#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. 

[kookiekult]

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

[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

[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.

[writella]

A Different Kind of Ride

Synopsis: Reader wants to ride Daryl’s bicep!

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader. Just smut, (bicep) riding, masturbation (m). I think they’re both giving switch vibes, they enjoy watching, and are obsessed with their partner’s body. Overall, lots of grinding, desperation, and Daryl wanting to panty sniff— slay. Mostly proofread. wc: 1.7k.

A/N: Literally sighing and moaning and licking my lips while thinking about this. He’s so fine. Also hi!!! I missed you all. with love, writella. ♡

The scene starts in his room. He’s laying almost slanted on the bed. His head rests near the bottom half of where the pillows reside. His shirt is off, but his pants remain. His tools and weapons were still attached to his lower hips. He was dirty. Grimey and sweaty. Small strands of his hair sticking to his face, while the rest fell effortlessly above his shoulders and onto the bed.

You, on the other hand, were clean. Dried, soft, and smelling of fresh creamy white soap in your pajamas, all ready for sleep.

You didn’t care though. That’s what you get when you want him. And you liked the rattle, and cling, and thump of his belt as you continued to bounce and grind down on the area where his cock resides. Clothed and covered under two layers but the way his bulge pressed and squished perfectly into you was more than enough. Not to mention how the seam of your shorts made its way into your folds adding an extra amount of friction that scratched your clit just perfectly.

It all felt just as good as having him inside of you, honestly. Your eyes rolled back and then closed, your mouth stays slightly open. Your top teeth come to bite your bottom lip every time you rocked forward and the feeling was just right. You start pushing deeper and harder, your hands rest of his chest for assistance as your eyes screw tight: you were focused.

“Need you, need you, want you; it feels so good; please, please,” are the thoughts that scream inside you as you quickly and tightly press down into his groin and then start to jump: imagining him thrusting into you all short and fast— it feels like a little a bounce-bounce-bounce-bounce motion, accompanied in unison by pants that make you go into a quick and breathy “hm-hm-hm-hm.”

Then you start to rock on him again, it’s like an ocean wave: pushing up as high as you can go, and then pushing all the way down and letting your clit feel him from bottom to top— “mmm, ah,” you whine.

Your eyes are scrunched so tight, giving it your all, trying your bestest like the good little girl you are; determined to make yourself come. You needed it.

And Daryl sees it. He watches. Mesmerized by the focus and determination of your entire body.

He can’t tell if he’s the one in control because of your desperation and how little you need from him to get you soaked, or if it’s you because of your position, and because of how effortlessly you have taken control to reach your high.

Either way, you’re both intoxicated by each other. You were on him almost instantly as he entered the room, after all. And he let it happen. You told him you missed him, you went to hug him, he kissed your forehead and messed up your hair, giving you a sleepy “hey,” with a bashful smile only saved for you. Then wordlessly he let you take off his vest and shirt, pushing him onto the bed— which did nothing in actuality, he was almost immovable, but as your hands pressed on his shoulders, he went down anyway. Down for the ride, enjoying the sight.

So much so that his eyes are dazed as the look upon you. Looking at how your waist contorts in unison with the rock of your hips on top of him, how your nipples harden under your shirt, how putting your hands on his chest and every time he makes one of his dark and gruffy sounds makes your pussy jerk and you moan louder.

His hands grab onto your hips, pushing you forward. He sees how the shape of your little shorts molded into your pussy lips as you grind down. He bets they’re drenched in that area now. If you come in them, he wants to suck on it, and then rip them off and eat you out when you’re done.

His hands trail higher, securing themselves onto your waist. You grab his arms then as you continue to rock, going from his forearms to his biceps, feeling the curves. You open your eyes, you don’t even catch his entrancement at the area of where your bodies meet. You focus on the divets of his arms, how strong he is, how big he is. It makes you whine frustratingly, pushing into him faster.

Suddenly, you get off of him and onto your knees, hurrying to take your shorts off.

Daryl’s eyes don’t even look at you, “Give ‘em,” he says as you reach for the hem. He looks straight at the wet and sweaty pair on you, eyeing the wet spot that has spread in the area of your mound. Truly he could see almost everything despite the cover by the way they folded into you.

The demand doesn’t even surprise you as much as it excites you. You throw them at his face. No questions.

You extend his arm on the bed, his hand sprawled flat. Stroking it, you breathlessly say, “I want this.” You're desperate but you wait for approval, but he has his other hand on his face, holding your thrown shorts over his nose and mouth like a mask, breathing you in. His breath inward is loud and it’s followed by a deep and raspy hum. It made your pussy jut, your eyes widen, your mouth gasp. You whine impatiently, inserting your finger into your hole as he moves the part with the seam to his nose, breathing it in again, and then, sucking it dry with his mouth, watching your fingers spread more wetness all over your pussy.

You moan and your body shakes with his eye contact. “Please?” You ask him with a pout.

He moves his arm you held to use both hands to undo his belt. He sees that you continue to rub your clit with a sad look on your face as you wonder what he’s going to do. He drops his pants to the ground and you watch his boxers make a tent on top of his hard cock as he places his arm back where you put it.

“Go on,” he tells you finally, giving you a nod. “Do whatever you want.”

Ecstatically, you move your knees on either side of him, lowering down, and letting your wet pussy lips open around the curves of his upper arm, taking up as much of him as they can. It’s only a little, your tiny lips can only cover so much, but it feels great. You clit presses down against his arm perfectly, getting the direct attention you desired.

You begin to rock and it feels as perfect as you expected. Your mouth opens again and your eyes flutter close, focusing on your task— riding his bicep and making yourself come. You were determined.

Daryl’s dick twitches as he watches you. His other hand comes behind his head, resting it under him to tilt his head up a bit, getting more comfortable as he gazes on your blissed out expression.

It felt great to know how attracted you were to him. That even his arms alone could have your pussy become a sopping mess. At this rate he knew you would come tonight from that alone. The thought makes precum slip from his tip and make him grunt and hum lowly; he just couldn’t get enough of watching you. Like a little horny-teenaged-babygirl discovering grinding for the first time, doing it on anything she could to feel a release.

It made him finally push down his boxers and touch himself. He spits on his hand and begins to stroke his cock. He started to pump, his grunts becoming more strangled, he couldn’t even attempt to start edging eventually. You looked so cute and pathetic, so sexy. He wanted to come with you.

You moan from your movements and from hearing his voice. It makes your eyes flutter open as your head tilts, catching a glimpse of Daryl working on himself which makes you open them all the way. Now you rock as you watch him. “Oh, Daryl,” you plead.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He asks gruffly. Giving you direct eye contact as he pumps.

“I’m making you want to touch yourself like that?” You ask sweetly, giggling as you continue to rub your clit just right against him. “Huh, Daryl?” His dick and his hand looked so veiny and angry as pumped. It made you moaned again. “Fuck, you’re so handsome.”

Daryl almost chokes on his breath. Every mean and grumpy comment he could have left him. All he has grunts and you can swear he almost growls because of your little smile and the way he watches your breasts fall out from your shirt as you take it off. He’s speechless and pumping into his hand faster, watching as your pussy tries to engulf the entirety of his arm.

You grind down faster, pushing and pushing forward and backward on his bicep until you feel a yummy hotness rise. Your clit felt like it was on fire with goodness, you finally were about to explode. You pant and moan and Daryl begins to pump himself harder. His hand slapping against his skin, his voice making a low sound every time he reaches the end of his shaft. All there is, is the sound of him and you and your voices— nonsensical, reaching your peaks.

Your breath hitches, and your hands come to the bed, your back arches and your head tilts forward as you go harder and harder, furiously pushing into him until finally— “OH!”— you come.

He isn’t far behind. He watches your eyes roll back and your mouth open wide, your moan and the feeling of his arm being drenched telling him you reached your orgasam which makes him do so as well. A strangled groan, quick and paused, erupts and is then interrupted by another more loud moan as hot spurts of white jump out onto his leg and the bed.

You look on breathlessly. Your movements now slowed but continuous as you bring yourself down from your high, his come messing up the sheets making you whine from the sight.

When you both catch your breaths and you move your thighs from his arm his hands grab you by the hips. His movements direct you to sit on his groin as you once did before.

He wants to see how you ride on his cock now.

And of course, you oblige.

[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. 

[midnightsxblue]

VIRGINITY (PART TWO)

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get some alone time.)

tags: p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t recommend yall)

masterlist here!

read part one here!

The day you lost your virginity, everything seemed so…weird. Rick and Michonne had planned to go on a run for a couple of days and the two of you were left with Judith. You’d both asked for advice from Glenn and Maggie and while you got some pretty good advice, Carl got an awkward conversation and a condom.

This was your chance. That morning, you and Carl woke up early to say goodbye to them. “The two of you are gonna be here with Judith, okay? I have Daryl sort of keepin an eye on you so behave.” Rick tells you, packing some cans of food from the pantry into his bag. You look to Carl with sort of an annoyed look. He returns the same.

“Understand?” You both turn to Rick and nod. “Yeah we got it.” Carl replies. Now you had to figure out a way to get Daryl off your back as well. “I trust ‘em.” Michonne approaches from behind you, putting her hand on your shoulder while giving you a smile. You smile at her back, knowing you’re kinda lying to her. But you’re a horny teenager. You gotta do what you gotta do.

“Well…I’m sure they appreciate that. We gotta go.” Rick tells Michonne, zipping up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He makes his way through the house, the rest of you following after. You give them their hugs and say goodbye. Once the door slams shut, Judith starts crying. Screaming at the top of her fucking lungs.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You hold your head in your hands, unprepared for the headache about to overtake your brain. “Hey, don’t be stressed. We can use this to our advantage.” Carl smiles and picks up Judith as she sobbed, also grabbing a couple toys before walking out the front door. You watch him walk all the way over to the armory to hand her off to Olivia.

When he disappeared into the faraway house, you turned around to find something to do. When you do turn around, you’re met with Daryl. “Jesus what the fuck!” You practically jump back, Daryl just looks at you like you’re crazy. “Don’t do that, holy shit- where did you come from!?” You put your hand over your heart and try your best to catch your breath. “The back door.” He just stares at you till you’re done. You finally catch your breath.

“Do I seriously need to watch over the two of ya or can I go work on my bike?” He asks, you sort of hesitate for some odd reason, you felt bad for lying. “We’ll be fine. Probably gonna make some soup or something and I might go to the range later. I dunno what he’ll do, probably clean his gun.” You shock yourself with how elaborate that lie was. He nods. “Okay. I’ll see ya.” He made his way out the front door.

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

A little later, Carl came back and met with you in your guys’ room where you were changing. He closed the door behind him and you turn around to smile at him, your shirt sliding off your arms. “Whatcha doing?” You ask with an endearing smile. He walks a bit closer. “Looking at you.” You giggle at his response. “You mean watching me change? That’s a bit perverted don’t you think?” You rummage through your closet for another shirt.

“I don’t think so.” He slowly comes up behind you, sliding his hands over your waist. He lodges his face into the crook of your neck where begins to plant harsh kisses. “Stop looking.” He tells you, lowering your arms from the clothes you had in your hand. You turn to face him and he smiles once you do. “You’re so pretty.” He puts his hand up to hold your cheek while he pulls you in for another kiss. This one was soft, the kind of kiss that really meant something. A feeling in your stomach told you things would only get better from here.

The kisses continue, only getting more intense and eventually his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a small moan and you can feel him smile at that as he kissed you even more. You feel him pull you a little and you follow, your mouths still intertwined. He quickly spins you and plops you on the bed. He seemed confident on the outside, little did you know he was extremely nervous. You sit back with your arms propping you up and he leans in to kiss you again, his hands going straight to the buttons of your jeans. It’s quickly unbuttoned and he starts to tug them off you, standing to discard his own shirt as well.

Looking at him like this drives you insane. His messy hair, swollen lips, and the very obvious boner confined by his jeans. You were both scared and excited. Carl on the other hand was just really fucking horny. He got on the bed above you, one of his knees between your legs rutting against your clothed cunt. You let out yet another small moan and this prompts him to pull away and reach around to your back to unfasten your bra. Or try at least.

He was new to this, you can’t blame him. He fiddles with the clasp in a frustrated manner. “I just wanna see you.” He frowns, upset at himself for not being able to successfully take your bra off. You look at him with a sly smile. He shuts his eyes and rests his forehead on yours, his hand freezing in place as he accepted defeat. “Could you help me please?” He has a defeated tone and you laugh, undoing the clasp of your bra, letting it slide down your arms. While you did so, he worked on undressing you completely and then you waited for him to undress himself.

You’d palmed him once, you knew he wasn’t small but christ. Now you were definitely nervous. He smiled at you, basking in your beauty before leaning down to kiss a trail all the way from your stomach, up to your chest, to your neck. He was so unbelievably happy. He leaned back up to kiss you some more, his hand wandering down to your thigh, pulling it up. Your other thigh moves up instinctively and he pulls away to look down to actually do this.

He holds your legs at the back of your knees while guides himself to where he believes is the right spot. Glenn was a fucking liar. He has no idea what he’s doing. Maggie was right. Jesus this was so awkward. “Um…i-is this right or-” He stutters hoping you’d know how to guide him. You did, you helped him but not without accidentally sliding his tip against your clit, extracting a sharp moan from the both of you. Once he found your hole, he looked at you before slowly pushing into you.

Your mouth drops slightly at the feeling, his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. “This okay?” He asked quietly, stopping to hear your response. “Mhm s’fine just keep going slow.” He nodded and kept pushing, eventually bottoming out. He was breathing heavily, and you were too but he seemed to be on another planet. “A-are you okay?” You sort of giggle. His eyes are shut and he nods. “Just really tight that’s all.” He says breathlessly, gripping your thighs like he was never gonna let go. “Mkay. you can start moving if-if you’re ready.”

Well he’s been ready. He begins to slowly stroke in and out of you, he opens his eyes and leans down to kiss you. You moan into his mouth and you wrap your arms around him. He props himself up to hover over you, still pressing his length into your now, sopping heat. He leans his head back into your neck, moaning against your skin while you leave indents on his back from your nails. “You’re so good, so warm n wet. l-love you s-so much. Please.” He rambled, not even sure why he was saying please.

You could only moan in response, muttering a small “I love you too”back. He started to thrust a bit faster, his pace only increasing. It got to the point where you couldn’t even speak. You could tell he was close to cumming, you were too. Everything felt so good, his affection was only making it ten times better. He was so sweet with you, he really wanted you to feel good and not just him. You were glad he was the one taking your virginity.

“Carl-f-fuck I’m gonna cum.” You tell him, your nails digging into his skin deeper than before which causes him to groan. “Mhm me too.” His voice sounds somewhat strained. You clench around him before cumming all over his cock, him following soon after. He bottoms out inside of you one last time, hitting your g-spot perfectly, causing you to both moan loudly.

He smiles satisfactorily, pulling you into his embrace while he breathes heavily. “You’re so perfect.” He presses a kiss to your jaw and smiles against your skin. “You are. I feel so good.” You say basically astounded, reaching your hand up to rest in his hair. You spend a moment, just breathing and enjoying the afterglow.

Suddenly, Carl pulls away from your neck, and looks up as if he had heard something. You eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“What is it?”

“We forgot the condom.”

a/n: ok cuz i’m scared and nervous to post this but imma do it anyway THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT i hope it’s okayyy i feel like it was so sped up and im mad about it but let’s ignore that 0-0 hope you like ittttttttttt (im so scared right now you shut up)

ppl to tag: @zomb-1-egutzz

(sorry if u didn’t wanna be tagged for this LMAO)

[starshipsofstarlord]

daryl + doggy style

warnings. smut, unprotected sex, soggy style position, assman!daryl, swearing, cunning inside, slight praise, fluff

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

Daryl tossed you with lack of effort, meandering your body to his wishes as his wolfish eyes drank in the curve of your ass, rubbing his hand greedily over it. For him, it had been an excruciatingly long day, he had been doing all he could so that you would all be equally accepted in Commonwealth, and whilst his tendencies were working, he was still frustrated.

And to come home to find that you had dropped Judith and RJ off to one of your friendly neighbours for the night, he realised that there was an open opportunity. It was a chance to release the pent up brewing of overwhelming aggravation that bore within his chest, and thus he watched almost malevolently as your cunt hugged his cock tightly, and he had to try and not cum then and there.

He was just a man, he thought, and the curvature of your figure was his greatest weakness, his lower lip was caught between his teeth as his textured palms gravitated to adjust a firm grip on both of your hips. Each fold of your flesh that moved with every thrust that he drove into you kept him transfixed, the various scars that you had earned through the years of battling for your life only made you more beautiful. It showed that you survived through the hardest of times, and that you would continue to do so until life diverted you down an ending path.

“Fuuucckkkk.” His accent drawled out as he pressed his v-line strongly against the round ampleness of your ass, rotating his hips for a moment until he pulled back, striking deeply into your dripping wet pussy, practically revelling from the pleasurable sensations that sparked up through his body. You were lost in bliss, physically fucked out whilst all the while drooling for more. Your face was plush against the cushions, vacant eyes fluttering as shockwaves rendered through your vessel, prompting the fact that you were growing significantly closer to your orgasm.

“C-cum inside of-f me Dar.” The desire to feel full was overpowering, a pitch squeal ricocheted from your parted mouth as the expected high took toll of your body. Groans rumbled out from his broad chest as your body was practically melting into the duvet, Daryl lifted your hips so your backside was above the rest of your ecstasy induced form, as he rammed into you, closing in on his own orgasm.

A few more thrusts and Daryl was spent, he spilled his seed within your clenching walls as he grappled at your ass, needing to feel any inch of skin belonging to you that he could beneath his fingertips. “Good girl.” He muttered, pulling out from your warmth begrudgingly as he felt fulfilled to collapse beside you over the sheets, pulling your exhausted self into his arms as the afterglow of the amorous moment lulled you into a perfect sleep.

[cultofdixon]

Double Trouble

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It was only supposed to be one baby, but life carries plenty of surprises • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Pregnancy & Birth / Multiples Pregnancy Anxiety / Sleep Deprivation / Nausea & Vomiting / Injuries

Requested by: Anon

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’ll join you on the next one babe”

Daryl hesitated at the door waiting for any sign from her to have him either stay home with her or for her to change her mind and join him on his run. But the smile Y/N carried reassured him not to worry about leaving.

“Okay…if anythin’ just. Get Rick to radio me, yeah?” He asks as she brought herself over for a hug and to plant a kiss on his lips.

“I will. Be safe okay?” Y/N smiles letting Daryl sneak in another kiss as an ‘I will’ to her words before heading out.

The second the door closed with the archer on the other side of it, Y/N went from standing still to sprinting upstairs. She stumbled a bit and managed to run into the wall from not entering the bathroom door smoothly.

Which resulted in a frozen moment before finally going into the bathroom slowly and shutting the door behind her. Y/N hesitantly approached the counter reaching for the test she had taken prior to him leaving.

“Oh shit…”

As the day went by fast, Daryl couldn’t have been more happy to come home after a boring run. He didn’t get too far into the community for Rick to stop him.

“Hey, how’d the run go?”

“It was boring”

“I would assume so” Rick laughs, resting his hands on his hips. “You were only delivering meds to the Hilltop and then their seedlings to the Kingdom. Which reminds me how’s Hershel Jr? Get to hold him?”

“Rick. You’re askin’ a lot. Are you trying to get me to avoid somethin’ or are you struggling to get what you really wanna ask out of yea?”

“Uh. Y/N has been acting squirrel-y around here since you’ve left in the morning. I wanted to radio you to see if you knew anythin’ but like. She still did help with the projects we’ve got going around the community so I don’t know why she was all over the place”

“Thanks for lettin’ me know…” Daryl started his bike back up and rode the rest of the way to his and Y/N’s.

The sound of the garage door closing alerted Y/N as she quickly pulls herself away from the kitchen fixing her dress. It was new, well new to her but still very new and she didn’t know how to wear it or contain her excitement for something she needs Daryl to come through the door to see.

“Love, are you doing al—-“ Daryl stops in front of her, instantly noticing the beautiful floral dress on her before taking in the smell of dinner that was made. “You’ve been busy…” he brought himself close as his eyes trailed her person while his hands placed themselves firmly on her hips. “Did I miss something?”

“No?”

“You sure? I don’t deserve all of this” Daryl eventually brought his arms around her waist, instantly bringing her pressed against him. Y/N gave him a bit of an annoyed look given he was dirty from killing a few walkers and the obvious dirt picking up from his bike to land on him. “Sorry sunshine I should’ve cleaned up before I ruined your dress…”

“Well once you have the meal I prepared you…you’re gonna want to have dessert after and this dress isn’t going to matter” Y/N smirks watching his gaze glue to hers as that excited him. “But please. Do enjoy what I cooked for you first before we get to anything”

“I will” Daryl smiles warmly to her, kissing her lovingly before parting to see what was prepared which was venison. But he hesitated from taking a seat to pick up what was set neatly on the corner of the dining table.

The tension filled the room as it only brought Y/N’s anxiety to the surface making her pull at her fingers waiting for any kind of reaction from Daryl.

That’s when she froze to the sound of sniffles making her instinctively go to Daryl resting her hand on his back indicating for him to look at her. He turned toward her with tears in his eyes looking back down at the pregnancy test in his hands before back to her.

“Yeah?”

Y/N started to nod as the tears formed when his smile did, reassuring her that it was indeed a good thing. Daryl brought his arms around his woman holding her as they sobbed over the good news.

“We’re having a baby” Y/N laughs out a sob feeling Daryl tighten around her gently.

“We’re having a baby…” He whispers continuing to hold her as they remained like that for a long time.

Thanking the universe for opening this door after the Savior’s War…even if they weren’t prepared for the intensity of it all

First Trimester

Daryl sat on the tile floor gently rubbing circles on Y/N’s back as she had her head practically glued into the toilet. He would relax one second and tense up when she would vomit.

Eventually, Y/N stopped for a bit but had no energy to leave the coolness of the tile floor. She told him he doesn’t have to sit with her if she wasn’t expelling her stomach. But Daryl wasn’t going anywhere and told her to lay her head in his lap until she was ready to get up.

“Can we stay here all day?”

“If you’d like” Daryl chuckles, continuing to rub soothing circles on her back. “You ready to tell people?”

“Mhm…You can tell whoever you want”

“Really? You don’t have anybody you don’t want me telling and rather you do it?”

Y/N pondered it for a bit before flinching to the sound of a door shutting and such caused Daryl to flinch. “Did you call somebody?”

“No…No I didn’t” Daryl gently moved her off of his lap as she instantly went to being curled up on the floor while he went to investigate the noise.

But his anxieties instantly washed away when he saw Siddiq hesitantly roaming around his living room.

“You need something?”

“I was gonna knock but Rick said just to come in and I thought that was uh…weird. But anyway, he told me Y/N wasn’t feeling well and we found some nausea medication on the last run” Siddiq cautiously handed Daryl the bottle as he was still getting used to being around a lot of people since Carl brought him in. “Do you…uhm have any questions about it? Before you give them to her?”

Daryl read the label in hopes it would tell him the obvious, but it would also be stupid of him if the doctor in the community doesn’t know.

“Would it affect the baby?”

Siddiq seemed to connect the dots instantly to the she’s been vomiting for a few days description Rick gave him. “Your baby should be fine” he smiles warmly, happy for the good news his new friends have.

“You can’t tell anybody til we do”

“I figured” He laughs. “I will suggest having check ups. Monthly is ideal and we only have a fetal doppler which only detects the heartbeat…I heard that the hilltop has an actual machine if you ever want to schedule to be checked there”

“I appreciate it Siddiq…I’ll let Y/N know” Daryl shot him a smile before heading back upstairs as Siddiq let himself out.

Returning back upstairs to their bedroom, Daryl found Y/N climbing back into bed curling up in the warmth of the blankets now. He set the bottle on the table beside the bed before climbing in behind her and bringing her in his embrace.

“Mmm…who was it?”

“Siddiq. And he knows now…so whenever you’re ready you two can go get checked”

“You’ll come?”

“Ain’t ever leavin’ your side”

It’s been about three weeks before Daryl said anything to anyone because Y/N has been experiencing morning sickness to an extreme which was odd according to the book Siddiq found for them. Including his medical opinion but as long as she can still manage to have something to eat during the day he wasn’t too worried when he’d check on her.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes, I can go to the Hilltop with you. I just can’t ride with you…” Y/N pouts at Daryl through her body mirror watching him approach her wrapping his arms around her. He planted a few kisses to her shoulder then her neck to get a smile out of her. “Are you going to tell Rick when we head out?”

“Yeah. Or might wait til Hilltop. Dunno yet” Daryl says with a confused look on his face as he brought his hands under her shirt feeling exactly what he’s feeling. “You showing already?” He questions for her to pull away and lift her shirt over her belly turning to the side. “Well would you look at that”

“Were you a big baby?”

“I wouldn’t know. Merle just called me a blob when I was a baby…least that’s what I remember our mom sayin’”

“Mmm…I think I was. Maybe that’s why I’m showing already” Y/N continued to look at her belly smiling when Daryl brought his hand to rest on her bump. “Okay you make it look like nothing”

“Shut up” He laughs kissing her temple. “It’s everythin’. I’ll get your pack and meet yea downstairs”

Y/N playfully pouts again when he pulls away but stood in the mirror a bit longer admiring the life she’s creating out of the love of both of them. Her smile remaining.

Once the two grouped up with the others by Alexandria’s gates, Michonne being the observant person she can be noticed Y/N not get on Daryl’s bike and into the car Siddiq was taking. She instantly turned to her partner asking if he might know.

“She probably got tired of the bike”

“Are you serious? Are we talking about the same Y/N that loves the night drives on the bike with Daryl?” Michonne gave him a questioning look as Rick shrugged. “Go ask why she’s not riding with him”

“You can! Why do I—-“

“I will.” Michonne made her way to Daryl and instantly questioned him.

Rick watches as Michonne approaches Daryl to ask him why his partner isn’t riding with him. He instantly shot up when Michonne started to show her worry in her face before smiling big when Daryl finally said it. He even gave Rick a look when he said the good news that led Michonne to hug her tightly.

Once they parted Rick made his way over. “What’s so good it made my wife cry?”

“Y/N’s pregnant”

“Oh my god! Ha! That explains why she was sick” Rick smiles patting Daryl on the back. “Congratulations!”

“You must be excited to become a dad” Michonne smiles watching him nod even if there was a sense of anxiety about that chapter. “It’s okay to be nervous”

“Yeah, plus it’s okay to mess up. You’re not alone on this journey either so.” Rick smiles more gripping Daryl’s shoulder again before parting. “Alright. Let’s get going and I’ll congratulate the mom to be when we get to the hilltop”

“Im going to ride with her and congratulate now. I’ll see you at the hilltop”

“You’re leaving me alone with Eugene?”

“Yes” Michonne smiles patting his chest as she goes into the first car leaving Rick to sigh and accept his fate.

The trip to Hilltop was smooth enough for Y/N not to get car sick but Daryl of course checked on her once she stepped out. She went to help Siddiq with the stock up of the medical trailer given she was going to be his apprentice. Might as well learn as much as you can before you’re tied up for a long time.

“Ah! Y/N!!” Maggie smiles running over the second she got out and immediately noticed her bump resulting in a scream of joy. “Boy do you two work fast! Ah I’m gonna be an aunt again!” She cheers hugging Y/N tightly quickly remembering as she pulled away. “Come on you’ll be taking it easy with me today”

“I was gonna be with Siddiq for most of the day”

“Then I’m tagging along. I’ve missed you”

“I’ve missed you too Mags” Y/N smiles as her smile started to falter when the tears came on suddenly. “I really did miss you”

Maggie couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped her as she brought Y/N back into her arms. Daryl instantly catching onto the tears and making sure she’s okay but Maggie shooed him.

“Just the hormones” Maggie reassures Daryl while she comforted Y/N.

After a busy day of helping Hilltop reinforce the walls, dig up new gardening spots, restocking the infirmary, and handling general stuff…

Y/N finally sat on the steps of the Barrington House with two bowls of the stew one of the Hilltop residents made for everybody waiting for Daryl to step through the gates. But while she waited she ended up eating both bowls and felt awful when Daryl arrived the second she finished the second one. He was definitely going to have to get used to the hormones because she started tearing up the second he walked over to her.

“It’s okay. I’ll go get us more” Daryl reassures watching her tear up more making it feel like an arrow to the chest looking at her. “Sunshine…”

“I should go get it. I’m the one that ate your food—-“ Before Y/N could even get up, she was gently pushed back down as Daryl took both bowls to get another serving. She pouted the entire time he was gone and didn’t light up until she took a bite remembering how good it was.

“Better?” Daryl smiles when she nods while happily eating. “Good” he kisses her temple before starting to eat for himself.

Little did they know that Tara and Maggie were watching the two from the door opened ajar.

“They are going to have a cute ass baby” Tara comments with Maggie nodding.

“Over-protective parents too”

“Always a bonus”

The two share a short laugh before closing the door and letting them be.

Second Trimester

“I feel huge” Y/N huffs, waiting for Siddiq to finish measuring her 18 week belly for her to write it down. She’s been keeping track of that amongst other things.

“Well you did say you were possibly a big baby? I can really go off that because from the scan we did back at the Hilltop it didn’t show much—-“

“It showed my everything” Y/N stated only for Siddiq to whisper an apology even if she was just kidding and her saddened expression only brought out more apologies out of the man. “Should I be worried?”

“No! Not at all…we should only worry if there is something to worry about. Like how you’re trying to do every chore that pops up when you’re pregnant like this”

“I would like to be useful Siddiq! And since Daryl is helping the Kingdom at the moment, I can do stuff without his scowl around” Y/N states only for Siddiq to take a mental note to have Daryl never leave again if his wife is overdoing herself.

“Just. Take them at your own pace. Don’t overdo it like I said” Siddiq handed back her journal for the belly measurement and the blood pressure he took. “You’ll be back when you reach 20 weeks okay?”

“I know I know”

The “taking it easy with the chores” obviously didn’t stick with Y/N.

Y/N handled inventory for the pantry (the written part), helped Aaron with laundry for both of their households, took on a midday watch shift, watered the gardens, and currently working on taking care of the weeds of the garden is when she started to feel it. But honest, during the watch she felt the exhaustion hit her already and went against her.

“Y/N? You don’t look too good” Rosita frowns approaching her from her side of the gardens as she was helping her friend with the weeds. She noticed the loss of color in Y/N’s face when she brought herself to stand only to falter with her balance. “Amor, you should stop. Rest for the remainder of the day”

“No I have…I have to get this…” Y/N immediately dropped what she was holding and took a slow fall to the ground. She shifted from landing on her side to hold her belly.

Rosita instantly knelt beside her quickly turning to whoever closest to them, in this case Gabriel, and whistling him down.

“Go get Siddiq! And somebody get me Rick” Rosita demanded hearing Gabriel spit out an ‘ok’ while he ran to the infirmary to get Siddiq while an Alexandrian nearby went to get Rick to radio the obvious.

It took about 3 hours to get Daryl to get on his way back home. Not that he picked something over Y/N, never. He was hunting with Carol and the range he was at was just outside the suitable one for Kingdom to reach Alexandria. It took Ezekiel to come out in a car to pick up the two and head immediately to Alexandria.

“Hey—-“ Daryl didn’t mean to throw the door open to the infirmary, watching his wife flinch to the sound. “Sorry, is she okay? Is—-“

“Yeah. Mom and baby are okay…” Siddiq took the blood pressure cuff off of Y/N’s arm while she currently picked at the IV in her hand. “She has to stay until the IV finishes because she was dehydrated, then she’ll be homebound for a bit. Just until her pressure goes down”

“Great…” Y/N frowns continuing to mess with the IV as Daryl quickly stopped her when he sat on the edge of the bed taking her hand.

“You should be taking it easy” Daryl kept his annoyance to himself but the worry always poked through. “I told yea to”

“I didn’t want to be useless…besides I’m not even that far along. I’m not supposed to be this exhausted”

“Your body is working extra hard because it’s growing a whole other human being. It wont benefit anybody if you get hurt doing a job someone else can handle” Siddiq made his last comment before handing Y/N the journal from before that had her current blood pressure. “I’ll come back to take the IV out. Then you can take her back home and I’ll visit in a week to see if her blood pressure went down” he shot the two a smile as Daryl gave his thanks while holding Y/N’s hand feeling her squeeze it harshly when he stepped away.

“What? What’s wrong? Should I—-“

“No, no…it’s weird” Y/N took the hand she was holding to rest it on a certain spot on her belly. Daryl’s confusion only grew until he felt it.

“Oh my god…”

“I know right?” Y/N laughs softly feeling Daryl’s hand continue to rub circles on her belly in hopes for more movement but nothing after the first.

During the bedrest, Carol decided to stay with Y/N during that time which led Ezekiel to do so as well. He helped around the community with Daryl while Carol kept an eye on Y/N. He didn’t ask her to but she insisted, she needed a break from all the kingdom stuff and this was the perfect excuse.

“Tell me why this is your current craving?”

“Pickles? It’s a common craving—-“

“No, pickles with hot sauce”

“Because…I just like it?” Y/N stated with confusion in her voice as she had her craving on a plate rested on her bump. “Are you going to try it with me or question all my decisions like you’ve had the past few days?”

“No…To both of those, I’m just. Trying to come to the decision of something I’ve been asked repeatedly and I don’t know if I even want it” Carol frowns turning to Y/N who she currently laid beside in her bed noticing the curious look, which was obvious given who wouldn’t be after what she said. “Ezekiel asked me to marry him” she stated watching the excitement grow on her friend’s face. “But—-Before you shower me with this is good news shit, I don’t…I don’t think I want it”

“You know he’s not Ed right?” Y/N felt a sting of regret for bringing up past trauma as if it was nothing and started becoming apologetic even if Carol needed to hear exactly that.

“I do…but—-“

“There’s no real but…Ezekiel is a good guy, you two are even raising a kid. You don’t have to decide now and I know Ezekiel would be patient” Y/N set her plate on the end table before forcing herself to sit up entirely. “Listen. I doubt Ezekiel would be mad if you said no. Marriage can be weird for some people and as long as you love each other and support each other. I don’t think he’d care in the long run if you have a ring or not”

“Your kid is lucky to have you as a mom, and especially Daryl as a dad”

“You think he’s nervous?”

“Who wouldn’t be when becoming a new parent?”

“Me, because I have Daryl…and he’s kind of a natural with kids. I’m not worried about having his because he’ll jump right into it.”

Daryl is going to be a great dad

As Daryl started to make his way home after a night watch, a night watch Y/N forced him to do with “if I can’t help around, you’ll help for me” when he’d much rather be laying with her. He heard the son of a bitch prisoner scoff from his cell.

“Yo Dixon. Word traveled with news about you having a baby with the missus”

“What’s it to yea, Negan” Daryl frowns stepping close to the vent as Negan made his way over.

“You think you’re gonna be a good father? With how messed up you are?” Negan grabbed onto the small bars. “I’ve seen the scars, man. What makes yea think you aren’t going to be exactly like the man that gave you those?”

Daryl didn’t hesitate to swing his foot between the bars and nail Negan right in the nose almost breaking it. He falls back groaning in pain as part of him wanted to scream but no one would care. The archer’s actions didn’t mean it didn’t bother him.

The door creaked open in hopes Daryl wouldn’t wake Y/N but she happened to be wide awake reading. She instantly tossed the book aside smiling at her husband but when he fully entered the room something was off which led her smile to fade. She didn’t say anything immediately as Daryl brought himself into the bed low enough to where his head is by her belly. He brought his arm around her, his fingers gently tracing shapes on her belly.

“Baby?” Y/N frowns running her fingers through his hair feeling him shift to bring his attention onto her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…’m ok” Daryl lied of course and that wasn’t going to get far with Y/N as her expression only softened and grew more with worry. “You think I’ll mess up our kid?”

“Daryl, let me be completely honest with you. Our kid is going to be extremely lucky to have you as their dad” Y/N stated and wouldn’t take any ‘buts’ from him. “Why would you think you will mess up our kid?”

“Just…dunno” Daryl frowns laying his head back on the bed as he started to tap his fingers on her bump which resulted in a kick or two sometimes. Y/N rested her other hand on a different spot from where his is and felt movement. “I was walking past Negan’s cell and he—-“

Y/N instantly started to move which alarmed Daryl to get up helping her up. She gave her thanks before immediately moving past him.

“Love—-“

“Stupid son of a bitch” Y/N groans from the obvious weight shift when getting out of the bed and walking down the stairs.

“Me?!”

“No! NEGAN” She shouted out her anger making Daryl fear for a bit but then he remembered.

“Love, you have to stay in bed. You need to relax”

“Fuck that. The stupid son of a bitch who kidnapped my husband. Killed my best friend. That fucking pig isn’t going to fuck with my life anymore” Y/N searched around the living room. “Where the fuck is my gun?!”

“I ain’t giving you a gun if you’re going to kill him”

“Then my knife! I won’t kill him—-just make him bleed a bit”

“Ain’t doing that either when you can’t even have a knife holster on” Daryl stated thinking her coming up empty meaning she’d stop and go back to bed. But instead she went out the front door, without shoes and all. “Shit. Y/N it’s late—-“

“Won’t stop me” Y/N stormed, power walked? waddled her way to the cell but on the way found something in the streets. “Hand me that”

Daryl was confused at what she was looking at as he shined his flashlight to the ground finding only a fallen tree branch. “The fucking tree branch?”

“Yes, if you don’t give it to me—-You’ll sleep on the couch”

He wasn’t going to fight those actions and picked it up for her, only for her to snatch it making her way to the cell.

“Can you tell me exactly how this happened again?” Siddiq questioned how Negan manage to have broken his nose.

“Long story” Negan frowns letting the doctor work but the two instantly shifted their attention to the sound of the main door opening before revealing Y/N with a tree branch in hand with Daryl following behind him. “Yo, you’re not allowed down here”

“Shut the fuck up!” Y/N shouted coming into the cell. “Siddiq move” she said softly at first but when Siddiq just sat there with his kit in hand, her rage only grew. “MOVE OR ILL HIT YOU TOO” she snapped resulting in the doctor to quickly move out of her way and to Daryl’s side.

Negan stared at her expecting nothing but immediately started backing into the wall on his cot when she started swinging. The branch hurt a LOT more than expected and she wasn’t letting up.

“STOP—-“

“NO”

“PLEASE—-“

“SHUT UP”

“I DID NOTHING TO Y—-“

“YOU DID EVERYTHING. YOU KILLED GLENN. YOU KILLED ABRAHAM. SASHA. AND YOU KIDNAPPED MY HUSBAND.” Y/N snapped smacking him a couple times. “YOU FUCKING HURT HIM. TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME AND HIS FAMILY. NOW YOU THINK YOU CAN HURT HIM ALL OVER AGAIN IN MY FUCKING COMMUNITY?!”

As Y/N continued to practically beat Negan with the tree branch as neither Daryl or Siddiq went to intervene.

“She knows she’s going to be bedridden for a few weeks after this right?”

“Probably not. But as long as she gets her point across I don’t think she’d care”

“I’ve only ever heard what Negan did…and I’m sorry” Siddiq frowns. “I could only imagine”

“If I didn’t have her at the end of it, I wouldn’t be here”

Y/N started to become exhausted and Negan was dumbfounded, bruised, and in tears at this point. She dropped the tree branch feeling tears come on.

“He will be a great dad. This child is lucky. If I hear you say another thing against that? I will kill you” Y/N pulled away wiping away her tears letting Daryl engulf her in his embrace.

Siddiq stared at Negan’s state before closing the cell locking it up.

“You’re not gonna—-“

“Nah the bruises and minor cuts will heal. Let’s get out of here”

Third Trimester

“You want me to stop?”

“No”

“Alright, let me get comfortable too then” Daryl rested his cheek on top of Y/N’s head as he was currently holding her belly up to relieve some of the weight. “You’re lucky I’m strong”

“You gave me a big baby” Y/N winced slightly to the movement. “That kicks in multiple directions”

“I don’t think they can do the splits in there” Daryl jokes listening to her groan as a result. “We can lay down yknow”

“No, I’ve been on bedrest too many times I’m taking advantage of this” She shifted a bit, feeling Daryl’s arms readjust slightly while he also started to kiss the top of her head and temple. “You had to get everything ready without me…and I feel bad”

“You helped in your own way without over exerting yourself. All you had to do was keep our baby safe, alright? And yea did that” Daryl didn’t get an immediate reply, all he got was a slow removal of his arms. “Sunshine?”

“How many weeks am I again?”

“Mmm…finishing 36, why?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortable trying to lose past her belly but couldn’t, but her struggle led Daryl to look for her and there was a puddle.

“Your water broke…”

“Oh god, oh—-Fuck, Daryl isn’t it too early?!!”

“No—-Fuck. Okay, just take a seat sunshine. I gotta get Siddiq” Daryl stated and he practically sprinted out of the house so she wouldn’t be alone for long.

Even if the short time alone still led to the downward spiral of her thoughts.

It’s too early

Complications can happen

What if she dies?

What if they both do

Y/N was feeling all of it and instead of crying, she only winced to the contractions and times them until Daryl came back a bit out of breath running to the infirmary and back. Keeping to his word about returning immediately.

“He’s getting his things. Are you sure about doing this here?” They’ve discussed home birth compared to…infirmary birth? It’s weird not having hospitals anymore. But that’s beside the point. It didn’t matter to them, but also took into account of when and where she’d go into labor.

“Love?” Daryl brought himself in front of her kneeling to catch her downward gaze, resting a hand on her belly. “What are you feeling? We are about to meet our girl” Another thing Daryl is fixated on, having a girl.

“What if something bad happens…” Y/N tried not to cry when saying such, but the crack in her voice hurt him. “It’s too early”

“It’s not though, Siddiq said anything past 24 is good survival for our babe. You’re finishing 36…beyond that”

“It’s going to hurt…a lot. I won’t bounce back to it right away…” Y/N frowns feeling the tears fall as she squeezed her eyes tight when another contraction waved through. “Shit…”

“Sunshine, look at me” Daryl rose to his feet taking her hands in his for her to squeeze them until the contraction stopped. Once it did she brought her eyes onto his. “Everythin’ is gonna go smoothly. Siddiq knows what he’s doing, we’re prepared for the most part…and I’m right here. I ain’t going anywhere”

Y/N only started to sob even more letting Daryl gently hold her as the tears were of joy for this time at a loss for words.

“Cmon, let’s get yea ready”

By the time Siddiq finally arrived, word got around…even with how late in the night it was. Rick sat on the couch of the Dixon resident while Michonne made coffee in their kitchen. Judith slept in the Grimes residence next door, which explains the baby monitor attached to Michonne’s hip. Rosita entered the house with an exhausted Eugene following suit.

“Is word out to the other communities?”

“Carol is on her way, Maggie would’ve liked to be here but…y’know” Rick frowns before brushing the sadness off. “Anyway! Aaron will be here with Gracie in a sec. Maybe I should grab Judith just to be safe”

“I will once we get an update, okay?” Michonne reassures bringing the pot to the coffee table setting a hot pad down before the pot.

As Siddiq descended down the stairs to receive more towels from the hall closet and noticed the amount of people in the house. Everyone instantly stared at him.

“Baby?”

“Not yet. She’s at nine centimeters and more uncomfortable than I thought she would be. Something…doesn’t exactly add up” Siddiq trailed and the worry in his toned caused all of them to get in his business. “But but. Daryl is trying to expedite things even if Y/N wants to scream”

“If the pain is that bad, the woman is allowed to scream” Rosita stated getting a tired nod of agreement from Eugene.

“She’s trying not to” Siddiq grabbed the last towel from the closet and went to make his return upstairs.

While such was happening, Daryl kept trying to help Y/N walk around to get that one centimeter there but she kept pushing his hands away every time he tried.

“I wanna lay down…”

“Then let me help yea into—-“

“No I need this stupid shit over with!” Y/N groans leaning against the wall for a moment, giving Daryl the opportunity to be close so she could shift to leaning onto him and not the uncomfortable wall. “Fuck…something feels weird…weirder than usual” She whined, letting Daryl help her back onto the bed as he was going to shout for the doc but he was already coming in when their concerns were rising.

“Siddiq something—-“

“is wrong, something has to be wrong” Y/N kept biting the inside of her cheek to avoid her from screaming at this night hour…

But the rattle of her scream startled everyone downstairs. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she was there. It was time.

“On the next contraction you’re going to want to push, okay?” Siddiq stated as he finished putting on gloves and lifting the blanket to help guide the baby out while Y/N’s anxiety started to eat at her.

“I-…O-Okay” Y/N sobbed, feeling Daryl bring his arm around her shoulders while his free hand took hers. “Daryl…”

“I’m right here. I’ve gotcha sunshine” Daryl kissed her temple feeling her squeeze his hand when she felt a contraction coming on.

Robin Elizabeth Dixon

7lb 2oz

Both parents were in tears until the anxiety returned in Daryl this time around when Y/N’s expression went from joy to full of pain.

“Siddiq—-Something really is wrong” She felt the discomfort return as she tried to sit up and look herself but Siddiq advised her not to when he brought himself back with another towel thinking of complications.

Then Siddiq’s expression went from confusion to a bit of shock as it only kicked Daryl’s anxiety up.

“Siddiq!” He shouted to get him to snap out of it as Siddiq breathed out a laugh.

“You’re going to have to push again” He stated grabbing another set of gloves and another towel. “This explains a lot that happened during your pregnancy”

“Siddiq” Y/N groans in annoyance after handing Daryl their daughter to grip onto the sheets feeling another contraction. “Fucking say it”

“You’re having multiples. Explains the extra weight. The morning sickness happening more than once or twice a day—-Regardless. You’re crowning”

“Oh my god” The shock was getting to Daryl and Y/N’s clearly directed annoyance snapped him back.

“You drop her, I will end you”

Y/N couldn’t believe this was her first, and most likely last pregnancy. Who woulda thought she would be having a second baby? At least it’s with the man she loves, and with the support from the village they have.

Shepherd Glenn Dixon

7lbs 6oz

“We…are going to need a second crib” Y/N laughed holding their son who instantly calmed the second he laid in his mother’s arms. “Holy shit Daryl…we have two babies”

“Yeah, that we do” Daryl laughs smiling at the little girl in his arms, seated on the edge of the bed looking over at his wife and son. “They turned out perfect…you did good mama”

“Well…that’s cuz their daddy kept me safe” Y/N instantly turned to the sound of their daughter yawning watching Daryl’s face light up at everything both babies did. “You are definitely going to be a helicopter parent”

“Shut up Siddiq and I both saw what yea did to Negan, these two are your cubs. You’re gonna go full mama bear on anybody that messes with them”

“Damn right” Y/N smirks, leaning forward and kissing Daryl lovingly before gently caressing her little girl’s cheek. “So…who’s gonna tell the village downstairs?”

It wasn’t until Siddiq came back to check on Y/N and the babes when they came up with a plan.

A very quiet descend down the stairs and everyone noticed Siddiq coming down with their baby girl in his arms.

“Oh my god I knew it! I knew they would have a girl” Rosita smacked Eugene on her way up from the couch to go admire the little one with Michonne and Carol.

“She has his eyes” Carol smiles gently caressing the top of her head.

“And her hair. Oh my god why are you showing her to us and not Daryl?” Michonne comments and before she knew it, she couldn’t hold in the excitement that the rest had when Daryl descended down the stairs.

“Yeah she’s pretty great. But so is he” Daryl smiles bringing himself to stand with Siddiq so everyone could admire the twins.

“Congrats man” Aaron smiles patting his back gently. “Now you’ve got double the trouble”

“I know for sure that those kids ain’t gonna get messed with, with him and Y/N as their parents” Rick comments with a smile watching the boy yawn.

“This explains a lot of Y/N’s pregnancy, and boy did she bring perfect babes into the world” Carol makes the last comment that they all agreed with.

Then eventually as the day continues and those who were in the house as guests have left…leaving Daryl and Y/N laying in their bed with their twins nuzzled up with each other protected by their parents and pillows. The two admiring the lives they’ve created…

And to the start of this new chapter

[katierosefun]

if there's one thing daryl dixon is gonna do, it's gonna hug people like it's the last time he's gonna see them and i cry every time