#daryl needs a hug

[dickfics69]

Emotional Motion Sickness | Part 8

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 9

AO3

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter summary: Lots of walkers and lots of action. Daryl is stubborn as usual and Rick almost dies. Angsty shit happens.

Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), original character\

Words: 4.7k ish

My personal Daryl playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2PrdzgwtCiUgwDLLBy5C4g?si=c83773b44c964bb1

TY to @dumbslxtclub for being my editor and hype girl (if you're a fan of eddie munson and stranger things, this girl is writing the most wonderful fic and you should check it out :) )

Chapter 8: Around me lies a sombre scene

Darly looked down at the scene before him with shock and overwhelm. Darkness invaded the foyer, now only illuminated by battery torches and shallow light. The sounds of a muffled Beretta and an explosive Python were being drowned out by the cacophony of undead screeching. The hunter had his crossbow ready well before laying eyes on the horror at the bottom of the staircase, but he repositioned it to make sure that he was in prime position. He scanned the foyer briefly. Carl was strung up by a foot next to him, and Rick was cornered by the door. A table wedged between him and certain doom. A wave of dizziness fell over Daryl like an intermission’s curtain. ‘Fuck! Fuck, not now!’

As if to read his mind, Peri worked her way down the stairs, daggers in hand. She took out a couple of the walkers surrounding Carl. It wasn’t enough. His obliques were clearly strained from trying to cut himself free. So he just dangled there, desperately avoiding snarling rotten teeth. Peri had never been exactly precise with a gun. But she drew her revolver anyway, pointing it intently - everything happening in slow motion.

“Ndah I got this, get back!”

“Peri, just  shoot!”

“Please help!”

Four exact gunshots filled the air and four undead frames hit the ground. Carl reached up one more time with his knife, managing to free himself from the intrusive hold. There was a sharp intake of breath as he fell. Three adults full of concern beared down on the boy. Luckily (or not so), he managed to land on the soft rotting corpses that Peri had made below. He picked up his hat and started forwards, attempting to free his father from behind the sad table in the corner. 

Daryl stood uselessly. A crossbow ready but a mind nowhere near. His partner and his son below, engaging in a war so jolting to Daryl’s fragile mindset. Gasps of air filled his lungs far too quickly, panic veiling over his eyes. ‘Goddamnit! Not now!’ Daryl was flummoxed by his autonomic reaction. Daryl Dixon was always ready to fight. Daryl Dixon was sometimes ready to fight whether there was a threat or not. At a guess, the man had killed well over a thousand walkers. Why was this any different? 

“Daryl! Get. Down. Here!” Rick’s voice was only just heard above the auditory terror that befell them all. It was enough to pull Daryl out of his momentary inertia. Febrile legs ran down the enormous staircase, as if they didn’t belong to the beholder. 

“Rick! The fuck is happening!?”

“Trap…door…full-of-em’…the…basement.” Was all that the Deputy was able to string out before firing his gun into two gigantic walkers before him. Daryl glanced over the left side of the bannister, mouth gaping at the sight. Piles upon piles of grotesque walking flesh were climbing out of the hole in the ground. It was never ending, and they were severely outnumbered. 

Gunshots flew left and right. Daryl’s crossbow was now useless at such close range. Knives and a pistol came out quickly. Daryl joined the fray. The crack of skulls - the smell of rotting flesh - the visceral blood spattering across his face. Something had taken over, plunging blade after blade into the decimate skulls. The hunter was working on pure adrenaline. Shots fired loudly in his ears as he ploughed forward. They were all spaced out in the expansive room, defending a small territory of their own. The snarling was ear piercing. Daryl hadn't seen so many walkers in such a tight area ever. It was terrifying. But he wasn’t going to falter now, he couldn’t. Every undead taken down seemed to release a volley of new ones from the endless basement. A man couldn't keep this up. A deathly ill man could very much not keep this up. But alas, keeping it up was what had to happen. He needed to save Peri - the woman who just bore her soul and filled his heart with a strange sort of joy. He needed to save Carl - the boy turned man - the son of his partner he would be lucky to call his own - the teenager who looked up to him. He needed to save Rick - Rick…Rick…fuck the absolute love of his goddamn life!

Eventually Daryl penetrated his way over to the right side of the staircase, ready to assault the walkers as they came out of the abyss. Blades bore deep into brain matter, as the sickly man fought for the people he loved. Fighting anger was coursing through his veins. He was like a lit match over a powder keg, ready to explode. Whether it was from feverish thoughts or not, the time bomb was ticking. 

Daryl had backed into a corner, inviting as many walkers to him as he could. Suddenly, time slowed to a snail’s pace. A female body emerged from the horde. Hey body encased in a tattered nightgown, clumps of blonde curls hanging from an emaciated frame. Daryl squinted his eyes in the dark, trying to decipher the once dead woman working her way towards him. A flicker of torch light illuminated blue before Daryl’s eyes, a necklace filled with turquoise dangling off the walker’s neck. It was her. Robin. The missing puzzle piece. A wife dead and a husband who long lost his mind. A tale all too familiar for the family at the prison. Images of Rick burst into the hunter’s mind. Catatonia had filled the concrete tombs as the once leader shuffled through the halls longing for his dead wife, Lori. The memories of his partner's anguish set the hunter’s heart on fire with empathy and wavering jealousy. A jealousy formed from fear of never being loved quite so intimately. ‘Fuck, focus ya prick!’

In an immediate breath, the blonde corpse before him had collapsed into his chest, snarling and biting for pure redneck flesh. Strong arms fought to push her away. But with a mini horde of walkers befalling him, Daryl couldn’t quite break away from the cold, brainless limbs grasping for his warm body. After too long of a scuffle, the man had brought his knife to a position of certain doom.

“Mb’sorry.” He muttered, about to obliterate her to a realm of forgotten territory. Suddenly, an explosion of blood painted his face. The famous Python taking down all the enemies in his wake. Rick stood behind the firearm, with a jumble of emotions plagued behind his eyes. Before Daryl could move, or think, or suck in a breath, a calloused hand made forceful contact with the hunter’s cheek. Rick had just slapped him. Hard. 

“Fuck, Daryl! Pull yourself together!” The Deputy seethed with white hot agitation. Daryl stared back at his partner, stymied. A tornado of rage stormed between them. This was not how they worked. This was not them and the frenzied action made Daryl’s gut churn with familiar deceit that he couldn’t quite place. Pain reverberated through the left side of his face and the metallic taste of blood dribbled out through the newfound gash on his lip. 

Daryl was quite literally a feral animal backed into a corner. He could feel the anger inside, rising like turbulent bile in his throat. Blue eyes were glued together for what felt like a millennium, neither man able to move. Fight, flight and freeze tumbled around the hunter’s body like a game show wheel. It wasn’t until a commotion of sound erupted behind Rick that either of them were able to break away from their heated trance.

The front door had unlatched and swung open violently with the raging winds outside. A fresh volley of walkers began tumbling towards the house, their rotting faces being lit up by flashes of lightning. The weather was only getting worse, but the storm was raging fully inside the four walls of the dwelling. 

“Dad!” Carl’s voice rose over the tumult. Rick whipped around to see his son and Peri desperately trying to close the heavy door. They were thrusting their whole bodies into it, but the certain hell on the other side was pushing harder. An obvious panic befell the Deputy. 

“Shit, com’on!” He glanced back briefly towards the sick companion before launching the stock of his firearm into the head of a too-close-for-comfort walker. Daryl peeled himself away from the wall, immediately missing its support. He was only a step behind Rick, fighting as hard as he could with the minutiae of energy he had left. A few loose bolts into bursting skulls cleared the way to the door. Four bodies were now backed up against the wood. Eight arms attempting to quell the chaos inside. This was shit creek, without a paddle in sight. 

“Dad, what do we do?” The fear in Carl’s voice was universal. All the luck and fortune that had welcomed their group over the last year or so, was running out. Fast. 

“We gotta find a way out. There’s a door through the kitchen…”

“That aind’t gunna work, Rick.” Daryl grumbled into his ear drawing a glance over to where the door to the kitchen was being torn down. As if it was a nightmare, even more emaciated bodies toppled out. It was like a bloodcurdling bowling match, new walkers taking down old like rotting pins. 

“Shit!” Rick drawled, opening the barrel of his firearm. “I got two rounds left. We gotta save the ammo for when we really need it.”

“Dad, I think we might really need it now.” And as if to punctuate his sentence, Carl exploded an animated head right in front of him. A shower of coagulated blood rained down onto his youthful face. 

“Carl, stop! Jus’...jus’ let me think a second.”

“There’s a drain pipe outside the nursery! If we can get up to the second floor we could climb down?”

“Yeh…” Peri’s idea rattled around in the leader’s head for a moment. “Yeh, that could work. Migh’not be so many on the far side of the house. Okay. Carl, Peri, Daryl, y’all clear a path to the stairs and get up to that bedroom. I’ll be righ’ behind ya.”

“You can’t stay here Dad! There’s too many…”

“Once you’re up there, I'll make a break for the stairs too. I gotta try to hold th’door. If any more get in, the plan won’t work. I’ll be fine Carl, I promise. Now, go!” 

Peri and Carl tentatively took their weight off the door. They shared an anxious glance before starting to clear a path in front of them. Daryl didn’t budge. Rick snatched his eyes off his son and turned to look at his partner. The man had wedged himself at the opening of the door, sinking his blade into walker after walker. Rick noted the animalistic edge in Daryl’s eyes, and loosely vowed to not lose his temper again. But the man had quite literally poked the bear only minutes ago. Rick hadn’t intended on physically assaulting his lover, but these days it seemed that his body made decisions far before his brain did. 

“Daryl. Daryl!-”

“Aind’t leavin’ ya Rick!”

“Daryl…I need you to go. They need you. I’ll be fine…” Frustration was a growing weed in Rick’s voice. Time was running out, and Daryl’s defiance was only burning through more of it. 

“Daryl! Daryl!”

The name was starting to lose meaning as Rick turned into a broken record. The stubborn man wasn’t moving. Hell, he wouldn’t even make eye-contact with him now. Daryl just started intently at his knife that was barely making a dent in the horde. Soft grunts escaping with every blow. Rick shifted his weight against the pulsating door, reaching his arm up to shake his lover out his manic reverie. As soon as the calloused hand made contact with the tense shoulder, it was violently shaken away. So forcefully in fact, that Rick lost his footing. Without the other human barricades, Rick’s wavering pressure on the heavy wood was enough to ensure more chaos on the small group of survivors. The door flew open again, sending another cascade of walker’s into the already cluttered foyer. The Deputy was furious. The fire inside that he’d been trying to douse with months of farming, was raging through the roof of his very being. The festering fury was joined by primal panic when his frenzied eyes failed to locate his partner. Somewhere in the sea of decomposition, Daryl was being swarmed. A half cough, half grunt made its way to Rick’s ears. With a location confirmed, the older man threw himself on the huddle of walkers. The barrage of cracking skulls didn’t stop until Rick spotted a faint outline on the ground. Daryl was flat on his back with a hugely bloated corpse writhing around on top of him. The hunter’s crossbow was pinned under the enormous walker, and his blade was far out of reach. Rick kicked the mass of rotting flesh off the struggling man, crushing its head with one heavy stamp of his boot. Blood and pus burst from its flesh. 

Rick experienced a momentary flicker of relief before his turbulent fervour returned with a vengeance. He reached down and yanked Daryl to his feet by the scruff of his damp collar. His blinding anger making way for immense physical strength. Rick kept his gasp firm around the fabric, drawing Daryl’s face peripherally close to his own. He could practically smell the snot as sweat that crudely adorned the other’s face. They were so close that from a distance, one wouldn’t be able to tell if Rick was going to kiss the man, or tear his throat out with his own teeth. Part of Rick wanted to do both. 

“Rick-”

“Don’t.” He seethed through a clenched jaw and bursts of irate breath. “Go. Now.” 

Rick effectively threw Daryl into the dark abyss, putting very lax faith in his ability to make it to the second floor of the home unscathed. But the hunter got the message. The sounds of squelching and grunting turned into scrambling ascending footsteps and eventually a door slammed above him. Rick could feel the frigid hands of death reaching out around him, as any unoccupied space was being quickly over-crowded. The Deputy’s body was surging with adrenaline. His sympathetic nervous system propelled him into the fight. Time became a blurred mass of blood and decay. His arms were straining under the effort of the battle. Rick knew if he stopped, he was dead. He might be dead either way, but he’d go out trying. For his family, for Carl, for Judith. Oh god, Judith. What if he never saw his daughter again? He fell into a fleeting lapse of thought, but that was all it took for groping hands to latch onto him. He panicked and dropped to the floor. It was a risky idea but if he could somehow crawl his way to the table in the corner of the room, he might be able to take the upper hand again. Rick Grimes was a survivor. He could do this. Hands were constantly reaching for his body. Some walkers had followed suit, crawling their leaking bodies behind the Deputy. Every move, every inch of a limb was dangerous, but he had to try. 

Eventually he made it to the table, taking out the surrounding walkers as he climbed up. It was just a pit of disgusting movement below him. Reanimated corpses spewing in and out of spaces like it was never ending. The danger was densely packed all around and Rick was as far away from the staircase as he could be. He cursed a series of words under his breath and glanced around the space for something, anything to pave his way to safety. He looked up at the hideously enormous chandelier that hung from the ceiling. A weak idea popped into his head, but it was all he had. Rick unholstered the Colt Python and pointed it at the chain holding up the light fixture. He shot once and missed by a hair.

“Fuck, com’on. Com’on!” He partly cheerleadered and partly cursed at himself. 

He took a breath and aimed again. One bullet. One last chance. The tympanic shot reverberated around the room as glass and metal came crashing down like acid rain. Any walker that was in the path of the chandelier was now crushed underneath it, writhing to get away. Rick saw his moment and leapt onto the huge metal frame. Keeping his feet quick and light to avoid the hands desperate to grab at his legs. Only a few bodies stood between him and the staircase now, a manageable amount. He disposed of them quickly, using his empty firearm as a heavy club. The thoughts of his family rushed back into his mind like the tide coming in. It’d been less than ten minutes since he’d last seen them but facing certain death felt like an eternity. Taking the stairs three at a time, Rick raced up to the nursery, already hearing the herd following behind him. 

The door opened with a start before Rick could even reach for the handle. A strong arm pulled him into the room forcefully. Daryl held onto Rick’s bicep powerfully, and vice versa onto the hunter’s forearm. The Deputy was still seething, hopped up on nothing but endorphins and rage. But fuck, he was glad to see Daryl again. 

“Daryl…” Rick panted finally, releasing the strain that had befallen his body in the last ten minutes. “They’re comin’…up-th’-stairs…we gotta…”

Daryl expressed his understanding of the situation with one of his trademark grunts. Rick made a mental note to catalogue the precise meaning of each individual grumbled expression when they were back at the prison and everything was normal again. The two men worked together to barricade the door with as many items of furniture as they could. The strained efforts of Carl could be heard from the window. The two older men rushed over and looked down. The boy was about halfway descended, Peri looming much further below, already on the ground. A sudden crack of thunder sent the group jumping with fright. Their nerves already frayed like wispy pieces of twine. Rick and Daryl both vocalised their fear as Carl slipped on the ancient drainpipe. 

“Carl!” Peri shouted from beneath him. “You’ve got this, and if you have to let go, I’ll catch you!”

Rick watched his son weigh his options out in the open air. Carl chose to let go, half falling, half grazing himself along the red brick of the house. A soft ‘ooft’ was heard below as the teenager landed into Peri with force. Once they were up and moving below, Rick turned back to his partner, who stood shoulder to shoulder with him, surveying also. He returned the gaze, febrile and sickly feral. The way Daryl looked at him from behind fever matted bangs was a clear indicator that whatever was going on with them, wasn't over. They’d both fucked up today. Rick knew it was only a matter of time before the whole situation erupted like a goddamn volcano. And he feared he wouldn’t be able to control himself. 

“Daryl, you next. Go.” Rick emphasised the last word, feeling the hesitation tense throughout Daryl’s body. The hunter kept his eye contact for a moment before bending down and throwing a duffle bag out the window. Rick helped Daryl onto the windowsill. He went feet first and then slowly turned to his right, positioning himself on the drainpipe. They suddenly felt very far from the ground.

“Hey.” Daryl’s voice was soft, with a tinge of worry. “Yer right behind, yeh?”

Rick nodded as his partner began his surprisingly graceful abseil down the side of the building. Daryl always seemed to move with elegance. It was just one of many qualities he awed about his partner. ‘If only the stubborn asshole could see it.’ Rick thought, transfixed with the situation surrounding him. 

“Hey, Rick! I can hear more walkers in the woods!” Peri’s distant voice broke through the sounds of dead hands scraping at the door behind him. “You gotta get down here now!”

Shit. This was far from over. Rick nodded and steeled himself ready for the descent, amazed that Daryl was already on the ground. Less amazing was the coughing fit that followed. He had to worry about that later. Following the other’s leads, he threw his heavy duffle bag out the window, silently praying that the more delicate items he had collected didn’t break on impact. 

Holding onto the frame, Rick brought one leg up and then the other so he was sitting on the windowsill. He twisted and reached out for the metal pipe. The wet weather and autumn condensation had rendered it far more slippery than anticipated. Rick slipped a little, drawing a screeching “Dad!” from below.

“M’good!” He grated out through a tense jaw, repositioning his grip against the icy metal. Slow but surely he put one foot behind the other, using the bricks around him as friction. His arms were burning and his legs felt like jelly. But he made it. They were out. God knows how, but they were. 

“S’everyone okay?” Rick panted, receiving weary acknowledgements from the other run members. “Alrigh’ we don’t know how many there are, but my guess is a lot. We came up on the right side earlier, so we go out the left. I’ll take the lead. Daryl, you bring us up. We stay quiet, invisible, vigilant. Do not break formation. Clear?”

They all nodded silently and followed Rick as he took off, keeping close to the edge of the house. 

—----

The frenzied run back to the Jeep was a miraculous blur. By the time they reached the woods, most of the lingering walkers had already made it towards the commotion at the house. Daryl had been running on empty, blinded by darkness, fever and rain. Only able to keep up with the other’s by the sounds of their breathing alone. It’s lucky he was a damn good hunter. During the rushed journey, he glanced back only once. There were shadowed shapes stumbling after them, high pitched screeching being carried by the imminent storm all around. At that point he picked up speed, if they all moved fast enough they’d make it back. And they did. Just. 

Running up to the well hidden vehicle, Daryl shuddered out a burning sigh of relief. He reached out to steady himself against the hood of the car. The black spots were worse now and his entire body was protesting the act of being vertical. It had been way too close of a call in the house. Daryl knew it was all his fault. He almost died. He could still feel the gargantuan weight of walkers pressing his weak body into the cold floorboards. No weapons in reach he had prepared for certain death. Rick saved him of course. ‘Saved you and then almost died, just because you had a meltdown over a dead family you didn’t even know.” Daryl could feel the shame spreading rapidly throughout his sick body. Rick’s hand colliding with his face hurt like a bitch and made him angry as hell, but it was the least he deserved. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know how. But Rick would drag him through the grass for this. Daryl had seen his partner's white hot rage a few times before. After Herschel’s farm, when he claimed his leadership after killing Shane. When the Governor had blown through the gates of the prison, threatening the lives of their family. He saw it in Rick’s eyes when he had beaten Tyresse within an inch of his life. And he saw it now, only Daryl Dixon was at the receiving end. He was equal parts terrified, pissed-off, and ready for what he deserved. Being loved by Rick Grimes was too good to be true anyway. 

Daryl watched Rick pull Carl into a tight hug, and then reach up to squeeze Peri’s shoulder in a sign of thanks and companionship. Before Daryl could register another thought, powerful arms pulled him into a desperate embrace. Rick held on tightly around the hunter’s waist, his forehead dropped into his leather clad shoulder. Daryl was taken aback and just stood there for a moment, letting Rick squeeze the air out of him. Eventually he found his arm going around the Deputy’s shoulders, and the other hand to the back of his head. The pair held each other in silence. Daryl’s fingers worked their way through soft, damp curls, untangling them gently. Hot puffs of warm air against his ear sent a shiver down the hunter’s spine, as Rick turned his face into his bare neck. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.’

As quickly as the tender embrace began, it was over in an instant. Daryl was harshly shoved away by the same hands that held him just a second ago. ‘Spoke too soon, asshole.’ Rick’s cerulean eyes were almost black with rage. Swallowing painfully against the lump in his throat, Daryl squared himself up, prepared to take whatever fire storm was coming his way. 

“Daryl…What the hell was that?” Rick erupted, gesturing behind him at the hell they’d only just managed to escape. Daryl was about to fire back, but his nose had a knack for poorly timed bodily functions. A sharp buzzing made its way through the hunter’s sinuses. His breath hitched and eyelids fluttered closed. No attempt was made to hold back the onslaught. Daryl was too tired to prolong his pathetic humiliation. 

“Rickheh…h’h’Ngxxtsh-”

“-You purposely went against-”

“-h’AATChoO-”

“-everythin’ I said back-”

“-Hh’EsTCHUU-”

“-there! T’so goddamn irresponsible and-”

“-hih’ESSH, h’NGXxt-”

“-downrigh’ stupid! Jesus Christ Daryl, ya done?” Rick practically spat the last few words at the struggling man, disgust radiating from his eyes. Daryl was done. Done sneezing, done emotionally, done physically. He felt pathetic and mortified and he was ready to be anywhere else. 

“Dad, stop! Just stop!” Carl broke through the tension like a charged knife, stepping up to where the two older men were having it out. “We have to go okay? It’s dark and freezing and the weathers getting really bad.”

Unbeknownst to the quarrelling lovers, the storm that had been teasing the group all day was finally upon them. Thunder and lightning filled the sky directly above them. The steady rain morphing into a painfully heavy downpour. They were all dripping and miserable. Daryl shivered against the frigid conditions, well aware that whatever sickness ailed him, was going to get much worse. 

“Rick-”

“Just! Don’t.” The Deputy warned. He squeezed the bridge of his nose in exasperation then took a step towards Daryl, eyes downcast on the mud below his feet. “I can’t…I can’t even look at you right now.”

And with that, Rick dropped the keys to the vehicle on the wet ground in front of Daryl. The hunter picked them up slowly, angry tears threatening to fall from his exhausted eyes. He heard the car door slam as Carl and Rick claimed the back seats. Peri hovered a few feet away, probably unsure of what to say or do. Daryl didn’t want her pity or comfort, but he also knew he wasn’t in a condition to drive. He sighed a shaky breath of defeat and looked up at her. 

“Ya kndow how t’drive stick?”

“Mmm…not really…”

“Well it ain’t rocket science, com’on.” He tossed her the keys and crawled wearily into the passenger side. 

Daryl knew he’d eventually fuck things up with Rick. It was the curse of the Dixon’s. Nothing good ever lasted for them, and it was always their own goddamn fault. His mother was broken, his father, an abusive alcoholic and his brother, an aggressive drug addict. So how was Daryl meant to do any better? He thought back to the early days in Atlanta and beyond. To Sophia and a fractured Carol. They all looked towards him to find the girl, to track her. It was a purpose, someone needed him for the first time in his life. Daryl was so sure he’d find her. But seeing that little girl wander out of Heschel’s barn, one of them. A monster. It damn near broke him. He couldn’t save Sophia. He couldn’t save Merle. The only reason he continued on was the fear of being totally and completely alone again. But maybe that’s how it should’ve always been, with no one to disappoint or let down. ‘Well Merle, guess you were right after all.’

Yeah, he knew he’d screwed it all up, he just didn’t expect it to hurt this much. 

[r6eduss]

Don’t know if this is a hot take but I think Daryl would be pretty vanilla. I think there’s a lot of things he’d feel uncomfortable doing considering his trauma/how he grew up. I think at most he’d nibble/kind of bite you or be into hair pulling.

Love this man

[kookiekult]

I think a hug from him would cure me of all my ailments physically and mentally

[trashg0blin37]

I’m so obsessed with this smelly man, send help

[rystiel]

finally watched that daryl show

[bleed-ing4u]

I HAD TO

[spill-to-t]

I AM SO UNWELL ABOUT THIS SHOW. SO FUCKING UNWELL. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!? I MEAN. I AM SOBBINNNNGGG.

You don't know know how many stories I read about this and now I saw it with my fucking eyes. I saw RJ, Judith, Michonne and Rick in one scene.

(I know I just got the twd content of my life, but I honestly need a Daryl and Rick reunion as well. ALSO RICK DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT SO MANY DEATHS... I need an extra episode just for that)

[verfound]

I keep seeing this article floating around about how Norman has promised the S2 finale will be "the best hour of television in a long time". I haven't actually read it yet for further context, but every time it pops up on my feed all I can think is Caryl hugs are coming.

...I really hope we don't have to wait for the finale for the Hug. He is going to fucking tackle her to the ground. 🖤

[katierosefun]

feeling really apologetic towards the walking dead for ever veering away from that show because twd fans that i knew were some of the most obnoxious alpha male type ever . . . you like daryl dixon because he's a badass bowman who wears a sickass leather vest . . . i like daryl dixon because he acts like he's all tough but he's actually the sweetest softie and he loves kids and he would leave flowers for people's graves and he's protective of who he deems his family

[allthegothihopgirls]

can amc unkill carl so he be a trophy wife and babysit judith whilst her 50 million parental figures go on cross-country manhunts looking for each other?

[skellys-selfships]

ig i have a love for guys that are zombie killers, have a heart of gold and have been through TOO MUCH SHIT FOR THEIR OWN GOOD

[dickfics69]

Emotional Motion Sickness | Part 10

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9

AO3

Rick x Daryl

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter summary: The immediate aftermath of Rick and Daryl's fight. Both boys are sad and stressed and it's up to Peri and Carl to talk them down.

Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), original character

Word Count: 12k

My personal Daryl playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2PrdzgwtCiUgwDLLBy5C4g?si=c83773b44c964bb1

As per thanks to @dumbslxtclub for reading and beta-ing my fic and crying along with me

Chapter 10: Before we were lovers, I swear we were friends.

The wind swept sharp daggers across Daryl’s reddened cheeks as he traversed through the night. The earth-shattering thunder and visceral light show had moved past them now, wrecking their sensory displeasure further to the north. The weather remained miserable though, rain pelting torrentially and violent winds whipped unabashedly. It was wet and wild and freezing, yet the hunter was numb to it all. A tornado of catatonia had torn through the sick man and carried him out of living consciousness.

I hate you.

Daryl moved senselessly through the sodden evening, barely able to see a foot ahead of himself. There was a dilapidated tool shed not too far from the safety of the cabin, and while the hunter would favour disappearing all together, he knew he'd never forgive himself if he died now, sick, heartbroken and at the will of the elements. So, he changed his course slightly towards the direction of vague safety. His legs were weak underneath him, wobbly and threatening collapse. His usually swift and fluid movements had regressed to a sluggish cadence. Breathing was hard and painful, a figment boa constrictor tightening its hold around the ailing man’s chest. A cacophony of pulsating blood pressure was the only sound available to Daryl in this harrowing moment. He couldn’t hear himself think above the painful throbbing. Vignettes of the last half an hour were dancing around at the tip of his mind, teasing him with nightmarish words and memories. Memories that were too terrible to be true. But they were. Every word, every action on that porch had happened, and Daryl was left to shift through the haunting puzzle pieces in his weak mind, alone. Again.

I hate you.

The hunter made it to the tool shed just as his eyes were blurring out of focus again. He pushed the door in with as much might as he could muster, his trusty crossbow hanging limply at his side. With a semi-waterproof roof over his head, Daryl finally allowed himself stillness. All the realities and heartbreak caught up to him in an instant. Every emotion, every word, every betrayal crashed together like a terrible slapstick routine. It was all too much. Shaky knees buckled and slammed into the cement before Daryl could even consider composing himself. The turmoil that he had pushed down in the presence of the irate Rick Grimes, came exploding out with vengeance. He curled in on himself and wept. 

Daryl sobbed with abandon. It was loud and desperate, wet and snotty. He could barely catch a breath between emotional convulsions. It was a hapless sight, but the hunter didn’t have the energy to be stoic in the presence of pure heartbreak. He hadn’t cried this hard since Merle. 

One look into those cloudy blue eyes and Daryl knew that his brother was gone forever. He had gone through the entire gamut of soul destroying emotions as he plunged the knife into the older Dixon’s head over and over again. He had felt like a child in that moment, sobbing beside the corpse of his older brother. Merle had tried to help them, to help him . And he didn’t even say goodbye. 

The same gut clenching agony was pouring out of Daryl on the floor of the dilapidated building. He bawled for death, and yet Rick Grimes was alive. He was alive and dry and probably eating dinner with his son right now. Daryl felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him before the reality of the situation finally kicked into gear. The relationship was over. The one man who had made Daryl feel wanted, needed, a part of the family, had had enough of him. He had expected it to come sooner or later, but he hadn’t accounted for the physical pain it brought. The shoe that had been falling for a long time had finally dropped. 

Hot, salty tears continued to cascade down the hunter’s stinging face. He was mourning. They were the tears of loss.

Rick’s initial tirade was on par with what Daryl had expected. He’d been a downright fuck-up all day, and knew he deserved whatever The Deputy had to say (or shout) on the matter. Of course their focus needed to be on Carl, they’d just talked about it a few days ago. Rick had come to Daryl in the midst of a conundrum, face adorned with dried mud and sweat from the garden. Carl wanted to come on the run and his father was torn. Torn between preserving a childhood and watching the teenager blossom into the inevitable. He’d come to Daryl for advice. ‘Yeah, back when he trusted you.’ They’d agreed to take the chance, they’d look out for the boy, they were on the same page. But Daryl had gotten too caught up with feeling like shit and vehement denial, that he’d forgotten. He was selfish and annoying and of course he deserved to be screamed at for it. 

And then Rick pushed, he pushed too hard. In all the years they’d known each other, The Deputy had never pressed Daryl to talk, to open up and the hunter had been beyond grateful for that. Words weren’t his forte and neither was dealing with his bounty of trauma. But Rick was too good, too nice to deal with that obstinance forever. He was a great man who deserved a better partner than the emotionally stunted redneck. Daryl wanted to scream and shout back at Rick, but instead he crawled in on himself, because he knew that everything The Deputy was saying was true. He did run away when things got hard. He hated himself for it, but he was scared. So goddamn terrified all the time that he’d fuck it all up. ‘Irony’s a bitch.’  

He knew Rick had seen his grotesque back, hell, most people at the prison had. Daryl had figured he could separate his intimate life from the thick-raised bands that painted him a monstrous victim. But that wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough . 

Fuck those fucking scars! When the world turned to shit, Daryl had sworn to leave his past in the old world. His father was long dead and couldn’t hurt him anymore. And then Rick would run a hand up his bare back and Daryl would flinch away like he was twelve years old again. William Dixon still had a chokehold on his son, and Daryl hated himself for it. He could’ve- no, he should’ve told Rick about his traumatic childhood, but there was a part of him that thought Rick could just put two and two together and leave well enough alone. Plus, if he divulged the true extent of his shitty life, Rick would realise just how incompatible they were and regret having fallen in love in the first place. Daryl was sure of it.

Then Rick said those words. 

I hate you. 

The utterance was a betrayal that hurt as much as the love that swam in tandem with it. Rick had his issues, he was quick to anger, easy to frustrate, and impatient where necessary. But the man couldn’t hate. He couldn’t hate his own. But he hated Daryl. He said it. The words had broken the hunter out of his panicky spiral and brought forward a grief that spread like wildfire. He was broken and angry and he had punched Rick because in that awful moment, it was the only thing he remembered how to do. He had been blinded by emotion that he had absolutely no right to. 

That was the worst part. 

Daryl was heart-broken, grief stricken and facing a life of immense loneliness. But he didn’t blame Rick. He truly believed it was all his fault. Daryl irreversibly blamed himself. 

Tears continued to stream from his tired red eyes as he buried his face into the crook of his elbow. Breathing was getting harder with every passing gulp of air, and Daryl could feel consciousness slipping away from him. He debated just rolling with it so he could turn off his mind indefinitely, but decided against it. There was still something in the recesses of his soul that needed him to pull his shit together. Slowly, Daryl sat himself up. He leant his weary back against a cold metal wall of the shed. He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them tightly. As much as the hunter tried to even out his crackling air flow, nothing seemed to be able to quash the agony that was bursting out of his chest. He was losing a fighting battle with a cataclysmic panic attack. 

As though they were an extension of him, Daryl reached a shaky hand into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew his packet of smokes. Sifting one out of the carton, the hunter rued the fact that he only had a few left. Cigarettes were surprisingly hard to come by in an apocalypse, and the man was effectively wasting them at this point. He withdrew the lighter from the front of his jeans and fumbled around with the flame for a moment. His whole body was trembling and making it very hard to coordinate fine motor functions. The continuous dancing of the flame was enough to illuminate the small dreary space in front of the hunter. There were some old oil cans and milk crates stacked in the far corner, and various tools leant up on walls haphazardly. Once the ignition finally burned into paper, Daryl tossed the lighter on the floor between his legs, still able to see the echoes of fire burned into his retinas by the darkness. 

Daryl inhaled the nicotine immediately. He needed something, anything to calm him down. Ignoring the listless protests from his lungs, the hunter exhaled as smoothly and as quickly as he could, before breathing out and immediately drawing in another cloud. Coughing and spluttering and snot bubbles filled the space but Daryl didn’t care anymore, he needed this and there was no one left to stop him. On the third inhale, it felt like breathing stopped altogether, the cigarette wasn’t working, and now Daryl felt like he was drowning. 

After hacking for a small eternity, Daryl cursed and slammed his head back into metal behind him. Not so hard that it caused any damage, but hard enough to distract his tormented mind for a moment. Without time for thought, Daryl brought the orange glow of his cigarette down onto his other hand. He pressed the flame into the fleshy skin between his index finger and thumb. Pain seared almost immediately. And the longer he kept it there the better he started to feel. Time slowed her rhythm and breathing returned to a sickly normal. Daryl could think again. He hated that harming himself was the only thing that could bring sense to a senseless situation, but he was desperate. The blazing wound continued to throb atop calloused skin, captivating the wandering mind of its beholder. 

Daryl felt like pure shit. His heart was bruised and his head pounded from the pressure of losing everything. But he could breathe, and that was maybe enough for now. 

Rick hated him. 

Rick hated him and Daryl felt guilty for mourning a relationship that was always too good to be true.

Sighing wearily, the hunter dipped his head back against the cool metal once more. After wiping excess tears and mucus from his face, Daryl relented to his bodily objections and closed his eyes. Cruel images paraded behind listless eyelids and the sick man so longed for reprieve. On some level, Daryl logically knew there was no running away from such a horrifying reality. But on another, very denial clad level, he wondered. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed long enough, he might awake from the stringent nightmare that was suffocating him.

The odds were not in Daryl’s favour. 

—------

Rick Grimes was not a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. He was irritable, tormented and quick to lash out. Symptoms that were perceived by others as being born out of the apocalypse. But Rick knew the keen volatility within him had been there for a long time. Set into dormancy by a normal, seemingly happy life with his wife and beloved son. Once upon a world where the dead didn’t rise, Rick Grimes was a seemingly simple man. A small town Sheriff’s Deputy who worked by the book alongside his best friend and partner. He had a nice house, in a nice town with a nice wife and a nice son. Fishing trips with Shane and visits to the park with Carl occupied his weekends, before heading back to his well respected job. It was idyllic. However, there was always that unidentifiable pit of venom in his stomach. Anytime Shane wanted to go behind the Chief's back and do things his “own way,” it was there. Whenever he and Lori engaged in perfunctory sex and she demanded they “talk about the hard stuff” , it was there. The anger was always a part of him, being pushed down by forced niceties and a responsibility to maintain the equilibrium of his bucolic life. 

And then the world turned to shit. Lori cheated on him, and Shane lost his damn mind. Every single person from Atlanta and the farm looked to him for guidance and leadership. He tried to be a dutiful and fair leader but it wasn’t easy in a world where rules were redundant and people could behave however the hell they wanted. It wasn’t until he killed his best friend that the vitriolic gates of his soul unlocked. The surge of aggression had been a huge release for Rick Grimes. Almost as if his corkscrewing DNA had evolved in an instant to the new world. He was finally able to protect his family. 

The unbridled rage was always a part of him, simmering up and down as necessary. There wasn’t a trace when he’d watch Judith squealing with delight when Glenn got the hiccups. Nor was there any when Carl would sprawl out lazily with a comic book. Or when Carol would laugh with her entire body, finally becoming her own, brave confident woman. The sensation was replaced entirely when his eye’s would meet with Daryl’s from across the crowded prison.

Of course, like any unstable element, it often burst forward at inopportune moments, clouding his judgement and steamrolling anything in its path. 

Tonight was, regretfully, one of those moments. 

Rick stood at the edge of the porch, tearful eyes scanning the weathered horizon for his hunter who had long been swallowed by the darkness. Every fundamental instinct told Rick to run after Daryl, to grab him and shake him into understanding that those cruel words weren’t true. But the leader was seeing lucidly now. Daryl had explicitly told Rick not to follow him. Somewhere, underneath sick, stubborn carelessness, the hunter knew better than to wander off alone for too long. He needed space and he’d come back eventually, right?  Right and wrong were off the table now, and everything was blurring into a grey tapestry of sorrow instead.

No, Rick would not chase the love of his life into the ether of despair. If he had any chance of absolving this catastrophe, he needed to stop. Stop . Fucking . Pushing . He’d already broken every unspoken rule in the Daryl Dixon guidebook, and where had that gotten him? Screaming “I hate you” at the best man he’d ever known. A horrifying outburst so far from the truth that Rick could still feel the bitter after taste on his tongue. Words that were fundamentally meant for himself. Self-hatred had no better home than the pits of Rick’s soul right now.

“Rick, baby, you don’t talk to me anymore. I feel like I’m losing you…”

Lori’s desperate, pre-apocalypse plea came flashing like a neon sign at the forefront of Rick’s racing mind. The Deputy knew what his subconscious was doing and he wanted to curse at his late wife for pointing out the obvious. Rick was well aware of the irony in the situation, thank you very much.

“Jesus, fuck!” Rick cursed to himself a little louder than he intended to, feeling the last of his rage bubble over into nothingness. He buried his face into his hands with a sigh, stopping momentarily as he made contact with exceedingly damp cheeks. Tears had been rolling out of his eyes the whole time and he hadn’t realised. Rick hadn’t given himself permission to cry over his callous foibles yet. His body behaved with instinct, which made him feel exceptionally pathetic beyond belief. 

Rick didn’t know how long he’d been staring into oblivion, but he figured on some level he needed to retreat to the safety of the cabin. But his boots were suddenly made of lead and the man couldn’t move an inch. The utter betrayal in Daryl’s eyes plagued him, red rimmed and iridescently blue with waterfalls of pent up emotion. Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed up his face. There was nothing he could do at this exact juncture in time. He needed to sort out food, and eat, and take care of Carl and - oh fuck, Carl . There was not a chance in the world that Peri and his son hadn’t heard the tenacious argument. How would he react? What was Rick going to do? The whole thing was an indescribable mess and The Deputy was paralysed with strife. 

“Hey, uh, Rick?” The slightly timid voice of Peri entered the playing field, as she stuck her head out from inside the cabin. The woman was a welcome distraction. For someone he didn’t know particularly well, Peri was quickly becoming a stable constant in an earthquake of existence. He met her eyes with a nod to continue with her train of thought.

“I’m…uh, heating up some soup, you should come in…” She gave him a sympathetic smile before sweeping her attention around the primarily empty porch, no doubt looking to see if Daryl was joining them. When her minute search came up short, an air of disappointment washed over her. Peri looked back to Rick, who started shifting uncomfortably from side to side, shame choking the air out of his lungs. He was grateful that she didn’t appear angry, only mildly curious to the whereabouts of the hunter. Rick assumed Peri could read the subtext of the situation, but the good woman didn’t let on. 

“He’s uh…out on watch…” His voice was dry and thick with a post crying haze. Rick was well aware that he looked like a hot mess, standing awkwardly, barely protected from the elements. 

Peri opened her mouth a couple of times before closing it with pursed lips and settling on a short nod. The Deputy could see the dialogue running behind her eyes and was thankful when she decided against words. She disappeared behind the door, leaving it ajar as a well meaning invitation for Rick to follow her into the warm light of the cabin. 

Rick stretched his neck from side to side, trying to steele himself for whatever teenage angst his son would inflict upon his return. Part of him wanted to stay put, to prop himself on the stairs of the decking and wait. Wait for the uncertain return of Daryl from behind pitched curtains of rain. Going inside without the man felt like the cherry on top of resolute betrayal. But that was unrealistic. The hunter would return when he was ready and there was nothing that Rick could do to expedite the process. For once, amidst a miserable day of mistakes and anguish, The Deputy decided to leave well enough alone. 

Moving his feet tardily, one in front of another, Rick finally crossed the threshold of the cabin, being welcomed by a much needed wave of warmth. A fire was crackling in an old brick fireplace, sending comforting pops of ember dancing around the room. Peri was on her feet, shuffling around in various cabinets, cursing a little under her breath as desired items escaped her search efforts. Rick’s gaze travelled from her to the back of the room, where an old dusty sheet acted as a room divider. On the opposite side, there were a couple of ancient twin mattresses pressed flush against the wall, with some heavy blankets folded neatly atop. Pain suddenly executed a savage stab into Rick’s flannel clad chest. He may never share a bed with Daryl again. Limbs would cease to intertwine like long lost puzzle pieces. He’d never again be the audience to dream fluttering eyelids or silent waves of hot sleepy breath against his neck. Nightmares would no longer receive the comfort of a gentle embrace. God, would he ever even touch Daryl again? Tears were threatening an encore against red rimmed eyes, as the reality of a wretched plight sank in. 

No.

No. 

There was no goddamn time for selfish pity. Rick pinched the bridge of his nose habitually and tried to force his turmoil into a lockbox with the depths of his brain. Upon opening his eyes, he was met with an intense glare from his son. Carl was sitting with his back leant up against a floral upholstered armchair, cleaning his gun. The anger and disappointment radiated like infinitesimal blades, charging the space and firing directly into Rick. Carl’s nostrils flared like a raging bull, articulating his roiled feelings with an explodingly tense jaw. Father and son were locked in an explosive dialogue of turbulent staring. And then Carl dropped his attention back at the firearm in his lap. Rick was at a loss. There was nothing he could do to explain his words or actions to his teenage son who had accepted his and Daryl’s relationship with nothing but open arms. Carl looked up at the hunter with awe and admiration, embracing him as a second, much cooler father figure. Rick knew he was at fault in his son’s mind, and that broke a solid chunk of his soul away. 

“Uh…good job with the fire Carl.” Rick felt a blush of embarrassment creep into his cheeks. ‘Good job with the fire? Really?’ Rick cursed inwardly, quietly condemning his localised disability to make normal conversation. He had to say something though. Peri had stopped busying herself and was leaning up against the cupboards, arms crossed with curiosity, staring between the pair. Rick couldn't tell if she was entertained by the father-son tête-à-tête or worried about it. But it didn’t really matter, he had his concerns elsewhere.

“Ugh, whatever.” Carl scoffed back at his father before averting his attention back to the disassembled gun on the floor in front of him.

Rick sighed deeply and shakily. He knew he ought to chastise his son for the flagrant attitude he was displaying, but he also knew that he had no right to do so after screaming such horrible words at Daryl. It was a stalemate of angst between The Grimes men. 

Rick understood why his son was pissed off with him. Carl looked up to the hunter with explosive admiration. He was so interested in everything that Daryl did whether it was hunting, shooting his crossbow or riding his bike. Everything that Daryl did, Carl wanted in on too. Rick had felt a little guilty letting his son pester the man so frequently, but Daryl had a natural apt for the younger generation. From babies to teengagers, children flocked to him like sheep. Rick supposed it was because Daryl never spoke down to them, he just treated them like he would anyone else at the prison. Daryl was unequivocally himself with every single person who entered his life, and Rick adored him for that. Everyone did, it’s what made Daryl…well, Daryl. 

  The hunter and the teenager’s relationship took on one of brothers and bestfriends. Rick had worried so vehemently about telling Carl about the nature of his partnership with Daryl, fearing that his son would expect a second parent and that Daryl would feel obliged to be a father to the boy. However, no such shift occurred. Their friendship remained keenly intact, and if anything, blossomed even further. Falling in love with Daryl Dixon had had an overwhelmingly positive butterfly effect on everyone around them, and it really felt like they could stand the test of time. But time was a fickle creature, twisting her rules and souring true love. Rick had ruined it all within the span of a few words and life may never be the same again. Not for Rick. Not for Daryl. Not for Carl. The boy was faced with the prospect of losing his idol forever, and blaming his father in the process. 

So yeah, Carl was pissed, and had every right to be. 

Rick rubbed his face and and sighed. He wanted terribly to turn back time and fix everything and make it all whole again. But life didn’t work that way and it never did. He had to sit with the excruciating consequences of his cruel actions. The reality of heartbreak was tightening its grip around Rick’s throat like a vice and he did nothing to stop it. Sensations of drowning and choking were strangely welcomed by the man as he knew he deserved every single repercussion that was on the table for him. Rick would not allow himself to feel better in any way while Daryl was still out there; sick and heartbroken. 

After a while of overthinking and rumination, Rick’s legs gave out slightly and he was forced to sit down by the fireplace without any conscious choice in the matter. All of his senses were on higher alert than usual. Dampness and sodden clothing filled his nose, the rain on the roof of the cabin sounded like a shootout and the fire burning next to him was sweltering the left side of his body. As Rick sat there uncomfortably, he could feel Carl’s eyes boring microscopic daggers into the side of his head. Tiny little needles of disappointment that screamed: “you just made the biggest mistake of your life, Dad.” Rick turned his head to make contact with his son, but the boy quickly averted his eyes, put his gun away and pulled out a deck of cards with a frustrated sigh. The image of Carl’s aggravation made Rick ponder if that's what he too looked like in such a state; eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring and shoulders tense. Carl was cut from the same familial cloth and shared more than a few attributes with his father. The Grimes’ hated cucumber, were both bow-legged and always sneezed in threes. But this, this, festering rage that plagued Rick was visceral present within the teenager in front of him. Did the nightmarish world force the change in Carl? Or was he genetically destined to become a carbon copy of everything Rick hated about himself? Before The Deputy could spiral further into his own mind on the hellish idea of nature vs nurture, a steaming bowl of soup appeared before his eyes.

“Eat, Rick. It’s been a long day.” Peri’s voice was calm and nonthreatening but hearing a voice after so long traversing the pits of hell in his mind, Rick found himself jumping a little.

“Uh, thanks, Peri…” 

The three of them sat in a terse silence while they ate dinner. The lumpy pea and ham soup travelled down Rick’s oesophagus like blackened pitch, slowly working its way around the cantaloupe sized lump that was having a weekend away in his throat. It was bland and tasteless, but after years of surviving off anything that they could find, it wasn’t long until the bowl was empty and Rick was wiping the corners of his mouth.

“You think Daryl’s doing okay? Maybe I should take him some food…” 

Peri was once again the person to break the tangible hush that hung heavy between them all. Hearing Daryl’s name spoken aloud and not just in his own head sent a shockwave of breathlessness coursing through Rick’s body. Of course someone would mention him eventually after such a monumentally loud blow up, but Rick wasn’t ready for it. He wasn’t ready for the cataclysmic situation to exist in a reality outside of his head. But here it was, out in the open, ready to be dissected and bleed out for all of its pain. Rick would have to face the music and live with the ramifications of his actions. Clocks in his mind were ticking down to the moment where any skerrick of delusion would cease to exist and Daryl, his Daryl would be gone from his life for good.

To put things simply, Rick would cease to exist without Daryl. The hunter was a hallmark of their found family; always protecting and providing. He’s saved them all on countless occasions and even though he never gave himself any credit, Daryl was one of the highest valued members of their little society. His rough and tough exterior made him all the more charming and it’s one of the reasons Rick loved him so much. He was a completely no bullshit kind of guy, who spoke when necessary and never held back the truth of any situation. It wasn’t until Shane was out of the picture that Rick fully appreciated the hunter’s value and companionship. They were a team, a symbiotic relationship that worked in harmony to keep the world around them running. Regardless of being in love with the man, Daryl was Rick’s best friend and his partner. To face this hideous world without his right hand man would be like losing a limb. Rick also knew that the fresh fracture in their relationship would have a domino effect on everyone else as well. And he was terrified. 

“Yeah Dad, how do you think Daryl is?” Carl spat with venom lacing his tongue, tearing Rick out of his numbing reverie. 

“He’ll be fine Carl, he’s tough.” Said through coarsely gritted teeth.

“What the hell? No, he won’t!”

“Carl, lower your voice-”

“No! I can’t believe you. You just, you just said you hated him and let him go! Why aren’t you out there, huh?”

“It’s complicated, alright?”

“Bullshit! You’re just too scared to face the truth, so you’re hiding.”

“ Hey! ” Rick roared above the chaos. “You don’t talk to me like that, ever. You hear me?” 

Carl let out a fiery pft and stood up, glaring at Rick. He put his gun into his belt, ladled some soup into a bowel and grabbed a clean, dry jumper from a pile of clothing in the corner of the cabin. Rick was incensed and frustrated, watching his son move around the cabin with an angsty air of his own. When Carl moved towards the door, The Deputy finally found his words again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?

“I’m checking on Daryl, Dad! Someone has to.”

“No, no you’re not. You’re not going out there, Carl.”

“Like shit I’m not! You’re too much of a coward to do anything-”

“- Carl! How dare you-”

“-Stop! Just stop, the both of you!” Peri’s stern but soothing voice rose above the cacophony of primal strife that was pulsating through the room. “Carl, you can’t talk to your dad like that, okay? And Rick…just let him go, alright? Carl will be fine and someone needs to make sure that Daryl’s okay. No offence, but I do not think that person should be you right now.”

Carl shuffled around sheepishly by the door and Rick lowered his eyes in defeat. Both of the Grimes men knew that they were equally in the wrong and there was a heavy sense of foreboding guilt in the air. After a while of deafening unsaid apologies, Carl left the cabin and closed the door behind him with a considered gentleness to latch it quietly.

Rick sighed shakily, trying to blink away the tears that were assaulting his eyes again. He had never felt so broken or so shameful in his life. And as shitty as he felt, he knew that Daryl was experiencing a maelstrom worse.

“I uh…I don’t…uh” Rick sniffled hard as his voice cracked, attempting to compose his feeble emotional state. “I dunno how to fix this...”

Peri opened her mouth to say something but closed it, her brow furrowed. Rick could see the cogs turning in the young woman's head as she searched for the right thing to say. The Deputy knew he shouldn’t be spewing the brunt of his relationship setbacks onto someone he hardly knew, but he was lonely and fragmented and in hopeless need of advice. Rick would welcome anyone from the original Altana group or the farm with open arms right now; Glenn, Maggie, Carol…hell he’d even ask Herchel for his opinion on the matter of his love life. But the one person Rick needed, who always directed him in the right direction, who he trusted without a fraction of a doubt, was out there in the frigid October weather, broken and hurting. Because of him.

“You know, I got engaged to my high school boyfriend as soon as we left year twelve. I thought I was so mature and hopelessly in love…and then the prick cheated on me.” Peri huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes at the memory of herself. “I was distraught Rick, and I thought I’d be alone forever. After a week in bed feeling sorry for myself, my Dad came to me and said ‘Peri you’ll get past this, you have to have enough courage to trust love one more time.’ So I did, and then I did it again, and again until I met the man I’d love for the rest of my life. Well… his life”

“That’s uh…m’sorry Peri…Are you…are you tellin’ me I should just…move on?” Rick said in a voice so small as he tried to wrap his exhausted mind around what Peri was telling him.

“No, I’m not, Rick. I didn’t tell you that because I think you need to ‘move on’, it’s the opposite actually. I don’t know you or Daryl that well but Blind Freddy could see how well you two work together. Most people go through their lives without having a connection like that, and the fact that you found each other in this world…it’s too rare to give up on Rick. I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen; you said some shitty stuff and Daryl’s been acting like a petulant child all day. But you both love each other so much, I think you need to trust that and see what happens…”

“...‘Kay…but what do I do now?” 

Peri’s words had touched Rick and it was somewhat refreshing to see a perspective of the situation from a mind that wasn’t a teenager or his own. Rick had said something truly awful and Daryl had acted like a stubborn idiot. Rick regretted the unsubstantiated hate that he had unleashed onto his lover just under an hour ago. Rick’s misplaced hostility came from loving Daryl so passionately that it had temporarily unhinged his soul.

“Nothing. You wait until you simmer down and for Daryl to get over whatever demon spawn has crawled into his sinuses and died there, and then you’re going to have a mature conversation like the rational, almost middle aged men you are.”

Rick actually laughed at this. He laughed and nodded his acceptance of Peri’s candid guidance. The upward stretching of his lips over his teeth felt uncomfortably foreign amidst the miasma of shame and sadness, but he couldn’t help it. The laugher came from a deep seeded longing for hope. A hope that a witty Australian woman had allowed to enter his mind and fortify his penury for the crossbow wielding redneck in his heart. Rick could feel tears in his eyes and had no idea what emotion was drawing them out of him.

“Come on, Grimes. Let’s have some whiskey and forget the fact that we almost died today, hey?”

Rick smiled and went to get a bottle of the whiskey he and Carl had scored earlier that day. Thank Christ for Peri. If anything positive was to come out of this abhorrent nightmare of a supply run, it was the woman in front of him. Rick could remember back to when Peri had shown up to the prison gates, alone, frightened and without a possession to her name. It had been a risk taking in yet another mouth to feed, especially after the events of Woodbury and The Governor. But at this moment, with a bottle of whiskey passed between them, Rick was certain for the first time in weeks that he had made a goddamn good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl walked hazily up to the gates of the prison with a buck over his shoulder and his crossbow held firmly at his side. He spent multiple days out tracking the meaty son of a bitch and now it was his, to be cut and shared with his family. Someone without a face, came and opened the gates and Daryl walked up to his cellblock with a geeing motivation in his step. He felt somewhat accomplished, being able to provide in such a specific way.

He paused at the top of the steps before opening the door. Would Rick be proud of him? Daryl hoped he would. A Rick Grimes smile of appreciation was like nothing the hunter had ever experienced in the world; it made him useful, wanted, normal even. 

Upon opening the cellblock door, Daryl could tell that something was different, something was wrong. The smell of stale cigarettes and general rot flooded his nostrils causing some bile to inch its way up his oesophagus. Muggy darkness was oppressing the tiny cramped space in front of him, the only light creeping in ladder shapes from the metal shutters over the windows. As Daryl’s eyes adjusted he could make out familiar tobacco stains growing up the yellowing drywall and the harrowing bullet holes marred the area just above the television. Below his feet he could see the lurid brown splotchy carpet pattern from his childhood, stained by alcoholics and abusers. There was a child crying somewhere in the distance but apart from that the living room was eerily silent. Painful memories came rushing back to Daryl, crashing and clanging together so hard that his head started to hurt. Mental images whirled together so fast that he felt like he was falling into an abyss. 

Oh god.

This was his home. The house he grew up in before the fire. ‘Home’ was too generous of a descriptor though. It was more of a decrypt, cesspit of abuse and agony. A disgusting testament to The Dixon’s and anyone who bore the name. But why? Why was Daryl’s childhood home here inside his cellblock?

*scrape* *clunk*

A loud noise erupted from behind him. Darly whipped around to the door and reached for his crossbow…but it was gone. So was the dead buck on his shoulder. It was all wrong and nothing made sense. As Daryl reached for a knife on his belt, a phantom hand grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back with vengeance. Hair follicles were burning and Daryl couldn’t stop his eyes from watering with stinging tears.

“What the hell d’ya thank you're doin’ back in ma house, boy?”

“I don’t…I dunno-”

“Shut yer mouth and listen here ya pathetic ingrate!” 

The hand that was yanking at his hair grew tighter and Daryl was on the edge of a guttural scream before he was slammed into a wall. The violent hand that pulled his hair moved to his throat, constructing his windpipe just enough for Daryl to hear his own gasps for air.

“You steal me stuff boy? Answer me! ” Daryl finally opened his eyes to the sight of William Dixon, his former tormentor, and his cause for hatred. But…but the man was dead. Six feet under and gone. Gone to a bottle of cheap scotch and a truck wrapped around a power pole. Gone and forcefully forgotten…or, so Daryl thought. But his father was right there, inches from his face, burning irons from his eyes and crushing the hunter's trachea with his thick fingers. It was like regressing into every single painful experience all at once.

*scrape* *clunk*

“Ya know what happens when I hav’ta ask twice, Daryl.”

“I…I didn’t…I didn’t steal nothin’ Pa” Daryl barely squeaked out as timorous tears began trickling down his red cheeks. 

A sudden, gurgling screech echoed down the hallway and grew louder as an undead body thumped its way towards the hunter. The sluggish cadence grew louder and louder until the re animated body of Merle stood a foul breath away. 

“Quit ya snivelling lil’ brother, Pa don’t take too kindly to snotty, pathetic disappointments” 

Daryl craned his neck to the best of his viced ability and whimpered when he locked gazes with the cloudy, dead eyes of his older brother. This couldn’t be happening but it was . The hunter could smell the decay wafting from the familial walker next to him. It made his stomach churn violently. 

“Seems like yer in quite a predicament Darlena.” The tinny, soulless voice continued “I were right weren’t I? Rick and his merry band of survivors saw ya fer what ye’really are and booted ya. Ain’t that right Officer Friendly?”

“Thas right, Merle, my brother.”

A new voice entered the bedlam of nightmarish proportions. A voice that was once a beacon of hope and relief and love. A voice that Daryl knew intimately that was now overflowing with contempt. The hunter closed his eyes tight. He didn’t need visual proof of Rick’s presence to confirm the pool of dread sloshing around his insides. However, sheer unbridled masochism had a hold on the fragile man. One eye peeled open to reveal his former lover in the corner of the living room, propped against an arm of the couch. He was holding Daryl’s crossbow in his arms, turning it over and inspecting every inch with hardened scrutiny. 

“Y’know, you were gone for three days, Daryl… and you didn’t bring us back a goddamn thing! Tell me why I gave your pathetic existence a chance in the first place, huh?”

“Rick…Rick…m’sorry-”

*scrape* *clunk*

The flummoxing and persistent clamour from the front door grew bigger and shiller and the tension in the room was getting far more suffocating with every passing minute.

“Oi, ya little shit!” Daryl’s father beloved, tightening his traction around his son’s neck. “Turn that fuckin’ thing off before I end ya!”

Daryl was losing the fight for oxygen and little black stars were invading his vision. Maybe death would come like this, pinned up against the wall by asphyxiation. The hunter could fight back, he could take William Dixon, but what was the point? Daryl was a useless sod to everyone now, unknowingly fulfilling his hapless destiny. 

*scrape* *scrape *CLUNK*

The sound grew more and more frenzied and all the men in the room turned towards the door with electrified curiosity. His father’s hand loosened its grip ever so slightly and Daryl sucked in air as fast as he could amidst the distraction. 

*clunk* * clunk * * CLUNK* * BANG*

The front door came swinging off its hinges with weighty might, crashing to the floor and sending chunks of drywall exploding into the atmosphere. A herculean stag came hurtling into the dingy space, knocking down everything in its path. It was the very same stag Daryl had hunted earlier, identifiable by its impressive antlers and a peculiar scar across its rump. The buck trampled the space, causing Merle and Rick to move and duck a few times. At some point, Rick picked up Daryl’s crossbow and held it tight to his sightline. With a quick pull of the trigger, The Deputy shot a precise bolt into the deer’s head. Blood spattered everywhere, temporarily blinding Daryl’s eyes with a crimson blur. Everything was eerily silent again before Rick started chuckling humourlessly. “Huh…And you make it look so hard, Daryl…”

Will Dixon released his chokehold on Daryl’s throat and swung his fist clumsily at the hunter’s eye socket, sending him to the ground. The youngest Dixon screamed out in pain as he melted into the dirty carpet below. A heavy boot came hurtling into his side and Daryl writhed in agony. He could hear the angry voices of men above him, but they bled into an amalgamation of keen, disappointed jumble. 

Daryl held his head in his hands, trying to hide his face from the worst of the beatings. Sticky wetness spread through his clothing and a hideously metallic scent filled his nostrils. He glanced down and saw that he was laying in a pool of blood that spread through the fibres of the carpet. Was it his? Was it the buck’s? Or was it some cruel combination of the two?

A brother, a father and a lover continued to scream obscenities at the hunter. Scents of coppery liquid started to blend with a much more sinister scent. A smell that plagued Daryl’s memories and filled him with a grief he feared to relieve. He cocked his head and stared down the hallway. Choked breaths struggled to find their way in or out of Daryl’s lungs as he focused his attention to the source of disarray. Smoke came billowing out from under the closed door of the end bedroom and filled the air with even more impossible dread. Daryl knew who lay behind that door. 

“Pa…stop, stop! S’mom…she’s in there, she’s burnin’…we gotta, we…” But as the hunter looked up frantically, all of his tormentors were gone. Thick smoke continued to invade the room as Daryl curled into a needless ball, letting the ashes fall over him and burn his lungs to a crisp. At least she wasn’t alone this time. They were together.

Alice and Daryl Dixon, burned alive. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl woke up to his body already convulsing in violent waves of coughing and spluttering. He felt possessed and out of control as ripples of exorbitant pain coursed through his body with every burning spasm. Tears and snot were pouring down his face but the hunter was so cold that he couldn’t feel it anymore. Hypothermia was threatening her malignant presence as Daryl grew sicker and sicker by the second. If that was possible. 

The hunter was so distracted by the stifling pain in his chest that he barely had a chance to register the contents of his abhorrent fever dream. It wasn’t until the coughing fit calmed down that the nightmarish images solidified and paled him with a wave of panic.

The darkness surrounding Daryl was oppressive, and as he sat shaking in the rusty toolshed, he couldn’t stop his subconscious from replaying the harrowing images from his mind. Angry faces, dead eyes and a contempted lover flashed in and out of focus in front of the sick man. It was painfully surreal. Daryl felt as though he could reach out and touch the dream before him. Separating reality was becoming harder the sicker he got. 

The roof leaked icy rain onto Daryls head, sending stinging droplets down his neck and into the damp clothing on his back. The cruel figments in the shadows were getting closer and more distinct. Breathing got harder and quicker again, and Daryl could feel his blood pressure rising in his ears. It was sensory overload.  

Panicking in blindness, Daryl scrambled around on the concrete below, frantically trying to locate his lighter. Once it was in his hands, it took a few flicks from his frozen fingers to draw a flame, but the orange glow came. The minuscule fire only lit his immediate surroundings but it was enough to calm him a fraction. The images from his dream were gone. No more taunts. No one to pain him. His father was gone, Merle was dead and Rick…oh.

Yeah, Daryl knew where Rick was. 

The hunter held the glowing lighter in one hand and wiped his damp and snotty face with the other. He rubbed a bit at his blocked nose and sniffled back hard, attempting to compose himself. Unfortunately for Daryl, the shifting of pressure in his sinuses sent an eye watering burning buzzing through his nose, and he knew what was to come. He scrunched up his nose spasmodically in a last ditch effort to postpone the fit. It made it worse.

Daryl’s eyelids slammed shut, his nostrils flared and his chapped lips parted. Crackling, hitching breaths fluttered out of his lungs as he braced for another excruciating onslaught of sneezes. 

“Fuh heh… ck… hih’ EITCH ew…Hh’ AATC huu…h’ EESC Ht…heh..heh… HEH ! Christ! Just combe out…” The final tickly sneeze sat in the very tip of Daryl’s irritated nose, teasing him indefinitely. The hunter was glad he was alone ‘cause he looked like a right mess; snorting and sniffling and trying to coax it out. Sneezing sucked ass but being caught in some weird itchy limbo was undeniably more infuriating. Daryl scrubbed at his raw nostrils, about to admit defeat when his whole body snapped forward without warning. “ Hah’ EESCH shuU! Ugh. ” Daryl groaned as he heard a splatter of mucus land on the concrete in front of him. Snot trickled down his upper lip like a steady stream. Wiping his nose with an already tragically damp sleeve, the hunter winced. The corners of his nose were so chapped from the constant friction and he was so congested that his entire head throbbed with pressure. 

Daryl was so goddamn sick of being sick. Sick of being miserable. Sick of people. Sick of crying like a damn baby. He felt so obscenely pathetic and wanted nothing more than for this day to be over for good. With a surge of frustration, the hunter pulled himself from the ground with a grunt and made a conscious decision to ignore the sudden dizziness of being upright. With the lighter in his hand, Daryl started looking through the shed. 

After banging into a few oil drums and knocking over a pile of rusty tools, the hunter found a couple of torches and an oil lamp. By some grace of a higher power, they all worked and started producing some much needed light. Daryl started to feel not so alone, finally able to see the space in front of him. Now that he could think somewhat straight again, the hunter’s attention moved to the throbbing pain in his hand. Bringing up the self-inflicted injury for inspection, Daryl saw that it looked angry and red, blistering and wet with pus. It hurt. But he was more concerned with how obvious it was. Smart people knew what cigarette burns looked like and Daryl was sure that his little self mutilation wouldn’t miss the scrutiny of one Rick Grimes. 

If he still cared.

The fresh heartbreak of Rick’s outburst lingered in the recesses of his mind, but Daryl was a master of denial. Or so he liked to believe. The hunter could normally suppress anything to the depths of his soul, letting it pile up and fuse together like a mountain of the undead in the hot Georgia summer. But reality was different in this sudden misery. The truth was, Rick owned Daryl’s soul whether he liked it or not. He held all of the good parts of him, and without that curly haired man, Daryl was just a husk. A shell more hollow than the man he had been before the dead rose. 

Daryl loved Rick more than anything in this world, and the fact that it had ended before he could say the words…well, it made him want to scream. Cowardice and lack of self esteem had gotten in the way and Daryl sorely regretted everything.

Unwanted tears started to pool again and fraught congestion started to overfill the hunter’s already swollen sinuses. In an attempt to compose himself, Daryl sniffled back as hard as he could. Pain suddenly spread deep within his left nostril and it made his eyes water. He wiped his dripping nose only to be met by a long streak of crimson liquid staining his hand. 

A nose bleed.

'Fuckin’ perfect.���

Daryl pinched his nose shut with his thumb and pointer finger, hoping to quell the bleeding. However the metallic taste in his mouth was a clear indication that the blood continued to drip beyond the forced plug. The hunter couldn’t remember the last time he had a nose bleed and the fact that it was happening now, of all times was so fucking exasperating. It was the literal bloody cherry on top of an awful existence. 

With his free hand, Daryl reached for the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. However, between torrential rain and excessive snot, the measly square of fabric was as good as useless. Scanning the space, the hunter found a somewhat dry pile of dirty rags. Picking up the least grimy one, he held it tight under the leaking nostril. Even with his smell receptors blocked, Daryl could tell the rag reeked of old methylated spirits, indicated by the slight burning in his eyes. Still, he guessed it was better than nothing. 

With a soft grunt, Daryl lowered himself to the ground, leaning against a different wall of the shed to avoid being leaked on. Taking the rag away from his nose briefly, he looked down at the blood that had spread through the fibres. He sighed and folded the fabric over before pressing it to his nose once more. Daryl grimaced at his own misery. It’d be pretty goddamn ridiculous to die in an apocalypse due to blood loss from a viral induced nosebleed. Okay, maybe a little dramatic, but the hunter was barely keeping it together. Like everyone had told him, he was truly and utterly pathetic. 

A gust of surging wind blew past the metal building, making it shake and groan and twist against the force. Frigidity closed in again, and Daryl curled in on himself, shivering in response to the miserable weather. The hunter knew he should just go back to the vague comfort of the cabin. The others were bound to have a fire going by now and he could actually rest . With the bear traps and tin can alarms around the joint, walkers weren’t as much of a threat and Daryl could easily keep sentry from the porch. The porch where Rick said those words…

No. Daryl would not go back tonight. Time and loneliness were needed to nullify the tragic tension among men. Or maybe it was obstinate and shame rooting the hunter to the icy concrete below. Paralysed by what Rick would call his ���pathetic pride.”

Daryl was jolted out of his woeful pity-party by a heavy clunk on the other side of the corrugated door. Something or some one was out there. With the hand not mopping at his nose, the hunter reached for his crossbow, only to grasp at nothing. The weapon was on the other side of the room. Shit. Was he really that out of it?

The metal door opened a fraction and Daryl felt a surge of frustration spreading through his abdomen.

“Fuck, Rick. I said don’t-” But it wasn’t Rick. Standing a couple of metres away was one Carl Grimes. The teenager looked a little damp with a blue plastic bowl in his hand and something tucked up under his jacket.

“Go back t’the cabin, kid, ya shouldn't be out here.”

Carl scoffed and Daryl could tell he was trying his darndest not to roll his eyes. The boy did always hate being called ‘kid’ or maybe it was because Daryl sounded like a right hypocrite. 

“That make you the pot or the kettle, Daryl?”

Smart ass. 

“ Hmpft.” Daryl grunted, pulling the bloody rag away from his nose. The broken capillaries inside the hunter’s sinus cavity seemed to have stopped themselves for now. Still, he gently sniffled a few times, just to be sure it wasn’t going to bleed anymore. 

“You okay?” Carl asked, glancing at the blood soaked fabric bunched in Daryl’s fist.

Wasn’t that a loaded question, hey? No. No he wasn’t okay.

“Yeh.” Daryl lied instead, nodding curtly and dropping his gaze between his knees.

“I uh, brought you some dinner…” Carl walked a few steps and held the small plastic bowl in front of Daryl’s face. The hunter grimaced and turned his head away. Even though he knew he should, the thought of eating sent a fresh wave of nausea sloshing through his insides.

“Aind’t hungry.”

Instead of relenting, Carl tightened his grip on the bowl and stared Daryl down. With a slight flair of the boy’s nostrils, the hunter was hit with a wave of deja vu. The teenager had a lot of Rick in him, that was for sure. 

“Just eat it.”

Oof. There it was, an apple falling not so far from its tree. It was such a Rick gesture that Daryl’s heart momentarily beat a little faster. Knowing that he’d spent his last allowance of obstinance with the Grimes men, the hunter begrudgingly took the food. Carl pursed his lips, nodded slightly and plonked himself on a milk crate on the opposite side of the shed. 

Heavy tension hung low in the damp air. Daryl would have to be an idiot to think Carl hadn't heard the blow up between him and Rick on the porch. The elephant in the room was curious how the boy was feeling. Earlier in the day, Carl had threatened Daryl’s life if he ever hurt his father. A similar warning had been issued to Rick re: paining the hunter. What would the boy do if he was pissed at both of them? Logically he knew that Carl couldn’t take either of them, even in Daryl’s febrile state. Still he wondered what the fallout would entail for the younger Grimes. 

There was a lot that Daryl ought to say, but he was too tired to even think right now. All he wanted was to go to sleep and be alone and figure the bullshit out later. Instead he was being force fed dinner and monitored by a teenaged chaperone. 

“Ya just gonna sit there n’ watch me eat?” Daryl grumbled.

“Yep.”

“ Hmpft. ”

Daryl grunted weakly and turned his focus back to the bowl of lumpy soup in his hands. He squinted grumpily at the green liquid as though it had done him an injustice.

“It’s pea and ham soup Daryl, not poison.”

“Daryl, sweetheart, eat your soup, it’s not going to kill you.”

Alice Dixon’s timid voice echoed in Daryl’s ears a mere moment after Carl’s. Before his mother had died and Daryl had to effectively fend for himself, he was a picky eater. Which, given the hunter’s prevalence for road-kill meals, was hard to believe. Alice would spend hours with Daryl, coaxing him through meals while his father bellowed at the boy in the background. At the time, it made him pissy to just sit there and swallow food like it was pond scum. Looking back though, they were probably the only times where he’d spent quality time with his mom. 

Daryl was surprised at himself. He hadn’t thought about his mother in a long long time, and here he sat, goddamn reminiscing. Alice’s face and voice were so anachronistic to him now, but not unwelcome. The hunter chuckled a little to himself and swallowed a spoonful of soup.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ndothin’.” Daryl shook his head, slightly annoyed that his change in demeanour had been so obvious. The kid was watching him like a hawk, which made the man feel a little like an insect in a jar. Carl responded with an under the breath “whatever” and an almost audible eye roll. 

The hunter shrugged his shoulders and swallowed some more tasteless food. The kid was just trying to make conversation, but Daryl really didn’t have it in him to make small talk with the son of his ex boyfriend. Silence was fine. Preferable. However, that didn’t stop Daryl’s feverish mind from opening his mouth again.

“‘Member I told you bout’ my mom?” Daryl looked up with a sigh and Carl nodded. “Well she weren’t always so into her booze. I mean she were…soon s’I was born she downed a two dollar bottle of wine. Hell, I don’t even think she remembers naming mbe. Don’t tell Peri, but I don’t got a middle ndame…they were both too lit ta think’a that…”

Carl snorted a laugh and Daryl smiled against his cracked lips. He’d let Peri’s slightly endearing guessing game go on for as long as he felt like withholding that information. Which would be a long damn time. 

“Anyway, she tried ta fix herself a few times. When I was ‘bout six or seven, she decided t’start makin’ mbeals from scratch. One night she was in the kitchen for hours, tryin’ ta mbake pea and ham soup from scratch. She were real shit at cookin’ though and it ended up bein’ a pot of hot water with whole peas and chunks of raw pork floatin’ ‘round in it.” 

Daryl paused to chuckle and saw that Carl had a fond grin on his face. He sniffled a little before continuing.

“Me ‘n Merle ate as much as we could, not wantin’ to offend ma or anythin’. But my Pa…” The hunter stopped momentarily and furrowed his brow. He chewed on his lip a little, realising that this particular anecdote didn’t have a happy ending. None of them did.

“He uh, he got real mad…started screamin’ at her. I came down later that night and she were passed out on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka…” Daryl’s voice trailed off into shameful nothingness. He didn’t think the mood could be dragged down further, but the hunter was a master of fucking everything up. An apology was probably necessary but he couldn’t bring himself to talk again. Miserable exhaustion had made his eyes heavy and sad. Daryl hadn’t spoken that much in a long time and it took its toll, forcing Daryl to cough quietly and wetly into his fist.

Silence won again and Daryl finished his soup without looking at Carl. He could sense the kid shifting where he sat and after a while of over-considered thinking, the boy spoke. 

“You miss her?”

“Yeh, I do sometimes…” Daryl’s voice was thick and gravelly from overuse and emotion. He really did miss his mom, more today than anything. She’d make him feel better. Sighing, Daryl sat further upright and looked over at Carl who had a face of pure curiosity. The hunter was thankful he hadn’t accidentally forced a pity-party from the kid. 

Daryl remembered the last time he’d talked about his mother with Carl. It was right after Lori had died and Rick lost his mind. The shared experience of losing a mother in a traumatic way had brought them closer together. Unity in suffering as it were.

The hunter caught the glistening of faint tears in Carl’s eyes and immediately felt guilty for speaking in the first place.

Shit.

“You miss yours, kid?”

“Yeah.” Carl sniffed slightly. “Every day. But I’m not as sad as I was, you know? Mom gave us Judith and she’s perfect. And I have you and Carol and Maggie and all the others. It’s easier, knowing that I have a huge family to look out for us…”

Daryl felt a small lump blossom in his throat. Carl had to put down his own mother and here he was, lamenting over a mother that was long gone and nowhere near as good as Lori Grimes.

“I never thanked you, Daryl, and I should’ve. You were there for me and Jude when my dad couldn’t be and I’m so grateful. We all are.”

Tears pooled in the wells of Darl’s eyes and he looked away. It was too much. Too much praise for the bare minimum of care. He did what he had to do at time to keep that baby alive and Carl afloat. Nowhere in his calloused exterior did he think he’d love them so much. Daryl would die for Rick’s children and he selfishly dreaded losing them.

“I’m sorry ‘bout my dad…”

There it was. The elephant. The dropping shoe. The knife breaking the tension.

“...He shouldn’t have said that…but I know he doesn’t mean it, Daryl.”

“Thanks kid, but-”

“-I gave him a piece of my mind, you know? He can’t just talk to you like that especially when you’re-”

“-Stop. Carl, stop . Ya can’t be disrespecting yer dad, okay? Rick’s the best man I kndow, and he’s got his reasons for sayin’ shit-”

“-But!-”

“-But nothin’. Look, I appreciate ya checkin’ in on me but ya can’t be a lil’ shit to yer dad, okay?” Daryl looked towards Carl until the teenager made eye contact again. “Ya hear me?” “Fiiiiiiine.” Carl relented with another eyeroll. If he kept it up, his eyes would be permanently stuck in an upwards position. 

Putting the empty bowl on the ground, Daryl started to shiver uncontrollably. Now that it was silent again, he could feel the rain sodden clothes sticking to his skin and making him sicker by the minute. The hunter started coughing into the air beside him and he suddenly wished he was alone again. 

As if reading his mind, Carl tossed a dry sweatshirt over to Daryl. His aim was lazy and slightly off and the garment hit the hunter straight in the face.

“Oi!”

“Sorry…”

“ Hmpft.”

Daryl held the heather-grey sweatshirt in his hands. Every stubborn instinct told him to shy away from the help and to just suffer in the wet clothes he bore. But as his hand ran over the fleecy inside, the hunter couldn’t deny himself a small comfort. Even if it did make him feel a little shameful for a reason he was too worn to decipher.

A small nod of thanks and a look in Carl’s direction should’ve been enough to say ‘I’m fine now please leave me alone.’ But the kid just sat there, averting his eyes for a weak sense of privacy. Daryl huffed and pulled his vest and jacket off. The shivering was worse now and the sick man had a hard time controlling his trembling hands. As he pulled off the current sweatshirt and flannel, he could feel Rick’s borrowed undershirt riding up his body and exposing a small section of his bare back. 

As if his eyes were lasers, Carl shot his attention to the criss-crossing scar tissue that marred the man’s lower back. Daryl heard a small gasp from the boy and his cheeks turned nuclear with embarrassment. Quickly he pulled the dry sweatshirt over his head and sloughed on the damp leather jacket, trying to cover as much of himself as possible. The hunter hoped desperately that the apple fell a lot further from the Rick tree when it came to the source of his raised mauve disgrace. 

“Did Merle do that to you?” 

Daryl winced at the sudden interrogation. His breathing was shallow and sharp once again and the frantic pulse had returned to his eardrums. Did they really think that poorly of his brother? Sure, Merle was a first class asshole, but there was no way he’d be capable of what William Dixon was. For every shitty, drug dealer-y thing he’d done in his life, Merle had at least tried to protect Daryl from a supernova of parental abuse. 

“Ndah, kid. Weren’t Merle…Was mby ol’ man…” Daryl said sheepishly, fervently hoping Carl would just drop the subject and leave him alone. There was nothing the hunter wanted less than to engage in a dialogue about his abusive father, especially not with Carl.

“Shit…what’d he do?”

“That ain’t…” Daryl swallowed so hard he could hear his throat click. “That aind’t anythin’ ya need ta know Carl…Look, sombe parents are pieces of shit, but sombe are real good. Rick is a really really great dad, Carl. Ya need to know that. Whatever happens, please , love him as much as he loves you.”

“But-”

“-Nah, ndo but’s this time, Carl. Prombise mbe ya won’t be a jerk to ya dad anymore-” Daryl was met with a scoff and yet another pubescent eye roll. Sitting forward a little further, the hunter clicked his fingers to get the boy’s attention once again. “Hey. This is important. Prombise mbe, okay?”

“Ugh fine! I promise…or whatever.”

Daryl grunted to finish the conversation and started to rub at his tired eyes. A yawn caught him off guard as he slumped against the cold corrugated wall behind him.

Carl was sitting with his arms crossed and his eyes down cast solemnly. Daryl didn’t intent to make the kid feel bad but he also couldn’t stand that idea of a father and son being at war because of him. 

Carl sighed hesitantly before speaking again.

“Please don’t leave us Daryl.”

The earnesty of the boy’s words made Daryl’s chest throb with grief. It hadn’t occurred to him that Carl would actually miss him. The hunter had briefly toyed with the idea of running off and going it alone. But he dropped the idea when he realised how feverish and delusional he actually was. Now wasn’t the time for grand sweeping decisions, despite how lusciously tempting they were. 

Looking into Carl’s eye’s, Daryl finally saw the purity of the boy who’d been masquerading in from of him. There was such a sadness in the boy's frame that made the hunter hate himself even more for being a causation for it in the first place.

“Aind’t goin’ ndowhere, Carl.”

“Good, because you’re so valued, Daryl. We all need you and love you and I know you don’t believe me…but I need you to trust me okay?”

“Carl-”

“No! I promised you something and now you’ll promise me you won’t leave! Promise me!” Carl was a little frantic now and had stood up from the flimsy milk crate.

Daryl felt trapped and suffocated, yet equally comforted and needed. Swallowing thickly against his post nasal drip, the hunter nodded and averted his eyes. God, he was going to cry again. He was so goddamn sick of crying today. Especially in front of the kid. 

“I…I won’t leave.” 

“Good. Now come on.” Carl stood strong once again and held out a hand to the sick man. “Let’s just go back to the cabin, okay? You and my dad can figure this out in the morning…”

Daryl gulped and swallowed his pathetic pride , reaching for the hand in front of him. Once on his feet, he felt embarrassingly wonky as Carl held onto his forearm. Maybe things would be okay…Maybe life would return to a parallel sort of normal…Maybe he could find happiness again…

Delusion stopped in its tracks as the wind bellowed once again. As the weather worsened, the two men knew something wasn’t right. There was a sharp crack in Daryl’s ears and without any context, he knew that something wrong was about to befall them.

Before Daryl could think a single thought, the deafening sound of crushing metal boomed in his ears. Sensing before he could see, the hunter pressed his hand to Carl’s chest and pushed him away from the direct line of mayhem.

In an instant, Daryl was on the floor, pinned by the trunk of a weather-worn tree. He couldn’t move a muscle or he didn’t want to…nothing could be sure. 

“DAAAAAAAAD!!!”

‘Get up, get up, get up you fucking asshole and save him!”

Daryl practically begged his own body to stand to attention but nothing could rouse something so broken already. 

Pain.

                  Pain.

                                 Pain.

Pain flooded his senses like a convoy, rooting him to the spot of paralysation.

Pain and cold and undulating fear until….

Until.

Warmth.

Long awaited warmth and comfort and…

And… 

Darkness.

                  Darkness.

                                         Darkness.

And then… curtains. 

[9mothsinspace]

Why people think we watch TWD

Why we actually watch TWD

[the-kipsabian]

how am i supposed to focus the rest of this show after that jfc

[scudslut]

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'. 

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”  

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.” 

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water. 

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily. 

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly. 

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy. 

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong. 

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?” 

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank. 

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

[retroellie]

Little black dress

Summary: After wearing a little black dress that gave nothing to the imagination, Daryl decides to drag you to the bathroom and remind you who you belong too.

A/N: It's been awhile y'all! Omfg, I have been so busy writing a book that started out as a passion project but now I'm like really into it lol. But this is filth, and honestly took me 6 days to write no mf joke. It didn't really read through it so it might be messy lol, anyways miss y'all!! enjoyyy <3 (also it is so fucking long, omfg...I'm used to writing long chapters in my book HKAHKSHFJA)

Warnings: Sexual harassment, public sex, face fucking, unprotected sex, BDSM, mentions of SA (kinda?), just men being gross tbh, dirty talk

Word count: 13.7K

It had been years since you actually had to worry about what you were wearing, even longer since you had to dress presentable. But here you were, caressing every inch of your body trying to decide if your short black dress was "presentable" or plain slutty. You were teetering towards plain slutty, the way it hugged your curves slightly... showed a bit too much of your scared-up legs, you're breast perking to attention as if they were made just for it.

You examined your body, wondering what everyone would say if you showed up to something so classy wearing this. The dress code was nothing special, "Halloween costumes and formal!" the flyer said. You had nothing that would be considered either of those, maybe you're old bloodied shirts from before the commonwealth... you could dress like a walker. However, you had to look approachable... as if you were a reporter of some sorts.

You sigh softly, brushing your hair from your face as you exited the bathroom. You don't even know why you cared so much, it's not like you actually wanted to go to this stupid ball. You were only going because you were helping Connie out with her story. You promised her that you would talk to some people there, and write down their opinions of the commonwealth. You told her you would look presentable and approachable, something you didn't look very often.

"Plain slutty" wasn't a bad thing, before the fall you would dress that way on a night out anyway... But you weren't who you were back then. You didn't want all the male or female attention, especially in a new town like this. They would whisper, they would gossip... no matter how pretty you looked in your cheap dress, you knew they would be merciless.

You walked to yours and Daryl's shared room, grabbing your bag you've had since the fall... it didn't match the outfit at all but you needed something to remind you who you actually were. You placed the bag on your shoulder, turning around only for your attention to be drawn to something shiny on your bed. Your husband's knife...

"At least Daryl will be there." You thought to yourself, biting your lip softly as you stared down at the knife. This new life has been a fairytale almost, almost like the entire apocalypse thing never actually happened... like you and Daryl were just a normal married couple with normal problems. It was so weird worrying about small things again, like what you were going to wear for this stupid masquerade ball.

You two had been "married" since you became a part of the commonwealth. It was strange, especially since everyone called you "Mrs. Dixon". You had been with Daryl for around 7 years, but you weren't married. However, when coming to the commonwealth there was an option for you two to be married "legally". You couldn't help but laugh when they brought it up, there was no government, and there was no "marriage" anymore. They were dead serious though, looking as if you were crazy when you laughed in their face. But you signed the papers basically stating yours and Daryl's "marriage"... so now you guys just are.

Daryl was a security guard at the ball, leaving much earlier than you to go do his job, so he had yet to see the way the dress showed off what was his. Suddenly your mind went another way, remembering the last time you wore a low-cut shirt or too short shorts... It was a decision that had you wobbling for 3 days, kiss bitten down to your calves and completely fucked. You blushed at the thought of it, hoping you could get through the night without Daryl scolding you for the too-short dress. Maybe you wanted that... maybe you wanted to tease him.

Daryl was completely comfortable in the relationship, he had no real problem with you showing your body off sometimes. But if anyone knew how a man could think, it would be Daryl. He knew the disgusting thoughts that would go through a man's mind when they saw a woman's upper leg... He knew just how they could spin that to make it sexually gratifying. It made him sick to his stomach knowing what men think when they see you... he fucks his anger out, hard and fast just like how those men think they can do to you... only he's the one doing it.

You shook the thought away from your head, making your way down the hallway of your dingy apartment. You realized how sad and depressing your apartment was, you made a mental note to get some art or posters to hang up... you needed to make this apartment into a home, or at least something ya'll feel safe coming home to. You passed by Judith and Rj's room, peeking in to make sure everything was in check... "in check" meant there was no one or thing hidden within it. The fall had done that to you, made you cautious, and made you the type of person to make sure each room was clear before leaving. Even though you personally went through every inch of the house trying to find RJ's hat just this morning... you just had to make sure there were no changes.

You finally were able to leave the apartment after making sure the door was locked 4 times. It was a short walk to the ball, about a 7-minute walk, but with heels on it was 15 minutes. You were never much of a heel walker before the fall, you envied women who could... but you never got that walk down. You would have killed to look so classy in heels, but you never got that kind of feminine gene. So you took it slow, walking with caution as you brought down your foot for each step. You looked stupid, maybe even drunk to some of the passersby.

You finally made it though, only 10 minutes late... but you found Connie and Kelly waiting for you at the entrance. You gave them a small smile, wobbling over to them. You were super close with Kelly and Connie, ever since they stepped foot in Alexandria... you guys were insufferable. So it didn't come as a surprise for Connie to come to you first when she needed help gathering "stories", which really meant gathering dirt about Pamela. You were more than happy to do it, it was something to get you out of the house and even landed you getting an invite to the most talked-about party of the year.

As you wobbled to the 2 women, it seemed as if you took them off guard for a second, completely unrecognizable as they didn't know who you were. It wasn't until you got closer that they saw who you were.

"Y/n?" Kelly asked, almost in disbelief that you could get all dolled up like that. "Jesus I could hardly recognize you with all that... boob."

You looked down at your figure, seeing just how different it was from your usual attire. It was strange being this... naked. You started to feel a bit uncomfortable, almost nauseous as you looked down at your heels. You weren't used to attention, you were but you weren't. You are not the ugliest person out there and you know that, people seemed to think quite the opposite which you didn't really agree with. You would catch people looking at your ass while walking past them or catching a feel of your breast while hiding from hoards.

You were no stranger to that attention, hell that's even how you and Daryl became what you were. Daryl couldn't keep his eyes off your hips and your lumps... that's the only attention you wanted though. The rest of them, it didn't matter to you. You could live without it, you were over wanting that attention just to validate yourself... that was in the past for you.

"what? Is it too much?" You asked, pulling your dress up just for it to almost flash your ass to the world, causing you to pull it back down just for your boobs to pop out again. There was no winning in the dress.

You searched both of the women's faces, hoping they would say all they needed to say. Kelly's eyes were focused on your face, probably noticing the cat-eye look you were trying to do... which used to be your specialty, but now you're out of practice. She was probably not used to seeing your lips so red as well, which that part is what you were most proud of simply because you made the mix yourself. You wondered what she was thinking, maybe you should run home and put on some normal clothes. Maybe this was a bad idea and you should have just stayed home. Connie brought a hand to your arm, bringing you back to reality.

"No! You look beautiful." She signed, making you feel a bit better. "Thank you for helping Y/n."

All of your worries slowly melted away just by this gesture, making you relax a bit. As said before, Connie was one of your best friends, you even learned sign language from her. Ever since you met her, she was always so gentle with you. No one really understood your insecurities or your panic attacks or the reason why you were so damn quiet all the time... but Connie did. She read you like a book, you hated it... but it was nice to know that someone could. Especially someone like Connie who would speak up for you if you needed her to. She knew you could never stand up for yourself.

You just gave her a small smile, nodding your head basically telling her that you were okay and you could do this. It was just for a night and you've taken out hordes, you've bashed a man's head in with his own leg bone before... you can take a night in a skimpy dress, you can take the attention it will give you. Plus Daryl was there, he would kill a man for touching you if he needed to and he has before. So you felt more than comfortable walking into that door and forcing stories out of men to get dirt on their leader.

"Yeah, well I'm your girl when you need to get information out of a man." You said, trying to lighten up the mood even if you were the one who needed some lightening up. "All you need is a small waist and huge knockers, Take notes ladies."

Connie and Kelly both let out laughs, boosting your confidence a bit. You smiled softly at their laughs, looking at the doors and seeing how crowded they were getting. Women in big dresses and men with fancy little tuxedos made their way into the double doors, Some were even wearing their own handmade Halloween costumes. They all were trying to get into the door, only to be met with the security who had to pat them down for weapons and whatnot. You once again felt a wave of relief, knowing you weren't the only ridiculous-looking one there. You suddenly were so thankful for it being Halloween. You sighed softly, putting your smile back on as you looked back at Kelly and Connie.

"We should probably get in before the line gets too long." You spoke, signing as you did so.

You all made your way to the double doors, Connie's hand on your arm as a way to make sure that you knew she was there with you. You appreciated it, this was a big crowd of actual people and you weren't used to that... especially with live people. You knew this night was going to suck, you were probably going to be a nervous wreck by the end of it. But at least there will be alcohol.

“But seriously, Y/N…” Kelly’s voice cut through your distraction, drawing you away from the parade of ridiculous-looking rich people. Her eyes were fixed on you, a playful suspicion lacing her tone. “You don’t strike me as the type to pull off this kind of glam… were you some kind of model or something?"

You just let out a soft laugh, walking up the stairs to the soft light illuminating the doors. You couldn't help but let your mind linger on your past. It wasn't something you were proud of that's for sure, you were a mess. You were freshly out of high school, going to college away from home so it was pretty much guaranteed that you would be doing something you would grow to regret. You would do it all... men, women, drugs, alcohol, partying until the crack ass of dawn.

It was a time in your life that was so confusing and being around people who were half your age, you weren't sure what was right and what was wrong. That phase lasted until you found Daryl, suddenly something inside you switched. He was nothing but soft and gentle with you, at least as soft and gentle as he could be. You meant something to him and that's when you realized that you weren't some drunk college girl that men and women could tear down for their own pleasure. You were someone, and that was enough.

There had been countless nights where Daryl had to carve that fact onto your skin, kiss your soft lips until you could say nothing but who you were, fuck it into you. You had lots to work on, Daryl did too... that's what made you two such a power couple. You worked on your shit together, made sure the other knew where they stood in life... who they were and who they weren't even though multiple untrue things have been drilled into your heads. You let the thought wander through your head before coming back to the moment.

"I am full of surprises." You joke back. You knew you could tell her what you really were back then, you're confused and you're hurt... but you left it at that.

-

-

The night went too slow for your liking, not even halfway through the night you were at your limit with men and you were ready to go home. As you sat at the bar, sipping on some fruity drink one of many men had bought for you, you pulled out your notepad from your dirty bag. It was almost empty, only 3 stories collected simply because the men were too focused on the way your dress laid against your breast. You swore you talked to almost 20 men tonight and only 3 of them actually had the decency to keep their eyes to themselves and answer your questions.

Most of the men didn't want to hear you talk, they just wanted to undress you with their eyes. You gagged at the thought every single time, even more disgusted by how some of them thought it was their right to put their hands on you. You could still feel a hand on the small of your back or placed softly on your hip. This dress started to feel like not a good idea and you should have caved into your desire to change into something different. You will say, that at least a lot of the men bought you drinks... you could have only gotten through this night with "Sex on the Beach" and "Strawberry Daiquiri". You would much rather have whiskey if you were being honest, you had been hanging out with Daryl too much.

You started to read through the notes you wrote down, jotting down some keywords in their stories so Connie could rearrange them for her story against Pamela. You were almost halfway through the second story and your 3rd Strawberry Daiquiri when you felt a hand on the small of your back once more.

"My, my... ya here all by yourself sweetheart?" You heard a deep voice say, you could almost feel their breath on your neck.

You jumped at the sudden touching, yelping as you turned around in the spinny bar chair. You were ready to swing on the perpetrator, you were too frustrated and grossed out to have another man try to get into your pants tonight. You lifted your hand up, ready to slap the shit out of the man... only for your hand to fall back down as soon as it went up.

It was Daryl. His shit-eating grin spread on his face as he chuckled softly at your sudden burst of violence. Little does he know, he's not the only guy tonight to say those same words and touch the same spot just above your ass. You would probably tell him later, but for now, you kept it to yourself... you knew he'd be furious, probably dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you till you couldn't walk properly anymore. The more you think about it, the more you want that to happen.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes softly and leaning against the bar. You were so glad to see him though, you hadn't seen him all night. You tried looking but you were far too busy trying not to get groped by old men or beat up by their wives. You knew this night would have been 100% better if you found Daryl earlier, he would have really made the night somewhat fun or maybe at least been your bodyguard.

"Not alone... My deadbeat husband is somewhere around here." You joke, turning back around to face your notes.

You could hear Daryl chuckle behind you, he set himself between you and the empty chair next to him. He looked down at your notes and your 3 empty cups, he knew these were not your first and definitely not your last drinks of the night... then his eyes trailed down to your dress. You had told him you would be here and what you were doing here, but he didn't know just how you were going to show up. The dress was going to get you in trouble, especially with the way that it caused Daryl's pants to tighten.

His eyes drifted down your body, the sight of your almost bare breast made him almost choke on his own tongue. Daryl watched as you brought the last bit of drink from one of your cups, watching you slurp it down. He let out a soft cough, clearing his throat as if it would clear the thoughts of what those lips could do.

"Deadbeat, huh?" he started, watching you bring the cup back down to the bar counter. You licked your lips, getting every ounce of the alcohol from it. "Well then, your deadbeat husband should be ashamed of letting you go out in something like that."

He brought his hand up to touch the fabric of it softly, placing his hand on your hip and giving it a soft squeeze. You tried to stay up straight, even if the alcohol was creating a glorious feeling between your legs that made you feel like you could melt into his touch. Even the smallest of gestures from Daryl could have you at his feet, just the tiniest softest touch could create a fire deep within you. You were feeling bold tonight though, maybe it was just the 7 drinks you had but something within you burned with the need to be devoured.

You bit your lip softly, feeling the loose skin that resided there. You looked up to him, eyes full of lust. Daryl couldn't help but feel the same kind of fire erupts in the pits of his stomach. Your glazed-over eyes, the smell of the pure alcohol that he knew was affecting your ability to think, the way the black dress was still on you even though he wanted it off. You leaned in close to him, his hand still wrapped around your hip softly.

"if only he was here to put me in my place." You spoke, words flowing off your tongue like honey.

Daryl let out a soft breath, his clothes suddenly feeling so constricting against his skin. He never knew all he needed to do was get a couple of fruity drinks in your system for you to be so... feral. It made all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock, making the head of it rub up against his jeans so uncomfortably. You were everything but a perfect angel... you knew how to talk dirty, you knew how to get Daryl's cock up and ready to pound into the first hole he could get to. But something about the way your tits looked in your dress and every single man wanting to tear you apart with their bare teeth... and yet you only wanted Daryl to fuck you in the ways only these men can dream.

Daryl looked around, being sure of his surroundings before making any stupid decision he knew he would make with you. No one was paying any attention to him... some of the men you talked to earlier were still trying to catch a peak, hoping that maybe your thighs would spread wide enough so they could see just in between them. So they could store it in their minds and use it for spank material when they need a little push. That made Daryl's breath get heavy, hands shaking slightly on your hip as you leaned closer into him... he could smell a hint of your perfume and it was giving him a slight high.

Daryl looked back down at you, seeing your soft stare... watching your eyes move down his body and then back up to his eyes. Daryl placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing it softly as he debated on dragging you somewhere more private. His lips ached, his cock already leaking with need... if anything could make daryl dixon be reckless, it was you. He almost gave into you, almost engulfed your lips with his, and made you whimper... made you his in front of everyone. However, something caught his eye... his abandoned post.

He was supposed to be guarding the door, making sure no one else came in, and making sure everyone was on their best behavior. Rosita was there, on one side of the door as she too watched the dance floor. He had a job to do, a very important one that would have you both moving up in life if he did it right. He shouldn't even have left in the first place, but something about the way your thighs looked from afar... he found himself stalking towards you just to get a better look at them. He let out a soft smile, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before he retracted away from you.

"Ya look beautiful sweetheart..." He said simply, giving your body one last glance before stepping away from you completely. He could feel your energy fall slightly as you groaned at the loss of warmth... your dress did nothing to cover you up, so his warmth was appreciated. "I gotta go do my job, I just wanted to see you before I got too busy."

You wanted to pout, you wanted to kick your feet and scream like a child... that's how drunk you were, you would beg for him if he wanted you to. You didn't find that fair that Daryl could get you going, put his hands on you, and warm you up just to pull away like it was nothing. You were too drunk, too cock starved, too horny to let him leave you like this. Your legs were wobbling already, you're cunt throbbed and every time you would move your legs it would create irritating friction that you wish were from his fingers. You sighed softly, not done with this just yet...

"Well that's too bad..." You said, hopping down from the bar stool. Your dress came up a little too high, showing just below your ass. You pulled it down, which once again caused your breasts to pop out... but this time you wanted them too. You watched as his eyes focused on them. "I'm wearing my best panties... I was really hoping someone could help me put them to use."

You sighed dramatically, grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. Daryl gulped back a comeback because there was nothing good that was going to come out of his mouth. He was torn between two nasty names.... some of the most degrading names he could think of. All he wanted to do was slam you against the bar counter, tell you how fucking slutty and how much of a fucking whore you were... 2 things he knew you loved, he knew it made you weak in your knees just thinking about it. But he had to keep it cool, y'all were in public and he would like to keep those names between the two of you.

You stepped up to him, looking down at his obvious erection... you smirked to yourself knowing just by your words you did that. You looked back up to his eyes, reaching up to adjust the buttons on his shirt and patting his shirt down. You could tell just by his eyes what he was planning on doing to you, you could tell you were in trouble. You leaned up to his ear, standing on your tiptoes just to make sure he was the only one to hear.

"I will be in the men's bathroom if you need me..." You whispered, pecking his cheek with your lips just as he did to you. You swear you could see his eyes twitch, his anger rising within him as you teased him softly. You gave him a soft smile. "I hope to see you soon, Mr. Dixon."

You said, teasing him even further and not giving him any time to even react to your words before you walked away. You could feel some eyes on you as you walked away, except they weren't Daryls... they were the countless men that weren't Daryl, their eyes boring into your skin but you paid no attention... they weren't your target audience right now.

You were able to slip into the men's bathroom without anyone noticing, which was tricky since every man and women's eyes were on you the entirety of the night. You knew you would get some attention but the amount you got was overwhelming... you forget sometimes that a lot of these people have been in the commonwealth since the fall, most never experiencing the horrors just outside of their walls. So when a woman who is covered in scars speaks so confidently to them, it is intriguing. Not to mention the way your body curves, how it dips and stands out so perfectly. Not a lot of women in the commonwealth have that kind of "fighting for your life" kind of body type.

You open the door to the men's bathroom, slipping in before anyone notices you even did. You choose the men's bathroom simply because you knew it would be easier for Daryl to slip into and away from his post for a bit, allowing him some time to fuck the shit out of you. Luckily the bathroom was empty but you didn't spend too much time making sure since you knew someone could walk in at any minute, so you entered one of the stalls and locked it.

The bathroom was one of those nice ones you see in fancy restaurants, the stalls were almost like little rooms that only held a toilet and a trash can. The walls surrounding the toilet were painted a cream color and went all the way to the ceiling down to the floor. These were the types of bathrooms that were perfect for fucking if you're being honest, I mean the privacy... it was almost as if they were made for horny couples who need to let some steam off.

You sat on the toilet, imagining all the possibilities and positions you could find yourself in the small confinement of the 3 walls and door. Your eyes locked themselves on the door which was the only "stall-like" thing in the small area. There was a large gap between the door and the floor, making it so you were able to see the shoes of people who walked by. Luckily you could see none, but the anticipation of seeing those black boots with the mix-match shoe laces... Jesus, you hoped he would come, you didn't even give him time to answer.

In this moment, the anticipation and the hope you don't get caught brought you back to when you and Daryl started seeing each other. while on runs or even around the small time you and the group were on the road... Daryl would get sexually frustrated from watching you, his cock rock hard and eventually he couldn't take it anymore. He would grab your shoulder, bringing his mouth as close to your ear as he could... growling into it that he needed you, ordering you to go to a secluded area and "wait like a good girl" for him. You were so needy for him that you did exactly that, sometimes waiting an hour before he showed up and fucked you into the dirty ground.

That was around the time when your relationship was kept hidden, Daryl's choice. He told you it was because of the 15-year age gap between the two of you, he was worried about the things that would be said about the two of you. It was strange for a 37-year-old man to be romantically involved with a 22-year-old. But deep down you didn't believe his words, you subconsciously knew it was because he didn't want to get close to you. He had this thing with trust, so it came natural for him not to want to trust you at first... he was okay with just fucking you and leaving you limp on the forest floor. However, somehow along the way... he fell so deeply and utterly in love with you, that now he feels ashamed if he has to hide you.

Suddenly, you were pulled from your thoughts when the bathroom door opened. A slight tingle made its way through your body and it wasn't the good kind. You placed your feet on the toilet along with your body, hoping the person didn't see your high heels, and called security to come to escort the woman in the men's bathroom out of the ball... that would be embarrassing. You heard the person's heavy footsteps, not able to see their shoes because of the walls of the small bathroom covering your view. You held your breath, trying to keep yourself quiet as the person made their way to the stalls.

You listened closely to the steps, hearing them walk closer and closer to your stall. Questions filled your mind, did someone see me come in here? Is it one of the men who now thinks this is his chance? Am I completely fucked and was this a bad idea? Fortunately, it didn't take too long for your questions to be answered because when the two heavy-duty work boots with the mix-match shoe laces appeared between the gap of the floor... your body relaxed slightly.

You chuckled softly at your worry, realizing how fucked the fall actually left you. You were expecting Daryl yet your mind went to the worst that could happen... Jesus, hopefully, the commonwealth will ease your paranoia.

Knock

knock

knock

Those three knocks were too familiar to you. It was the knock you and Daryl used when hunting or when you holed up in a random cabin for the night... it was just a way for you two to say "Hey it's me. You're safe.". You smiled softly, standing from the toilet and wasting no time in opening the stall door. The stall door opened to reveal your angry-looking husband, he did not look too happy about the fact he had to fuck some sense into you while he had to do actually important things, like make a living for you two. You couldn't help but laugh softly at his face, how angry he looked... you were feeling the buzz of the alcohol throughout your body and it was hitting hard. You leaned yourself against the door frame, making sure your hips stood out as you did so.

"Mr. Dixon!" You exclaimed, almost as if you weren't waiting like a little dog would for its owner... You placed a hand on your hip, head laying against the door frame. "I didn't expect to see..."

You couldn't even get your words out before Daryl pushed you into the stall, shutting and locking the door behind him. He pushed you against the stall door, attacking your neck roughly. The warmth spread across your body, your body going limp for only a second before you threw your head back onto the stall door you were pushed against.

"Shut up..." He whispered into your neck, biting and sucking at your soft spots. He wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you in place as he worked his mouth on your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying your best to stay up straight as he basically touched you in all the ways you craved. It was fast, very fast as he basically speed ran trying to make you as wet as he possibly could get you. You knew this was going to happen, you basically begged for it to happen... but that doesn't make you any less surprised by his sudden touch. He licked a strip up your neck, biting your ear lobe softly before going back to leaving down your neck... you knew this was his way of marking you up, making sure the mark would show so pretty on your neck in your black dress, scaring away the men's attention.

His kisses led down to your chest, leaving bite marks here and there as he did so. You could come undone from his abuse on your neck, your body arching into him as you tried so desperately to quiet your soft moans. Daryl pushed you further into the stall door before pulling your dress down, exposing your breast to him as he softly kissed down your body. He stopped his kisses, taking a moment to take in your squirming figure and how red you had gotten from just kissing. He leaned down, taking your breast in both of his hands, and squeezed them together before sucking on your already hardened nipples. It all happened so fast, making you not only drunk but also now high off sudden pleasure. Your hands went to his hair, pulling it softly as his soft sucking on your breast sent small zaps of pleasure straight to your clit.

He went back and forth between the right and the left, squeezing one while he sucked and licked the other. Your world was spinning, not sure if it was the 7 strawberry daiquiri or if it was the way his mouth felt on your tits. You could feel yourself getting so close to the edge, embarrassingly close... he barely even touched you and you were almost coming undone in your panties. You gave his hair a particular rough pull, trying to remove his mouth from your nipple... you were too close to the edge, not wanting to cum now... You didn't want to give Daryl an even bigger head than he already has when it came to making you feel good.

"Jesus... Daryl, I'm too drunk for the foreplay, just fuck me." You whispered out, your words shakey as you shivered from the cold air brushing against your now slobbered-up tits.

Daryl detached himself from you, your hands still in his hair as he did so. He tried to hide the smile from you but trust and believe the way you were begging made his own high come to him. He couldn't tell which one of you was drunk, and he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol this entire night. You leaned against the stall door, the lock from the door digging into your back. You squirm underneath his gaze, feeling his hands make their way back to your waist. Your tits are still standing to attention, red and puffy from his kisses.

You breathed heavily, looking into his lust-filled eyes as he brought his face closer to yours. You could feel his breath fan across your face, the smell of your shared toothpaste bringing memories of the nights you would have together in your small apartment... All the nights spent bent over the sink as he rammed his cock into you, praying Judith and rj were asleep, or even the days where you two just had to be with each other. So you filled the bath, lit some candles, and spent hours making out with each other... no fucking, no dry humping, no cumming onto each other. Just you two, taking in each other's presence and exchanging saliva.

"You beggin' me?" He whispered, lips hovering over yours as he spoke. You debated on reaching up, touching his lips with yours... speeding this entire thing up. But you couldn't deny you loved a long drawn-out fucking session in a fancy bathroom.

"No..." You teased, smiling up at him as you brought your face even closer. Your eyes make their rounds from his lip back to his eyes. "Simply asking for a favor."

You had a way of getting underneath Daryl's skin in the most delicious ways, with your innocent-looking eyes and your silky smooth voice. He knew better though, he knew you were far from innocent. Not only have you done things, murderous things that to this day you will never be able to repent from... but also sexual things that have the angels crying. You have allowed Daryl to fuck you on the dirty floor of an abandoned cabin while your people were only mere inches away from you. You have fucked him while covered in blood, even going as far as to cover yourself with more blood because it turned you on so much. You have asked to be held at gunpoint while you sucked his cock, asked to ride the handle of his knife, asked to be slapped in the face until your nose bleeds.

You liked pain, you loved every ounce of it and it was heartwarming that you trusted Daryl enough to be so open with these things... but it was disgusting how you did these disgusting things with such innocent eyes. However, Daryl was a sucker, because he did everything you asked him to with a smile on his face. He never knew he held such a disgusting pervert deep down inside of him until he came the hardest he ever had while fucking you by a trapped walker. Although, with age and the further you got into the relationship, you both settled down a bit. You two were so fucked for each other, you were basically cumming at the sounds or each other's names.

"Real cute... Just asking for a favor huh?" Daryl mocked, his hand running down to the top of your cunt... stopping so he could watch your squirm. He had other plans than to give you what you wanted, you guys were already fucking in a public restroom while hundreds of people were outside.. might as well go the full mile right? "Well then, you're gonna have to ask a lot better than that sweetheart. Knees."

He didn't have to say anything more than that before you were dropping to your knees. Daryl could cum from just knowing you would do anything for him in a heartbeat, especially sucking his cock when he wanted you to. You were never the type to turn down sucking his cock, you loved watching him come undone on your tongue... you even thought he looked so much more pretty at the angle.

You stared up at him with big eyes, your lips red from you biting them and your tits hanging from your dress. Daryl hummed in contentment, reaching down to wrap a hand through your hair as you looked up at him innocently. He ran a soft hand through at first, making sure you knew you were safe with him... making sure you were okay with what was happening. You nodded softly, a way for you to say "I am okay with this". He shot you a soft smile, running a hand once more through your hair to get it out of your face.

It started off so soft, it always started off so soft because you brought out this softness in Daryl... a softness he had never known he had until he met you. But it always ended up rough, because that is how Daryl loves and that is how you love it. Daryl suddenly gripped your hair, a tight grip that had you gasping and wincing. You groaned softly, chuckling softly at his sudden outburst... you knew you were about to get destroyed and in such a pretty dress.

"Want you to suck my cock..." he said, keeping hold of your hair but reaching down to the top of his pants. He unbuttoned them, almost ripping his belt off as he did so. "Gonna cum all over your pretty little face, then maybe I'll fuck that hole of yours."

You watched up at his hands as he unzipped them, pulling them down slightly so only his cock could come out. The sight of it almost had your mouth watering, not able to think coherent thoughts as you watched it twitch slightly. It was rock hard, the tip already covered in precum and flush red as it desperately craved friction. You knew your teasing left him desperate, and needy for your touch… but it’s as if you hadn’t touched him for days which was not true. You could not keep your hands to yourself around Daryl, so fucking was an everyday thing.

Daryl watched your eyes go wide at the sight of it, his grip on your hair tightened which pulled your attention away from his cock and back to his eyes. He couldn’t help but pump himself a few times, more precum dripping from the tip as he did so. You smirked at him which told him you weren’t done with your teasing.

“Is that any way to speak to your wife?” You asked, your words making his cock twitch even more. "Bet none of those men out there would ever talk to me like that..."

As said before, you had this way of getting under Daryl’s skin… and a little part of you enjoyed the way it affected him. It caused this fire within him that you were able to see from the outside, it was a small change in his demeanor, a small twitch of his eye that was probably only noticed by you. It was that small change that had you slightly terrified but completely and utterly exhilarated. That is the main purpose you teased him the way you do, just to see that small fire build up inside of him until he couldn't take it anymore and he just snapped. You were able to get him into so many dirty positions with that fire, so many nasty things just because of your teasing words.

Daryl's hands shook slightly, a slight hint of jealousy coursing through his blood. He gripped your hair harder, pulling some of it out, as he tried to stop his hand from shaking so much. He pulled you closer to his cock, causing a soft yelp to escape from you. His cock was now laying on your cheek, twitching softly.

"Well, those men don't know you like I do..." He said, pumping his cock one last time before setting his hand on the base of it. "They don't know my wife is a horny sex fiend who can't shut her fucking mouth... open."

You didn't have to be told twice, your mouth opening, and Daryl didn't give you any notice or any warning before he shoved his cock almost completely into your mouth. You held back a gag, feeling the head of his cock in the back of your throat already. Daryl kept your head in place, watching you fight with the urge to gag and recoil back from his cock. He can not deny how much pleasure it gave him to see you in pain, obviously the good kind of pain. The consensual pain that you allowed him to give you and enjoyed every single bit of it.

Daryl stayed still for mere seconds, allowing you to get used to the feeling of a cock in your mouth. You eventually allowed your throat to relax, looking up at him with your watery eyes as you went further down his cock. You wrapped your lips around him, staring him right in the eye as you took his entire cock in your mouth... until your nose was buried into his happy trail. Daryl almost collapsed, seeing the bulge in your throat... he could cum down your throat at this moment.

"good girl... good fucking girl." He said, trying his best to keep you like that for a couple more seconds so he could burn this image in his brain for later use.

He knew that you would be giving him that shit-eating grin that you usually give him when you get a big ego... but you couldn't since his cock was down your throat and you were loving every second of it. Once Daryl stored every single detail of how angelic you looked right now, he pulled your head back with your hair. As he pulled back your head, his slobbered-up cock was revealed... this would be another thing he would store in his mind for later.

Daryl didn't keep your head off his cock for long before he slammed your head back down on his cock, once again forcing his cock down your throat and causing you to want to gag again. You couldn't get used to it this time, you weren't able to stop yourself from gagging before Daryl pulled your head off his cock once more but like he did the last 2 times... he forced your head down on his cock once again. You couldn't help but feel your cunt flutter away as your throat was burning slightly. It was a delicious kind of burn, the taste of his cock making its way down your throat.

before you could even almost gag for a 3rd time, Daryl pulled your head away and then slammed it back down. Now his movements were quick, his cock massaging your throat as you just kept your mouth open and your lips wrapped around his cock. You dug your knees into the bathroom floor, your hand holding onto his thighs as you allowed him to use you like a literal sex toy. You felt so degraded, so disgusting... but you wanted more, you needed more. The feeling of someone walking in excited you even more, knowing that any of those men from earlier can walk in just to relieve themselves and be met with the sounds of gagging... gagging from the woman that they wished would do the same from them.

The thought of that alone, the look on their face as they realized what the gags actually were. The cold sweat that runs through their bodies, the red tint that spreads across their cheeks, the inevitable boner that pops up simply because they imagined how you looked while doing such a disgusting thing. You didn't mind someone walking in and that alone left a sense of shame within your stomach, you begged for it really. You knew it could lead to Daryl losing his job, knowing how they would look down on him because he left the partygoers he was supposed to be protecting so he could get a blowjob from his wife in the bathroom. But you would risk it all. The sudden burst of shame and excitement and complete lust caused you to bob your head along with Daryl's hands. Setting your hands on his ass so you could force him into your throat yourself.

"God... fuck, such a fucking whore huh?" Daryl moaned, keeping his hand entwined with your hair. He looked down at you, watching you work his cock in and out of your throat like it was nothing... your slobber dripping from every crevice of your mouth and onto your already spit-covered tits. "Ya like my cock in your mouth, the only thing you're good for huh?"

The degradation of it only made you speed up your movement, the sounds of your choking and gagging filling the air completely. You kept your eyes on Daryl, watching as he finally pulled his attention away from you and lost himself to the feeling. He threw his head back, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to steady his breathing. You looked up at him like he was some kind of god and in this moment... he was to you. You would have licked the floor he walked on if he asked you, in this moment and in any. Daryl was the closest thing to god you have ever believed in, because how can someone so fucking perfect be real? He must have been made from everything good in the world, like candy or fresh laundry.

You got too ahead of yourself, feeling Daryl pull your head back roughly as your rhythm becomes too sporadic, too messy. Daryl pulled your head completely off his cock, a string of salvia was now the only thing connecting you and him now. Your throat burned, it ached as you coughed softly... trying to catch your breath as you waited for what he was going to do next. When Daryl was in these moods when the fire sparked within him, he was unpredictable and that made your liquids leak from your cunt.

Daryl had a plan to destroy you completely and he was going to go through with it. You weren't going to be able to talk to another man without thinking of what Daryl would do if he saw you... you won't be able to speak for the next few days to come, or walk, or get out of bed. He was going to completely fuck you. Daryl took the base of his cock once again, placing his cock back on your cheek... watching it cover your face in your own saliva. You chuckled softly, closing your eyes as his cock drenched your face with spit. That soft chuckle made Daryl's blood heat up again, he didn't want you to laugh... he wanted you to beg for his mercy, cry so hard that you could barely speak, he wanted you to be a ruined puddle on the floor.

"Sit on your butt, head against the wall." He demanded, pulling your hair back and giving your face a harsh slap as a way to tell you that you would regret it if you didn't.

You did what you were told, sitting flat down on the floor and laying your head back on the stall wall. Daryl moved closer to the wall, so one of his hands was resting on the stall. There was only a small gap between the wall and Daryl, you between the both of them. Daryl's cock slid across your face once again, his hand pumping it softly as he made it so you were between his legs.

"Tap on my thigh if you need me to stop." He said softly, running a hand through your hair comfortingly. He was planning to destroy you, but if you genuinely needed him to stop he would in a heartbeat. "Okay?"

You nodded, repeating back a little "okay" before giving him a soft smile. You adjusted yourself so you were closer to his cock, sitting so you were face to-face with it. You were so ready... your mouth begged for it.

"Alright, sweetheart." He reached down, pulling your mouth closer to his cock as he bent his knees slightly. "All you gotta do is keep your pretty little mouth open for me alright?"

You nodded, opening your mouth once more. Daryl smiles, watching you so eagerly waiting for him. He let you catch your breath for a few more seconds, not wanting to completely overwhelm you all at once. But before you knew it, Daryl's cock was back in your mouth... his thrusts started slow. He allowed you to get adjusted to his cock once more, choking slightly as it hit the very back of your throat.

He didn’t wait too long though, after a few soft thrusts he didn’t go so nice on you. His thrusts became rough and fast, his cock slipping in and out of your throat, making your head almost bang into the stall every single time. As his cock assaulted your throat, hand wrapped in your hair as he used it as a way to keep your head back so he could fuck your throat until it ached, he imagined the way the men looked at you.

He saw you from afar all night long, watching you closely as you collected your stories. You pulled your dress down throughout the night, your tits looked heavenly under the softly yellow light. Then you would pull your dress up, revealing skin inches away from your lace black underwear. It was almost as if you were playing with him, making him a hot mess at his post. Then there were the men, all looking everywhere but your eyes... trailing down to the necklace he had found for you, but not staying there very long before looking directly at your tits. They had no shame, they slowly undressed you with their eyes and you knew it.

His thrust became even faster, your nails digging into his thighs and your eyes watered... Your choking and gagging only egged him on more as he violently banged your head into the wall. You loved every second of his abuse, throat throbbing and raw but so was your cunt. You were clenching around nothing, rubbing your thighs together to get some kind of friction. You would even go as far as to say... you were just as close as Daryl. You could cum from the sight of him alone, that's all you needed for your cunt to feel satisfied.

You could sense his orgasm nearing, his moans started to intertwine with your gagging and choking. He had to keep his hand on the wall to balance himself as his legs started to shake violently, thrust getting messy as you started to lick the vein of his cock so softly with what control you had, his hand gripping your hair roughly. If his cock wasn't in your mouth right now, fucking your throat till it bled... you would be begging him to cum down your throat, wanting to taste his salty seed as he came undone from fucking your face.

"So fucking close baby... so close." He groaned softly, trying to keep his voice below a whisper but the feeling of your velvet throat made him lose control of his own voice. "gonna fucking cum."

You hollow your cheeks, closing your lips around his cock and running your tongue down his shaft. You could feel his cock twitch on your tongue, basically begging to cum. Daryl continued his fast, rough thrust... the knot in his stomach was thrust away from bursting and you did everything in your power to send him over the edge, you craved to see the way his face contorted into pleasure as he came... how his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth opening into a slight O shape, his entire body shaking softly.

Suddenly, just before his breaking point, Daryl pulled his cock out of your mouth. You couldn't help but whine softly at this action, your throat needing to feel his warm cum slide down it. Daryl took his cock in his hand, pumping it at the same pace he was fucking your throat. It only took him a good 3 or 4 pumps before hot strings of cum shot out of his cock, landing directly on you. He milked his cock, watching as it spurted on your cheeks, your nose, almost into your eye but you closed them before it could.

"Fuck..." He let out, huffing as he leaned against the wall... his cock still in his hand as it twitched, almost overstimulated now.

You stayed underneath him, your cunt throbbing in your panties. You were sticky with Daryl's cum, with your own spit, and your sweat. You felt disgusting, you felt so disgusting that not even 10 showers could wash away this feeling... this degrading, embarrassed feeling. But somehow, your cunt still screamed for Daryl's abuse. You looked up at Daryl, his cum now dripping from your face as you did so. He looked so tired, so out of it as his orgasm still sent soft shocks down to his cock. You've noticed as he's gotten older that he has had to take more time to recover from his orgasms, it really takes it out of him.

You remembered when you first started fucking him, Daryl wore you out before he could even think about stopping. After every single nut, he would be hard all over again. It was heaven, but also physically draining. Now in your older age, you would much rather 2 or 3 long drawn-out rounds more than multiple quick fucks. Your and Daryl sexual relationship has come a long way, from quick fucks to long passionate, and kind of perverted sex. It was kind of sweet to you in a way, how you both experimented with each other and picked and chose what you liked and what you didn't. It was something no one in the past would have done for you, it was why you "married" Daryl in the first place.

"So beautiful..." Daryl said, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was caressing your face, wiping away his own cum while he did so.

You blushed softly, leaning into his hand... kissing the palm of it softly. Daryl was always so nice afterward, so gentle and sweet. Nothing like he used to be, so distant and cold... not even helping to clean you up. However, as sweet as this moment was... in a weird and fucked up way, your cunt still throbbed. You still needed your cunt stuffed, still needed it fucked raw to match your sore throat. So you dug deep into your chest, trying to find your voice and force out of your beaten voice box.

"Are you up for round 2 or are you gonna need some time to recover?" You teased, your voice raspy and almost barely there as your throat was quite literally broken.

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle, placing his head on the hand that was keeping him upright. Daryl was never the type of person to leave you all high and dry, even if you truly deserved it. He would always give you what you wanted, only he would give it to you over and over and over again until you begged him to stop. He loved watching you cum as much as you loved to cum, so he couldn't deny you the very thing he held dear to him.

Daryl finally was able to get his legs to stop tingling as much, pushing himself off of the stall wall. He now stood inches away from you, just needing to see you in your entirety. You were drenched in his cum, legs sprawled out and shaking on the dirty bathroom floor, your tits hanging from your dress, your hair matted to your forehead and neck... you already looked so destroyed, but you wanted more? He could never understand the pleasure you got out of being destroyed, he loved it too... but being in such degrading positions? Maybe that's why he was the one giving it to you.

He reached his hand out for you to grab it. You did it in a heartbeat, struggling to stand up but balancing on his arm as you did so. He took you softly into his arms, holding you up with one arm as he wiped more of his cum off your face. He slowly brought his knee up to your cunt, you gasped softly as it made contact with your puffy clit. You wanted to move your cunt up and down it, feeling the delicious friction it would give off... but you knew how much of a dick Daryl could be and how easily he would tease you, denying you of his actual cock.

"Old man huh?" He chuckled, still holding you close to his chest. He could feel your heartbeat in not only your chest but also your cunt that was throbbing against his knee. "I'll show you an old man."

He suddenly turned you around, shoving you into the stall door so your face was flat on it and your ass was pushed out. You yelped as he did so, feeling his hands pull your panties down... he wasn't going to take it slow with you this time, he wasn't going to ease you onto him and let you adjust yourself. No, he was going to continue to teach his lesson... make sure it was carved into your brain that what's his, is his, and if you allow another man to look at you like a hungry bear would to his prey... you'll know what happens.

Daryl pumps himself in his fist a couple of times, getting his cock hard again before lining it up to your cunt. You grabbed onto anything that you could, preparing yourself for the devious stretch that you begged for the entire time he fucked your throat. Daryl collected the slick from your dripping cunt onto his cock, making it nice and wet... as if he needed to, your own spit was still covering it. He teased your hole, putting the tip of his cock inside before dragging it down once again. He was trying to tease you, make you feel an ounce of what he felt the entire night with you prancing around in the slutty dress that was now bunched up around your waist. You subconsciously bucked back on him, trying to fit his cock inside your needy cunt... but he held your hips in place, gripping them so painfully that you could feel it throughout your entire body.

He kept this motion up for only seconds before he got tired of it, he got tired of your whines and your pleas, deciding to give you what you craved. In one swift movement, he slammed his cock inside of your wet folds, bottoming out in one thrust as he did so. This action made you moan loudly, almost screaming when you felt the sudden stretch of your cunt around his cock. Daryl revealed this noise, like it was his favorite song... making you scream from pleasure, making you feel so good you didn't care that hundreds of people were just outside of this door... some of those people being the family you have gathered along the fall.

Daryl didn't waste a second, doing the same thing to your cunt that he did with your throat... he pulled his cock all the way out before slamming it back in. You could feel his cock in your stomach, moving around your organs as if it was meant to be in there. You don't think you will ever get used to the size of his cock, because each time you both fucked you would always have to get used to the shape of him all over again... and each time it took you off guard. His cock was merciless, nails digging into your hips, cock buried so perfectly into your cunt... it was pure light.

You were so lost in pleasure, your moans just dripping from your mouth and Daryl allowed it... he was far too lost in his own pleasure to mind. You hoped that the loud music playing just outside would cover the noise and since no one had come running in to make sure you weren't being murdered yet, you felt it was doing a good job of covering up the noise. Daryl kept up his harsh thrust, one hand coming up to your hair to pull your head back so he could attack your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, causing your body to go almost limp... balancing on Daryl's cock was the only thing keeping you upright.

He watched your eyes roll back into your head, face flush red as he pushed himself further into you as if there was any room for him to do so. He reached his hand that was placed on your hip, sliding it down to between your thighs... rubbing your bundle of nerves slowly. He knew you were close, he knew you could have gotten off his cock down your throat alone.... so he knew you wouldn't be able to hold on very long from his cock being deep inside you. He touched, licked, fucked every single spot of your that he knew would send you off the edge, he was proving pretty successful with it too.

But suddenly, all his movements stopped and so did the entire world for a second. While you were lost in your pleasure, the bathroom door was slammed open and voices now replaced your moans... engulfing the bathroom with their noise. You were too lost in your own pleasure to notice, your moans still slipping through your mouth and your hips trying to once again buck back into his. Daryl however was now in his "security/guard" mode now, reaching up with his hand to slap it around your mouth... pulling you flush to his chest. You gasped into his hand at the sudden action, eyes widening as you felt his cock dig deeper into you. Even though that was not Daryl's intention, it still caused his cock to twitch inside of you.

"Shhh." He cooed, his mouth hovering over your ear.

But how could you be quiet when Daryl's cock was so deep inside of you, how could you be quiet with how close his body was to yours, how could you be quiet when you could smell his toothpaste and the college he wore. but you obeyed, knowing that if you did then maybe you would get a mind-blowing orgasm out of it. You could hear two sets of footsteps, they sounded heavy... almost like 2 men. IT would make sense, if you were in the men's bathroom... You couldn't hear what they were talking about, you could hear them but you couldn't understand them with Daryl's cock grazing your g-stop.

Daryl peaked through the small gap between the wall and the door, watching the men through it. You could tell by the way his eyes relaxed slightly that the men had no idea you two were in here, that they were lost in their own conversation to pay any attention to the stall you two had been hidden behind. Daryl took a step back, pulling you along with him... his movement caused his cock to almost slip out of you, but him pulling you close to his made it once again thrust inside of you. You squirmed against him, his free hand keeping you still.

"Did you see that girl...uhh she had that black dress on? She was going around interviewing people about how they like the commonwealth?" One of the men said, you could hear him unzip his pants as he did so... soon after the trickling of urine could be heard.

"Dixons girl? yeah, I saw her alright." The other man said, his voice almost laced with lust.

You froze at the mention of you, more specifically how you were labeled "Dixon's girl". You had a name and you even gave it to them, fucking assholes. If it were any other time, you would correct them with a fist through the teeth and a knee to the groin... but right now, you were too occupied getting stuffed by Daryl's cock. Your senses were completely filled with Daryl, your cunt full of him... it made it hard to think any coherent thought, especially with how his cock pulsed inside of you, rubbing you from the inside softly.

"Dixons girl huh?" The other man chuckled, finishing up his business as he did so. You could feel Daryl's ego grow a bit, especially with how his hips started to move softly into yours. He got such a big head when it came to you, knowing you were his. "So what's the deal with them? I mean, she's like 20 years younger than that old fuck. Does she have daddy issues or does she just like me older?"

You would have corrected them once again, telling them that you just liked Daryl. You didn't go after him because he was older or because you lacked a father... They would probably have done the same thing with what Daryl did with his cock, how it turned you into a madwoman every time he pulled it out. You huffed into Daryl's hand, which caused him to chuckle silently. This was entertaining, to say the least, this entire situation was.

"With the way she was dressed tonight, I think maybe she's just a whore." The man said, causing your blood to go cold. "Maybe Dixon was just lucky enough to be the first guy she fucked."

You loved being degraded, you loved being called a whore, you loved being told you are nothing but a hole for a man to cum in... but only when Daryl said it. It was like when it came out of another man's mouth, it sounded so wrong and so degrading but in a not good way. Daryl had a way with his words that made it sound like pure honey, like candy dripped from his lips and you couldn't wait to get a taste. Daryl felt this too as if your genuine degradation actually affected him... like he could feel it flowing through his veins too. Daryl thrust his cock into you, trying to make you forget what they were saying, making you present with him instead of them.

"She seems like the type. " The man replied, the sink running as he said. Daryl once again thrust his cock into you, the knot in your stomach coming back. "Those outsider girls, man, I hear they let you do some weird shit to them."

One more sharp thrust from Daryl, his hand pressing harder on your mouth so they wouldn't hear your moans. He let his free hand roam down to your clit once more, rubbing it in small tight circles. To him, Daryl thought that maybe if you were too focused on your nearing orgasm, you wouldn't let the words of disgusting men get to you... he was slightly right because after that last sentence, their words turned to just background noise. You could feel yourself giving in the pleasure, you threw your head back on his shoulder, your back arching as you pressed your ass more into him so the gaps between your bodies were nonexistent.

"Damn, I might have to pay a visit to Dixons girl huh?" The man chuckled, the sound of zipping pants and water filled the air. "You think she'd take us both at the same time?"

Daryl's thrust started out as a way to comfort you in a way, but now with the venomous words these men were letting out... he was doing it out of anger, and jealousy as they talked so grossly about his wife. His thrusts were deep, and rough as he imagined what he would do to these men when he got done with you. How he'd cut off every single finger of one man's hand as the other watched. How he'd slit the throat of the man who even asked that stupid question in the first place, basking in the way his blood sprayed on him.

You took your hand and reached back to set your hands on Daryl's hips as he dug his cock so violently into your cunt. You couldn't take it anymore, your juices had dripped down your legs, now soaking the floor as you let Daryl abuse your pussy. You gave his hip a soft squeeze, a way to tell him "Keep fucking me, I'm gonna cum." He didn't slow his movement, instead, he sped up. Hacking away at the knot that was about to explode inside of your stomach.

"If she's fucking that old redneck... shit, she should be glad we would even consider fucking her." The man spit out, heavy footsteps leading to the door as he spoke.

And that was it, those words caused Daryl to thrust so harshly into you that it broke the knot inside of you. You almost screamed into Daryl's hand, your body tensing completely, your toes curling, your vision going white as he didn't stop his abuse. He fucked and rubbed you through the earth-shattering, mind-blowing, entire life-changing orgasm. Your cunt spasmed around his cock, liquids puddling up on the floor as you came around his cock. His fingers that were playing with your clit while you came were now covered in your slick.

"I call fucking her tits first." The other man said, another pair of footsteps followed the first ones you heard... both of the men now leaving the bathroom. "You can have him..."

The door shut, silencing the men's words which were now just jumbled as you came on Daryl's cock. You heard the door click shut, suddenly being shoved against the door once again in just seconds. You were still having the aftershocks of your orgasm while Daryl thrust into you, shoving your head further into the stall door. You moaned loudly, you're an overstimulated pussy trying to reject his cock but also craving it, his hand no longer silencing your moans. He shoved his cock inside of you, over and over again until the door was shaking along with his thrust.

You could feel his anger, feel the way that he tensed... the way that those men's words got more to him than they did to you. You could tell with every thrust of his hips that he was furious. He thrust into you only a couple more times before he groaned loudly, almost growling as he felt his own orgasm consume his body.

"Gonna cum in your fucking pussy..." He spit out, his grip on your hip tightening now and you could cum again just by his anger. "Gonna fill you up so fucking good baby... so good baby."

His words filled your brain, your body still so exhausted from the orgasm. You let him use you though, let him use your body so he could fuck his anger out. It was only mere seconds before you could feel his thick, warm cum paint your walls. When he said he was going to fill you up, he fucking meant it. He gave your pussy a few more good thrusts before he drained himself completely, his body allowing his veins to fill with pleasure. There's something about anger that makes orgasms feel so much better, feel so much more intense... and Daryl was a very angry man.

Daryl's cock softened inside of you, throbbing against your walls. He kept himself in you though, allowing you both to recover from the pleasure that filled you both. Daryl leaned down, kissing your back softly as he came down from his high, rubbing your hips to ease the bruises he left on them. This night was not supposed to go like this, you two were not supposed to fuck in the bathroom of this new town you had just been welcomed into. This was behavior that you two would do in your earlier years when you were both reckless, both so horny your hands never left each other. It is comforting, how things never really change.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, brushing your hair from your face... your face still pressed against the door and still very much covered in his cum.

You nodded softly, not able to speak well because Daryl's cock really took a number on your throat. Daryl smiled softly, slipping his cock out of you... watching his cum leak out of you. It was rare for Daryl to cum in you, he was always so adamant about cumming anywhere but inside simply because....he didn't want to knock you up, kids weren't supposed to grow up in this world. But something about tonight, he wasn't worried about you getting pregnant. A part of him actually welcomed it.

Daryl stepped back from you, pulling his pants up and buttoning them back up. You straighten yourself up, legs shaking as you attempt to pull your dress down. You weren't sure if you should bring up what happened, about the men who said those things but the words left a tension between you two. The words did hurt, you did feel massively sexualized by those men and you didn't like the feeling of it. But you thought maybe you could ignore it, it will go away on its own. Daryl noticed your struggle to put your dress back on, feeling a slight twinge of sympathy.

"Let me help..." He said, reaching over to help fix your dress. Covering up your body, his hands grazing your soft skin as he did so. He too was having that debate in his head, if you two should talk about it. "You know, those men. They're dead, you know that?"

It was almost like he heard your thoughts, could read your mind, and laid out what you needed to hear. This entire night you had been sexualized, but you didn't mind it... it was just attention to you. But hearing it while Daryl was there, feeling the way it affected him as well. It made you feel so gross like maybe all you were was actually just a piece of meat to some men. You could never imagine a life without Daryl now, how respectful he was even with his degradation.

Daryl was 2 steps ahead though, he already planned on making their life a living hell. It was one thing to gawk at you in front of your face, imagining what you tasted like or how you would look butt naked on top of them... all the while you just wanted to collect stories. But it was another thing to write you up as some lust-filled woman who would give herself any man who would ask her nicely. You weren't what they made you out to be, but then again they made every woman who liked sex like they did out to be some kind of whore. You liked sex, you liked it rough... but so did they, so why were you any different?

"Don't get yourself in trouble because of that asshole diary." You said although you urged him not to... a part of you really wanted him to. Men like them deserved to be put in their place, they deserved to be made to feel just how they made women feel. Plus you wouldn't mind Daryl coming home all bloody...

"Who said I'll get caught..." He smiled, inching closer to you, and laid a soft kiss on your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist while he did so. Daryl was good at his craft, he knew how to be careful."So, I want you to go home... Take a nice bath, make some tea or something.... maybe get some rest. And I'll be home before you know it."

He kissed your forehead, brushing your hair from your face. It did sound so nice to just give in to sleep, especially with being a nervous wreck all night and then being fucked so hard in a small bathroom. But the feeling of Daryl going to hunt down these men, staying up till the early ends of the night punishing them for what they said... something inside of you flips, causing a small knot in your stomach to form wants more. You reached up on your tiptoes, bringing Daryl into a passionate, long kiss. This hinted to Daryl what kind of mood his actions had put you in, he pulled away when he realized... he'd already been away from his post for long enough, he couldn't go another round with you.

He chuckled softly, stepping away from you... he slid his jacket off and placed it on your small body. You were completely engulfed by it, it covered your body more than the black dress did, and you couldn't help but feel so safe in it.

"I'll leave the bathroom first, you wait a couple of minutes and sneak out. There should be a backdoor in the kitchen you can slip out of, but then I want you to go straight home okay?" He said, pulling the jacket closer to your body before setting another kiss to your lips. "And clean your face off before leaving, it's already bad enough i fucked you in here... don't need them to see the evidence of it."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, zipping up the jacket as you did so. You did completely forget about the cum that still dripped from your face, you were covered in so many liquids that his cum was completely forgotten by you. You nodded your head, watching him unlock the stall door and slip out of it. You poked your head from it, making sure the coast was clear before you also slipped out of it. You looked in the mirror, jesus... you were a complete mess. You watched as he peeked out of the bathroom door, making sure he could slip out successfully.

"Round three when you get home..." You called out, making him whip his head around to look at you. He scoffed, shaking his head softly.