now daryl becomes a predator, sharp blue eyes locked onto his prey as jesus speaks, those talented hands traveling down, down, down to his belt to tease him. words echo in his ears, promises and tantalizing what-ifs firing electricity into his veins: he will satisfy jesus’ curiosities tonight, he silently vows.

          a grunt leaves him as jesus tugs at daryl’s hips, his cheeks going red. if anyone is looking at them at this point, the hunter definitely doesn’t want to know; so, his eyes remain focused on his lover, undressing every expression and sound he wants to pull from him in his mind.     ❛ mm, ❜     he muses quietly, wrapping an arm around the back of jesus’ waist. raspy, deep, daryl’s voice nearly vibrates jesus’ entire body as he speaks into his ear.

          ❛ yer gonna regret that. ❜

          and by that, the hunter means his partner is not going to regret anything at all. inconspicuously as he can, he ushers paul away to their trailer, guiding him inside and locking the door behind them to be safe.     ❛ s’go, ❜     he says, gesturing for jesus to try and take him down.

          ❛ see what you got. ❜

“Not the best place for combat- but if you’re wanting something close quarters.. I guess this will do. Let’s just try not to break anything.” Teasing, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, playfully pinning his wrists to the door as his gaze remains locked with his own. “Show me what you can do.”

          as soon as daryl touches him, regret fills his every pore: he’s cold. his skin, pale and familiar, is icy like daryl has never felt before. it leaves him shocked, taking a step small backward as he struggles to realize what’s happening. it’s now that a spot begins to appear on jesus’ shirt, right over the left side of his chest, dark and blotchy, almost like ink. like a pen exploded beneath his shirt, and now it’s dripping and staining the fabric.

          but it’s not ink. he’d be blessed if it were only ink.

          the memory comes back to him as a train would, smacking him right in the chest with the image of jesus falling victim to a stranger’s blade. his blood pools in that same spot. a bolt is fired into the assailant’s head a moment too late.

          daryl remembers. he knows.

          more of his tears begin to fall, panicked and horrified as he puts a hand over jesus’ chest to try and stop the blood; to put pressure on a wound long past saving. if his lover is gone, then what is this? where are they? could this be some cruel trick or joke? jesus’ hands rise to his face now, wiping away his tears, but not his terror, as he speaks once more.

          “no, no, stop,”     daryl begs through his sobs, using both hands now to stop the blood from seeping through jesus’ clothes. but more of it keeps coming, staining his hands and dripping down his elbows. he doesn’t want to hear any of this. doesn’t want to think about going back to a world where his love has been lost.     “stop, don’t, jus’– jus’ stay, please, please–”

          he can tell that their time is almost up, a storm beginning to rage above them, the branches of the dead trees swaying in the wind. in the distance, the groans and growls of walkers start to become clear.     “paul, jus’– jus’ stay,”     daryl continues to plead, his fingers slick and slipping with blood as he meets his lover’s gaze.

          “don’ go, i—– i love you, i… i can’t lose you, please…”

“Daryl-” His voice is distant, as if the words that fell from his lips were his final thoughts in life. In those last few moments, that last and final breath- it was him he was, he that was on his mind. Visions of their life together, six years they’d had- and how he wanted more. Dreams of a life, just the two of them with their dog, away from the rest of the world, traveling free without care. 

          jesus seems off as he stands there, looking astray—– looking anywhere but daryl’s face. it’s like he has something to hide, something he doesn’t want to say, words trapped behind that beautiful, all-to-knowing smile. and suddenly, everything around them seems to fade away, the rustling of the leaves in the trees replaced with silence and the sky growing dark like rolling ocean waves. he looks to jesus, concern etched into every inch of his face.

          “what?”     he asks, confusion flooding his tone. daryl’s chest feels tight, hot, like a horse has just kicked it. he knows, jesus says. something, he knows. but what? what’s there to know? he was just sitting here, working on his… on his… what was he working on again?

          daryl looks around once more, trying to find dog, or his boat, or his tent. instead, barren trees sit between dark gravestones. an iron gate squeals shut. remember. remember. remember.

                    i’m gone, daryl.

          “no,”     the hunter says softly, voice breaking as fresh tears begin to roll down his cheeks. the graveyard seems to pulse, like a beating heart.     “yer right here. y’can’t be gone.”     gingerly, daryl reaches out, shaking hand desperate to touch him. he can’t be gone. he just can’t be.

          if he is, then what in this world has daryl got left?

“I’m so sorry Daryl.” Yet a sorry would not change the way he mourned and grieved, not take away those sleepless nights and empty bed. If anything, he wanted him to feel relief, a moment of joy in the darkness that slowly began to surround and consume them both. “I know it must not be easy for you- and that it might not ever be, but I need you to promise me you’ll stay strong- for me. You were made for this world, I knew that from the day we first met.”

          as soon as dog starts barking, daryl looks over his shoulder to see who’s emerging from the trees, though he has a pretty good idea of just who it might be: his love, his life, bringing with him a lightened air and a smile daryl can’t ever forget; and he’s right. jesus steps out of the treeline just in time for the hunter to stand up from his most recent project, wiping his hands on a rag.

          it brings him nothing but joy to see jesus, that long hair pulled back into his trademark bun, eyes bright and brilliant.     “yeah,”     daryl says softly, making his way toward his partner and tossing his rag to the side.     “i know.”     hands raise, taking jesus’ face in worn palms as his lips seek the sweet kiss he’s been craving since last his lover left him. he knows jesus understands why he stays out here. he might not like it, but his work here is important. at least, it is to him.

          he pulls back once his desire has been met, studying his lover’s face.     “missed you. what brings y’out here? somethin’ happen?”

“You know why I’m here, Daryl- you know what happened...” 

“You know you don’t have to live like this, right? Not to say what you’ve done here is bad but- you could come home with me sometime. I miss you, Daryl.”  / @aintashes

          anyway daryl loves his tiny boyfriend @jcsus, that is all

          by the time they reach the hilltop again, daryl’s already rough and calloused hands are rubbing raw from carrying the containers. after parting from maggie’s side, he sets the containers down where they need to be and wipes his palms off on his pants in an attempt to rid himself of the sweat that’s been accumulating there since they began heading back home.

          as he makes his way to the trailer he shares with jesus, daryl’s mind rolls like a tidal wave: his partner has had to remain here for most of the bridge construction, in charge while maggie is away. he has no idea about aaron’s arm, no idea of the fights and the chaos with the saviors—– his knuckles are still tender from trying to beat the living daylights out of whats-his-face. maybe seeing his partner will make him feel better, or at least help him make sense of all of this.          / closed episode-based starter for @jcsus.

“What happened out there Daryl-  I’ve heard a few things from others but-- are you alright?”

          ▬ It was a dirty business with everything that happened to Gregory, but at the end of the day, someone had to be the one doing it. That someone just happened to be Daryl, not that the concept was really new to him. He could remember back on Hershel’s farm, he had been the one to get answers from that boy, Randel. At least he thinks that was his name. He hadn’t killed the boy but tortured him enough… That alone felt like a lifetime ago, but if Daryl really stopped to think about it, it was. He was nothing like the man he is now, for better or for worse. In truth, he’d like to think for better.

The returned question surprised the archer, as simple as it may have been. Why wouldn’t he be just fine? He could name several reasons to the scavenger as if that could make a difference, “ Gotta be. “

Brow knit tight as silence fell between them, a chance to gather his thoughts, hoping he might listen. “Not always Daryl- you don’t have to be.” Hesitant, how he always felt as though one wrong word would send the bowman fleeing.  “You have a right to feel something, anger- frustration- you shouldn’t have to hide that. I know the pressure you’ve been under, and I’m sure what happened tonight didn’t help a thing.” What with Rick, Sanctuary, all the pressure of leadership being thrown upon him. Surely he’d reach a breaking point, it was only a matter of time. “I’m here for you Daryl, if you ever need anyone, or anything. You don’t have to fight through this alone.”