daryl's angel

The moment passed so easily when it happened—Rick’s voice warm and teasing, Judith giggling, Carl snoring softly against you. “Y/N, can I have my baby back?” he’d asked. “No, she’s mine now.”

It had been nothing but family banter, the kind that almost felt like the world outside wasn’t burning. And then Rick, with that half-smile that never quite reached his eyes, said it— “Y/N, I’ll give you one later but right now I want both of mine.”

You laughed, because what else were you supposed to do? But hours later, after Judith was tucked into her crib and Carl had shuffled to his own bed, the weight of his words clung to you.

He found you on the porch, the night thick and humid, crickets buzzing like static in the dark. You couldn’t even look at him without feeling heat creep up your neck. “You alright?” he asked, voice low, rasped from a day full of command and worry. “Yeah,” you lied. He studied you, that sheriff’s stare that could strip a man to bone. “You been quiet.”

You shifted in the chair, arms folded. “About earlier… when you said…” You trailed off, embarrassed by the way your heart pounded just recalling it.

Rick’s lips curved, slow and deliberate. “When I said I’d give you one?”

Your breath caught. There was no mistaking his tone this time. No playfulness, no mischief—just intent.

He stepped closer, the porch creaking under his boots. His hand braced on the back of your chair, trapping you in. “Maybe I was jokin’. Maybe I wasn’t.” His voice was gravel and heat all at once. “You think about it?”

You swallowed hard, unable to lie. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed. Rick leaned down, his mouth brushing your ear. “Then let me give you somethin’ to think about a little harder.”

His lips claimed yours—slow at first, then deepening when you melted against him. His beard scratched your skin, his hand gripping your thigh as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long. The kiss broke only when you gasped for air, and his forehead rested against yours.

“You don’t know how long I been wantin’ this,” he rasped, voice strained with the weight of everything unsaid. “And when I said I’d give you one later…” His hand slid lower, fingers digging into your hip. “…I meant it.”

Rick’s arms were still around you when the night air shifted, a cooler breeze brushing your bare skin. You shivered, and he pulled back just enough to search your face, his chest still heaving.

“C’mon,” he said softly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Not out here.”

You nodded, legs shaky as you climbed off his lap. He caught your hand immediately, fingers locking with yours in a grip that felt unshakable. He didn’t let go as he guided you through the quiet house, boots thudding lightly against the floorboards. Every creak of the steps on the way up made your pulse quicken—like the walls themselves were aware of what was about to happen.

Rick’s grip on your hand never loosened as he pulled you into your room, shutting the door with a quiet click. The moment the latch caught, his mouth was on yours again—hungrier this time, all restraint from the porch stripped away.

You stumbled backward until your legs hit the bed, and he pressed forward, guiding you down onto the mattress with his body covering yours. His weight pinned you in the best way, his chest hot against yours as he kissed you breathless.

“Goddamn,” he rasped when he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You gasped when his hands slid beneath your shirt, rough palms trailing fire over your stomach before shoving it up and over your head. He paused only long enough to drink you in—eyes dark, chest rising hard—before lowering his mouth to your skin. His beard scratched deliciously as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking slow and deep until you moaned, arching into him.

“Rick—”

“Say it again,” he growled softly, switching to the other breast, lavishing it with the same aching attention. “Say my name.”

You threaded your fingers through his curls, tugging when his teeth grazed sensitive skin. “Rick.”

He smiled against you, low and dangerous, before trailing kisses down your stomach, nipping lightly at your hipbones. When he pushed your shorts down, you lifted your hips without thinking, breath catching as he pressed your thighs apart.

“Mine,” he muttered, almost to himself, before lowering his head. The first swipe of his tongue sent you spiraling, your back arching off the bed. He licked you slow, deliberate, savoring every sound you made as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, gripping the sheets tight.

“I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til you come for me,” he promised, his voice muffled against your heat. His fingers joined in, thick and steady as they curled just right inside you. It didn’t take long before you were breaking apart, crying out his name as the orgasm ripped through you, your thighs trembling around his head.

Rick didn’t give you much time to recover. He kissed his way back up your body, his mouth hot and messy against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He lined himself up, pausing only to rasp, “You ready, darlin’?”

“Yes—please,” you gasped, nails raking down his back.

He pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you until you could barely breathe. He groaned deep in his chest, forehead pressing to yours. “Goddamn, you’re perfect.”

Once he was fully seated, he pulled almost all the way out before driving back in, setting a rhythm that was both deep and unrelenting, yet careful—like he wanted to fuck you into the mattress but still savor every second. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and his ragged breaths.

He hit that spot inside you with every thrust, making you clench tighter around him. His hand slid under your thigh, pulling your leg higher over his shoulder so he could sink deeper. You cried out, and his lips crashed against yours again, swallowing the sound.

“Feel so good,” he gritted, his pace quickening as sweat dripped down his temple. “You gonna come for me again?”

“Yes—Rick, yes—”

Your release slammed into you hard, making you cry out as your body clenched around him. The sight of you unraveling beneath him pushed him over the edge, his rhythm faltering as he groaned your name into your neck, spilling inside you with a shudder that rocked him to the core.

He stayed there, buried deep, breathing heavy against your skin. His hand cradled your face, thumb stroking your cheek as if grounding himself. “You’re mine,” he whispered again, this time fiercer, more certain.

And when he finally pulled you into his chest, tucking you beneath his arm, his lips brushed your hair as he murmured, “Ain’t lettin’ this be the last time. Not ever.”

You lay there in the aftermath, chest heaving, Rick’s weight still warm and solid against you. His breath was hot on your neck, his beard scratching lightly as he pressed a kiss there. You thought maybe he’d drift off, satisfied. But then you felt him still hard inside you, twitching, and your eyes widened.

“Rick…” you whispered, half-dazed.

He pulled back to look at you, sweat dripping down his temple, his blue eyes heavy but burning. “Told you I’d give you one later, didn’t I?” His lips ghosted over yours, a teasing whisper. “Wasn’t talkin’ about jokin’ around.”

Your stomach flipped. “You mean—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted softly, grinding his hips just enough to make you gasp. “I meant I’m not stoppin’ ‘til I’ve had you beggin’… til you’re full of me.” His words were rough but not cruel—like a vow.

Before you could respond, he rolled his hips again, slow and deep, and your body clenched around him, already sensitive. You whimpered, trying to push at his chest, but he caught your wrists easily, pinning them above your head.

“Too much?” he rasped, searching your face.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip. “No. Please—don’t stop.”

That was all he needed. He leaned down, kissing you hard as he began to move again, steady and unhurried, dragging every inch of him through you until you were trembling. The overstimulation had you writhing under him, your thighs quivering, but Rick just pressed you deeper into the mattress, whispering against your ear.

“Take it, darlin’. You can take it. You’re mine.”

You came again, unexpectedly hard, clenching so tight around him that he groaned low and broken, spilling inside you a second time. He held you close through it, kissing your jaw, your lips, your temple—soft everywhere his mouth could reach.

You thought that might finally be it—but Rick wasn’t finished. He pulled out only long enough to flip you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up to meet him. His hand pressed into the small of your back as he pushed into you from behind, deeper this time, a guttural sound ripping from his throat.

“Fuck—look at you,” he rasped, watching himself disappear into you. “So goddamn beautiful takin’ me like this.”

You clutched the sheets, crying out into the pillow as he set a harder rhythm, his hips slapping against you, his hand gripping your ass tight. Every thrust forced moans from your throat, your body giving in completely.

“You want me to give you one, huh?” he growled, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back as his hand slid to your stomach, down lower. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles in rhythm with his thrusts. “Want me to fuck you full, make it stick?”

The words sent you spiraling. You came so hard your vision blurred, screaming his name, your body clenching violently around him. That was all it took—Rick slammed into you once more and let go, groaning into your shoulder as he spilled into you again, grinding to push it deeper.

Both of you collapsed forward, sweaty and spent, tangled in the sheets. His arms wrapped around you tight, refusing to let go. He kissed the back of your neck, tender despite the roughness that had just passed.

“So,” Glenn said, dragging the word out. “How long?”

Carl blinked. “Uh…” He glanced at you for help.

“Like… a while,” you offered, shrinking under Glenn’s squinty glare.

“A while,” Glenn repeated. “My baby sister has been secretly dating Rick Grimes’ son for a while and nobody thought to mention it to me?”

“Baby sister?” you scoffed. “Glenn, I’m not ten.”

“You’ll always be ten to me,” Glenn shot back dramatically, clutching his chest. “Do you have any idea how much stress this causes me?”

Carl shifted uncomfortably, cheeks pink. “Sir, with all due respect—”

“Oh my god,” Maggie cut in, laughing now. “Carl just called you sir.”

Glenn ignored her, leaning closer to Carl. “Listen, hat boy. You hurt her, I don’t care if your dad is Rick Grimes, I will—”

“Glenn.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “Stop acting like you’re her dad.”

“I practically am her dad!” Glenn protested.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can this be over, please?”

Carl muttered, “Honestly, walkers are less terrifying than this.”

Maggie snorted and finally sat down beside Glenn. “Look, we’re not here to scare you. We just… wanted to talk. Make sure you two know what you’re doing.”

Glenn nodded firmly. “Yeah. Ground rules. No sneaking off in the middle of chores. No ignoring watch shifts. And absolutely—” his eyes narrowed— “no kissing in front of me.”

Your head snapped up. “What—Glenn!”

Carl’s ears went red. “We weren’t—”

Maggie grinned wickedly. “Aw, so you have been kissing.”

You kicked her under the table. “Maggie!”

Glenn groaned like he’d just aged ten years. “Nope. Nope. Don’t wanna hear it. I’ve said my piece. You two are together, fine, whatever. Just remember—I’m watching you.” He jabbed two fingers toward his own eyes, then at Carl.

Carl gave the smallest nod, mumbling, “Yes, sir.”

The second you both got dismissed, you and Carl bolted for the door, Maggie’s laughter following you.

“Well,” Carl muttered once you were outside, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t so bad.”

You gave him a look. “Carl. That was a nightmare.”

He cracked a small grin. “At least your brother didn’t pull a gun on me.”

“You always sneak up on me,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

Carl grinned. “You’re just easy to sneak up on.”

You rolled your eyes but patted the step beside you. He sat down, his shoulder brushing yours, warm and steady. You pretended not to notice, but your cheeks betrayed you with heat.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, listening to the hum of summer around you. A firefly blinked in the grass nearby, then another, until the yard was sprinkled with tiny sparks of light.

“They’re pretty,” you whispered, leaning forward.

Carl watched you more than the fireflies, his good eye soft. “Yeah. They are.”

You caught him staring and nudged him with your shoulder. “You’re not even looking at them.”

“Maybe I was looking at something prettier,” he muttered, almost too quiet for you to hear.

Your breath caught, your face heating instantly. “Carl—”

He quickly pulled his hat lower, but you could see the faint pink dusting his cheeks. He wasn’t smooth, not really, but that’s what made it so endearing. He was brave enough to fight walkers and step into danger, but admitting something like that? That was harder for him than anything.

You bit your lip to hide your grin. “You’re cheesy.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, finally daring to meet your eyes. “But I mean it.”

For a while, the world seemed to shrink down to just you, him, and the fireflies dancing lazily in the twilight. The usual heaviness of survival—the fences, the runs, the whispers of threats outside the walls—faded into the background. With Carl sitting beside you, brushing your hand with his when he thought you wouldn’t notice, it felt like you had stolen a tiny piece of normal teenage life back.

“Wanna catch some?” you asked suddenly, bouncing to your feet.

Carl raised an eyebrow. “Fireflies?”

“Yeah. What, are you scared?”

He smirked, standing too. “I’ve killed walkers. I think I can handle bugs.”

You laughed and darted into the yard, cupping your hands around a blinking light. Carl chased after you, the two of you running barefoot through the grass, giggling like little kids. You managed to catch one, holding your hands tight together.

“Look!” you exclaimed, running back toward him.

Carl leaned closer, his eye wide with interest. “Let me see.”

You slowly opened your palms, revealing the glowing insect perched in the center. Its light flickered like magic, and you both stared in quiet awe.

“Pretty,” Carl murmured, softer this time.

You looked up at him, and for a second, the firefly was forgotten. The way he was watching you—like you were something rare, like he’d caught a glimpse of peace in a world that had none—it made your chest ache in the sweetest way.

The firefly blinked once more and flew off into the night sky. You watched it go, then realized Carl hadn’t moved an inch.

“What?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He shook his head slightly, then reached up, tugging his hat off. “Nothing. Just… you make things feel normal.” His voice cracked a little, but it only made the words more real. “Like maybe there’s still good stuff left.”

You didn’t know what to say at first. The world you lived in was harsh, but moments like this—moments with him—made it softer. And maybe you weren’t brave enough to say everything you felt, but you could do something.

So you reached up, gently taking his hand. “There is good stuff left,” you said quietly. “Like fireflies. And… you.”

His lips parted in surprise, and then that crooked grin spread across his face. “You’re cheesier than me.”

You laughed, swatting at his arm, but he didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, his fingers slipped between yours, steady and warm, grounding you.

The two of you walked back to the porch like that, hand in hand, fireflies blinking all around like tiny stars that had fallen just for you. You sat side by side again, your head resting on his shoulder this time, and for once, everything felt safe.

And maybe tomorrow the world would go back to being dangerous, maybe walkers would be at the walls, maybe there would be more runs and risks and fear. But tonight, you had fireflies, you had laughter, and you had Carl.

I couldn’t bear to look at them together, but it was painfully clear how happy he was with her. Happier than he ever was with me. After all that we'd been through—meeting each other at the quarry, surviving the fall of the prison, clinging to each other in the ruins of a world that wanted to destroy us—something had shifted between then and now. Something I couldn’t name but felt in my very bones.

By the time we got to Alexandria, the distance between us was the widest it had ever been. His gaze no longer lingered when he met mine. His silences were no longer a comfort, but walls that I couldn’t see past. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he broke it off. What I hadn’t steeled myself for was how quickly he seemed to get over it. With her of all people.

Carol. The one person he swore was just a friend.

I thought back to the prison, when I’d seen them growing closer and had the courage to voice my doubts. He’d brushed them aside quickly, muttering that I didn't have anything to worry about. That she was family, like the rest of us. And everyone had said the same. And I’d believed it—until I couldn’t. Until I's seen her hand on his arm tonight and felt my heart shatter all over again.

A knock on the door startled me. Maggie slipped in, quiet as ever, her eyes following mine to the window. She didn’t have to wonder what—or who—I’d been looking at. She just let out a sigh, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and gave me that calm, steady squeeze she always gave me.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I nodded, the sound in my throat betraying me. She pulled me into a hug, tight and warm, and I let myself lean into it. My tears threatened, but I forced them back, swallowing the ache. Maggie’s gaze followed them around the corner and out of sight, taking every scrap of my shattered heart with them.

➢

Later that day, I nearly ran into him.

I was leaving the armory with some boxes of ammo when the door creaked open and he stepped in—Daryl, sweat darkening the collar on his shirt, crossbow strapped across his back. We both stood still, too close, neither of us stepping back.

“Sorry,” I told him, shifting the weight in my arms.

He glanced down at the boxes, then up a bit at me. “Ya shouldn’t be haulin’ all that by yerself.”

“I can handle it,” I answered a bit too curtly.

The silence that followed stretched tight, awkward and suffocating. He shifted his boots against the floorboards, like he was trying to decide whether to say something or walk away.

“How’re ya doin'?” he said finally, his words rough and off-key, like he didn't mean to actually say them.

“Fine,” I lied, keeping my gaze on the doorframe over his shoulder. “You?”

“Fine.” He nodded stiffly, the word rendered flat in his mouth.

For an instant, it seemed as though he wanted to say something else—his lips parted, his gaze softened—but then his eyes darted away towards some houses in the distance. He shut his mouth, clenched his jaw, and stepped aside to let me through.

“Don’t let me keep ya,” he grumbled.

I brushed past him, the boxes weighed down in my arms, my chest weighing heavier still. His scent—leather, smoke, and earth—clung to the air even after I walked away, and I cursed myself for how much I already missed it.

➢

Things went from bad to worse the next day.

I was coming home from the garden, arms full of vegetables, when I noticed them again. Carol and Daryl sat side by side on her front porch, their heads bent close in quiet conversation. Carol was smiling at something he was saying—easy, unforced—and Daryl’s mouth curved into that little, rare smile that I hadn’t seen directed at me in months.

I hesitated, the basket digging into my arms as I forced myself to move slower, quieter, as if I might pass unnoticed. But my ears strained to catch their voices.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Carol was saying gently. “You’ve kept this place safer than anyone else could.”

Daryl ducked his head, shaking it, but there was a slight tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t about this place. Just… can’t lose you too.”

The words hit me like a blow to the stomach. My stomach dropped, breath stuttering as Carol reached out to put her hand on his arm.

“You won’t,” she murmured.

He nodded, staring at her for a moment too long before looking away.

That was all I needed to see. I turned sharply down another path, their voices fading with each step until I returned home, shutting the door as if it might keep the sound of their hushed conversation from coming through.

I dropped the basket onto the counter and gripped the edge until my knuckles were white. My heart was racing, tears blurring my vision as the words repeated over and over in my head. Can’t lose you too.

Those were words he used to say to me. Words that had meaning.

I banged my forehead against the cool wood of the counter, willing myself to breathe. But no matter how deep I pulled the air in, I couldn’t shake the image of Carol’s hand on his arm—or the way he sounded, raw and steady: Can’t lose you too.

➢

That night, sleep wouldn’t come. All I could see when I closed my eyes was them—her hand, his smile, the sound of his voice when he spoke those words. I eventually gave in and slipped out onto the porch, hoping the cool air might quiet the storm in my chest.

The streets were empty, shadows stretching across the gravel. I strolled aimlessly until I caught sight of him, sitting hunched upon the steps of an empty house, a faint glow of a cigarette between his fingers.

For a moment, I thought about turning around. As if I hadn’t seen him. But his head jerked up, and his eyes met mine in the dim light. No turning back.

He shifted slightly, making space beside him. An invitation.

My feet carried me forward before my mind could catch up. I sat, keeping a careful distance, arms wrapped around me like I was shielding myself. The silence between us was thick and heavy with all the words we hadn’t said.

He flicked ash off the cigarette, his eyes fixed on the dark beyond the walls. “Didn’t think I’d see ya out here.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Me neither.”

The silence dragged again. I hated it—hated that it used to feel safe, like home, but now it served only as a reminder of how far we’d fallen. My fingers twisted in my lap before the words slipped out.

“I heard you today.” My voice shook, but I didn’t stop. “With Carol.”

His head turned, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You said you couldn’t lose her.” My throat tightened around the words. “Guess that explains everything, doesn’t it?”

The silence that followed was deafening. His lips parted and then closed again, as though the words got stuck on his tongue. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard.

“Ain’t what you think,” he finally muttered.

I laughed bitterly, tears stinging my eyes. “Then what the hell is it, Daryl? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it sure as hell sounds like you’ve moved on.”

His jaw was tight, shoulders tense. “Ain’t movin’ on. Ain’t nothin’ like that with Carol. She’s family. Always was.”

But I shook my head, the ache in my chest sharp and raw. “Family? People don’t say they can’t lose you like that to family.”

His eyes locked onto mine, fierce and unflinching. “I do.”

The words were gentle but firm, and for the first time, I could see the truth in them—not romantic, not hidden—simply desperate. He wasn’t saying he couldn’t lose Carol instead of me. He was saying he couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after everything.

The war raging inside of me burst, my tears spilling freely now. “Then why’d you push me away? Why make me feel like I wasn’t enough?”

His hand trembled at his side, like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t dare. His voice dropped, rough and uneven. “Ain’t ‘cause you weren’t enough. It’s ‘cause you were. Too much. You’re the only thing I ever wanted, and I didn’t know how to hold onto it without wreckin’ it.”

I swallowed hard, my breath catching.

He finally looked at me fully, eyes stripped bare. “Never been Carol. Never will be. It’s you. Always you.”

The words sparked something inside me, all the anger and hurt giving way to the truth I’d been too afraid to believe.

Slowly, I leaned closer, my hand finding his. His fingers curled around mine like he’d been waiting for it all along.