confident now. “So... what about that date?”
You hesitated for a moment, your heart still aching for someone else, but the thought of moving on, of trying to distract yourself from the pain, seemed tempting. Maybe you could use Spencer to forget Daryl. “Sure,” you replied, surprising yourself with the ease in your voice.
The date was... fine. That was the best word to describe it. Spencer talked a lot about himself—his job before the fall, his family, the world he missed. He asked you questions too, seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, but as much as you tried, you couldn’t really care. His words barely made a dent in your thoughts, because they were always somewhere else—on Daryl.
But Spencer, oblivious to your disinterest, seemed to think it was a success. He walked you home afterward, his arm brushing yours every now and then. You found yourself laughing at some of the things he said, more out of politeness than anything else, but for a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.
As you approached the front porch, you failed to notice Daryl.
He stood there, not far from the house, just returning from his run with Aaron. He froze, his eyes locked on you and Spencer, his face hardening into something unreadable. Daryl just watched, hands clenched at his sides with his jaw tight.
By the time you reached the porch, you felt tired in more ways than one. As Spencer gave you a final, confident smirk, promising to see you again soon, he finally left. You were lost in thought. The silence wrapped around you, and for a while, you almost forgot about the strange encounter—until you spotted Daryl walking right towards you.
“Hey, Dary—”
Before you could finish, Daryl’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to pull you toward him. His face was a storm of anger, jealousy, and something else you couldn’t quite place. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, like he was barely keeping it together. He dragged you into the house, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the frame. “The hell ya doin’ with tha’ asshole?” he spat, his voice low and accent thick, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.
You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? We were just talking.”
Daryl scoffed, pacing like a caged animal. “Talkin’? That son’of a bitch touched ya, now yer walkin’ ‘round with him like it didn’t mean nothin’.”
You crossed your arms, defensiveness rising in your chest. “He apologized. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
His eyes flashed, and you could see the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not a big deal? He hurt ya!” His voice was louder now, frustration pouring out of him.
And then it hit you—why he was acting this way. Was he... jealous? The realization made your blood boil. After he brushed you off, now he wanted to care? Now he wanted to feel something?
You snapped, your voice laced with anger. “So what? It wasn’t nearly as bad as you hurt me! So stop acting like we’re together when you clearly don’t care!”
Your words hung in the air, cutting through him like a knife. You watched as Daryl’s expression shifted from anger to confusion. “What?” His voice was quieter now, unsure.
Your heart clenched, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally crashing down on you. “Last night,” you began, your voice was softer now, but still trembling with emotion. “When I told you my heart belonged to you... you acted like it was a joke.”
His breath caught in his throat. He remembered. The way he had shrugged it off, laughed it away, thinking you were just messing around. He had never thought, not in a million years, that you could feel that way about him. A girl like you? Loving a guy like him? It was laughable.
But now, seeing the pain in your eyes, it wasn’t funny at all.
“I... I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. “Thought ya were just messin’ ‘round.” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.
You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away as you took in the sight of him—this man who had built up walls so high, he couldn’t even see when someone was trying to climb them. “Why would I joke about something like that, Daryl?” you asked, almost pleading. Maybe he was used to Carol’s humor, or maybe he didn’t think he deserved you.
He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Didn’t think redneck trash would be worth yer time.”
His words hit you harder than you expected. The way he saw himself, the way he spoke of himself—it hurt. But in this moment, the vulnerability in his voice, the way he couldn’t even look at you... it was endearing.
“Daryl...” you called softly, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached out, gently placing your index finger and your thumb under his chin, tilting his face up until his eyes met yours. The closeness between you made the air crackle with anticipation.
His eyes flickered between your gaze and your lips, nervous, unsure. He bit the inside of his lip, fidgeting with his fingers, and you knew—he was waiting for your next move.
With a steady breath, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, it deepened. When you finally pulled away, you stayed close, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Of course you’re worth my time.”
Daryl’s eyes were wide, his breath shallow. For a long moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. Then, in a quiet manner, he cleared his throat. “I love ya.” The words left his mouth in a very subtle whisper as you felt his breath against your lips.
Your heart stopped, the world seeming to freeze for just a second. He... loved you?
“I love you too, Daryl,” you whispered back, smiling before leaning in to kiss him again.
After a long, tender moment, you pulled back, and Daryl glanced away, embarrassed. “Ya still gon’ hang out with tha’ guy?” he asked, his voice gruff but his tone soft.
You laughed, completely forgetting about Spencer. “No,” you cupped Daryl’s cheek gently, making him revert his gaze back to you. “I have you. That’s all I need.”
Daryl Dixon wouldn’t consider himself a picky man. It was the end of the world. Good food was extremely hard to come by. You ate what you could and you didn’t refuse, or else you’d go to bed hungry. There was no in-between, and Daryl understood that more than most.
However, as Daryl watched you reach into the jar of pickles to eat the green vegetable with the homemade ice cream Carol had somehow managed to make for you, he was beginning to realize that there were some lines regarding food he straight up refused to cross.
“Ain’t no way the ice cream tastes good with them pickles,” Daryl voiced after a few minutes of simply observing you devour the odd food combination you had been craving for days at that point in time. “Ain’t no way in hell.”
You looked up from the book you were reading while relaxing in bed, your hand stilling its motion of rubbing your baby bump, your eyes locking with Daryl’s cerulean-coloured ones. You nearly snorted at the expression on his face. Never before had you seen him as grossed out quite like in that moment. “Don’t blame me for this. It’s what your kid wants, apparently.”
“S’disgustin’,” Daryl told you, a shudder rolling down his spine at the mere thought of what the odd food combination could possibly taste like.
“Says the guy that literally once ate a worm,” you reminded him with a playful smile. “And dog meat, if I remember correctly, which you absolutely devoured.”
“That was different. We were on the road and didn’t have nothin’ else to eat. We didn’t have a choice,” he retorted. “‘Sides, s’not like I paired the meat with cake or somethin’. I ate it as is, so it wasn’t nearly as disgustin’ as this.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Babe,” you laughed and popped another pickle into your mouth.
Daryl grimaced when you added a spoonful of ice cream to your mouth without even swallowing the pickle. When you simply sent him a smile, he chuckled and shook his head. “Ain’t gon’ argue with ya ‘cause I know there ain’t no point and I’d rather not piss ya off.”
You giggled at him. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” You looked down at the pickle jar and frowned when you saw that it was empty. You looked up at your partner and gave him your best puppy dog eyes. “Could you get me some more, please?”
Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah. Jus’ give me a minute. Need to do somethin’ real quick.” Daryl leaned forward and lowered his head to your bump, pressing a soft, tender kiss to it. “Yer makin’ yer mama real crazy, lil’ one. Messin’ with her brain, makin’ her believe that she’s got somethin’ delicious goin’ on here. M’beggin’ ya to make her stop. She’s killin’ me with these weird cravings’a hers.”
You laughed and gently pushed him away, eliciting a small, fond chuckle from the archer. “My brain’s just fine, thank you. Now I believe I was promised more pickles.” You grabbed your empty bowl and held it up for him. “And possibly more ice cream?”
Daryl shook his head with a smile and took the bowl, getting up from the bed. “Yer lucky m’so damn fond’a ya, woman,” he mused while heading towards the door.
“I love you,” you laughed and picked up your book again, getting comfortable against the pillows.
Receive her into your arms of mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace. And into the glorious company of the saints and light. May her soul, and the soul of all those departed, in the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen.
THE WALKING DEAD | 11.24 — Rest in Peace
Warnings: age gap (Daryl is in his 40s and reader is in her 20s), sexual tension, SMUT, oral (f), fingering, overstimulaton, thigh riding, unprotected sex, degradation (use of slut, whore), hair pulling, kissing, Daryl whimpers, insecure Daryl about his scars, slightly perv Daryl (he watches reader change)
Summary: After spending a supply run together, the sexual tension between you and a certain archer becomes almost too much and threatens to overcome the both of you.
Song Rec while reading:
wRoNg: ZAYN
Worship: Ari Abdul
Shameless: Camila Cabello
Daryl Dixon was known to have a short temper, and an even shorter patience tolerance. When Michonne and Gabriel sent him on a supply run with none other than you, he knew that he would have to keep his cool or he will lose his mind and he can't risk that. He thought that if he just ignored the way his breath hitched in his throat when your breasts bounce in your black tank top with every step you take to his motorcycle.
"Hiya, Daryl!" You call as you sling your bow and arrow over your shoulder before making yourself comfortable on his bike.
He just grunts in return before kicking the kickstand up and taking off. Your hands wrap around his torso and he takes a deep breath as he reminds himself that he needs to breathe through his nose or he is gonna pass out.
---
You hummed to yourself as you walked through the store in a small run down town. It was a clothing store, or well was once before the world ended. Clothes were hanging on the racks and then you saw the underwear section. It was perfect. You needed new panties and you knew that some of the other ladies at Alexandria would enjoy new pairs. You went to the shelves and started packing as many as you could before turning to Daryl when you found some see through lace panties.
"Hey, Daryl?" You ask quietly.
"What? Ya good?" He asked, small panic rushing into his brain. Hopefully you didn't hurt yourself. He had only left you in that section of the store for maybe five minutes.
"Do you think these would make my butt look good?" You ask with a serious face while holding up the undergarments.
"For fuck's sake!" He groaned as he turns away. "Don't ask stupid shit like that." He takes a moment before turning back around and replied, "Yes they would make your butt look good."
You turned away from him with a smile. You grabbed a couple more like that pair in your size and threw them into your pack. After searching a couple more store, you and Daryl started back into the woods and went tracking for something to eat. Night fell upon the two of you before you knew it and you looked for a place to set up camp in a small house just a few miles from the town.
Checking to see if there were any walkers, you and Daryl made your way into the semi-decent house. It was no where near perfect but it would be good for the night before you leave for the next town in the morning.
Daryl came into the house with some firewood and threw it into the fireplace. You looked around the house for lanterns to have light and lit some matches inside of them. Once the house had some light, it dawned on you that it was just you and Daryl in this house. The fireplace sent a yellowish orange lighting onto Daryl and his blue eyes shone in contrast to the lighting. You stood at the stove and was heating up some beans and bread that you had found in a store. You smiled at idea of living with Daryl and cooking for him. You smiled at the idea of a possible normal life as normal as it could be in the end of the world.
Sitting down across from Daryl, the two of you ate your food. Daryl kept his eyes on his bowl and didn't look up at you until you cleared your throat.
"You don't like me, do you?"
Daryl put his spoon in his bowl, shoveling a bunch of the beans into his mouth before setting the bowl on the floor beside him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then he turned his head to look at you. He fought to keep his eyes connected to yours instead of looking at your rising and falling chest. God he felt like he was a creep, like he was a teenager again. It wasn't him trying to sexualize you, he really didn't mean to but when you were looking at him like that, breathing like that, he was really struggling to maintain eye contact.
"I don't hate ya," He says, his blue eyes darting in between yours and the wall behind you.
You shuffle closer to him before placing your hand on his chin, turning his face to you. His eyes stayed on your face, suddenly he was at a loss of words, not that he had many in the first place but still.
"If you didn't hate me, you would be able to look at me for more than two seconds before scoffing and turning away," You giggle with a smile and then move closer. "What is it about me that you don't like looking at?"
You had the biggest crush on Daryl Dixon and you barely tried to hide it from anyone but him. He was tall, strong, handsome, and very, very good at protecting people. He had a hard exterior, but he was really a big softy for the people he cared for. How could you not like him?
"There isn't anythin' 'hat I don't like lookin' at," He says, blush creeping up his face. "I jus' don't know why ya make me crazy."
"I make you go crazy, Daryl?" You ask. "You have no idea how crazy you make me."
Your faces creep closer, you were basically straddling the archer as you pressed yourself closer to his body, desperate for his warmth. Your eyes flicker to his lips quickly before snapping back to his cool eyes. You wondered what his lips would feel like on yours. What they would feel like running over your body.
Daryl's hands came up to your face to move some hair out of your eyes and he cupped your jaw. He tilted his head up, barely, almost brushing your plump lips. Your lips part slightly, ready to grant Daryl's full permission to do whatever he wanted to do to yours. Just as the distance was about to close, your eyes closing, breathing heavily, a walker's growl could be heard from outside the window and Daryl all but throws you off him (not really much of a throw, just nudging you off him quickly), and he takes care of the walker. He stabs the monster in the head, blood splattering onto his face and clothes before he turns to you and then walks out of the house.
----
Making your way through the woods, Daryl refused to say anything to you. You had tried to make small talk but he ignored you. He kept walking as he scanned for prey, hopefully a deer or a pig. He didn't really care, as long as he had something to kill and take his mind off the way that you made him feel last night. You were so much younger than himself and he didn't want to seem like a creepy old man who would nut in his pants from just seeing your tits bounce a few times.
Daryl would have intense dreams where your tits were bouncing because you were bouncing on his dick and he was pulling your hair back so your neck was arched backwards and he would mark you up as his while you rode him.
He shook the thoughts from his mind as he remembers that you were right behind him. He turned to you to see you kneeling down by the ground, looking at tracks on the ground.
"What are ya lookin' at?" He asked, his voice startling you before you relaxed.
You looked up at him before pointing left.
"These are fresh tracks, looks like a deer."
"Good, let's go."
"I need to apologize about what happened last night," You said as you walked quietly.
"Shhh," He said.
"I really am sorry about that, Daryl, I don't know what overcame me."
"I said, shhh, girl."
Just as you crept down behind a fallen tree, the deer walked out from behind the tall grass and started to eat at the fallen nuts on the ground. As much as you were hoping to be able to pay attention, Daryl's scent filled your nose as you realized how close you were and you could feel your panties dampen at the sight in front of you. You looked at Daryl and saw his thick muscles of his arms flex as he lifted his crossbow and aimed at the deer. You watched as he licked his lips gently as he closed one of his eyes. You watched his chest move with his breathing. You noticed everything. You needed to get this deer and then get back home before you tried to fuck him right out in the open woods.
"Let's go home," you said as you loaded the deer onto his bike.
"We are supposed to hit another town just a few miles over," He said.
"Yes but we have a deer which will draw more walkers to us," You said. "Let's drop it off with our people and then come out again."
---
Daryl listened to you because he knew you would throw a fit and then he would want to fuck your attitude away. He didn't just want to fuck you, he wanted to love you. He wanted to come home to you every night, fuck you to sleep, and then cuddle with you as he tells you about his day. Before you, he never thought that he would want the "normal" life like everyone else. He never had anyone to come home to and he had become used to it. Now he wanted to share a home with you. He wanted to take care of you. He wanted to protect you.
While the two of you were camping out in the woods, your shirt and pants had been torn after a run in with a herd of walkers. You told Daryl that you were going to change and then you went behind his poncho hanging up on a branch. You thought that you were covered completely, but the poncho had other plans as it had fallen from the branch while you were turned away. Your entire body was on display for Daryl as you bent over in just your black panties to pick up a shirt you had gotten from the run down shop the other day.
Daryl knew that he should have turned away, to respect you, but something in his sick, twisted mind, he kept looking. He saw your skin shine in the bright moon light. He saw every curve you have and he wanted nothing more than to just mark every inch of your skin as his. You were his, even if you didn't know yet. He eventually couldn't handle it anymore and moved to pick up the poncho. His footsteps made you turn away but he had already covered you with the poncho.
"It slipped from the branch and I didn't want ya to be uncomfortable," He said as he stepped closer to cover your body completely.
"Thank you," You smile as you tilt your head up to look at him in his eyes. His hands were on your hips as he wrapped you up. You bit your lip softly and his thumb came up to release your bottom lip from your teeth, slowly stroking over it with such care. His eyes watched for your reaction and you had none but heavy breathing. He licked his own lips quickly and leaned in slightly, still checking your eyes for any sign of you not wanting his actions, finding none. Just as his lips were brushing yours, a hiss came from the fire as it died out and the world went dark.
He quickly pulled away and turned away from you. He cleared his throat and then muttered a quick "sorry" and then went to rebuild the fire.
---
Arriving back at your house after a few days being gone, you took a shower as soon as you got home. You walked into your room in just a towel before pulling out clothing from your closet. The shirt you picked out was one of Daryl's button downs that you stole when you were staying in his house before moving into your own.
Daryl walked up to your room as he needed to talk to you about the other night. He didn't know what had came over him but he needed to clear it up with you. He knocked on your door, thinking of all the things he would say but as soon as the door opened and you revealed that you were in just a shirt and panties. Just not any shirt, his shirt. His shirt was on your body. Your naked body. He didn't know what made him grab your face and pull you into a searing kiss, but he pulled your body closer to his as he walked you backwards into the room.
He kicked the door closed and turned you against it. He started to leave kisses down from your lips to your neck. He sucked at your pulse point and then your hands pulled his face back up to yours. His lips enclosed yours as you messily made out against your door. His hand went to the back of your knee and wrapped it around his hip, opening you up to him as his clothed core ground into yours as your hand found his hair. He let out a groan as your fingers twisted into his long strands.
Daryl's mouth pressed against yours as he swallowed your every sound as you whimpered for more. Daryl's fingers slid down to your panties and teased your clit behind the fabric. His fingers glided against your clothed clit in tight circles as you moaned for him, begging him to fuck you. A smirk came over his face as your head lulled back, opening your neck to him. He started to suck on your sweet spot as his fingers slid your underwear to the side and sunk in to the knuckle.
"Fuuuuuck," You groan as Daryl's fingers started to pump in and out of your body. Daryl smiled at you as he slowly kissed lower and lower as he removed his hand from your panties to rip open his shirt. He kissed down your body, slowly sucking on your nipples and lulling his tongue over the nipple before biting it softly, causing you to gasp in slight pain.
"You like it when I touch ya like this?" He asks, running his middle finger up your slit before popping it into his mouth to suck the juices off of it. "Fuck, ya sweeter than I thought."
"Daryl," You moan as he slowly kisses your thighs, your back arching off the wall.
"Move to the bed and spread your legs for me like a good littl' slut," He demands. The derogatory name made you feel more slick drip from your pussy.
Daryl slowly pulled his shirt over his head, wincing as your eyes roam over his scars. He goes to put his shirt back on but you move to stop him.
"Don't hide from me," You say softly. "You're beautiful."
You move to the edge of the bed and press a kiss to the scar on his chest, then the one on his torso. You lick up the one on his collarbone. You turn him around and you kiss each one on his back. You trace them as if you were tracing roads on a map.
"You are so beautiful, Daryl," You whisper against his skin before turning him around to face you. "Every inch of you is beautiful, even the damaged parts."
Something snaps inside of him and he pushes you back gently and he crawls over you like a predator to his prey. He kissed your lips and then he started to kiss down your body, tracing every curve into his muscle memory. He wanted to savor this into his mind forever.
"Did I ever tell ya 'hat ya make me crazy?" He asks.
"Maybe once before," You giggle but it quickly turn into a moan when he licks up your pussy. You grip onto the sheets, holding you grounded to earth before you floated away. Daryl notices you holding onto the sheets and he grabs your hands, making you think that he just wanted to hold them but he then moves them to his hair. He nods at you and then curls his tongue inside you which makes you cry out and tug at his hair. He moans against you and slips a finger inside your weeping hole which he then pays more attention to your clit with his tongue.
"Cum for me," he moans against you. His eyes watch as the band inside your stomach snaps as he continues to add another finger and play with your cunt. Your hips start to wiggle away from him but he pulls your body flush against his face as there is no room for any air for him to possibly breathe. All he could breathe in was you. He could only see you, taste you, and breathe you. He was alive for you and this sole moment.
Eventually Daryl had pulled two more climaxes out of you and he then starts to kiss back up your twitching body. He rolls over and goes to cuddle you but you lay there confused.
"We are not done," You smile before climbing onto his thigh. Slotting your legs on each side, you slowly start to grind down onto him. He sits up and places his hands onto your hips, helping your movements.
"Fuck ya such as whore for me, ya gotta fuck my thigh?" He says with a smirk.
"Please," You moan out, head falling back.
Daryl pushes you off of him long enough to take his pants and underwear off and then he pats his lap, beckoning you to come closer. You move into his lap and he places your hands on his shoulders as he moves his cock to be lined up with your entrance.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks, making sure that you were one hundred percent certain that you wanted him to do this.
"Please, Daryl, just fuck me!" You groan out and then Daryl eases his tip into your weeping pussy.
"Fuck," You moan as you slowly stretch on his dick. "Please, just get inside me!"
Daryl looks at you for one second, taking in your face before cupping your cheek. He then snaps his hips forward and his entire dick goes inside you, kissing your cervix lightly. You scream at the intrusion and he gently soothes your hair as he speaks praise into your ear. He then pulls almost all the way out and then snaps back inside harshly. Your hands cling to his shoulders as one arm wraps around his neck and grip onto his shoulder. Daryl's arm wraps around your torso and the other hooks under your arm and his hand grips your shoulder, squeezing tightly as he pounds into your pussy with slow, harsh thrusts.
You head falls backward as Daryl's fingers wrap into your hair and pulls your face closer to his so he roughly kiss you. It was messy, all teeth and spit dripping everywhere. Your lips moved in fierce movements as they tried to keep up with each others. Your hips bounced against Daryl's as the two of you tried to get to the finish line. Daryl grips you tightly before using his body weight to flip the two of you over and he catches himself with one arm on the bed as your legs wrapped around his torso, your arms holding onto him for dear life as he fucked into you with punishing thrusts.
Daryl's dick moved inside of you in fast, rough movements, hitting your cervix at times but was always hitting your g-spot. Your head was thrown back as you cling to him and he moves one hand to the headboard as he stares down at you, your hair laying out around your head like a crown and he whimpered when your pussy clenched around his thick cock. He gently moved your legs down from his torso and spread you out further as he moved back onto his knees, leaning over through his arms to kiss your forehead before he reared his hips back, and snapped them forward, driving home in a hard thrust.
You scream in pleasure and borderline pain but it was so good. You dig your nails into Daryl's back as he drops his head into your neck as his hands are clinging to the headboard that was beating a possible hole into the wall as you plant one hand against the base of the headboard to keep your head from slamming into it. Your mouth is agape as Daryl nibbles on your collarbone as his hips slam into yours, surely leaving bruises that you will feel for days after this.
"Fuck ya look so pretty, looking at me like that," He moans as you throw your head back into the pillows, begging him for more, to make you come.
"You wanna cum?" He asks, one of his hands slipping from the headboard and coming down to rub fast circles on your clit, adding fuel to the fire that is boiling inside your core. Your body screamed for release.
"You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" He smirks. "Fuck ya feel so good, baby. This pussy was built for me. God, I don't 'ver wanna leave it. Jesus, look at that. Your pussy is just sucking me in, she don't want me to leave either."
You moan at his filthy words before begging him to let you cum. Your hands reach for his neck and pulls him down to kiss him. Just as his lips brush against yours, the band inside you snaps and you let out a muffled scream against his lips. He was close already before you came but after feeling you cum around his cock, he knew that it was just a matter of time before he cumming all over you.
"Daryl, cum inside me."
Those four words made his hips snap faster against yours and then you felt him still against you, then a warm liquid spilled inside you as Daryl's body shuddered above you. You heard him whimper and groan as more and more ropes of thick cum spilled from his dick. Your hands rub up and down his back as you kissed his collarbone.
Daryl rolled over and pulled you with him, lifting you off his softening dick and then covered you both with your blanket. He kissed your forehead and moved the few strands of hair from your face and then kissed your lips.
"Can I ask a question?" You ask as you draw circles on his chest.
Daryl just grunts in response.
"Do you still not like me?"
"I swear to God woman. You still think I don't like ya?"
"Well, I can't be too careful," You smile up at him. "So do you like me?"
He leaned his head down and kissed you on the lips, soft and slow, before fulling back.
"Does that answer your question?" He asks with a huff.
"I'm not fully convinced," You smile before climbing back on top of him and starts pressing kisses to his neck.
"Ya're gonna kill me, woman!" He groans with a smile before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a crushing kiss, rolling on top of you to further prove that he likes you.
Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader
Warnings: Merle Dixon and Shane Walsh are the worst possible men in the world
Summary: you were supposed to be a secret, his temptation in the dark not his scandal after the taste of heaven you experienced together.
Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut smut, like literally so much smut, p in v, angst (so much angst), age gap (Aemond is 36 reader is 25. It’s not specified but since he’s a candidate he should be over 35), cheating & infidelity, heavy alcohol consumption (one scene), breeding, humiliation (a little bit), oral (f & m receiving ), rough sex, illicit affair, modern westerosi senator Aemond (doing this because I have no idea about real life election and political debates and how they take place and I can change it however I like), near death experience, car accident and driving while drunk, hurt/comfort, happy ending!! English isn’t my first language.
Word count: 8.58k+ (no beta we die like Beesburybury)
A/n: so, this thought was originally a very dark concept, but I changed it because now it’s much more interesting than the first one lol. Long, smutty, angst! The whole political idea is a sideline for the plot but it gives you an idea of what kind of Aemond we’re dealing with! Please reblog and comment and tell me your opinion!
A very special thank you to @namelesslosers for putting up with my crazy ideas<3😭💕
Every time you walk through this hallway, you ask yourself how you got into this situation. Perhaps it was at the first debate when you met him backstage; tall, dark, brooding, and quiet with a lazy smirk on his thin lips, as he pressed a gentle kiss atop your knuckles, side-eyeing your seething father in the process.
Maybe it was when you ran into him at another party, courtesy of being a senator's daughter and getting invited with high-class families. Your father had sent you there, “showing face” he explained, but you knew he wanted information. Aemond had danced around you that night, knowing exactly why you were there, talking and leading you on with conversations in the dark hallway of the mansion you were in.
It could have been the second debate as well. This time, it was not just backstage, but when he saw you in that denty dress you were wearing, he had cornered you and kept his heated gaze on your lips for a hot minute before he reached and pressed his thumb over your pillowy bottom lip.
Does it matter how it started? Certainly not, not when it’s been a good few months since this thing has been going on.
You stop in front of the hotel room; the only suite on the floor. Always cautious, always careful. You’ve been sneaking into this floor for weeks, entering the hotel from the back door to not be seen, taking the workers’ elevator and now, alone in the middle of this red carpeted floor, you ask yours again how you got yourself into this position. And the second you knock, all the worries and fears vanish.
Aemond opens the door, his cigarette burning between his long fingers as he gazes at you. His white shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, his dress pants already tightened by his bubbling desire for you while he waited for hours to get out of his speech and meet with you.
He doesn’t say anything, pulling you in with his free hand, kicking the door shut before he pushes you against it, leaning over you with his forearm on the door and the other on your hip.
“Rough day?” You ask, running your palms over the pale skin of his abs, caressing his chest and stomach as you look up at him through your lashes.
“Your father was unnerving today,” he rests his forehead on yours, breathing in your perfume, “I broke the pen when he started talking about how he’d do everything I wanted to do but better. Who makes a political debate like that? He can’t even stand for what he has planned to do.”
“He has the talent of getting under everyone’s skin, it doesn’t help that he’s a jealous man as well,” you cup his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his high cheekbones.
“He does, a trait I’m sure I have seen in someone as well,” he bends down, prepping kisses over your cheek, “he told me I was too perfect to become a president. I have no fucking idea what he is after. He talks about me all the time instead of his plans, I think he’s obsessed with me.”
“Pity, I would have loved to see his face when he said that, knowing that the person he called perfect fucks his daughter every day,” you giggle when he bites down on your neck, making you hiss and thread your fingers through his long blonde hair.
“What were you doing if you weren't watching me beat your father to the pulp?” He keeps his assault on your neck, leaving marks and little swollen bites. He breaks away from your skin to take a drag of his cigarette, wrapping his thin pink lips around the paper edges as he inhales the smoke in, a deep hum drumming through his chest when he leans and presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your eager mouth.
You pull him closer, lapping at his tongue while you inhale the burning smoke, moaning in protest when he breaks the kiss sooner than you wished for. You blow out the remaining smoke to his face, biting your bottom lip as you find his good eye taking every inch of you in with his blown and foggy pupil.
“I was buying pretty dresses for you,” you whisper against his lips before grabbing his hand and pulling him gently toward the bedroom, watching with hazy eyes as he inhales another pile of smoke, keeping his eye locked on the exposed skin of your shoulders.
He loves it when you wear dresses that leave your neck and shoulders bare; it’s tantalizing and alluring in the best way possible. They make him lose the tiny self-control he has and let go of his burdens and responsibilities. He likes how free you make him feel, younger and livelier.
“Hmm?” You giggle when he doesn’t realize what question you are responding to, already too drunk on your scent that has his mind in a mush.
“You asked what I was doing,” you guide him towards the bed, “I was shopping for your upcoming party, Mr. Senator. I have a public image to maintain.”
“Yes, but not with flaunting yourself like a slut,” he hisses when you push him down on the mattress, and he takes his cigar and puts it out by pressing it on the ashtray atop his nightstand with a bit of difficulty.
“Don’t be mean, sir,” faking a pout, you unzip your dress slowly, knowing how possessive he can get even though you are not his in the eyes of the public, “it’s all for you anyway, I like to see your face when I come with my friends to your mansion, all dolled up just for you but no one can know.”
“Ah yes, I often forget how much you enjoy being my mistress,” he says, licking his lips when you kick off your shoes and crawl onto his lap, his large warm palms coming up to rest on your bare hips.
“Don’t put all the blame on me, you said you’d never slept with your wife!” You push him on his back, grinning as you let your nails deep in his soft exposed skin, “You were the one who begged me to sleep with you anyway!”
“Hmm, and I’m glad that I did,” he smirks at you, pinching your hips, making you gasp, “now, I’ve had a very rough day with your father, be a good girl and take my mind off everything else that isn’t your sweet pussy.”
You nod obediently before starting to grind your clothed sex over the tent in his pants, moving your hips slowly but firmly, eliciting a deep groan from Aemond as he lies beneath you with his silver hair spread around his head like a shiny halo. You lean down, leaving kisses over his chest and abdomen as you slowly lower yourself on the floor, running your hands all over his thighs and slim waist, nuzzling your face into his crotch, and looking at him oh so sweetly when he sits up.
Aemond pushes your hair out of your face, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip as he watches you prep kisses over the fabric of his pants, fingers fidgeting with his belt, and once you have successfully undid it, you pull it out of the loops and drop it on the floor.
He chuckles lowly when you grab his zipper with your teeth, pulling it down slowly while you stare into his eye — the blue of his iris is completely gone. You pull his pants down when he unbuttons them, lifting his hips in the process for you. Aemond sighs as soon as his cock is free from the confines of his pants, closing his eye as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin.
“No underwear?” You tease him, reaching to hold his hot and twitching member in your hand, stroking it to full hardness while your free hand rubs soothing circles on his hip bone.
“The weather is too hot to wear anything under these horrendous dress pants,” he replies breathlessly when you lean down and start trailing kitten kisses from the base of his cock up to his tip, humming at the earthy and musky scent.
“And here I thought you were too desperate to give me easy access,” you mutter, taking his tip in your mouth, not letting him come up with a witty answer.
Aemond leans on his elbows, his hand finding its place on top of your head, not pushing down, but just to show you who’s in charge. His chest rises and falls rapidly when you swirl your tongue around him slowly, rubbing the tip of your tongue on the right places that you know make him weak and needy.
He groans, pushing your head down a little; a quick warning for you to remember that a dragon has no patience when the smell of fresh meat fills its senses.
You oblige, taking more of him in your mouth, relaxing your jaw, and guiding him further down your throat with both hands on the base of his cock, stroking what you can’t fit. He angles your face upwards, forcing you to look him in the eye as he fills your mouth and stretches your jaw with his girth.
“I will never get tired of this sight, fuck—” he throws his head back, his exhales getting sharper and deeper, “If only your father could see you like this; his daughter sucking off his enemy like it’s her last meal.”
You moan around him, brows twisted in a deep frown and eyes teary as he pushes you down, bobbing your head along his length at a pace he likes. In return, he rewards you with grunts and puffs of air that rumble through his chest and make you even more determined to bring him closer to his peak, but he pulls you off him as soon as he feels his dick twitching in your mouth, not wanting to come before he fucks you senseless.
You gasp for air when he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his glistening cock. He pulls you up by your hair, smashing his lips into yours, pulling you in for a deep messy kiss as he helps you straddle him again. You sit with your knees on each side of his hips, cupping his face in the process while your lips move languidly, fiercely, and harshly. The kiss is full of clashes of teeth and molding of tongues and wetness, something you both enjoy deeply.
Aemond’s hands wander over your naked form, squeezing your buttocks and scratching the dip of your waist with his trimmed nails before he switches your position and lies you down on the bed without breaking off the kiss. Spreading your legs for him, he moves and makes home between them quickly, rubbing his leaking cock to your clothed pussy, growling inside your mouth in desperation.
You pull your lips away from his lips, mouth falling open immediately when he nuzzles his face into your neck and starts sucking and biting on your flesh like a rabid dog, not letting go of your skin until he’s sure there are big and small blue and violet marks littered all over you.
“Fuck, Aemond just—ah!” You whimper when his long fingers rub over the wet patch on your panties, pressing and moving them up and down until you buck your hips to his hand, searching for more stimulation that he is depriving you of.
“Tsk tsk, use your words, darling,” he says, sinking his teeth into your earlobe while he moves your panties to the side, hovering his thumb over the hood of your clit, “how can I give into your every whim when you can’t speak up for you so?” He sounds disappointed, and it only brings tears to your eyes — more tears, considering he had you near crying when he was fucking your face.
“Please, I-I need…” you are cut off by a sharp gasp leaving your lips as Aemond’s thumb rubs around your puffy clit, not giving into your sweet whines and whimpers, not even caring how tempting they sound.
“Sweet girl, come on, tell me, do you want me to play with your pretty cunt? Hmm?” He asks in a serious tone, too serious for your liking, because when you look up at him with pouting and watery eyes, he tsks again, and you can feel the heat of his thumb near where you need him the most, but his finger is too far away.
“Yes, yes, please—“
“There is my good girl,” he kisses your tears away, finally caving in and giving you what you need, circling over your buzzing nerves gently but slowly, just the right way to have your mind shutting off to the point of the only thought that is left is him and his magical fingers.
You buck beneath him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and the other one grabbing his waist as he keeps his thumb pressed firmly into your clit, pressing kisses all over your tear-stained cheeks.
“Mmm, tastes so sweet, darling,” he whispers as he licks your tears, pushing a finger inside you as if testing the waters before adding another, scissoring your open for his cock slowly, thrusting them in and out faster than before.
“Aemond, please, I’ve been good!”
Your voice awakens something in him, something primal and hungry, ready to devour you whole. He groans in response, leaning down to kiss you feverishly, retrieving his fingers from you only to replace them with the tip of his cock, running it up and down against your drenched folds before pressing in slowly.
He pulls away from your lips, giving both of you time to catch your breath and relax as he carves his way within your gummy walls. You both moan in delight as he finally reaches your deepest parts, his hips flush against yours as the two of you try to catch your breath.
Aemond slowly draws his hips back before driving himself forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he gains speed. You fist the bedsheets, back arching in response to him hitting your sweet spot rapidly, drawing ragged breaths and little yelps of pleasure from your parted lips.
“So beautiful, fuck, darling,” he groans into your skin, straightening his back a little to hover his face over yours to look at you from a better angle, “I would set this town on fire for you.”
“Aemond, I-I’m close—” You gasp when his finger travels down your stomach and reaches the bundle of nerves and starts rubbing it quickly, drawing you closer to your breaking point.
He isn’t in a better situation either; he is panting with his cock twitching deep inside you as his desire for you overflows his senses.
His rhythm falters as soon as you clamp around him tightly, gushing around him with a shout of his name, which sends him over the edge as well. He pulls out instantly, ignoring the your whine in protest before he sits on his knees next to your head, stroking his cock with his head thrown back.
“Open your mouth, darling—fuck, there she is, good girl…” he groans when you close your eyes and stick out your tongue, catching the ropes of his cum on your face and tongue. He whimpers out your name, his shoulders relaxing finally, tension leaving his body as he empties himself on you.
“Messy girl,” he taunts you, reaching to pull a napkin out of the nightstand’s drawer, lying down next to you to wipe his cum off your face gently, his other hand caressing your bare stomach and breasts to soothe you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“You made a mess out of me, baby,” you say, smiling softly when he leans down to peck your lips after dropping the napkin back in its place, pushing his pants and shirt fully off to join you under the covers.
“Aemond?” you call him, laying your head on his chest when he pulls you closer, “I’m tired of this.”
“This? What do you mean?” he asks, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your back while he waits for you to answer him.
“This game of cat and mouse, always sneaking in, my father this my father that… I’m tired of being just a secret.”
“You knew what you were getting yourself in when we first slept with each other,” Aemond huffs, “It’ll always be like this, darling. We would have to spend our days away from everyone.”
“But Aemond, we can go on dates in so many ways! Please, we can go on a trip to Lys, no one knows you there, and we will leave all of this election and your political worries in King’s Landing!” You try to reason with him, turning around in his arms to look into his eye.
“Sweet girl, he reaches to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, “There is not much time left until the—”
“— election, I know. But you can spare three days to stay with me. Don’t you think it’s worth it?”
“Our lives and future will be ruined if we get caught. It will cause a huge scandal that I and my team are not ready to face. I might become the next president of Westeros, I need to win over your father.” He explains logically, and you feel stupid for mentioning the idea of going out and being seen in public with him.
“I’m sorry, I know… it was a dumb idea.” you avert your eyes away from him, biting your bottom lip as guilt and shame fills you.
“Hey, look at me,” he gently switches positions so you lay beneath him again, “I wish we could go on dates and I had the chance to show you off. Maybe after all of this mess, I’ll be able to divorce my wife, but till then… As long as I have you in my arms, nothing matters.”
•••••••••••••••••••••••
The days pass quickly. You watch your father and Aemond in the news, paparazzi following you and your family around the city bombarding you with questions about things you didn’t care about. Until one day, your father receives an invitation from Aemond Targaryen himself for a party at his house.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your father called you and asked — more like demanding — that you should be the one attending this party. After all, he couldn’t put himself past that hatred to go to this party in his rival’s house. Apparently, his daughter could though, as if it wasn’t dangerous to send you to the dragon’s cave with no support.
You agreed a bit too eagerly, trying to play it off cool and keep calm while you panicked from inside. You’d be saying Aemond again, publicly, without sneaking from a back door, or a secret passageway.
Choosing a dress wasn’t difficult when you had the design of one of Aemond’s mom’s dresses; a knee-length dress in light blue and off-shoulder with a little cut that exposed your lower thigh, knowing how crazy Aemond would get if he saw you in things he has bought for you.
Your curls fall around your shoulders as you walk toward the main entrance of the mansion, catching the attention of all the photographers and guests. You walk up the stairs that lead to the house, eyes searching for the silhouette of the only person you care for in this messy crowd.
You find him easily; his long hair shines underneath the dim light of the hall, and his tall frame and the champagne in his hands stand proudly among the people who look so simple and boring compared to him.
He is wearing a long deep blue coat with thin silver embroideries on it with a black shirt and pants, and next to him… you just catch the eyes of his wife, Floris Baratheon-Targaryen, who is smiling proudly at the ladies and gentlemen surrounding them.
“Ah, love, look who’s here,” she threads her fingers through Aemond’s, excusing themselves as the pair come to greet you. Floris is beautiful with long black hair and a charming smile — no wonder she is Aemond’s wife, the perfect image of a dutiful wife, “It’s such a pleasure to have you here.”
You accept her hand, shaking it gently before you avert your eyes from her to her husband, locking your eyes with his as you try not to let him see any emotion on your face. You are ashamed of yourself, Floris looks like a kind soul, and you have been having an affair with her husband for months, but even now that you have met her, the guilt and shame are not enough for you to step away from what you have with Aemond.
“How is your father? Not too sour I hope,” he smirks, wrapping an arm around Floris’ waist as he has always done with you in the confines of his hotel room.
“Why would he be sour, Mr. Targaryen? Last time I checked the numbers were quite against your favor,” you reply, thanking the waiter who brings you a glass of champagne, “He made sure I show you his gratitude for the invitation. He was horribly upset for not being able to join us tonight.”
“Well, yes,” he chuckles darkly and you can see how his fingers clench the fabric of Floris’ dress, “He is a busy man, he should be thinking of a backup plan after he loses to me.”
“Is that what you are doing, sir? I assume this party…is your way of gaining support now, isn’t it?”
“Aemond,” his wife utters, smiling hesitantly at him, “maybe you should show our new gallery to her, politics can be a hard topic to talk about in such a noisy place.”
“Splendid idea, wife,” Aemond kisses Floris’ forehead while his eye is solely focused on you, “Shall we, Miss?” he offers you his arm, looking around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you or not.
“I would love to,” you say through gritted teeth, an ugly jealousy bubbling inside you as you loop your arm with his, walking side by side to the new gallery. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, it is not your place to have complicated emotions when you are the other woman.
“After you,” he holds the door open for you, his eye scanning you from head to toe, catching the sight of his mother’s designer dress before he leads you inside the gallery, closing the door shut and locking it from inside.
“Didn’t know you were into art, Aemond. It’s a welcoming surprise,” you say, sipping on your drink while you walk past him, not sparing him a glass as you look at the paintings.”
“You need to work on your emotions, darling,” he says, putting his champagne glass on the nearest table he can find before he makes his way to you, “We wouldn’t want everyone to find out how close we actually are.”
“No, Aemond, you don’t want that,” you chuckle in disbelief, drinking the rest of the remaining liquor in your glass before you put it on the same table as he did, standing in front of him with a burning rage inside your eyes, “I want them to know! I’m sick of this, I don’t deserve to be a whore for you in secret!”
“This was what we agreed on!” his voice echoes in the room as he grabs you by the nape of your hair, bringing your face closer to his, “whore or not, I can't bear to lose the elections I have been working my whole life for! And I can’t… I can’t lose you either—”
You both turn around when a loud banging sound comes from the other side of the room. You look at Aemond in terror, stepping closer to him before you hear the door at the end of the hall is pushed open. He grabs your hand and pulls you toward a narrow and dark hallway that is attached to the gallery. You have a clear view of the paintings and the waiters who are carrying several drinks together, luckily, it can’t be said for them. They would need to round the corner and bend down a little to find this place. Aemond pushes you against the wall, his large palm covering your mouth as footsteps grow quieter when they leave the gallery.
“Aemo—mmh!” he doesn’t let you finish as he silences you with his mouth engulfing yours in a passionate kiss, his fingers clutching your hips like his life depends on touching you, breathing in your scent, and tasting your lipstick.
“Shh, be quiet,” he turns you around, pressing his chest to your back before he reaches down to pull your dress up to your hips, mouthing at your neck as his hand finds the hem of your underwear.
“We shouldn’t do it here, Aemond, we might get caught!” you hiss at him, gasping when he pushes your panties to the side, running the pad of his fingers along your slit, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face.
“I thought you wanted everyone to know about us, hmm?” He teases you, letting go of your wet folds for a second as he unbuckles his belt, unzips, and pushes his pants down enough to pull his cock out.
“Not like this!” You sigh desperately, hands bracing your weight on the wall when he lines his leaking tip with your entrance, thrusting his full length inside you with ease.
He slaps his hand on your mouth again when he is completely sheathed inside your warm and dripping cunt, muffling your noises as best as he can before he starts thrusting into you with abandon.
In his mind, you look too beautiful, too gorgeous and breathtaking, and the longer he looks at you, the more passionate he is about driving his cock inside you, fucking you with all his love and adoration.
“You make me go fucking crazy,” he nearly growls, his hips pistoning against yours as he nuzzles his nose into your cheek, eye closed and cheeks painted pink. He pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, his own lips parted as ragged breaths and throaty groans fall from them.
You are a mess just as he is; eyes closed, hips moving with each of his abandoned and reckless thrusts, while your body floats in pleasure. It’s quick, sudden, and mind wrecking; you come with a muffled scream around his thick fingers, and he follows you as soon as your walls tighten around him, squeezing the cum out of his cock.
He presses you to the wall, groaning and panting as he fills you to the brim, his teeth catching your earlobe while he tries to ground himself with all the euphoria running through his veins.
“Aemond,” you pull his digits out of your mouth, resting your head on his shoulders as the two of you try to regain your breaths, heartbeat slowly dropping back to normal.
“Lys…” he says, and you crane your neck to look at him in confusion, “Pack your bag for a few days.”
“What?” You ask, eyes wide and hopeful as you stare at him, he grins in response, planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “We’re going to Lys.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” He winks at you and pulls his softened cock out of you slowly before he makes himself presentable again, his hands finding their place on your hips once again, “now, don’t sulk anymore. You’re too lovely to be upset because of me.”
“I was not sulking, but… but what about the paparazzi? The election? Are you sure?” You shake a little, maybe both in fear and excitement before you cup his face, staring into his ocean-blue eye.
“Shh, don’t fret, I have thought about everything. No one knows who we are and we’ll stay in a yacht. I have talked to Cole to get it ready for us.”
“You… you are amazing, Aemond!” You crash your lips to him, pressing several kisses to his face, leaving careless red marks on his pale skin.
“Anything for my girl,” he whispers against your lips, chuckling as you keep your assault on his face, “but we should head back to the party. I’m sure they’re looking for me.”
“Yes, yes, of course!” I laugh a little before fixing your hair and sneaking out of your hiding place.
“I’ll meet you outside, alright, sweet girl?” He asks you, pecking your lips before pointing to one of the paintings to make it seem you are still busy looking at the new art hanging on the wall while he unlocks and moves out of the room.
Floris finds him instantly, moving towards him with a man who follows her as well, eager to meet him. Aemond clears his throat when they reach the door of the gallery, pulling him into a conversation he has no choice but to join.
Oblivious to him, his wife’s eyes catch the faint red lipstick stain under his jaw.
•••••••••••••••••••••••
If you were told that this country was this beautiful, you would’ve never believed them. Everything is brighter in color, people have no clue who you are which makes everything much more exciting.
You’ve been in Lys for two days already, fucking on every surface of the yacht, quickies in different places around the city, sightseeing, and spending time together.
It was all you’ve ever wanted from this relationship; some peaceful alone time as a couple, not as a secret.
There is a weird feeling of being watched by someone that has been with you since you stepped inside the city as if someone is following you around. At first, you thought it could be a photographer who somehow caught sight of you and decided to make money out of it. But again, no one knows who either you or Aemond is…
You don’t pay attention to it, but the feeling is still with you as soon as you step on the deck of the yacht, your sundress moving with the wind as you gaze over the sea.
“Not very thoughtful of you to leave me all alone in the bed,” Aemond says, walking towards you with his hands in his pockets, “I missed you already.”
“That’s good to know because I’ve missed you too,” you turn around, moving to the cushions that are secured to the deck before lying down on them, stretching yourself as he stands tall above you, “more so your mouth.”
“Insatiable beast,” he calls you, “what have I done to deserve you?” He drops on his knees and crawls towards you, a wicked grin on his face as he reaches your ankle, grabbing and pulling you towards him with ease.
“Your mouth is a miracle, I’ve been blessed to witness it with my own eyes,” you match his tone, spreading your legs for him.
As soon as his eye falls on your bare pussy, he lets out a long sigh in delight before latching his mouth to the flesh of your thighs, kissing and nibbling as he makes his way up to your center, flattening his lavish tongue against your folds, licking a fat stripe of your wetness before humming and kissing your clit.
You lay back, letting him take care of you slowly, building your pleasure until you break under his touch. He starts with slow licks and kisses, making lews sounds as he gains his speed, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while he keeps you in place.
Throwing your head back, you moan his name, fingers tangling themselves in his soft silky hair as he speeds up and shoves his face further between your thighs, his large nose nudging your clit in the best way possible.
You open your eyes and look around; the view is mesmerizing. Next to where you are is a huge wood that separates the city from Aemond’s private dock, yet the greens of the trees don’t catch your attention but a sudden flash of light does. It happens again, this time a bit faster, a bit closer. It could be anything, maybe a reflection of light, and you desperately hope that is the case and the flash doesn’t belong to a camera.
Luckily, Aemond’s tongue distracts you from your thoughts, and you arch your back when his thumb joins the patterns he is drawing on your nerves. You look down at him, catching the raw emotions that dance in his eye; adoration, love if you dare say. Soon, when he makes you come, all the thoughts of those mysterious flashes are gone, and only pleasure is left for you to focus on — the knot he created, snaps, and ecstasy rushes in your blood.
“Baby,” you pull him up, chest heaving with delight as your legs stop shaking, “I think I saw someone.”
“No one is allowed here, don’t worry, sweet girl,” he says between kisses on your chest as he makes his way up your stomach to kiss you.
“But it looked like a camera flash,” You kiss him back slowly, lying on your side to face him, “Are you sure no one can go past your guards?”
“Yes, please, don’t think about it. It’s just you and me, darling.”
Oh, how wrong he was.
•••••••••••••••••••••••
It’s been twenty days since the last time you heard his voice, twenty days of agony and pain. You were caught, you did not imagine things. The day you arrived at King’s Landing, you saw the news; your pictures from your trip with him were all over the internet, the moment on the night, the kissing in the sea, wandering in the city — your illicit affair was publicized. By whom you have no idea. Maybe Aemond’s wife, maybe your father, but at the end of the day, nothing hurt more than when after days of trying to contact your lover, he broke everything off with a single text from his assistant.
After that, your parents cast you aside; your mom screamed at you while your father cheered in victory. After all, those pictures caused a huge scandal and rift in his rival’s team. He didn’t care what would happen to you as long as you didn’t do anything like this again that would result in his downfall. They closed your bank accounts that they had access to and left you alone on your own. Fortunately, you weren’t too dependent on your father’s money and had persued a career to pay for your necessities, but now, none of it mattered.
Your days pass numbly with hundreds of calls and texts to Aemond. There is nothing left inside you willing to get up and do something, to fix this mess even a little, to pull yourself out of this deep hole you have dug with your hands.
You read the text again as you curl on the loveseat, sobbing and clutching your phone to your chest. Mr. Taragryen has no interest in being involved with you anymore, and the more you read it, the more your body ache for him. It feels like a knife being shoved inside your chest, twisting and ripping your lungs in the process while you melt under the sharpness of it, taking it because you have no choice left but to do so.
You did it to yourself; what were you thinking? How did you ever think that getting involved with an important man was a good idea? A married and much older one at that. Now you scroll through the leaked pictures with a heavy heart and silent tears running down your face. The headlines are cruel, far worse than you had ever thought about.
Whore of a daughter wins the election for the father!
Aemond Targaryen cheats on his wife with his rival’s daughter; several intimate pictures have been caught during their visit to Lys…
Aemond Targaryen, an honorable man seduced by a younger girl, WESTEROSI reports…
You throw your phone on the floor, nearly falling from the loveseat from how aggressively you move. You want to scream from the top of your lungs, to curse and shout, but it was your idea to go somewhere, for him to take you on a date. It is all your fault.
The doorbell rings and startles you. You get up immediately, thinking it must be your parents or one of your friends to come and check up on you, but when you open the door with bloodshot eyes and find Aemond standing there, your knees nearly give out.
“A-Aemond?” you stutter, eyes watering at the sight of his messy clothes and hair — he looks just as fucked up as you.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” with one step, his arms engulf you in a tight embrace, and you cry. Fat ugly tears run down your face as he holds you close, his own tears falling after days of being apart from you. He couldn't stay away, he had to come and see you. Every day without you felt like a lifetime, never-ending torture he had to endure while Criston and his mother did everything they could to save his public image, and Floris, well, she was quite content with everything.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” he presses several kisses to the crown of your head, holding you incredibly close to him as he leads you back into your house, shutting the door behind him. You have your arms wrapped around him, holding onto his shoulders as he sits you down on the couch, making sure to pull you into his lap so you won’t feel alone again.
“Aemond?” you ask, your voice so little, so fragile that it breaks his heart into million pieces.
“Yes, darling?” he lifts your head, his thumb wiping your tears gently while he shushes you, watching your lips tremble in disbelief, “Tell me, tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”
“Why did you let go of me so easily?” you ask, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, “I was so alone, I-I am alone, I have no one! How could you—” you hiccup, a sob wrecking your body as you talk.
“I had to, sweet girl, I had to. My public image, my campaign, everything was near destruction if it weren’t for the distance between us. I had to do it.”
“I lost everything, Aemond! My parents, my friends… I was called a whore, your mistress, a side chick. You nearly lost everything, I did lose everything!” you gasp for air as another wave of pain spreads in your chest.
“What can I do for you, darling? I’m here now, I’ll do whatever you wish for me to do, please,” he begs, the first and probably the last time you’ll hear Aemond Targaryen plead for something.
“I love you, Aemond, please make the pain go away.”
He leans down, capturing your mouth in a slow kiss, painting his devotion on the canvas of your lips as he moves them together. He feels you relax in his arms when you start kissing him back. He lies you on the couch gently, never breaking the kiss as he sucks the breath out of your lungs with each passing second that e tastes you.
You melt under his touch, the fingers you adore so much move along the length of your body. His lips let go of yours for a second before he hovers atop you completely and brings you in for another deep kiss. His fingers are cold against your heated skin as they move your shirt upward, to eventually pull the fabric off your head.
He breaks the kiss to trail his lips to your neck, leaving butterfly kisses all over your jaw and collarbones as he moves lower until he reaches your bra. He circles his hand to unhook it, and he does, he pushes the strap on one of your shoulders down slowly before he stops.
Aemond stops.
Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach as he moves his face away from your shoulder to kiss you fiercely for a hot few seconds before he pulls away, shaking his head in shame.
“Ae-Aemond, why did you…”
“No…” he says, a few tears fall from his remaining eye as he gazes at you past his wet lashes, “I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean?” your voice quivers, and Aemond stands up immediately when he hears how broken you sound, leaving you half-naked on your couch, “Aemond, please!”
“I can’t make the same mistake twice,” he mutters as he moves toward the entrance door, “I still have a chance. I can win the election, I can—”
“A mistake? Do you truly feel we were a mistake?”
“I am sure we were. We have ruined our lives for what? For sex, for lust?”
“For love!” you scream, holding your hand to your chest to prevent your bra from falling, “I didn’t want anything from you; not your money, not any status, I wanted you, just you.”
“I can’t do this—”
“Aemond, please, no!” You cry out running to block his way, “Don’t go, please, don’t leave me again. I can’t take it if you leave me all alone, I have lost everything for you! Please, please—”
He cups your cheek, pressing one last lingering kiss while his own tears fall on your cheek, “Goodbye.”
He moves past you and leaves.
“NO!” you break down and fall on your knees, and for once in your life, you feel truly helpless.
•••••••••••••••••••••••
You don’t remember how long has it been since that day; it could be a few days, or months. You don’t even remember how you got into this dingy dirty bar close to your place. It’s dark and gloomy with a heavy rain thrumming outside the window while you drown your sixth shot of bourbon.
You are not an alcoholic, in fact, the only time you drink is at parties and formal events. Tonight though, you need to let go and unwind for a bit and unfortunately, in a very apathetic mood, you decided that drinking was the best option.
The lovely bartender glares at you when you ask for another shot but doesn’t say anything and does as you ask, keeping a close eye on you to make sure you’ll be alright.
You keep staring at the rim of your glass, eyes filled with tears and sorrow until someone slides into the stool next to you. Looking up, you see a familiar face, Aemond’s wife. What is she doing here? Does she want to taunt you even more? To make sure you are suffering far worse than she did?
“I see you are adapting well to the new changes,” Floris says, pointing at the bartender to pour her whatever you are drinking.
“Are you following me now?” you scoff, drowning the amber liquid in your glass, “Wasn’t my public humiliation enough for you?”
“You were fucking my husband, of course, it will never be enough. You should suffer for how you ruined his reputation,” she looks at you, waiting for you to come up with a witty reply.
“He said you never slept with each other…” You whisper in response, “He loved me.”
“How fucking naive you are. He never loved you, he lied to your face and you still defend him,” she sneers, running a hand through her wild black curls, “He used you, it was all a part of his plans. You were just a pawn in his game.”
“He didn’t… he-he…” you take a deep breath, not wanting to cry in front of Floris of all people. He didn’t do these things, Aemond would never do that to you. He has no reason to, or does he?
“Do you truly think these numbers just go up and down because of the citizens? Aemond changed them to his liking, he has never had the intention of winning this year. He wants to be remembered so he may come back stronger than before and take over Westeros—”
“You don’t make any fucking sense! Leave me alone,” You stand up to move away from her, but she grabs your arms before you have the chance to run away.
“He used you to gain information from your father’s campaign! I just helped him speed things up by hiring those photographers,”
“It was you… you ruined my life,” you pull your hand out of her grip, “You destroyed everything he has worked so hard for! How could you do this to your husband?”
“He was cheating on me!”
“So were you! You were cheating too!” you yell at her before grabbing your purse and running out of the bar, crying hysterically. Nothing makes sense, you don’t know how you held that conversation for so long. What she said or what you replied repeats in your head, but it’s all a blur, a mess of words and echoes of high-pitched screams.
You reach your car, stumbling on your feet as you get in with some difficulty. Driving while awfully drunk is not a good decision, but you must get away from Floris, the bar, and everyone. Firing the engine, you pull the car out of the park, driving past the speed limit into the alley without looking around you.
You can’t see, you can’t hear, and all you can do is speed up while heavy tears fall from your eyes once more as you think about everything you shared with Aemond. Was any of it real? Were you a silly fling for him to gain information?
Suddenly, the sound of a horn catches your attention, and you see the light of another car coming your way. You try to break, but every time you press the pedal, the car doesn’t stop. Each time you fail, and you realize too late that you’ll either crash into the other car or you try to do something.
But time isn’t always on your side, and the last thing you see before blacking out is how your car hits the tree and the airbags open.
•••••••••••••••••••••••
Aemond bolts through hospital doors, repeating your name until someone pays attention and shows him the way to the ER. As soon as he reaches the end of the hallway, the doctor steps out and tries to calm him.
“How is she? What happened?”
“Calm down, sir, she’s alright—“
“I need to see her, please, let me go inside—“
The doctor declines, grabbing Aemond’s shoulders when he tries to step inside the room, “She’s under anesthesia, she probably won’t be up until noon. She has lost so much blood, two broken ribs, and a minor head trauma. She’s lucky she’s alive.”
The doctor leaves him alone, and Aemond slides down on the hospital floor, resting his head on the wall as he thinks about how terrible you must have felt when he left without any further explanation.
He cries softly, shoulders shaking with each sob that shocks his body. He’s not known to be a vulnerable person, but ever since you came into his life, he’s been changing; a bit softer around the edges of his heart, he smiles more, he relaxes more often than not, and he’s been much happier. But now, the thought of you going through such a horrible thing while he was away sleeping in his bed makes him hate himself even more for what he put you through.
He totally forgets about the elections that are taking place today, he can’t care less about what would happen, it means nothing when he can’t have you next to him. He declines every call from his mom and assistant, only sending a text to say he won’t return for the day.
His heart pops out of his chest when he sees the nurses pushing your bed towards one of the rooms.
“How is she?” He asks, looking down at your unconscious body. How beautiful you look even with bruises and wounds over your face.
“She’ll be fine, sir,” one of the nurses says, “all she needs is rest and good company.”
“When will she wake up?” He swallows, watching them closely while they hang your serums and connect different tubes.
“Hopefully in a few hours. Her body has experienced too much trauma and she should take as much rest as she can.”
He nods in agreement, waiting for them to leave before h breaks down, reaching to hold your sofy hand in his, kissing all over your knuckles and fingers, whispering praises of how he’ll cherish you and won’t leave you ever, he won’t put you through what he did again. He falls asleep with your hands in his, dried tears adoring his high cheekbones. He feels a soft hand reaching to wipe the remaining wetness, leaving soft caresses over his skin.
He opens his eye, finding you smiling softly at him as best as you can while fighting the pain. He sniffles and presses his lips desperately to the back of your hand, thanking the Seven for bringing you back to him.
“Hey,”
“Shh, please, don’t talk. You need to rest,” he reaches to push your hair out of your forehead, letting his fingers linger on your face for a little while before he holds your hand again, “what happened?”
“Well…” you cough, wincing in discomfort and pain before you continue, “I got drunk and…your wife came. We argued, she said some…nasty things about you…”
“What did she say, sweet girl?” He asks hesitantly, keeping his lips locked to your hand, “Don’t push yourself too much. If it bothers you—“
“She sent the photographers,” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, “she confessed it herself. She sent them because she wanted to help you. She said you didn’t want to win the elections, that you…you just used me to gain information on my father’s doings.”
“I would never do that, love, I would kill myself rather than ever thinking about hurting you.”
“But you did, Aemond. You hurt me when you left me at my house like garbage needed to be dumped. I was so alone, everyone left me, why does everyone leave me?” You ask, teardrops streaming down your cheeks.
“I will never leave you again, I’d never make the same mistake twice.” He reaches to wipe your tears gently, minding your injuries.
“You called our relationship a mistake too, Aemond…”
“I was angry at myself for not protecting us, for not filing the divorce papers sooner!” He says, desperation dripping from his words like honey, “I needed to step away, to convince Floris to be done with this marriage. I’ll be yours forever in a few days.”
“You… you’re getting a divorce? You just lost the election and-and you’re… how are you not freaking out, Aemond?”
“Because none of these matter as long as you’re not with me. You brighten up my world, sweet girl. My life orbits around your smile and I can’t… I can’t let go of you again.”
“I won’t be your affair anymore, n-not your other woman…”
