BEFORE YOU READ: After receiving a negative review for this story, that someone has found it offensive, it was brought to my attention and I wanted to address this immediately. If i failed to make it clear in the first chapter - this is an extremely ANGSTY story. That includes harsh language, and some physical encounters that may be found offensive by some. This id a story that comes from my imagination and this is how I wanted to write. That is MY decision, and if you do not like that, no one is forcing you to read it. I personally like angst and even a little bit of roughness around the edges. Hope this clears it up.

Hello my friends! I've decided to make this a two-parter, maybe even a three-parter. This one is probably just as choppy as the last, but I hope you enjoy it none the less! Let me know what you'd like to see next time…from this or from a different story! I appreciate all the feedback I've gotten on this story both on here and on Tumblr. I am still Bethyl strong.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own TWD or its characters.

"Damn it" He snapped, pulling his finger back from the boards of wood, catching his skin between them.

He'd been trying to put this damn bed together for almost three days now – and he was starting to feel like an utter failure. What kinda man couldn't put together a damn kiddy bed?

Of course, Beth offered her hand and help, but he shooed her away as quickly as he could – not wanting her thinking he needed any help. He was a man – a dad – a husband, and shit if he wasn't goin'a put together this damn bed.

She was a little devil. She was climbing out of her crib when she was only nine months old, and Beth yelled at him for not making the bars high enough for her not to be able to get over them. But damn wasn't his fault!

He was getting blame for their girl bein'a damn devil – and he could already see how the rest of his life was gonna go. The girl was a Dixon, and she was already making that apparent.

Walking in on them having sex was his last straw. He put a lock on their door the next morning, and Beth was angry with him the entire day for not listening to her when she told him they shouldn't do it while she could still be awake. But damn it if he wasn't goin'a be able to fuck his wife cause his girl was a little minx.

She started talkin early, and he wasn't surprised since her Mama never shut up. She was always naggin' him and always sayin' somethin. But he never complained. Because those nine months of absolute silence was never something he ever wanted to relive.

Now at almost four years old, their girl was a damn handful.

She was constantly rollin' in the dirt, her clothes always ruined and her Mama yellin' at her to start actin' like a lady. He couldn't help but smile every time she came in with some mud on her cheek, happy and smilin' at them as if she had done somethin' so cool – and she had – to him.

He wanted his girl to be strong – not afraid – happy with whatever she wanted to do. But not Beth. Definitely not Beth. She put bows in her hair and gave her some braid, but by the end of the hour, they were out and most of the bows she had were never seen again.

He should get pissed with that – but somehow he don't. He's the one who has to make the runs and go and pick out shit that he ain't never seen before – tryna think about what Beth would like – and more times than not he would come home to a frown and a you really think I'm letting her wear this? and that always left him trottin' off mutterin' a damn woman behind him.

He'd stopped callin' her 'girl' since she was born, and she was now his 'woman'. Course, she was a woman already – almost thirty when she had her – now older at the age of around thirty-three from what he was countin.

She was stubborn and sometimes a damn nag, but his wife was a star and he would never forget that. He'd never take her for granted, or miss that moment after dinner when she'd clean the kitchen and he'd follow her around like a puppy, his mouth attached to her neck as she moved.

Sure, he loved the girl – but this one – his wife was somethin' else. He looked at her everyday and just wondered. Wondered how in the hell he got this lucky, The end of the world was it for him – it for everyone. Who thought that this place could have been the hope they had dreamed about for so long? Gone through so many small places – danger all around to make it here – to safety – to a bed – to a shower – to a house – and to a family.

He wondered how he ever doubted his ability to love his kid – his little girl who he would die for. He thought about how he hated Beth for doin' it to him and seemingly losing her over it. He couldn't wrap his mind around how one small person could change someone's life so completely in such a short amount of time.

Maybe he was soft – growin' weak in his knees, but hell if he didn't love them. He would give anything for them two, and sometimes he thought he would have to. He was always careful on trips with Aaron, something he didn't care about before – bein' careful. Who the fuck has time to be careful?

He did – now he did. He had a wife and girl at home who he needed.

Hell, if they wanted to populate so damn bad, he'd be more than happy to just keep makin' babies with Beth.

He never brought it up to her – and she dind't either. He thought that after havin' her, that was the end of it – and it really never crossed his mind to ever have another one. Havin' their first was bad enough, and he knew that the thought of a second would be completely different, but could they really? Could they really make a family? The girl had been an accident – a happy accicdent but an accident none the less.

Not one person in hee had had a baby since they got there, cept' them. No one was eager to expand their family – maybe because they had already established theirs before. He didn't know – but did he even care? Since when did he give a shit what other people did or thought? He was livin' for him – livin' for them now, and hell – if she wanted another one he knew he wouldn't say no.

He would happily give her himself to do whatever she wanted until she got it.

He knew he found love where it wasn't supposed to be, and he couldn't have been more damn happy about it. Someone told him once that if it ain't right – you don't do it. But fuck if he was abiding by that. In no way shape or form was it right to be havin' a damn baby in an apocalypse but his life told him otherwise.

His girl was the reason why he was here – feet planted on the ground. Cause had she not been here – sure, he'd probably be happy with Beth – but he understood why people had kids. He understood the love a father has for his daughter – and why Rick loved Judith so immensely even though he knew she probably wasn't his.

The slammin' door snapped him out of his stupor as his eyes looked to the culprit of his girl standin there in her rain boots caked in grass, and he smirked and ushered her to take them off. She laughed giddily and shook her head at him, running toward him – and he quickly shot to his feet and scooped her up hastily.

"Girl you gon'a be the death of me." He told her, walking her out onto the porch sitting her down on the step and startin' to take her boots off before he heard the crackling of the gravel and snapped his head up to meet her eyes, tilted up in a smile as she looked at them.

She was working in the school on the corner, teachin' all the kids things they needed to know, and he couldn't be more proud of her. She stood there in her light jeans and white sun shirt, her hair flowing long – rarely cut.

It was like light shined through her onto him, showing off things no one had ever seen without her. She brought out things in him he never imagined that could be there. Let alone her, then adding Letta – he was such a different man than he used to be. He had a purpose here – someone to be – a job to fill.

He thinks back to the day Aaron tells him he wants him to build a bike. How he felt like maybe that was good. Like maybe that was his purpose. That small thing gave him hope. Now, his life was full of that shit. Hope. Something he never had – never. In his life, hope wasn't something he ever had, nor needed.

Now, with a wife and a kid – hope was so important to him. He was hopeful for his life with them – he looked forward to each day, and that wasn't something he ever thought he would be able to say. He didn't think he could love – could feel.

He remembers the hopeless feeling when she was still pregnant – the feeling of being able to do absolutely nothing. The fear that ripped through him day to day – his mind so convinced that she would be gone soon. It pulled at his heart every time he thought about it because he had put the weight of the world on his small baby – his little girl was thought to blame for taking her away from him – and he was so sure that that was exactly what was going to happen. He was so sure that she would be gone and he would be stuck with a baby that he hated and blamed for the death of its mother – and how far from the truth that was now.

"What are you two doin' out here?" She asks with a smile on her face as she moves towards them up the stairs and she pulls on her pair gently before pressing a kiss to her head, looking to him and smiling that smile and she kisses him on the lips – hard and love just blows through him. How much he loves this woman.

"Beth?" He asks in the dark – sure she's asleep, but quietly questioning.

He heard her murmur a soft "Hmm?" and he smiles a little, turning his head to face her with her eyes still closed but her brow raised in question.

"Love ya." He says simply, still looking at her as he just watches her smile a little and nod, telling him she loves him too before drifting back to sleep, and he isn't sure if she was conscious enough to hear him fully – but he knows she knows. He doesn't make note of every time he says it – and he's sure he doesn't say it nearly enough as he should be he knows that she knows.

Letta on the other hand – he isn't sure that he tells the girl just how much he loves her, and he looks up at the ceiling of their bedroom, glancing back at her before slowly making his way out of bed, making sure she's still fully covered with the thick blankets.

He leaves the room and heads to the right down the hall towards her room and he slowly pokes his head through the door frame and smirks when he finds her on her back in bed, her same bear in one hand and the other high above her head. Her lips are parted, and her hair is a wild mess – and he can't stop staring at her.

He's not sure if he ever really, really looks at her – but he wants to. Wants to start making it a conscious effort to know her – to know everything that there is to possibly know about his daughter – because that is exactly what she is. His daughter, and he wants her to know that she's daddy's girl, and that he knows his girl like no one else does.

He moves into the room and sits down on the chair beside her bed, it finally coming together that night – and he wanted to make sure she was sleepin' like a baby and that she couldn't somehow be hurt by it if he had done somethin' wrong. Picking up the book that had fallen to the floor beside her, mindlessly forgotten about as she fell asleep. He read the title, and remembered the first time he ever read her "Goodnight Moon." She was only weeks old, and he didn't remember if he wanted to or if Beth told him to – but he remembers watching the baby fall asleep before him, her small hands grabbing at air, and he was so amazed that he made hands – that he had a part in creating a person.

It was in that moment that he was done. He was done fighting it. This was his life and he would be damned if he let it go to waste. She was here and she was real – and she needed love, and how could he consciously deny her of that. How could he not give his whole life to his kin?

He knew Beth loved being a mom. He could see how well she was molded for it – and he shoulda known the moment she took the reins as a mother to Judith when she came, but he didn't – and it became clear to him the moment she cradled that baby to her chest the day she was born that this was what she always wanted, and he felt an immense amount of guilt for trying to rob that from her.

He thought now that babies were like miracles. Maybe children were saviors. Sent down from heaven to cure people of their sins and all the badness in a person. He thinks this because that is exactly what she has done to him. He doesn't ever think about doin' somethin' bad because forbid that would come back down on her – he would never forgave himself. He wanted her to have the most amazing life – and have the greatest amount of love that any kid could ever feel. He needed her to know that.

Beth had told him once that he was such a good daddy, and that he could never be perfect no matter how many times he tried – and that was okay. But that wasn't good enough for him. He wanted to be the perfect father for her – to make no mistakes – never let her down – never hurt her.

He watched her stomach fall up and down with her short breaths, and he smiled back up to her face, still amazed at how much he saw Beth in her. She was so much like her Mama, and had it not been for the dark brown hair that cascaded down her back – he would have never believed she was really his.

Beth teased him constantly about her attitude bein' just like his – and he always scuffed her off, sayin' she wasn't nothin' like him – but he knew she was – and today when she stomped around in those dirty boots – he saw that. But maybe, just maybe…that was okay.

"You'd better get upstairs now, girl!" He yells at her, and he sees her back away, tears forming in her deep blue eyes that reminded him so much of Beth's, and instantly, he regrets it. He steps forward to her as if to say he's sorry, and she runs up the stairs and he can hear her crying from his spot on the floor, and he sighs when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"She's your daughter." She says, and goes back to mixing some kind of muffins she's makin'. He smiles softly at that, and he knows she only tells him she's his daughter is when she's resembling' him, and he knows she is - right now.

He looks at her with a hand over his eyes, and sits down on the couch across from her spot in the kitchen and he asks her if she thinks Letta's goin'a hate him.

She laughs and looks back at him and he quirks a brow because he's serious – he's not jokin' around and he's afraid his little girl won't never talk to him again.

"No darlin' – she ain't gonna hate you. You're her daddy, and that little attitude of hers needs to be put in place." She says smirkin' back at him. She can see the hurt in his eyes, and she stops what she's doing to go next to him and she cups his face in her hand as she stands in front of him while he sits slouched and sad on the sofa, eyes looking up into hers – seeking comfort.

"Daryl – you're her father – if you don't discipline her, she'll never learn." She says softly, and his hands find her hips, bringing her close to him, his head resting on her stomach as she holds his head in place.

He knows she's no softie when it comes to trouble, and she never fails to let that girl know when shes been bad. There've been several times where Beth's given her the "get to your room now" junk, and he's just sat behind and watched – noddin' to her that he agreed. Rarely had it been him to be the one tellin' her how she needed to be actin'.

"Love ya, baby." He says into her shirt and places a kiss there, on the place that held her those years ago, and he looks up at her. He tells her he's gonna go up there, and she nods her head, giving him a quick kiss and tells him she loves him too.

His mind drifts back to a night five years ago when she was lying on their bed reading some kind of book with a red border on the cover, with her hand on her belly – rubbing circles, and he stood in the doorway cleaning his bow, watching her carefully – afraid that if she caught him he would never live it down.

She had a warm heart and she had a beautiful brain – but it was disintegratin' and he wanted nothing more than to throw that book into the fire and scream at her. The rage he felt towards her for all those months ate him alive day in and day out and nothing – nothing was able to take his mind off of it. She could still be what she wanted to be when she met him – but instead, she was bein' selfish and stupid and so damn vulnerable.

He rounds his way to her door, and he hesitates before goin' in and he sees her sittin' on the floor in her striped pj's and he smirks a little before she looks up at him. He stares at her before givin' her a small smile and he goes and sits down next to her.

"I love ya, girl." He says, and he looks at her from beside him and she's staring back at him with dry eyes, and she doesn't say anything before she crawls into his lap and hugs him round his waist, her face in his belly, and he holds her right back – tight as if he'd never let go, and he was happy – happy to be able to tell her no, and happy that she was maybe okay with that.

He picks her up and carries her downstairs, and Beth tells her she can stay if she behaves, and Letta nods eagerly, and lets him go to go to her mama, huggin' her leg and he watches as Beth smoothes her hair down and whispers somethin' in her ear and before he knows it, she's out of sight.

It's an hour later when he hears her small footsteps behind him as he watches the fire burn, Beth's legs in his lap, and he doesn't turn his head – afraid if he does she might run. So he stays still, his eyes kept in front of him and then he hears the small word that makes him breathe again.

"Daddy?" She calls, and his head instantly turns to her, and he smiles slightly and motions for her to come'ere and she does – she comes around the couch to face him, and she looks to her mama as if for permission, and climbs into his lap – her face on his chest as she tells him she loves him.

His shoulders feel light again, and he lets her know he's sorry he yelled, and tells her how important she is to him and her mama.

She mumbles and then she's asleep and he's watching her as she breathes, raving in the glory of being able to see her just be.

He looks over to Beth, and she too is asleep and he's alone in the dark – the lights off tonight, and he decides that right now is one of the best moments he's ever had in his life.

This is a moment where there's silence and darkness and there's no present danger, and he isn't missin' anythin', and everything is okay. He isn't angry at anythin', and he ain't scared neither.

Looking at her, all he sees is Beth, and he's so damn thankful that she's just like her – because damn it if he was gonna go through life wonderin' what it'd be like to see her in his shoes. Infinity times infinity was the amount of love he had for the both of them, and though he rarely said it – he felt it so strong and he knew it could kill him if it wanted to. He could die happily in love with the both of them, and it'd be okay.

The next morning, he's so surprised that she's pullin' the shit she is after last night, and he's just starin' at her with disbelief as she carries on like a baby.

"Why not?" She whines, and he continues to glare at her from the side, and she just stares back at him like she's challenging him – and he can't. He can't yell at her – can't scold her. He's too afraid she'll run away again, and this time she won't forgive him and she'll hate him for bein' a shitty dad. He found himself between a fuckin' rock and a hard place – and even though he could hear his wife tellin' him he'd better leash that tone, he tried to keep his cool.

"Cause I said you ain't gettin' one." He says back to her with a slight sneer – hoping his point will get across and she'll stop fuckin' asking the same damn thing over and over again.

"But I want a sissy!" She complains, and smashes her spoon into her bowl – now empty, and he faces her completely, looking at her and his brow furrows a little – his eyes closing as he squints at her wondering how the hell she even knew what a sister was.

That night, in bed with his wife, he finally gets it.

"Daryl?" She asks at nearly three in the morning, and he's awake – looking over at her when she calls him.

Before he can answer, she's rolled over on her side looking at him and he feels like she's seeing right through him – down to the darkest part of him and he's afraid that she's gonna see somethin' that scares her and maybe she'll run away and she'll take her from him and he'll be alone – again.

She's looking up into his eyes and he's looking down at her, his hand gripping her hip – and she can tell he's tense as he watches her – and all she wants is to calm him – and all she wants is to cry and tell him how much she loves him and how happy she is – but she doesn't. Instead, she tells him she wants another baby.

"I've been thinkin' 'bout havin' another one." She says quietly, her eyes never leaving his and he knows what she means. He knew the moment Letta asked for a sister in the morning, and he just stared at her and shrugged, not givin' her any type of answer.

Sure, maybe he had overreacted a little bit when she was pregnant, but it was the end of the damn world, and it wasn't the time to be makin' babies for the fun of it. As much as he loved her, and though he'd die for her now, Letta had been an accident – one he damn nearly killed himself over, and he never imagined getting a woman pregnant on purpose would ever be an obstacle he would have to jump over.

Now, here he was – a married man with his wife askin' for another kid.

What the fuck was he supposed to say to her? Tell her 'sure', and try right away? Fuck no – because no one 'round here was havin' babies willingly, and his though his wife never ceased to susprise him, he didn't think she would think about going through that shit a second time.

"I know it's not perfect, but we've been so good for long – and a miss havin' a baby, Daryl." She tells him, blinking innocently, and he's still looking at her and he can already feel his resolve slipping away and damn him to hell for even thinking that this might be do-able.

Sure, his girl was a dime-piece, but could she really whip him hard enough to make him throw his hands up and let her take him for all his seed was worth? He didn't even know he could make babies, and he thought about laughin' at her when she first told him because what old man did he ever know that could knock up a pretty young blonde and have it be okay?

He thought the Dixon blood line would end with him, and he was so damn happy for that to be the case – to never have a boy carry on his name, but here was his girl with his last name, and he could only pray she'd marry a nice boy with a name as far from her own that she would just forget it all together.

He thought about that sometimes – how the world would be when she was old enough to understand it – to think about findin' a boy of her own. If there would be real people around and if she'd be able to have a family of her own without havin' the fear of dyin' for it.

It suddenly clicks for him, and his eyes widen a bit as he looks at her, and he feels the bile start to rise in his mouth.

"You been tellin' Letta 'bout this?" He asks, and she stays quiet, staring up at him. Anger bubbled in his gut and he couldn't believe she could be so stupid. So damn stupid to tell their girl about some shit she didn' even understand – and now they were both fuckin' beggin' for it.

He shrugs the sheets off his body and makes his way out of the bed and Beth's callin' after him but he don't look back – he leaves and he don't know when he's comin' home.

It's the next mornin' when he comes home, and he can't see clearly, anger still inside him but he decides to let it go for now.

She's on the porch with an old book, and he glances out the window from the kitchen, and he sees a boy – a young fuckin' boy huggin' his wife and he damn near loses it.

He watches them closely, seeing the way his fingers curl into her skin, and he realizes he ain't even watchin' her 'cause all he sees is his damn hands on his girl.

He keeps his eyes on them until he leaves, and he waits until its three hours later, never leaving the kitchen and she comes strollin' in, askin' him what he wants for dinner. He doesn't answer her, and instead glares at her and she can tell he's raging inside.

He holds a glass in his hand, leaned against the sink, and he watches her as her smile fades away and he knows she knows. She stays silent for a moment before openin' her lips – and he watches them.

"I hate when we fight." She tells him, and he's lookin' at her incredulously, his gut raging with despise.

Her voice trembles under the invisible weight on her chest; and she suddenly feels trapped, afraid even. He's glaring at her from across the kitchen, and the glass in his hand gets thrown into the sink and he doesn't even flinch when it shatters in the bowl.

"You fucking love when we fight. You do it on purpose!" He sneers back at her, an accusing finger jabbing in her direction.

His eyes are narrow, mouth set into a snarl; the skin reddening down his chest. She takes a deep breath and tries to speak, but there is nothing she can say that will calm his temper; apart from an apology, but she ain't apologizin'.

"It was nothing, Daryl. He's only a friend." She finally says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world - because it should be - he's her husband, her man.

She watches him and she feels like she's meltin' – like her belly is about to implode and her mouth seems like it's bretrayin' her. She's so upset by the whole damn thing, and she can't even believe that this is happenin' right now.

"Nothin'?" His voice rasps out and echoes around the tiled room, bouncing off the walls.

"This is ridiculous baby, you're overreacting. Please stop this." She tries, and she watches as her attempts fail. He throws his head back, shaggy hair bouncing from his forehead as he feigns laughter. She stands perfectly still, legs weakening by the second.

They had been so good for so long, and then she brought up a baby – and hell broke lose – for a second time.

"He fucking wants you, Beth, and you play along!" He yells, and she instantly thinks about Letta, and she's afraid of him in that moment – afraid that her daughter will find her daddy like this and that fucking terrifies her.

"That's not fair." She says quietly, and tears sting her eyes, and her lip quivers uncontrollably; his eyes snap to her face and he almost wants to apologize when he sees what he's caused.

"You know what's not fair, sweetheart? It's not fair that I work my ass off every fuckin' day while you live like a fucking princess! I bet he's fucked you in our bed, in fact, I bet you sneak him in as soon as I leave!" His words betray her, and he's hurting her worse than she thinks he could ever hurt her physically.

Because after everything, he's accusing her of betraying him when he's only betrayed her. She knows that she's givin' him the best thing he's ever had – and he knows it too.

"Oh, you're going to cry now? The tears ain't gonna work darling. Get out of my sight." He bites sharply, and she stares at him in disbelief. Shock is setting in, and he truly can not believe he's acting like this – like a child.

She steps forward, reaching her arm out to attempt contact, and he looks at her outstretched hand and rolls his eyes.

"I said get the fuck out of my sight." And that's it for her.

When she fails to listen, and venture closer to him, he snaps. She knows she has no chance against his strength as he yanks her hand hard and crashes her into the counter. She can hear a click in her rib, sending a side splitting pain through her torso, and he ignores the shriek of pain and presses flush against her.

"You are a slut." He growls, his pupils blown and burning into her face.

Inside, it hurts a little, but she knows he's doing this on purpose, and that fact that she maybe likes it is new. She swallows thickly, her body helpless and aching between the counter and his solid form. As he grips her arm with brute force, a new emotion bubbles and spills in her stomach, raw, pent-up rage.

All that time that he neglected her and treated her like shit, and he was here doing this to her after she's givin' him the damn world.

"I didn't do anything wrong. You're nothing but an insecure, jealous piece of shit. You're no man." She spits back at him, and the words shock her, and by the look on his face, they surprise him too. She feels incredibly proud of sticking up for herself. She isn't sure if she's just playin' along, or if maybe she meant it in a way - either way, she's proud. For finally using her voice to him when she knows he's weak.

Daryl reels back for a moment, his knee and hand keeping her pinned, he flashes her a sadistic grin, leaning in close until she feels his breath on her cheek.

"I'll show you just how much of a man I am." He tells her, his lips almost on hers.

Her next gulp of air becomes lodged in her lungs, and he keeps her still against the work surface as he unleashes his rigid cock from his jeans and boxer-briefs, leaving the denim hanging under his ass.

She has all of two seconds to realize that the heated argument has aroused him immensely before he's tugging up her dress. In one swift movement, he swipes her panties to the side and rams his way inside her, stuffing her bare to the hilt. A hiss of pain escapes between her clenched teeth, and her unprepared walls contract and try to flush the foreign object from her body, and he has to brace his arm on the wall and physically hold himself inside her.

"Don't fucking resist me when you open your legs for every other bastard!" He grits in her ear, and even though she's raging – she ignores it and keeps her eyes trained on his.

He lunges forward, sinking his teeth into her throat, and her mouth flies open to scream in agony, and instead she cries out in arousal. It takes a brief moment of him gnawing on her neck to make her flood, and she instantly blushes shamefully as she can feel herself gush between her thighs.

She's so fuckin' angry – livid even, but she can't resist him – and she can't deny that she loves him so damn much and that she wants and craves him any and every moment of every day – no matter what the circumstance.

"Ah fuck! You just proved my point, girl." His voice is hoarse, straining in his throat. She revels in the times he's called her 'girl', and she realizes that he hasn't called her that since Letta's been here, and she's missed it.

His accusations of her adultery may be wrong, but he's hit the nail on the head, she is filthy because the mere thought of him bucking into her with sheer force creates a fire in your belly. She reacts by hooking her slender and strong leg around his waist, pushing against him in just the right way. It only seems right that she urge him on, whilst releasing some of her own frustration.

She soon finds her voice, and she decides two can play at his degrading game.

"Now what, tough guy? Do you think you've got it in you to rape your wife?" She sneers at him, her eyes trained on his, and she sees something flash in his eyes as he looks at her, and it takes him a second to respond, still thrusting deep up into her.

She knows him better than she thinks, and she knows he would never force himself on her - no matter the situation, and that's when she realizes that maybe this is just a game. Just a damn game for him, and that she's playin' pretty well.

"It isn't rape if she's willing, and you are so fucking wet for my cock right now, darlin'." He groans at her, lips almost on hers, and his eyes scan her face up and down, intimidating.

His harsh and bitter words send shockwaves through her, causing her hips to rock against him with the little movement she can manage. He groans, almost chokes, as he feels the friction on his solid length, and he shucks his jeans down to his knees and spreads open his legs, finding a better angle. He draws back, leaving his leaking head in her entrance, stretching her even further, and he thrusts up into her, slamming so violently that her pelvis twinges painfully. He keeps up the brutal pace, snapping his hips wildly, his pelvic bone grinds against her clit and that draws a low moan from her lips.

"You are mine, do you fucking hear me? Mine." His voice is low and growling, and he accentuates every word with a sharp buck into her dripping heat.

She's spiraling fast, all of her senses on overdrive as the aches mold with the indescribable pleasure his thick cock gives her. He shows no mercy as he pummels into her, the impact sending her head flying back into the cupboard.

"I own you, sweetheart." He tells her, and though she should tell him that no man owns her – she knows he does, and she's shamefully okay with that.

"Yes." She finally manage to slur, head spinning with lust.

"Who keeps you coming? Who gives you the hardest, most powerful orgasms you've ever had, girl?" He presses his mouth to her clavicle, panting desperately as he holds off his climax.

"You do." She whines, hips rolling in a sloppy attempt to match his fierce thrusts.

"Say my name." He finally says, and her eyes flash to his – almost nervous. Never in their years together has she said his name during sex, and he hadn't never asked for it. 'Til now.

His hand snakes to the back of her head, strong fingers grasping her hair as he pulls roughly. She cry out, her thighs slick with excruciating excitement. She keep quiet, and looks to where they're connected, smirking without letting him see.

"Say my name!" He roars furiously, never letting down his wicked tempo.

"Daryl!" She suddenly yells, picking her head up with her throat burning and extremely dry.

He grips her by the chin and gently but forcefully brings her gaze to meet his, and his eyes connected with hers bring him back down to earth, and he realizes that maybe this had been the wrong approach, but lookin' at her right now – maybe this time was okay.

"Come for me, sweetheart, come hard on my dick, and remember who gave this to you." He says, staring at her with lust – and he realizes how much he's missed her and he didn't even know it had been so long.

She draws back as much air as she can, holding the heavy breath in her lungs before expelling it in an agonizing scream, and she spasms uncontrollably, hot, sticky liquid coats his cock and sprays rapidly down her thighs. Her walls clamp down, trying to keep him inside of her forever, a strong contrast to the moment he entered her – and she milks him for all its worth, and then he's coming.

He releases a guttural howl, stilling inside of her as his thick seed paints her insides, and he fills her as full as he can and then some, his come leaking and mixing with her own fluids down her legs.

His muscles flex one last time before he flops against her, his muscles turned to mush, his nose buries into her hair, his breathing heavy and labored. She's not sure how long they both remain boneless and breathless against the counter, trying to steady their heartbeats. He finally raises his head, his irises have returned to their soft, blue hue and he's astonishingly smiling softly.

"Baby, did I hurt you?" He finally asks her, looking at her with soft eyes, his hand going to her cheek, and she looks back at him and she's honest with him.

"Just a little, but I'll live." She says, her eyes on his, and she can see the repentance.

"'M sorry. I just lost it." His voice sounds like a child, tellin' his momma he's sorry for doin' somethin' bad, and she can't help but grip his arms.

She slides her leg down from its resting place above his ass, her body leaning forward to rest against him, and he pulls her easily into his embrace, slowly taking her downwards until she's in his lap on the floor. He rocks her, his mouth littering kisses over her damp forehead, his hands caress her back, running down her spine to create a beautiful chill on her skin.

"He's just a friend darlin', why would I throw this away for him?" She asks, and she's looking up at him with all the innocence he needs, and he smiles down at her.

He hooks a finger under her chin, brining her in for a kiss that is laced with understood love.

"Do it again." He tells her, and she looks up at him amused, and laughs a little and he watches her as she sits there.

She's got her hair down, and her pants are off – and even though his mind shouldn't be there it always is.

"There ain't no more to take, Daryl. I've already taken all three." She says, pulling her pants on and getting up from the toilet and shovin' the stick into his chest.

He takes it without thinking, and grabs her wrist before she can walk away. He looks down at her and he can't help but smile and he pulls her to him and lifts her onto the counter, kissing her hard – afraid if he lets go he'll wake up.

"Mama, what are we…" His lips pull away from hers, and he looks down at Letta and smirks at her before pattin' her head and walkin' out of the small space, leavin' her to it. He walks down the stairs and out onto the porch, and he almost wants to shout it out – to let everyone know that they're havin' another baby – that he's actually damn fertile, and can even make babies.

He refrains, and instead sits on the step, twiddlin' his thumbs.

Nine months later he's doin' the same damn thing in that same damn chair he was in five years ago, and he's lookin' down at his new baby and he's dazed.

"Evelyn?" She asks, and he looks down at her and nods – still in disbelief that he's now got three damn moody girls in his house. He was so damn sure it was a boy – and he knew he'd be different than his own daddy – and damn it if he was excited to have a son.

But he was not expectin' this. Another screamin' girl, wrapped around his damn finger. First thing Beth told him when Jessie told them it was a girl was that they'd just have another and his eyes damn well almost popped outta his head at that.

"Yeah, Evie's good." He tells her, his voice gruff of exhsuation and even though he's tired, he cant take his eyes off of her because this time is so different. He knows this, and he's seen this, and he's felt the first time daddy feelin', but this is new.

This joy of gettin' to do it again, and its excitin' for him. He wants to do it this time. Wants to be there for everythin' – wants to change all her diapers and shit. He wants to be a daddy again – and maybe again – and he's smilin' from ear to ear now.

It's only seconds later that Letta comes in, screamin' for her mama, and he wants to shake her for that – instantly tellin' her to shush, and he picks her up on his knee, and Beth looks at her too, tellin' her that she's got a baby sister.

And damn him to hell at that. Both his girls schemin' together – and they got what they wanted. Executed their plan, and somehow made it happen. Maybe it had been illogical, but it had worked none the less. His girls were damn firecrackers, and his hands came up to rub his eyes when he realized that.

It's the next day when he's holding the newborn in his arms when he's crying. Hot tears are streaming down his face and he's sniffling uncontrollably as he watches her sleep. Maybe he didn't revel in this when Letta was a baby, but he's lookin' down at this girl and he's a mess. He's so gone - so not himself anymore. Now, here, he's a completely different man - and he was completely okay with that. She's so tiny - maybe even smaller than Letta was, and she's so beautiful. There aren't many moments in his life when he's let himself cry - and he can't exactly figure out why exactly he's doin' it now.

Maybe he's realizing that its okay to be happy - and to love this baby so much that it hurts - because they're finally okay and they're finally safe together. They wanted this baby and they tried for her - and he doesn't think he's done anything in his life that can top this. Makin' babies with Beth was it. That was goin'a be his life - and he didn't know it all along, but here he was now. Never did he ever think he'd have three girls in his life that were his and that he loved.

He realizes that he's rocking in the chair, and he laughs at that because it is a rocking chair - and he didn't put it to use once since they've had it. He can't remember holdin' Letta when she was like this, and that almost makes him cringe - but he's almost okay with that because he knows she doesn't doubt his love for her, and he promises himself that this baby never will either.

Evie was all Beth. Letta had dark hair like him, and her eyes were a deep blue closer to his than to hers, but this one was all her. Her blonde hair was fine and thin, and her eyes were so bright and clear like the sea. Her skin was soft but still a bit darker than Beth's, though not by much. She was this perfect little angel, and the soft pink onesie she had on was hard against his dark tanned hand, rough and calloused from rough years - and she's so pure and so new and so innocent and it's so clashing, but it's beautiful.

Beth tells him that he's the best daddy - maybe even better than her own, and that almost makes him choke. He missed Hershel more than he ever thought he would, and sometimes he wishes he felt his hand on his shoulder reassurin' him that he was doin' alright - but it never came.

And maybe that's why he's cryin', because he really don't know why he is, but he is.

her hand brings him out of his daze, and he looks up at her as she touches his cheek, and he leans into her palm, looking at her and his heart feels like it clenches in his chest when he looks at her. She's a damn miracle that makes miracles and he's so amazed by her that he doesn't even have any words to tell her. She smiles at him and lets him know that dinner's ready, and she brushes Evie's small tuft of hair, and she takes her from his arms, lifting her onto her shoulder before kissing her head and lowering her back into her crib. He watches her, and as soon as her back straightens, he grabs her arm and turns her to him, crushing her lips onto his, her body rough against his.

Her face is gripped in his hand, and she kisses him with just as much need as he does her, and when they pull away, his forehead rests against hers and he whispers a small I love you.

He never thought about what it would be like when they fought.

So far, it had just been Letta all this time and he never had to deal with the bickerin' and complainin', and hell she wanted a sister. She told him herself, and here she was. The screamin' was ringing in his ears, and all he could hear was the it's mine, go away, i hate you, your so annoying'! and he was about ready to pop off the handle.

"Daddy, Evie took my pink rock, and its mine!" she screamed at him, and he eyed her with a straight line across his lips and he didn't have a fuckin' clue as to what to do. This was usually Beth's thing…calm n' down his crazy girls, and he left it to her because he seemed to see that she could get it done no problem. Now though, with Beth runnin' for some supplies, he was left to it on his own.

"It's a damn rock, girl…go find another'ne - theres outa be thousands just outside." He told her, getting up from the chair at the table, and patting her on the head, hearing her huff as he walked away. He passed by his youngest girl, and she smiled innocently up at him, and at only three years old she knew exactly how to wrap him just so tight around his finger, and he was gone. She made him so damn weak - so much like her momma that he couldn't go against her, and though he loved Letta just as much, Evie could sink him to her knees if she wanted to.

"It's the only pink one i ever saw, daddy!" Letta moans behind him, and he swirls back and looks down at Evie again, and the happiness he sees in her eyes when she's lookin' at the damn rock in her hands is too much for him to handle.

"Evie - you shouldn't take things from your sister - this is hers, and you gotta give it back." He kneels down in front of the blonde girl, and she looks up at him, her brow furrowing and he can see it comin'.

His hand reaches out to grab the small circle from her hands, and she doesn't fight back - letting it go easily, and he slips it back to Letta, and she thanks him and runs back to her room, and he's left with a sulking three year old that will most likely run to her momma and tell her that he took away her toy - and he would get in trouble.

Evelyn screamed like Scarlett had made her eat the worm. She ran out of the trees and towards the porch of the back of the house, leaving her doll behind on the ground. Letta sat beside the doll and began rubbing its hair in the dirt, trying to distract herself from the funny feeling in her belly. The worm couldn't really be wriggling around inside her.

She contemplated burying the stupid doll and telling Evie she hadn't seen it when she asked, and she even started to dig the hole with the doll's own feet, but beginning to feel sorry for it, she stopped. She wiped the doll clean on her skirt and carried it back to the house with her.

Evie wasn't even grateful. She was telling mama about the worm and asking her to make Letta stop eating worms and playing in the mud. Evie thought her mama looked amused, but when she turned to her, she realized that she was anything but amused.

"Scarlett, you have mud on your dress." She told her, and Letta knew instantly that she was in trouble. Mama rarely yelled at her or got angry, because that was daddy's job…but having her mama mad with her was makin' her more upset than any scolding' her daddy ever gave her.

Beth hated scolding her girls - because that was all Daryl. But when Scarlett came in with her new dress covered in mud, that was it. The girls fought continuously - granted over silly, un-important things, but never the less - they needed to know when they were wrong. Though she could scold her oldest daughter if she needed to - she found it nearly impossible to scold Evie. She loved both her girls equally - but that younger daughter of hers was her baby - her last one she knew she'd probably have, and she wanted to protect her from any hurt - even from her own mother.

Letta glowered at Evie. She never got mud on her clothes. Evie hated anything dirty - and liked bright colors, and cried to their mama while Letta enjoyed the grade and the dirt, and she preferred shades of blue rather than purple. She ran to her daddy more than her mama, and maybe that sparked jealousy. So she had once pushed Evie down into a puddle of mud to show her how much fun it could be, but she had only cried and then her daddy had punished her.

"Scarlett Dixon, this was a new dress. Wear an old one next time." Her mama told her, and she ducked her head in a little because she was realizin' how bad it felt to have mama angry at her.

It was that night when both sisters were in their room and Evelyn had taken her doll back, and Scarlett seemed to have grown attached to her sister's toy within the day. The doll liked there mud more than her sister - so she figured she'd just keep her around.

"It's not yours!"

"But I had it firstist it's mine!"

"Give it back!"

"No!"

The door slams open against the wall with a crashing thud, and both girls look up quickly to see him in the doorway, tall and bruising and they both cower down, and look at each other.

His hand wipes against his forehead, and he looks down at them and just sighs because he's so damn tired of these girls and all the complainin'. The world was over, and all they could do was argue about what was ands wasn't theirs. Made sense he guessed, nothing better to do than fight with each other over what was territory. Kinda almost mirrored his life and he laughed at that because instead of fighting over land, they fought over rocks and dolls, and he almost reveled in the innocence.

He knew Beth would scold him for not scolding them, so he walks forward and takes the doll from Evelyn's hands, and though she cries immediately after he tells them both that they won't get it back until they can learn to share it.

Scarlett protests and tells him she isn't a baby, and he quirks an eyebrow at her and tells her she's just a kid - and they he's her dad - and what he says goes. Evie continues to cry, and she hits her small fists into the carpet, clear anger and frustration of not getting her way, or maybe even feeling smaller than her sister getting the best of her.

Letta groans and walks past him, almost shovin' him into the wall and he just scuffs her off - looking back to the younger girl on the floor who looks at him and tells him how mean he is, and he wants to laugh because damn it they're just like him, and he can't blame them for it.

*Cringe* Hope it wasn't too bad! Review and let me know what you think, and what you would like to see next for these two! Or four! Hehe…love ya! Xo

-Stephanie