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A/N: I got a couple of requests to make some progress updates! Thank you all for the love on I’ll Cover You part 1!! I hope you guys like this one too!
Summary: Daryl has always taken care of you, but now he’s learning to take care of you while growing a baby. Even if she seems determined to mess with him every step of the way.
After the night at Siddiq’s all those months ago, you knew by those two pink lines, you had been pregnant. Still, a small part of you had told yourself the test had been wrong, even though deep down, you knew it was real.
You could feel it.
Every time you imagined a growing baby inside of you, something fluttered. But now, there was no more denying it.
Your belly was growing by the day.
First, you noticed the way your jeans no longer wanted to button. Daryl was able to find more for you, but eventually you lived in stretchy leggings.
And then the skin below your navel popped out beneath every shirt you owned. Daryl found you more of those too, but your baby was stubborn and wanted to be seen.
So you embraced the new cropped length of your shirts.
Daryl hadn’t minded either. Your ever-growing belly was one of his new favorite things about you. After he had been out of the house all day, whether on guard duty, runs, or his new chore of tending to the garden, your belly was always the first thing his worn hands gravitated towards as soon as he was back home.
Today was no different.
While he was out on the wall guarding the small town, you were at the house. More specifically in bed.
It had taken a lot of convincing, but you were finally okay with giving up your chores and staying inside. You hadn’t realized in the beginning just how much work making a baby was. Even getting out of bed was a job.
When the sun was high in the sky and peaking through your curtains, you rolled out of bed and padded down the stairs into your kitchen. Food was becoming less scarce now that it was time to harvest. Every day, Daryl was coming home with a basket of fresh vegetables and baked bread.
You rummaged through the basket and landed on having a tomato sandwich. It wasn’t the same as the ones you grew up eating, but a craving was a craving and your baby was demanding a food he or she had never even tasted before.
You sliced the bread first on a wooden cutting board that had been tucked away in a cabinet. Carol was always baking fresh goods for the community and her bread was heavenly. It was always soft and pillowy, with the perfect crispy crust.
Then you sliced the tomato. The thought alone was enough to send you back to your days of gardening. You missed it some days, but most, you were grateful for the break. This tomato in particular was ruby red—plucked at the best time.
Juice oozed out as the knife slid through the skin, dripping across the board. Your stomach rumbled and felt empty as you continued cutting.
The tomato smell permeated the air, filling your senses with the fresh garden scent. You knew it was going to satisfy the desire you felt.
You placed two thin slices between the two pieces of bread you had cut, deeming it the perfect ratio and went to take a bite. However, despite how delicious it tasted to you, nausea hit you straight away.
You dropped your food on the counter and bolted to the bathroom.
Heave after heave, your one bite came up along with stomach acid. Over and over you wretched until your stomach felt even more empty than it had before.
The craving was gone along with any desire to eat, so you trekked back to your kitchen to get yourself a glass of water to get rid of the horrid taste in your mouth and went back to bed.
Your bed is where you spent the rest of your day, dozing in and out of sleep until you heard the front door open and shut, and the sound of boots walking up the steps.
You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you waited for Daryl to walk in. He stood in the doorway a moment, admiring you with a soft smile before laying in the bed with you.
And his hands found their way to your belly.
”How was your day, sweetheart?” He mumbled against your lips as he kissed you.
”Hmm,” you breathed, soaking him in. “It was alright. Beside your stubborn child making me nauseous. All I wanted was a dang tomato sandwich.”
He huffed a laugh. “Takin’ after her mama already.” Daryl was already set in stone that your baby was a girl.
And he thinks the stubbornness comes from you…
”Not funny, Daryl Dixon.”
After cuddling for a while, the day was starting to turn orange, hinting at the soon sunset.
“Let me make ya somethin’ to eat,” he said, playing with your hair.
”You don’t have to.”
”Yeah, baby, I do.”
His words caused more fluttering in your belly. He had taken care of you since the day he met you, always, but you’d be damned if he didn’t spoil you like crazy now.
He helped you slide out of bed, still adorned in his old shirt you had claimed and had been wearing as a night shirt, and held your hand all the way downstairs.
You sat at the island and watched as Daryl heated up some green beans and potatoes—something hearty and savory.
You stomached it this time. Daryl was starting to learn which foods were safer and which foods to stay away from.
Later, when you both finally crawled back into bed, a place you had been more often than not that day, you laid on your side with a quiet exhale.
Daryl found his place behind you with his arm draped carefully around your waist, hand sprawling across your stomach.
You melted right into his touch, your eyes already growing heavy again. “You know… I really did want that sandwich.”
You could feel vibrations against your back as your boyfriend chuckled. “Mhm,” he hummed.
”I’m serious! I had Carol’s fresh bread and everything.”
”Sound devastated, baby.”
“I am devastated.”
He laughed again, a little harder this time. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before settling behind you again.
The room fell quiet.
After a few moments, you knew he had fallen asleep by the way his hand had relaxed around you. You snuggled in closer to him and allowed his soft snores to lull you to sleep.
The next morning greeted you the same. He kissed you a few times before leaving for garden duty. You loved these days the most because you could see him outside the window a few streets over.
After he left, taking the warmth with him, you stayed huddled under the covers for a couple more hours.
When you did finally rise up, it was only to waddle down the steps and into the kitchen, ravenous for food. You settled on a bright green apple. The sourness always calmed your nausea. Siddiq had told you the sourness tricks your brain into focusing on that instead of the sickly feeling.
It was juicy and the perfect balance of sweet and sour, with a nice crisp peel.
After you finished your apple while leaning against the counter, you, or rather your baby, decided that was enough standing and it was time to sit again.
The couch squashed beneath you as you sat down right in the middle, propping your legs up on the coffee table.
You rested a moment before deciding now was the perfect opportunity to admire just how round your belly had become. You tugged the hem of your shirt upward. “Hi,” you murmured while rubbing your hand across your skin.
Sometimes it felt silly talking to your stomach, but Siddiq had told you the practice was good for developing babies.
Your hand continued to drift over the curve of it, fingertips tracing absent-minded patterns. You started to hum lightly, a lullaby from your childhood, one you couldn't even remember the name of now.
And then something moved. You immediately froze. Your breath caught.
It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t cramps. Just the faintest little tap from somewhere inside of you.
”Oh…” you breathed.
For a small second, you almost thought you imagined it, but then it happened again, stronger this time. You could see the thump on the outside of your belly as it hit the inside of your palm.
Tears welled in your eye before you could think to stop them.
“Hello there,” you said, barely above a whisper. Another small kick answered, sending shivers down your spine. You let out a sound that was a mix between laughter and a sob. “Hi.” That one was even quieter.
Your hand sprawled out across your belly, trying to hold onto as much as you could.You couldn’t stop smiling. Or crying.
”Your dad is going to lose his mind,” you laughed.
What felt like hours went by as you waited for his arrival home. You stayed planted on the couch with your hand on your belly, feeling every kick from your baby. Each one was even more amazing than the last.
The door creaked open and Daryl walked in, huffing a laugh seeing you with your belly out. It was his favorite sight to see.
”Hey, sweetheart,” he said, setting down his crossbow against the wall. He took it everywhere with him still. “You okay?”
”More than okay,” you squealed. “Come here.” He kicked off his shoes and walked over to you. “Give me your hands.”
You took his hands and set them against your belly as if presenting something. “What’re ya doin’?” He laughed.
”I felt the baby kick!”
”…Ya did?” He breathed, eyes already shining at the thought.” He went completely still, like even the slightest movement might ruin the moment.
You waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing this time.
“Really?” You asked.
”She’s stubborn.”
”I know this. I tell you at least ten times a day, she gets it from you.” He playfully rolled his eyes, but you knew he was disappointed. “I swear she was kicking me like crazy.”
He pulled his hands away, stood up, and headed towards the kitchen. “Probably sleepin’ now.’
Over the next week, it became a pattern. Every single time.
You would feel movement and go looking for him. “Daryl! Daryl hurry!” Or “Oh my God, she’s doing it again.”
But every time, without fail, Daryl would drop whatever he was doing and put his hand carefully on your stomach and was met with nothing.
By day three, Daryl stared at your belly. “This kid’s messin’ with me.”
You laughed. “Is not.”
”She is,” he said. “Every damn time.”
Another afternoon, you practically dragged him away from sharpening arrows because the baby was going wild. But the second his palm reached your skin, everything went still.
He narrowed his eyes. “Ain’t funny.”
You leaned over and laughed, your belly bouncing up and down, but all he could do was grumble under his breath about stubborn babies.
A few days later, late one evening, the two of you were snuggled up in bed together. The room was nearly pitch black, all except for the moonlight peering in from the curtain.
You were half-asleep with Daryl’s arm resting across your stomach. He was sleeping quietly behind you, breathing against your hair.
Everything was still. Quiet.
And then—thump.
Another kick followed almost immediately. “Daryl,” you whispered excitedly.
”Hm?”
The baby kicked again, straight into his hand. Daryl stilled completely, afraid to even breathe. You glanced around you to see his face, tears stinging both of your eyes.
Another little kick pressed against his palm. He made a sound you had never heard before. Something softer than he had ever allowed to escape his body.
”Oh, Daryl,” you cooed.
And then he laughed, Quiet and disbelieving, but a true laugh. He looked utterly awestruck, in love, happy.
”Hey, baby,” he whispered softly to your stomach, causing the baby to move again. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder blade, trying to muster up some strength.
”She knows your voice.”
”Mhm,” but strength still had not found him. He pulled his head back only to lean down and press a small kiss to your belly. And when you looked at him again, he was smiling. The kind of smile you only got to see when he forgot to hide it.
Soon after, the baby fell back to sleep inside of you. The two of you settled back into each other. The only sound filling the room was your breathing and the crickets chirping outside your window.
”I hope she has your eyes,” you said softly.
”Ya finally agree she’ll be a girl?” He laughed.
“I may have a feeling…”
He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, taking a moment to breathe you in.
You felt safe as your heavy eyes fluttered shut as Daryl continued rubbing slow circles across your exposed stomach. He held you both tightly for the rest of the night.
Tudor Dixon returns to Michigan politics with new PAC aimed at boosting Republicans in key battleground
NEWYou can now listen to Fox News articles!
FIRST ON FOX: Former GOP gubernatorial candidate Tudor Dixon is stepping back into Michigan politics, this time as the public face of a new multi-million dollar PAC aimed at boosting Republicans in one of the nation’s most critical swing states.
“Michigan is going to be one of the critical battleground states for ‘26 and ‘28,” Dixon told Fox News…
I don’t understand???? How are you watching Neagley & Dixon be badass as fuck taking out terrorists and NOT be inspired to write hot slash about them? How is there not even a tag for either of them here, let alone a slash tag? I’d like to think it’s out of respect for Neagley, but I strongly suspect it’s the opposite
