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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

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Whumptober 2023

No. 18 Drugging Alt Prompt

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth Era

Warnings: Nonconsensual drugging, withdrawal symptoms

You slid to your knees beside his slumped figure in the back corner of the cell. Jerry and Aaron guarded the door, still wary of how many people had actually been inside the building. It remained unclear what they wanted with Daryl but given his current state, you could be almost certain he didn’t offer it to them. Bruises in various stages of healing covered the right side of his face and neck, disappearing below the collar of his ripped shirt and tattered vest. Dried blood covered him in patches, some from the busted lip and the cut on his cheekbone— another scar — but the rest was either not his or from wounds you could not yet see.

“Daryl. Hey, Daryl.” You tapped his less injured cheek solidly. “Open your eyes.” And he did— dull, hazy, unfocused blue pools. “Hi. Just had to go and get yourself kidnapped, didn’t you?” You smiled at him, hoping to see recognition flow into his gaze. The archer squinted at you and arched a lazy brow.

“Yer pretty. Whatcha doin’ in a place like this?” He threw up an arm in a languid gesture toward the grimy cell.

“It’s me, Daryl. It’s Y/N.”

“Pretty name fer a pretty girl.” He slurred, walking his fingers up the side of your neck and to your jaw before you took hold of his hand. You turned to the two men behind you, seeking any input.

“Seems like they used something on him. Drugged him.” Aaron offered, giving you his full attention while he answered but then he turned back to the door. It was still quiet out there but sometimes, those moments were the most dangerous.

“What do we do if we don’t know what they gave him?” You reached to pull the archer’s hand away from where his fingers were twirling your hair.

“Wait it out, I guess. Get him checked out as soon as we get back to the Commonwealth.”

“Fuck.” You murmured, startled by Daryl’s lips against your neck.

“Tha’s not a bad idea.”

You pulled his hand off your breast, face burning furiously when you caught Jerry grinning. “Not a word.” You warned him.

“Not a word.” Jerry agreed with a chuckle. “Think he can walk?”

“I don’t know. Let me—” This time, you laughed when Daryl shook his hands free of your own and gathered you up against him in the most awkwardly positioned embrace. “Daryl, can you walk?”

“Since ‘fore I’s a year old. Wha’ a silly question.”

You snorted, continuing to try to work yourself free. “I mean right now. This very minute. Can you stand up and walk out of here?”

The archer scoffed and even that sounded drugged. “No ‘cause yer sittin’ on muh legs.”

You heard Jerry almost lose it behind you and rolled your eyes with a smile. It didn’t appear that Daryl was in any immediate danger from whatever they had used on him to keep him calm and pliable, but you would still feel better with him away from this horrible place.

“If I move, would you stand up and follow me?”

“I’d follow ya anywhere.”

That sounded so sincere that you felt a sting in the back of your eyes. You two had been together for years and the man still managed to give you butterflies. He just never tended to do so in front of two of your friends. He was going to be mortified when they teased him later.

“Okay, let me go and then you can hold my hand while we get out of here, okay?” He released you almost instantly, blue eyes flickering down to your hands and back to your face. “Okay, let’s go.” You offered a hand and he took it, but when he tried to stand, his knees buckled and he sank back to the floor with a pout.

“Legs ain’t workin’.” He noted needlessly, staring at the offending limbs with a curious tilt of his head.

With a sigh, you turned to Jerry. “Will you?” The man offered you the sweetest smile.

“You don’t even have to ask, Y/N.” He lowered his gun and positioned it over his shoulder, bending to help haul Daryl to his feet. The archer swayed and almost went down twice, wide eyes studying the figure beside him. “I gotcha, man. It’s all good.” He tried to move forward, but Daryl remained stock still.

“Yer a big sumbitch, ain’tcha?”

It was Jerry’s turn to helplessly look at you while you smothered a chuckle. “Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Right behind you.” Jerry swept his arm beneath Daryl’s knees and lifted him. Your partner was going to be beyond embarrassed when he came back to his senses.

Daryl was actually quiet throughout the journey toward the Commonwealth. You checked on him frequently, ensuring the four of you stopped so you could give him water and hold his hand as promised.

You knew the drugs were starting to wear off when he stopped reaching for you and started trying to walk on his own. Jerry placed him on his feet but kept a hand close, grabbing his upper arm when his legs gave way. He refused to be carried any longer though. He stumbled on unsure limbs with Jerry practically holding him up.

You encountered a few groups of walkers, forcing the archer to stand against a tree and let you and the others handle them. When one got too close to your back, you heard the whoosh before the corpse hit the ground with Daryl’s knife in its skull.

“Hey! You can see straight again!” You teased, handing the blade back to him. He mocked a laugh and then pulled you to his side with his arm over your shoulders, only slightly leaning on you as you walked. He must’ve been tired of Jerry.

It was after you had made camp for the night that things got bad.

It started as a headache.

You awoke alone, which had you nearly hyperventilating and calling out his name frantically while you grabbed your weapons and crawled from the tent.

“Quiet, woman. Ev’ry walker fer ten miles gonna hear ya.” Daryl hissed from beside the fire. You didn’t explain your reaction. You didn’t have to. Once you settled, he reached out for you with a quiet “c’mere” and pulled you against his side, his lips pressing against your temple. You had been without him for nearly two months. Others had given up hope but not you. You could feel he was out there. So could Carol. She had wanted to come with you but the kids needed someone there. You promised to bring him home and she believed you.

“Can’t sleep?” It was a silly thing to ask. But you avoided asking what they had done to him. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Head’s hurtin’.” He sniffed and threw a couple of sticks into the fire. You hadn’t even noticed he was sweating. His shirt was damp and he had unbuttoned it halfway. You placed a gentle handle against his forehead.

“Don’t seem to have a fever. You feel okay besides the headache?”

“Mostly.”

You accepted that with a nod, pulling away from him to get off the ground and onto the fallen log a little further back from the fire. “Come over here, handsome.” When he was close enough, you guided him to sit on the ground between your knees and lean back against your stomach. Petite fingers rubbed gentle circles on his temples, earning a quiet sigh as he began to relax into you.

“S’gonna get bad.”

“What is?”

You were glad you asked. Daryl had a lot of experience in withdrawal thanks to Merle. He knew what was happening and prepared you as best he could. But sitting at the mouth of the tent the next night while he writhed and moaned, hands clutching his stomach as if he could claw out the ache. Nothing could prepare you for this.

“Nothin’ ya can do fer me ‘cept try ta keep water in me, maybe somethin’ mild fer the hurtin’.”

He was stripped down to his boxer briefs, unable to stand the clothes touching his skin. You had tried to give him Tylenol but he had screamed— literally screamed —and swatted the pills from your hand. He did drink some water before the next round of stomach cramps started, then he had vomited it all up.

You sat with one hand on your face and the other lightly on his ankle. He had warned you to stay back as often as you could. That he would lash out. He wouldn’t mean to hurt you but he might. So you stayed close but not as close as you wanted. Your heart yearned to soothe him, to find the bastards that did this to him and kill them all over again. They got a quick death and left your partner here to scream in agony for something he didn’t want.

“Y/N…” he panted, sitting up only to wrap both arms around his middle.

Fuck. You moved quickly, grabbed the coffee can you had found on the way. Daryl had told you to grab it and hang onto it when he saw you kick it. He said it’d have some use.

And while you held the small can in one hand and Daryl’s sweat-slick hair in the other, you knew he was right. The dry heaving was worse than when he was actively emptying his stomach. Watching the already cramping muscles tense and twitch with every failing purge.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” When the retching dissipated, he was left on the bedroll, exhausted and panting but looking at you with clear eyes for the first time in hours.

“Y/N.” It was a quiet moment, a gentle reprieve. Within heartbeats, he arched with a sharp breath through clenched teeth and curled in on himself once again. You reached to wipe his hair away from his face but he snatched your wrist and shoved you back hard. “Don’ touch me!”

Your exit from the tent was quick and uncoordinated, tears you had been trying so hard to hold back were cascading down your cheeks. You stumbled to your feet and right into Jerry’s arms.

“How’s he doing?” The weight of the situation was showing on all of you, even the always optimistic former King’s guard. Right on cue, Daryl let out a guttural scream and something crashed inside the tent. You flinched, closing your eyes. After a moment, you felt large hands take hold of your shoulders, firm but gentle. “It’s not him, Y/N. This isn’t his fault. Or yours.”

“I know.” You whispered as Jerry bent to place a kiss against the crown of your head.

“Only a few walkers coming around from the noise. Aaron and I got the perimeter, okay? You just focus on taking care of him.” You nodded and started to turn away when he caught your hand. You looked back at him, zeroing in on that gentle smile. “And you. Make sure to take care of you too.”

“I will.” You patted his hand and watched him disappear back into the darkness. You gave yourself a few more minutes before you ducked back into the tent.

On the fourth day after rescuing Daryl, you awoke at the mouth of the tent. Your hand was still wrapped around his ankle but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t making a sound. You felt fear grip and twist your heart as you crawled into the tent, brushing his hair from his face. He was…sleeping.

He was still sweating, still curled in on himself, but he was actually sleeping. His face twitched every few seconds and his fingers would flex over his abdomen but he was actually fucking sleeping. You covered your mouth to subdue the sobs, careful to keep as quiet as possible. Leaning forward, you remained silent and simply watched him sleep. After days of screaming, actually begging you to kill him, he was resting.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there when you heard the crunching twigs and leaves of footsteps approaching at a fast pace. In two seconds, you had your knife and you were crouched at the mouth of the tent, ready to keep anyone or anything from disturbing the archer. Luckily, you were met with the concerned faces of Aaron and Jerry.

“We didn’t hear him anymore. Is he—” Aaron’s expression of naked fear and barely contained grief nearly brought tears to your eyes. But it fell away the moment you smiled.

“He’s okay. He made it.”

Jerry had carried Daryl again but he was too out of it to care or even notice. Once back inside the walls of the Commonwealth, you opted for the hospital. You hadn’t been able to keep him properly hydrated during withdrawal and he hadn’t eaten in god knows when. You couldn’t picture taking him home this way.

He slept through arriving, triage, IV placement, and well into the night. Carol was with you now, holding you tightly while you took a moment to let out all you had been holding in for his sake.

“It was awful. I couldn’t help him. I just had to sit and…and…and watch. What if he’d died like that?”

The silver-haired woman held you tighter, rocking gently. “He didn’t. He’s right here and he’ll make a full recovery. Tomi said so. You did that. When everyone else quit on him, you went and got him. Stayed with him. And now he’s here because of you.” When she pulled away, she hooked a finger under your chin and gently guided you to look at her, smiling one of those gentle smiles of hers that seemed to make almost anything better. “Thank you. I knew you’d keep your promise.”

You nodded and she let you lay against her and rest, slipping out at some point during the night when you were sound asleep, too exhausted to feel her move away or hear her leave.

When you opened your eyes again, the sun was up. You felt more rested but still run down. You truly couldn’t wait to be home, in your warm bed, and wrapped around Daryl while he recovered. You wiped at your sleep filled eyes while you stood. There were two trays on the bedside table. When had they brought them in?

You grabbed one and sat down on the chair next to Daryl’s bed, slowly eating the scrambled eggs and sipping the coffee. You had already finished both when he began to stir. You were up in a flash, leaning over him and willing his eyes to open. You needed to see those pretty blue eyes, clear and pain-free. Then, just maybe, you could breathe again.

It took him a few minutes to actually awaken but his breathing changed, picking up a little before his eyes finally peeled open. They were bloodshot but focused, darting around the room until they settled on you.

“Y/N.” He breathed. You watched the tension melt out of him. Your heart fluttered and you smiled, tracing his jaw with your fingertips. He knew he was safe just by seeing you.

“Hey, you. How’re you feeling?” Your hand moved to his hair, smoothing it back away from his face. He hummed in thought, letting his eyes close but only for a brief moment.

“Like shit.”

“I’m not surprised after what you went through.” You had to stand on your tip-toes to reach but you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Hearing the soft sigh he released warmed you from the inside out. “Tomi says if you eat and keep it down, you can go home.”

He hummed. “Home sounds good. Real good.”

You grabbed the eggs from the tray and sat on the edge of the bed. “What’re we waiting for then?”

“Can feed myself, y’know.” He winced as he adjusted himself to sit up, pulling off the nasal cannula to toss it aside with a huff.

“Dixon, I will make airplane noises if that's what it takes to get you to eat these eggs.”

“Ain’t gon’ need all tha’.”

He let you feed him without much of a fight.

That night, in your little house, you were lying on your back with Daryl’s head on your chest. After helping him with a shower— he swore he could do it himself but was suddenly tired and frail once your t-shirt was tossed into the laundry basket— and a small dinner, he had all but collapsed, exhausted from the ordeal and more than ready to be in his own bed. Dog was curled up at your feet. Daryl didn’t have the heart to kick him off once he saw how much the animal had missed him.

Everything was right again.

“I missed you so much.” You ran your fingers through his still damp mane, and he pushed his head into your hand when you began to lightly scratch his scalp. Your partner was truly a cat in human form. “I was terrified when we couldn’t find a trail.”

“Butcha did. Wonder who taught ya that?”

You tugged lightly at his hair with a snort. You let yourself smile for a moment, sighing when he nuzzled against your chest. “I thought I was gonna lose you out there.”

“Y’ain’t gonna lose me.” He said with a yawn.

“Better not. I can track now. I’ll find you.”

Now he snorted. “Yer something else, woman.”

“Damn skippy. Better hold onto me, Dixon.”

“Bet yer ass I will.”