Cranberry Vodka, Arthur Fleck X Reader

Honey, Arthur Fleck x Reader

Ask: Please please please can you write a oneshot of arthur and rich!reader meeting through a mutual friend and she absolutely spoils him with money and gifts and food and anything he'd ever need? With kind of a kinky undertone? Like he's her sugar baby even though he's like way older than her. She just absolutely takes care of him in every way, just wants to tie him up and make him cum and then take him out for a fancy dinner and buy him pretty things ok thank u for reading this mess

Warnings: Cursing, smut, implied mommy kink.

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

A/N: So.. I went a little overboard with this. I didn’t even realize how long it was until I finished. Your request just gave me so much muse! I loved writing this so much. I’m going to put a border on this one, because of how long it is. Don’t want to take up your entire dash!

He was too well dressed. 

Arthur knew it as soon as his friend arrived, well, could he really call him a friend? He was more of a coworker, they’d only talked once before he invited Arthur to… whatever this was. Why was he invited? It surely wasn’t just to hang out. No one found Arthur interesting enough to invite out, they never had.

Wilfredo walked down the hall wearing a simple pair of blue jeans and a black hoodie, drawing attention to Arthur’s own outfit. A pair of black dress pants and a button-up white shirt, tucked in, of course. He looked down awkwardly and pulled a cigarette from his pants pocket to try and ease his freshly agitated nerves.

“Looking sharp, my man.” Wilfredo smiled when he reached him, clapping him on the shoulder with a friendly squeeze. Arthur tried not to slink away from his touch and lit his cigarette. “How long you been here? You knocked yet?”

Arthur shook his head and took a long pull. “Five minutes.” He lied, blowing out the smoke away from his face. He’d been there at least twenty minutes, standing in front of the unfamiliar apartment door and staring at the chipped paint. Inside he could hear a few people talking but it was too muffled to make out.

“You could have gone in man, I told them you’d be with me.” As he knocked on the door Arthur continued pondering why the fuck he was there, he wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself. He’d much rather be at home watching T.V with his mother. 

“Hey, why did you invite me?” Arthur spoke flatly, taking his cigarette up to his lips. He narrowed his eyes while he took a drag, not wanting the smoke to get into his eyes.

“I can tell you been stressed lately, Art. I know it’s not easy trying to make a living doing what we do, every once in awhile it’s good to hang out and have a few beers.” It seemed genuine enough, Arthur was almost touched, he couldn’t remember the last real friend he’d actually had. A true friend, not someone who claimed to be his friend to get what they wanted.

“One second!” Someone inside shouted.

Arthur put his cigarette out, sticking the half-smoked length back into his pack. So, have a few beers? Sure, he could do that. A drink or two and then he could go home. 

The door opened and Wilfredo was quickly wrapped in the embrace of a freakishly tall man. Arthur furrowed his brows and looked up at him, trying to guess how tall he was. At least seven feet. 

“It’s been too long brother, come inside.”

The room smelled like cigarettes, alcohol, and jasmine. Arthur cleared his throat as he walked in, trying to make out the faces in the darkness. A T.V sat in the corner of the room, playing some new horror movie everyone had been raging about. His eyes adjusted and he saw a woman on the couch nursing a beer, she was watching the movie so intently she didn’t even notice someone new had arrived.

Two girls in the kitchen, a blonde who looked like she was one beer short of a six-pack and a girl with box-black hair trying to open a bottle of wine. She was struggling with the bottle and the blonde wasn’t helping, too drunk to properly hold it while the other popped the cork out.

Before he was even introduced to the tall man the two girls in the kitchen squealed, dropping what they were doing to run to the door, pushing past Arthur in the process. He turned to see what the hell was so exciting. 

“Oh, Duckie, Cassie, I’ve missed you girls.” 

He couldn’t see the newcomer so he turned back to Wilfredo.

“That’s (Y/N),” Wilfredo said and led Arthur to the couch, picking up two beers on the way. “She buys ‘em whatever the hell they want and they kiss her ass for it.” Arthur sensed a hint of repulsion in his voice but said nothing, hoping he would continue on his own. “I love that girl but damn, she does too much for them.”

While Wilfredo began speaking of the film on T.V Arthur took a second to glance your way.

You were so pretty. You stood with grace, this elegance about you that demanded attention from everyone in the room. Even the brunette beside him who had been watching the movie. 

Duckie, the blonde, must have said something funny because you laughed suddenly and planted a kiss on her head. Your laugh could be compared to the light whisper of bells or an antique wind chime, the sound of a spoon tinkling against a champagne glass requesting attention at dinner. It would be a horrible lie to say Arthur wasn’t already enchanted with you.

The tall man was introduced to him as Jackson, or as everyone in the room called him, Tall-Jack. He was six foot nine exactly, an older black man with history in his eyes that needed to be told. Arthur would have liked to hear his stories.

“And here’s (Y/N),” Tall-Jack said as you finally parted from the two girls and came to the living room. “She’s as sweet as cherry pie and smells just as nice.”

“Nice to meet you.” You put on a smile and held your hand out to the stranger, taking in his features. He was dressed nicely for such a small affair, you appreciate that. You always dressed your best, as you were now, wearing a slim pink dress that ended at your knees and a rather unnecessary black fur coat. Your jewelry was a whole different story, you loved the way diamonds sparkled so you always went a bit overboard. A diamond necklace, two diamond rings, dangling diamond earrings and an anklet of the same. It’s not like anyone could blame you, if they had the money you did surely they’d be the same way.

Duckie and Cassie both had milked you of what they could, they were wearing their successions. Matching pearl necklaces for both of them and dainty diamond earrings. You loved them to death but knew they were mostly using you for your money. It was hard to turn them down though when they called you crying, showing up at your house with tears in their eyes. 

You were a pushover to people in need. Something inside you just wanted to take care of them like a mother would, you’d always been like that. Caring and nurturing to those who needed it, expecting nothing in return. You couldn’t help it.

“Hi,” Arthur took your hand and shook it, his eyes darting down to the expensive rings on your fingers. “Nice to meet you too.” He didn’t exactly stumble over his words but they sure as hell didn’t come out smoothly.

“So, you know Wilfredo?” You asked and sat on the coffee table in front of them, taking a beer that Cassie had brought you. “Thank you, darling.”

“Uhm, yeah.” He watched the interaction, how the two girls acted like you were some kind of royalty. “We, uh, we work together.”

“Oh!” You raised your brows as you took a sip from the cold glass bottle. “Do you? That’s interesting. You’re a party clown too?”

He shrugged, grateful that Tall-Jack and Wilfredo had started a conversation of their own, it meant fewer eyes on him. “Kind of. What do you do?”

“I’m a manager for a few different BMX riders. I do the promotion and sales, set up interviews.” 

Arthur’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, now very interested. “Wow, I don’t know anyone who does anything that interesting.” He gaped, hands clasped under his chin. “So, you travel a lot?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I go everywhere they go, it was hard to make it here but I manage.” You laughed and took another sip of beer, licking your lips. Your glittery lipgloss left marks around the rim of the bottle.

You and Arthur talked with each other the entire night. You mostly talked about your job, the places you’d been and the people you managed. He was one of the only people you’d met besides Tall-Jack and Jennifer, the brunette on the couch beside Arthur, that actually listened to you. He breathed in every word you spoke and watched you with all of his attention, not looking away or interrupting you once.

“Oh, god, look at the time.” Jennifer broke your conversation, prompting you to look down at your watch. 

“Wow! I should get going.” You stood from the coffee table and dusted off the back of your dress, picking up the fourth bottle of beer you’d opened. “Jack, darling, thank you for a wonderful night. I needed it.”

Arthur panicked as you said your goodbyes, he wanted to know so much more about you, he wanted to see you again, he wanted your number-

“You want to walk back with us?” You asked your new friend, looking down at him with a warm smile. 

He looked up and nodded, eyes flickering between you and Jennifer. “Yeah, sure. Uhm,” As he stood he looked to Wilfredo, shutting his mouth when he saw he was blacked out on the loveseat. Cassie, the girl with short black hair, was no better than him, sitting in the kitchen with her head on the table and seven beer bottles next to her.

“You’re leaving already?” Duckie pouted and followed you to the door, it was quite obvious she wanted something from you. Arthur cringed at the sight of it, she looked so desperate. Wilfredo’s words echoed in his head. 

“Yes, sweetie, you know how it is.” You reached the door and turned to her, planting both your hands on her shoulders. The way her face dropped made your heart ache.

Arthur and everyone else in the room knew it was an act. He watched with disgust as you promised to take her out soon and buy her a few new outfits. 

Jennifer rolled her eyes, something that didn’t go by unnoticed by Arthur. He snorted and looked away, waiting for you to finish your interaction. 

“Bye guys, it was so nice seeing you all again.” You said when Duckie finally let your arm go. 

“Bye cherry pie!” Tall-Jack waved you off, saying something about how he did this every Friday night.

When Arthur finally got outside the room he felt like he could breathe again. Seeing you get taken advantage of like that made his stomach churn. You deserved better.

“Why do you do that for her?” Jennifer asked as the three of you made your way out of the apartment building. “Her and Cassandra. They’re like leeches.”

You sighed, knowing she was right. “It’s not like I’m buying them houses. I like doing nice things for people. If you’d let me I’d decorate your neck too.”

Arthur walked slightly behind, watching the two of you talk, letting himself be invisible so he could hear your voice go on without his own ruining it. You sounded so pretty, it would be a shame to let his voice pollute the air you blessed.

After you walked Jennifer home you turned to Arthur, realizing he hadn’t spoke the entire time. “Where do you stay?” You asked as he pulled out a cigarette. You reached forward and plucked it from his fingers, almost laughing at how surprised he looked. “These will kill you, you know. Don’t smoke that.” You tsked and handed it back to him, appreciating how he stuck it back in the pack. 

You liked that he listened to you. 

“I’m uh,” He looked behind you, biting his bottom lip. Should he tell you that he lived in the complete opposite direction? What would you think knowing he had walked all the way to the other side of town just to be with you?

“You live that way? Let me walk you home.” You used your hand to guide him in the right direction. 

“Oh, you don’t have to.” He spoke shyly, suddenly feeling exposed. No one had ever gone out of their way for him, it was always the other way around. Always. 

“No, darling, I want to.” You smiled at him with your hand still on his shoulder, you decided to give him a soft squeeze of comfort. He was so sweet you had instantly felt the need to treat him the way you did your girls, you wanted to spoil him with gifts and make him smile. 

On the way back to his apartment your arm somehow found its way around his shoulders, something neither of you said anything about. He didn’t slink away from your touch so you kept your arm there, pulling him closer.

He savored every step, discreetly nuzzling his face into the fur of your sleeve. You smelt like honeysuckle and oranges, it reminded him of a childhood he didn’t have. While you walked in comfortable silence he allowed himself to pretend it would never end, that your arm would always be around him, keeping him safe, and it would always smell so beautiful. 

As you arrived at his apartment you could sense his mood had changed, his shoulders slumped slightly and he walked slower. He didn’t want to go home and you knew it.

“This it?” You stopped with him at the front doors, sliding your arm off his shoulders. He was visibly disappointed but you couldn’t hold him forever, no matter how much you both wanted.

“Yeah.” He sighed, looking through the glass doors with dread. “Thanks for walking me back, you didn’t have to.”

You grabbed his hands in yours, they felt so cold and frail compared to how warm and inviting yours were. He melted. 

“I wanted to, sweetie.” You smiled and rubbed your thumbs over the back of his hand, not missing the slight squeeze he gave you. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

Arthur closed his eyes at how soft and warm your voice sounded, it almost hurt. No one had ever spoken to him like that. “Yeah.”

You hummed and looked at his face, taking in the expression of sadness and longing. You’d seen it so many times before and your instincts so desperately wanted to take over and wrap him in your arms. “Okay, sweetie. You ever need anything call me, okay?” You reached in your purse and took out your planner, it was pink and had your name in gold cursive on the front. You tore out a page, the tear so clean it made Arthur wonder how you could do literally everything with such grace and perfection. You wrote out your number and folded the paper, careful not to smudge the ink. 

“What would I need?” He chuckled and took the paper, slipping it in the back pocket of his pants. 

“Well, if you need someone to talk to. I’m busy most days and I’m not home a lot, but when I am I’ll let you know. You can come over for a drink.”

He nodded and resisted the urge to light a cigarette, instead licking his lips. You were so nice, what was the catch? There had to be a catch, he knew it. No one was this nice for no reason.

“Promise you’ll call?” You teased with a smile when he left you in silence. 

He looked at your soft, glittery, pink lips, wanting so badly to taste them. “Yeah. I mean, yes. I promise.” He hated how silly he sounded, but in time he’d learn to love it. He just needed time.

“Good.” Satisfied you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, leaving the slightest shimmer of pink on his skin. You had a few inches on him because of your heels, but as soon as they came off you knew he’d be much taller than you. They were your tallest pair anyways, leaving you taller than most people. You found that people took you seriously when you were taller or as tall as them, it was a necessity in the business world. 

***

As promised, Arthur called. He called the night of to make sure he had the right number, resulting in a surprisingly long conversation about fruit. He went to bed that night with a smile on his face and cherries on his mind.

The workweek for him was awful. Worse than awful. Monday he had coffee thrown on him, Tuesday someone stole his red clown nose, Wednesday he got a complaint from the shoe store he’d been advertising for, they said he was scaring away customers with his laughter. It wasn’t his fault. Some kid had been teasing him and he had a fit of laughter, making the situation so much worse. The kid fed off of the anxiety and kept going. Thursday his boss told him off for something that wasn’t even his fault, and Friday, Friday was the breaking point.

A group of teenage girls thought it would be hilarious to make a scene, taunting him with their words and going as far as touching him, grabbing at his arms and saying something about him being skinny. He didn’t remember everything. All he knew was that he wanted to see you.

“Happy, you’re home early,” Penny said as soon as he walked in the door, straining from her spot on the loveseat to see him. “Did you check-”

“Yes, mom.” He cut her off as he went to the phone with one thing on his mind. “Nothing. There was nothing.”

She rambled on about the usual but he tuned her out, dialing your number he had memorized. You probably wouldn’t pick up but he could leave a message-

“Hello, this is (Y/N) speaking.” Your voice caught him off guard, he expected the answering machine. 

He didn’t plan on you picking up. He swallowed and fought for the words to say, leaving you both in silence. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Arthur.” He choked out and grasped at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen it. “Are you home?”

“Arthur! Hi sweetie, yes, I’m home.” You sounded so heavenly he felt a little better the more you spoke. You almost sounded happy to hear from him.

“Could I see you?” 

“Who is that?” Penny asked, curious as to who he would be seeing. As far as she knew he had no friends.

***

“Of course you can.” You cooed into the receiver and made your way through your house, you had just gotten home from an interview in New York. It was your biggest client, he was about to compete in freestyle competition in California and the press were up your ass for content.

He was Dennis McCoy, on team Haro, one of the biggest names in the industry, so you had been very busy lately. But you always had time for your friends, you made time for them. 

“Do you want me to come get you?” You asked as you set down the large folder of posters you’d just picked up. 

“No, I can walk.”

“Honey, I’m on the other side of town. Let me come get you.” 

After a while of back and forth he gave in and you drove to get him. Once he was in your car he wouldn’t shut up about how you didn’t have to get him, how he really could have just walked. 

“Have you had dinner yet?” You cut him off as you drove down the crowded street, having to stop often because of the traffic and people walking in the road. 

“Uh,” He inhaled at your question, his rambling had left him breathless. “Yeah, I had a little.” It was a complete lie. He hadn’t eaten at all that day. His medications often left him with little to no appetite, taking its obvious toll on his already skinny form. 

You looked at him and raised a brow. “Are you lying to me, Arthur?” 

He looked at you and prepared to shake his head, but when he saw the look in your eye he knew he couldn’t lie. It was like you were an authority figure, but not like his boss. He actually liked you, and if he was honest, he liked the thought of you telling him what to do. “Yes. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t lie to me, sweetie.” You stopped him and looked back to the road, running through the restaurants local to you. “What do you like? There's a steakhouse nearby, a seafood bar, this great Italian place near where I live.”

“Italian sounds nice.” 

You settled on Italian, glad he chose that option. It was one of the nicer places to eat, you and your clients ate there often when discussing business.

Arthur felt a little out of place in the fancy restaurant. Everyone was dressed so nice, they all looked like models. He thought you looked like you belonged there, wearing a gorgeous black dress with a pink suede jacket. You had on a different necklace, a dainty gold chain with some sort of pearl pendant. Pearl earrings. Those same diamond rings.

He looked down at his faded blue jeans and cringed. At least he showered.

“How was your week?” You asked over dinner, watching him pick at his food. He had only taken a few bites of his pasta, but he had finished two cups of water. At least he was drinking. 

When you asked the question he winced, looking down at his food as the memories of the week came crashing back. “It was fine. How was yours? Tell me about it.”

You eyed him with suspicion but told him about your week, about the interview and the new posters that your graphic designer made. He listened intently, as always, smiling and nodding. You’d told many people about your line of work but none of them listened the way he did, not even Jennifer. It felt so good to finally have someone that was actually interested in you, there had been so many Duckie’s and Cassie’s in your life you’d lost count. 

“Is it stressful?” He asked after you finished your plate, he hadn’t even noticed but when you were talking he had been absentmindedly eating. He had about half of his meal gone and he felt full for the first time in forever, and he wasn’t even nauseous. There was something about you that had slowly changed things about him without him even noticing.

“Sometimes. But I love my job. It’s worth it.” You answered with a smile. “You ready then?”

It took a moment for him to realize what you meant, but then the waitress slipped the bill on the table and he nodded. “Oh, yeah, uhm.” He reached in his pocket to grab his wallet.

“Don’t even think about it.” You stopped him, using your firm voice, and pulled your wallet from your purse. 

Arthur blushed as you paid the bill, half of him feeling guilty and ashamed but the other half enjoying the feeling of being taken care of. It was something his mother never did for him, she had never taken care of him the way you were. Buying him dinner, making sure he ate, chiding him on his smoking just like a mother should.

The waitress left and came back with his leftovers wrapped up in tinfoil, it looked overly fancy and somewhat unnecessary. But that’s how it was in the world of the rich, fancy and unnecessary. 

You took him back to your house. As soon as he walked through the door his jaw dropped, it looked like a mansion to him. 

He was adorable. 

“Sit down, make yourself at home.” You took the leftovers from his hands, making sure to brush your fingers over his. “I’ll put these up and get us a drink. Do you like wine?”

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You went to the kitchen and put away his food, pouring two glasses of your favorite red wine. You came back to the living room to see him sitting on your couch, admiring the centerpiece on your glass coffee table. It was a gold statue of a GT bike, one of your clients gave it to you after they won a competition for the team.

“Here you go, sweetie.” You sat next to him on the couch, maybe a little too close. Your thighs touched and your shoulders gently grazed his. “So, you want to tell me how your week really was?”

He watched you lean back, your arm gracefully laying across the top of the couch. Should he really tell you? Honestly? He sighed and took a sip of the wine, biting down on his bottom lip after he swallowed. “It wasn’t too great. People, people don’t really like clowns.”

You listened to him talk, nodding. When he leaned back into the couch his hair brushed against your hand and he went to move but you stopped him, letting your fingertips stroke the back of his head. “I like clowns. Did someone bother you, sweetie?” You observed how he seemed to fall apart at your touch and continued playing with his hair, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better.

Arthur choked back a chuckle, trying his best to stop the oncoming fit of laughter that threatened to spill from his chest and ruin the moment. “I, aha,” He coughed and gritted his teeth. “Monday, someone threw coffee on me-” And that’s when the fit started. He felt like he’d suffocate on his laughter, it took everything out of him and left him gasping for breath with tears in his eyes.

You had no idea what was happening but stayed quiet, stroking his hair and letting it happen. It looked like some sort of panic attack, one of your younger clients had them often before interviews and competitions. 

When the laughter finally stopped he sucked in a breath, filling his lungs with the oxygen he so desperately needed. “And Tuesday,” 

“You don’t need to tell me everything, sweetie.” You stopped him and set your glass of wine on the table, turning to face him, your hand still in his hair. You touched his thigh with the other, not missing how his muscles tensed under your hand.

“It was a rough week.” He felt a tear trickle down his cheek and he cursed himself for being so emotional. He didn’t want you to see him like that, he didn’t want you to think he was some helpless idiot who pitied himself.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You sighed and rubbed his thigh, giving him a comforting squeeze. 

Arthur swallowed hard when you called him that. Sweetie was one thing, he’d heard you call Duckie and Cassie that name. But baby?

“Can I call you that?” You asked respectfully while you brushed the hair from his eyes, rubbing your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Is that okay?”

Arthur leaned into your hand and nodded, savoring every second of human contact. He was so damn touch starved it was ridiculous. “Yeah.”

“Okay, baby.” You shifted in the couch closer to him, pulling his head against your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

Arthur, for once in his life, was held. He cried into your embrace, letting all the years of pent up sadness and anger spill out. 

You knew when you saw Arthur that he was stressed out, you could see it in his eyes. But this was something different entirely, he was so damaged and hurt that it made your heart ache. All you wanted to do was hold him and take away his pain. 

You kissed his head as the crying slowly stopped, he had stopped sobbing and was letting out an occasional cough and sniffle. “I should go.” He said weakly, but his body betrayed his words and he stayed wrapped in your arms.

“I don’t think you should, baby.” You rubbed his back with one hand and squeezed his shoulder with the other to keep him grounded with you. 

He sniffed and after a moment lifted his head from your chest, looking at you. “Why? I mean, why are you so kind to people? I’ve never met anyone like you in Gotham. You give and expect nothing in return, why?”

You smiled and brushed his hair from his face, cupping his cheek which was still wet and cold with tears. “I like it. I give what I can because I know how it feels to have no one. When I was younger…” You trailed off, then shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s in the past. I don’t want people to have to feel like that when it’s so easy to make them feel better. For some people, they need things to make them feel better. Duckie and Cassie,”

At the mention of their names Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Don’t do that. You don’t know what they have going on behind closed doors. For them, material items make them happy. So I buy them things, I don’t mean to brag, but money isn’t an issue with me, so I do what I can to make them happy. If you wanted something I’d do the same for you.” 

Arthur wished he didn’t have to worry about money like you did. But the last thing he would ever do would be to ask you for money, it felt disgusting to even think about it. Sure, it would be nice to have the rent paid off and have food in the fridge for his mom, but he would never. Ever.

At the thought of his mother he looked at the clock. His heart dropped. “Oh, I need to go home. My mom-”

“Alright, let me get your food.” You stood, leaving him cold on the couch without the warmth of your arms.

“About earlier, the laughing, I have a condition.” He said when you came back with his food in your hands. “I can’t control it.”

“I figured as much.” You smiled, handing him his leftovers. “That’s okay, though. I don’t mind it. We all have our vices.”

***

Your relationship with Arthur in the following weeks blossomed into the sweetest and most beautiful thing. You found joy in taking him shopping, you’d bought him countless outfits and jackets that actually fit him, shoes that would last and even a watch. He wasn’t one for jewelry, which was a shame. You liked the surprised look on people’s faces when they opened the felt jewelry boxes and laid their eyes on whatever you’d bought.

You took him to dinner when you could, making sure he ate his fill. You adored him and everything about him. 

One night after dinner you found yourselves upstairs in your bedroom, halfway through a bottle of wine laughing about some cheesy romance movie you had playing on the T.V.

“Look what I bought you the other day.” You leaned off the bed and grabbed the gift bag you had laying on your floor. One of your clients had an interview in Arizona and you saw something in one of the gift shops you thought he’d like. 

“Wow, that looks heavy.” He said as he sipped his wine, cross-legged at the foot of your bed. 

“Here, open it.” You crawled towards him and set the bag in front of him, excited to see how he’d react.

Arthur handed you his glass of wine and dipped his hands into the bag, fingers wrapping around the large gift. He struggled to pull it out but when he did his eyes lit up. “Oh, wow, (Y/N)...” 

It was a record player, a very nice one at that. It was black and rimmed with gold around the edges, hints of red in some of the dips. You watched with a wide smile on your face as he looked it over, turning and examining the entire thing.

“How much was this?” He stuttered and looked back up to you like a child getting exactly what he wanted for Christmas. 

“I’m not telling you.” You laughed and playfully nudged his shoulder, pleased with how he reacted. It filled your heart with so much happiness you thought it would burst.

He was speechless, he couldn’t think of a damn thing so say. 

“Do you like it?” You knew he did but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Uh, yeah?” He laughed at the absurdity of the question, nodding with a grin. “I love it. Thank you so much. I don’t know how to show you how much I appreciate this.”

You hummed and pretended to be deep in thought before tapping your lips with one finger. His eyes flicked down to your lips as he’d done many times before, but this time with a new reason. He looked back into your eyes and furrowed his brows, not sure if you meant what he thought you did.

You looked up, finger still on your lips. “Come on, give me some sugar.”

Oh. Arthur swallowed and tried not to show how nervous he was. He cursed himself for being so awkward and leaned into you, watching you close your eyes as his face neared yours. You were serious. He forced himself to get his act together and pressed his lips against yours.

How his heart soared. He melted into you and exhaled through his nose, and when he finally pulled away, he licked his lips to taste you. Your lipgloss was flavorless, he found, but you tasted like wine. 

“That’s how you can repay me.” You teased, watching him lick his lips. “Oh, but how will you repay me for dinner?”

You both knew he didn’t have to repay you at all, just him spending time with you and being your friend was payment enough. But sugar was optional, it was a plus that you didn’t need.

“Do, are you like this with the others?” He asked, still breathless from the kiss.

You narrowed your eyes, considering if you should be honest. “Well, the others don’t like me like you do. They like what I do for them, but they don’t like me.” 

“As sweet as that is, (Y/N), I want to know if they… pay you back like this.” 

“Well, Duckie and Cassie, they sometimes do.” You decided to tell him the truth, he deserved to know. “I have a few other girls, well, not anymore, but in the past, yes. I’d buy them what they needed, paid their rent, their bills, and they’d… you know.”

“What do they do for you?” The sudden look of lust in his eyes changed the conversation entirely. You knew he was no longer innocently curious, and when your eyes cast down you saw from the bulge in his pants that he really, really wanted to know.

“Cassie, she likes to eat me out.” Your voice was now an airy whisper, only audible to the two of you. “When I do something considerably generous for her she repays me the same way. Sometimes she’ll lick me for hours while I do paperwork. Duckie is on the sweeter side, she likes to give me kisses and have me touch her.”

“Touch her? How is that for you?” 

You smiled and touched his knee, fingertips barely stroking him through his pants. “Have you ever touched a woman? To see them come undone with your fingers inside them, well, it does more for me sometimes than Cassie’s mouth can.”

Arthur swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Does touching a man do the same for you?”

You shrugged, running your fingers up his thigh. When he gasped at your touch you smiled, then nodded. “I think it can with you. You’re already doing a lot to me.”

God, how was he supposed to respond to that? He wanted to please you now, he wanted to make you as happy as you had made him the past few weeks. It had been a month at least, maybe almost two. He’d never been happier. He’d never been… happy. But you changed that. You made him feel special and wanted, which is exactly what you were trying to do.

“Can I touch you, baby?” You whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek as your hand rested on top of his hardened length. He was so hard. The fact made you ache.

“Yeah.” He murmured, his face turning to the side as your lips left kisses from his cheek to his jaw. When you pressed them against his neck he thought he’d cum in his pants. 

You unzipped his pants for him, pulling them down enough to pull out his cock. Your mouth actually watered at the sight of it, he was long and thick. You found in your life that the skinny, taller guys always had the more impressive cocks. The muscular guys who oozed confidence were… much less impressive.

You stroked him a few times before stopping to move the record player and bag off the bed. But you were back in a second, pressing your hand against his chest and pushing him into a laying position. “You’re so pretty, Arthur.” You breathed, your breath hot against the tip of his cock. You planted a kiss on his head and he moaned, hands reaching for your hair. “No, sweetie. You can’t touch me yet. Hands down.”

Being told what to do did something for him, he moaned in response and moved his hands up to his chest. “I like that,” His voice was a shaky whisper. “Being told what to do.”

They always did.

“Good. Now, stay still and let me taste you.” 

You licked a stripe from the base of his cock to his head, flattening your tongue before taking him into your mouth. His precum tasted like salt, but it wasn’t bad. His diet had been healthy enough recently for him to taste fine. You swirled your tongue around the tip, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. When you took him entirely into your mouth he groaned loudly and shuttered. 

“I’m, I’m not going to,” He sputtered and tried his best to stay still but his hips bucked upwards. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

“Come for me.” You took him out of your mouth and pumped him a few times, looking down at his face. His eyes were closed and his face was twisted in pleasure, his lips parted as his chest heaved with every breath. “Come for me, baby.” Your mouth went back to his cock and you forced yourself to take him all in, the tip of him reaching down the back of your throat.

“Oh!” He groaned and hissed, his hips jerking up into your mouth. He came quickly, moaning pretty little noises, his cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed all of it, making sure not a single drop was wasted.

You sat up and looked down at him, taking in how beautiful he looked. “You’re such a good boy, Arthur. Now get up.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking at you while he struggled to sit up. You looked so elegant, your lips red from the friction and your eyes glossy from tears. None had spilled, though, he supposed you were too perfect for that.

“Make me come.” You sat up on your knees and raised your dress to slip off your black panties. When they were off you laid back against your pillows and bent your knees, spreading them to give him a full view of your pussy.

“Jesus.” He breathed at the sight and crawled up to you, taking off his jacket. He wanted to remove his shirt as well but your pussy was too tempting to waste time undressing.

Arthur laid down between your legs and nuzzled his face in your pussy, licking once through your folds. You were so wet, it gathered on the tip of his tongue and trickled down to his throat. “You taste so good.” He breathed and continued his work of licking and sucking, gauging your reactions to see what pleased you the most. After a while he fell into a rhythm of licking you, sucking your clit, and dipping his tongue as far as he could reach inside you.

You were breathless. You knew Arthur had no experience, it was obvious given how fast he came and how he had started oral, but it was shocking how fast he learned. He might actually make you come.

He remembered what you had said earlier about fingers and seeing a woman come undone with them. He cautiously slipped his middle finger inside you, jumping at the noise you made. 

“Is that,” He thought he might have hurt you.

“Perfect, baby.”

He put his mouth back on you and moved his finger in and out, not sure what felt good.

“Curl them, in and out doesn’t do it for me.” 

Note taken, he curled his finger. You burst into heavy breathing, reaching down to tug at his hair. He was so good, so good, he was going to make you come. It was so rare for someone to actually make you orgasm. 

“Perfect, oh, yeah!” You gasped and closed your eyes, rutting your hips down on his face. He curled his finger faster and sucked on your clit as you came in his mouth, the noises you made were music to his ears. You laughed sweet, you spoke sweet, and the noises you made in bed were even better. How were you so perfect?

You came hard, jerking and shaking, toes curling. You were the only person who had ever made you come like that, no one before Arthur had done it like you could.

“Oh, baby. I’m going to have to keep you here.” You teased and he rose from your legs, licking the cum from his lips. “You need to stay here with me.”

He wished he could. 

Making you come had caused him to harden again. You thanked the gods that you were able to go again so quickly, it was a gift women were blessed with.

“Lay down.” You slipped off the bed and he laid where you were previously, his hand going to his cock like it was programmed. “No, no touching.” You slapped his hand away and went back to what you were doing, grabbing your ties from your bedside table. 

Arthur watched you climb back on the bed, on top of him, your wet center grazing his cock. He shuddered and forced his hands to stay at his side as you looped the ties around the headboard. You grabbed his hands and tied them above his head, making sure they were tight enough that he couldn’t free himself but not too tight. You didn’t want to cut off circulation.

“You were so good.” You said once you were done, placing your hands flat on his chest. He looked up at you with adoration, soaking in every praise you gave him. “My good boy, you made me come so hard.”

You leaned down and kissed him, deeper than before, your tongue entering his hot mouth. He tasted like your cum and wine. 

With one hand you grabbed his cock and slipped it inside you, your tongue still in his mouth. The way he gasped sent shivers down your back. 

You only broke the kiss to take off your dress, pulling it over your shoulders and throwing it behind you. Arthur didn’t know where to look, your chest or your face. Both were so pretty. Your nipples were hard, your skin looked so soft. He wanted so badly to touch your breasts. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, you started riding him. One hand on his chest and the other on your thigh, you rose and sank down on his cock. He filled you perfectly, falling just centimeters short of your cervix. Any longer and it would be painful. 

Arthur couldn’t even speak. He closed his eyes and moved with you, his hips rising to meet yours with each motion. You felt so good wrapped around his cock, he hoped he would last longer this time. He lost himself in his body, everything felt so perfect.

“Open your eyes.” You caressed his face with your palm, stroking his cheeks with your fingertips. “I wanna see those pretty green eyes when I come.”

He opened his eyes and locked them with yours, it was harder than it sounded, keeping them open and focused. It felt so intimate, he hadn’t felt that, ever. It was like you were looking into each other's souls, all of you belonging to each other, naked and exposed in every way. There was nowhere to hide, no way to lie. 

You came again, clenching down on his cock, your eyes still locked with his. The sight of it was so beautiful to him, your mouth hanging open with your red cheeks. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he watched you come. “I can’t even tell you how beautiful you are.”

Coming to his praises was such an amazing experience. 

You untied his hands with shaking fingers, suddenly overtaken with a more hungry desire. “Now, fuck me. I want it fast, and hard.”

The two of you switched positions and he plunged his cock back inside you, fucking you exactly how you said. Fast, and hard. His hips snapped forward with rough thrusts, hands planted in the pillows beside your head. You locked your ankles around his back, prompting him to go deeper.

“Just like that, baby.” Your moans were choppy from the force of his thrusts.

He fucked you harder when he felt his second orgasm come, burying his entire cock inside you. It caught him off guard and he had to close his eyes, it was too much. “Oh, (Y/N).” He groaned and came, continuing his thrusts. They were sloppy now but you didn’t care, you came with him and shouted his name. 

“Oh my god.” He panted when his orgasm finished, leaving him with a few spasms and jerks. He rolled off of you and unbuttoned his shirt to get air on his overheated body. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

You rolled through the last waves of your orgasm, humming and shaking beside him. “Mmm, yeah, baby. You’re so good.”

After the two of you dressed and pulled yourselves together you drove him home. The whole ride was spent talking about nothing and everything, the both of you still high from multiple orgasms. 

“Thank you for tonight.” Arthur said in the passenger seat when you pulled up outside his apartment. He didn’t want to leave but he knew he had to, he had to tend to his mother.

“Of course, honey.” You reached out and brushed his hair from his cheek. “Listen, I’ve got a really busy week coming up. But Friday night I’m going to take you out, okay?” 

“Okay.” he was a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t see you until then, but he was glad he got to see you again nonetheless. 

“Come here.” You smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slipping a sealed envelope in his pocket. He thankfully didn’t notice. You knew he would refuse the money, but you just wanted to take care of him. You knew he was struggling. 

“I’ll see you on Friday.” He said when the kiss broke, reaching for the door handle. 

“See you then, sweetheart.”

I have never put a request in for a fic before, but here goes! Since Arthur canonically is a virgin, has childlike innocence and no idea how to interact with women, I'd love to read a fic about a friend helping him to understand what a woman would 'like'. Like having a 'mock' date, dancing, holding hands. But they wind up as a little more than friends; 'teaching and learning' is more of an excuse to get closer with each other since they'd secretly wanted it, but were too shy.

Yes! This is adorable and I love it! I'll get right on it darling ❤

TOO SWEET! I LOVE IT

okay so what about getting asleep on the sofa while watching TV and then he wakes you up to go to bed and he's just so happy you're by his side that he dances with you around the room like he does with penny and you're still sleepy and you murmur 'we better dance like this at our wedding, future husband' hhhhf im SOFT

I’m soft omg this is the life ????? also I love that shoulder thing he does in this scene ugh. He’s such a cutie pie.

Warnings: swearing, smoking (why do I still bother tagging these?) and implied nsfw at the end. You may need to bite a pillow to keep from squealing, this is soft.

word count: 1, 981.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird@mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft@help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes@onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties

You were exhausted.

All day had you had to be in contact with people. You hadn’t had a free moment to yourself. Even when you had gone outside your university to have a cigarette, people had wanted stuff to do with you. It hadn’t been more than an hour since leaving the apartment building that you had wanted to go home again. At least Arthur didn’t socially wear you out; one look at you and it seemed like he could read your entire mood, and know what to do to be around you peacefully, without causing you any sort of distress. He was an actual angel and you didn’t know where you would be without him. Your entire life revolved around Arthur, and though you knew that that was mildly unhealthy, you also knew that you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was the kind of man to demand that all eyes were on him. He was unaware of the beauty of his own self, and that only increased his allure, somehow.

When Arthur had finally come home from work late in the evening, just as tired and worn down as you were, you had already been curled up on the sofa, ready to go to sleep. Instead, however, you had jumped up with more physical energy than you thought you had left in you, such was the effect he had on you, and reheated his dinner, spoken to Arthur about his day, and made him feel loved. Loving Arthur Fleck was a gift, but it seemed almost surreal for him to love you back just as hard, if not even more than you loved him. He felt deeply, which meant that he hurt deeply, and rarely could he experience a single day without another punch to the face. Sometimes, life expressed that particular sentiment physically, and you were always there with a gentle touch to patch up his wounds. It was the emotional ones which required more tender loving care, and you only gladly obliged. He deserved the entire fucking world, and though you couldn’t physically give it to him, you could make him feel like he was on top of it.

When at last all your daily responsibilities, stresses and duties had been tended to, Arthur had invited you to sit beside him on the sofa. The Murray show was on, but you weren’t concentrating on it. Not only did you not like the host - he was a rude man who preyed on other people to get a cued laugh from the paid audience and sometimes you found yourself wishing that someone would just permanently shut him up - but you were just so tired. You leaned easily against Arthur’s upper arm, feeling his body heat radiate through his thin cotton shirt. Naturally did his arm curl around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. You shifted so that you were pressed completely against his side, his body warding off the chill in the apartment; the heating was just too expensive, even and most especially given that it was winter and therefore, the government could get away with putting up the prices because of the ‘supply and demand’. It was bullshit, but what could you do? You were a working class citizen working to the bone just to survive and therefore, you had no real voice and no power of your own.

You were asleep before you knew it. The scent of cigarette smoke kept your own nicotine craving at bay, and the feeling of Arthur pressed tightly against you and the gentle smell of his cologne kept you in that secured lull which promised a good night’s sleep in preparation for all that was waiting for you tomorrow. You couldn’t wait for Sunday; it was your Day with Arthur. Once a week, every Sunday, did you only make plans for each other. You didn’t leave the apartment on Sundays, anything important could wait until the following day, and so you were left to indulge in each other in whatever means were most appealing on that day. Often, you stayed in the bedroom and played card games, smoking together and watching Charlie Chaplin re-runs.

The first thing that you became distantly aware of was that the bed you were lying against was moving in a steady rise and fall. There was a rumbling just under your ear and then Arthur’s gentle, patient tone threatened to send you right back to sleep.

“Y/N, darling. Come on, it’s time for bed.”

You groaned. “Nope. Sleeping. Shush.”

Another rumble ran through Arthur’s chest and bubbled up and out of his throat, the sound creating a lovely laugh. You adored it when he laughed genuinely. It was such a rare sound and you cherished it, so different was it to the terrifying attacks he so often experienced. 

“No,” Arthur hummed, “You gotta help me get you to bed. I can’t carry you.”

You sighed sleepily and sat up. Arthur laughed both at the expression on your face and the way your hair was sticking up on one side, laying completely flat on the other. 

“Sleepy head.” He teased, his eyes soft and full of love for you. The harsh blue light from the television screen illuminated the dark circles under his green eyes, and you felt guilty. Had you kept him awake while he waited for you to stir?

You stood, taking Arthur’s hand, and he pulled you close to his chest, swaying with you. He spun you slowly, a sweet smile on his face. His hair was fluffy, freshly washed, the dark curls framing either side of his forehead. His waistcoat was perfectly matched with his trousers, and he looked so ethereal. He was heaven sent. As he pulled you close again to dance with you without music, your sleep addled brain failed to consider the potential consequences of your next words.

“I want to dance like this with you at our wedding, future husband.” Your eyes were already sliding shut as you relaxed against his chest.

Time seemed to stop as your words seeped into your brain. Arthur froze and you even felt him stop breathing.

You weren’t tired any more as reality doused you awake just as surely as a cold bucket of water tipped over you would. You stared at Arthur’s still chest, not blinking, your entire body trained on the person in front of you, his hands still tightly gripping you.

A shuddered inhale. A bubble of quiet laughter. Silence.

“What… what did you just say?”

You dared to look up into those beautiful green eyes you so adored. You had memorised that face so well that you could recall it perfectly even in your sleep. Many a night had you fallen asleep staring at it, hoping that its features would find you in your dreams.

Little did you know that your wildest dreams weren’t inside your mind, but physically present in the bed with you.

“What is your shirt made of?” You reached out and plucked the sleeve of his shirt between your thumb and forefinger. You had a reason for the apparent sudden change in topic. You would make your point known in all the ways you could think of. It was the least you could do for Arthur.

“No, Y/N, what did you - “

“I’m getting there.” You smiled patiently, pleading with him inside your mind to go along with you.

Arthur nodded, sighed and seemed to accept that you would repeat yourself when you had had your fun as, with a slight bite of impatience, he said, “I don’t know, cotton or something. Please tell me what you said.” His voice was quieter towards the end of the sentence. Did he think it was a joke to you?

You shook your head and made sure to look him straight in the eyes. “No.” You disagreed. “It’s made of husband material.”

You saw some pre-existing spark in his eyes explode into a fire as the most beautiful smile lit up Arthur’s entire face like a christmas tree. You hadn’t intended to say this here and now, but your mouth had made the decision for you, as it so often did when you were tired. Actually, scrap that - your mouth often made your decisions for you, and your brain was left to figure out the aftermath. Your brain to mouth filter had always been faulty, even more so when you were tired.

“Wait here.” Quick as a flash were you gone, disappeared into the bedroom. You left Arthur’s arms feeling empty with naught for company but the ghost of your touch. Like a whirlwind, you were back just as quickly as you had gone. 

In your hand was a small black box, which was clenched painfully in your grip. Ready? Go!

“Here.”

You handed it to a wide eyed Arthur. His hands were shaking and nearly did he drop the box. He sought to cup it in his hands. “W-what… I don’t -” Laughter. Cruel and painful laughter ripped its way out of your love’s throat, making him cross his arms over his shoulders as he buried his face in the material of his work shirt. He doubled over, turned his back to you, and violent chuckles threatened to destroy the very gentle, loving atmosphere that had naturally occurred when the two of you were together. 

You put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down his spine, feeling the different vertebrae through his clothing. You said nothing, you only stayed, and that meant so much more to Arthur than anything else that you could have done. Guilt racked him as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had ruined the moment. You had just presented your future together to him on a silver platter, the entire scene practically gift wrapped in its perfection, and he had ruined it with his condition. As he quieted to hiccups and straightened up, breathing in deeply, you said, “Don’t you dare think you’ve ruined anything, Arthur.”

He hiccuped, “But - “

“No.” You smiled gently to take the bite out of your words, and pulled him into a hug. Immediately did your fingers find the dark curls at the nape of his neck. Arthur’s head sunk down onto your shoulders, taller than you was he, and he pressed his nose into your jugular. His lips soothed the day’s tension away, and you allowed him to lavish you with kisses.

Slowly did you realise that he hadn’t answered your question.

“Arthur.”

Something in your voice caught his attention and he straightened up.

“Are you gonna’ answer my question?”

“Wait… you weren’t. You weren’t joking?” He was so incredulous, so disbelieving, that you couldn’t help it. Your jaw dropped. Did he really think so little of himself? You didn’t even need to think about it. Yes. Yes, he did.

“I would never fucking do that.”

Arthur looked down to the floor in shame, and you found the fallen box - he must have dropped it during his sudden attack - and picked it up, dusting it off. You opened it to reveal a set of modest antique rings. It was the best you could afford. The design was plain and simple but elegant. 

“So, how about it? Will you marry me, Arthur?”

The ferocity with which he kissed you took you aback, as again and again did he mumble “yes” against your lips. Your legs somehow found his waist, and it was with speedy movements and little care for the late hour that you showed Arthur just how much you had meant your question. The rings lay abandoned on the living room table; you would put them on each other tomorrow. For now, you would consummate the as yet unofficial but official vow to love each other in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part.

Joaquin Phoenix attending the conference of ‘Reservation Road’ back in 2007 at the Toronto International Film Festival

Arthur Fleck's Arkham Document from Joker (2019)

Honestly tried to sharpen it up a bit so it's readable, but doctors handwritings are the absolute worst.

What I got from this (left to right):

Arthur only made it to 10th grade. (Or lower)

He has never been married and has no kids. (We know this)

He's somewhere around in his early 30's. Probably 33-34 years old.

There was indeed only 1 bedroom in the apartment he stayed in with Penny, which could only mean he slept on the couch the entire time. (As some of us already suspected)

The physician doesn't even know where the hell to begin with Arthur's state, so it's written, "Laughing all the time. I don't know happy or what."

Arthur WORKS HIS ASS OFF to provide for himself and Penny as seen where it's checked off by 49-59 hours for working in the past week. (The average working hours per week is 40 hours. At least where I'm from)

The physician then wrote, "I wish I did know" but I'm not sure for which of the questions.

Then where the 'yes' is checked off for if Arthur has a permanent disability, the physician drew a little arrow where he/she then wrote, "I really don't understand it."

-

This honestly saddens and makes my heart yearn even more for Arthur just imagining the complete and total inhumane hardship he had to go through and endure all his life and then to never be taken seriously or cared for for not even a split second.

My emotions are so livid right now that I might just sock the next person that comes into my sight 😤

Thoughts?

joker: hey, one small thing?

me:

Hmm

Her (2013), dir. Spike Jonze

isn’t this how this scene went (quills, 2000)

General jealousy hc for Arthur and joker please?

Ive never done a HC before but I might go crazy with it in the future, so stick around

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl fucking hated that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time he got a kick to the face. 

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

Over and over he did this.

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

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

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

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

You looked about the same. 

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

Those two men weren't trying to kill Daryl. 

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you really didn't want to. 

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

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

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

Rick invited the inner group over for dinner and drinks. 

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

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

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

His expression grew serious then. “You okay?”

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

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

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

“Have you?”

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

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

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

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

Rick eyed you for a few silent moments. 

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

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

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

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

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

The air was unusually cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where the hell were the walkers?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fingers. 

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

Was that even Daryl?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daryl, please.” 

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get up.” 

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

Then it was like he disappeared. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rubbed your finger over your pearl earring and smiled. 

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