the other day i showed my friends some random daryl gif and said "i would def eat those biceps up" and they looked at me reconsidering their life choices of being my friend but i know very well that my tumbrlr girlies would've gone wild and agreed w me instantly, i love my tumblr girlies who won't judge and are just as crazy as i am đđđ
This chapter is definitely not suitable for everyone, it has some pretty difficult topics in it and it's almost 16,000 words. I would recommend taking a break during it. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER.
âDid you hear that?â
Carl stops midstep, his still red and puffy eye unfocusing somewhere over his shoulder as he tries to listen for what he'd thought he'd heard.
Ron gets into a defensive position without hesitation, knife held with the tip gleaming outward. âNo, what?â
âFootsteps,â He replies, lowering his voice to a whisper. He puts a finger over his mouth to signal Ron to be quiet, then points to the trees next to them, motioning for him to hide.
Ron nods once and starts slowly walking in the direction of the trees, trying not to make any noise. He hadn't noticed before, but every time he moves the texture of his jacket makes a loud drag that the leaves blowing isnât enough to cover. He straightens his arms, steps widening to compensate.
Carl follows soon after, his breathing deathly quiet.
He makes it look so easy.
Ron would like to say that itâs only because heâs spent so much time out here when he was younger, but even after his eye was shot out he picked everything right back up again in no time. It doesnât make any sense.
Heâs been trying to learn the same skills and even though itâs been double the time, he still hasnât figured it out.
It would have been nice if Carl had continued to help him learn, but it seems like thatâs not an option anymore.
Whatever. If he can do it, so can he.
âDo you still hear it?â Ron asks with a huff, ears not tuning to whatever noise the other teen is hearing. He glances over his shoulder to see Carlâs eye has gone wide, his own involuntarily mirror his reaction.
âIt's gettinâ closer.â
The blonde clamps his mouth shut, walking faster.
His steps grow less precise as he goes, the soles of his tan leather boots suctioning to the mud and making it significantly harder to be careful. Every soft step runs the risk of stepping on something noisy, but every hard, intentional step nearly gets him stuck.
âDo you stillâ?â The question fizzles out as he loses his balance and is forced to catch himself with his other leg, boot crushing a dry branch. It cracks loudly in the silence of the woods and he freezes like a deer in headlights.
Instantly, he's tackled.
Carl drags him to the ground and brings him to a downward slope in the trail they're walking, pressing a hand over the blondeâs mouth. âHold your breath.â
summary: Carl goes looking for you, his best friend, after a tense afternoon in Alexandria. The problem? Neither of them is willing to admit what's actually bothering them.
a/n: first serious post or something like that! i write in Spanish and the content is translated into English. i appreciate your reposts or comments; my questions are open and I love receiving them. please feel free to correct me if there are any grammatical errors;)
content warnings: Part 1?, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, Dixon!reader, Carl Grimes x Reader, friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealousy, oblivious teenagers, slow burn, Alexandria era, pre-Saviors timeline, awkward flirting, emotional constipation, fluff with angst, no outbreak spoilers beyond Alexandria. I think that's all?
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Carl walked through the woods with a tight feeling in his chest, each step more cautious than the last as he kept a hand on the gun tucked into his pocket.
His eyes scanned the trees around him, jaw clenched, searching for something that might already be too far away to find.
You.
His best friend.
Getting used to Alexandria had been difficult for everyone, especially you and your dad. Neither of you trusted all the comfort the place offered, and neither of you felt like you belonged there. Carl already had his own opinions about the people in the community, but he'd only ever shared them with his father.
Rick had told you and Carl that meeting other kids your age would be good for you.
That was how the two of you ended up in Ron's room with him, his friend Mikey, and his girlfriend, Enid.
Everything went pretty much the way they expected.
Carl spent most of the afternoon playing video games with Ron and Mikey while you looked completely uninterested in being there.
The truth was a little different.
The moment Carl walked into the room and saw Enid, he froze.
Ever since the prison fell, he hadn't met another girl besides you.
To Carl, she had simply caught his attention.
To you, it was a lot less simple.
It was uncomfortable enough having to shove your so-called best friend just to get him to stop staring.
After that afternoon, the two of you left the Andersons' house.
Carl hadn't seen you since.
But he knew exactly where you'd be.
Now he was making his way through the woods, looking for any sign that you hadn't gone too far.
You were so damn much like Daryl.
Always disappearing without saying a word.
As Carl replayed the scene in Ron's room over and over againâthe way your expression had tightened before the two of you went your separate waysâhe barely had time to react when something shot past him, missing him by inches.
An arrow.
Of course Daryl had taught you how to use that thing.
The arrow buried itself into a tree right in front of him, making him jump before spinning around.
"Can you stop following me? You're way too loud."
Your voice echoed through the trees.
Carl looked up, finally realizing where it was coming from.
How the hell did you get up there?
Then again, he didn't really need an explanation.
You were a Dixon.
"What? I wasn't following you, I just..." He sighed. "What are you doing out here? It's dangerous."
His voice came out shakier than he would've liked.
"I don't need some little sheriff looking after me."
Carl's expression faltered slightly.
He adjusted his hat and glanced down at the ground.
"I just didn't want you out here alone."
"So you were worried about me?"
"I didn't say that. I mean... it's not that I wasn't..." He groaned. "Can we just go back before it gets dark, please?"
His tone sounded almost pleading.
He wasn't afraid of the woods.
He knew both of you could take care of yourselves.
He just hoped Alexandria wouldn't make you soft like the people living inside it.
You'd both survived too much to let that happen.
Still, Carl preferred knowing you were safe behind the walls.
There wasn't any reason to keep taking risks.
"Oh, so are you excited to see if there are any more girls to drool over? Want to introduce me some?"
Damn it. Your mouth has always worked faster than your mind.
Carl frowned, adjusting his hat again and resting his free hand on his hip.
Every day he looked more and more like his father.
"I wasn't drooling."
"I think you were."
"I looked at her for five seconds."
"It felt like five hours."
"...Then why were you paying attention to how long I was looking?"
Silence.
You clenched your jaw and looked away with a heavy sigh.
"Forget it, Carl. You can go back on your own."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, frowning. "Is this about Enid? Relax. I'm not gonna replace you with that girl. Now can you get down from there?"
Eventually, you jumped from the tree, still unconvinced.
You adjusted the strap of your crossbow over your shoulder and narrowed your eyes as you stepped toward him.
Your dad always made the thing look lighter.
"Whatever, Grimes. This isn't about your new friend. She barely even talks to you."
You yanked the arrow from the tree and wrapped your hand around it before turning away and heading back the way Carl had come.
It didn't take him long to follow.
The two of you walked without saying another word.
Every now and then, Carl glanced over at you and pressed his lips together, trying to figure out how to start.
But things always ended the same way.
The two of you would grit your teeth and keep moving forward.
Neither of you ever knew just how much the other one cared.
That silence felt heavier on nights like this.
When you stood on the porch of the house you shared with Daryl and Carol, stealing glances toward the Grimes' house while trying to get used to those unfamiliar walls.
That silence was going to kill you someday.
What if neither of them found the courage to make the first move?
What if someone else came along who wasn't afraid of what might happen?
Carl only thought about that kind of thing when he sat on the porch of the house he shared with Rick, Michonne, and Judith
Only when he caught himself looking over at you.
Only when the two of you pretended not to notice each other until one of you finally went inside because the silence had become too much to bear.
đđđ'đ đđđ đđđ â s. stilinski
pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader
summary: you get badly hurt by peter and stiles is desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but he can't and you slowly pass out. stiles is there crying leaning over you trying to wake you up, you never wake up.
warnings: angst, death, bleeding, mentions of peter, stiles crying, passing out
the air in the preserve is always thick, but tonight it feels heavy. heavy with the smell of pine and damp earth and something else. something metallic and wrong. it's the smell of your blood.
it's all over stiles' hands. slick and warm and impossible. he keeps pressing, keeps trying to stop it, but it just keeps seeping through his fingers, a relentless tide of red. his hands are shaking so badly he can barely keep the pressure steady.
"okay, okay, just... just stay with me," he's saying, his voice a frantic, high-pitched thing you barely recognize. it's usually so full of sarcastic quips and nervous energy. now it's just raw. shredded with panic. "you're fine. you're totally fine. we're fine. scott's coming. he'll be here any second and he'll... he'll do his wolfy thing and you'll be good as new. just... just don't close your eyes. hey. look at me."
you try. you really do. you try to focus on his face, on the constellation of moles across his cheekbone, on the desperate, pleading look in his whiskey-colored eyes. but everything's blurry. the edges of your vision are softening, darkening, like a photograph left out in the sun too long.
it was peter hale. it's always peter hale. one minute you were walking with stiles, complaining about the latest supernatural nonsense, the next there was a flash of blue eyes and a sickening crunch. you don't even know what he hit you with. you just remember the pain, a blinding, white-hot agony in your side, and stiles screaming your name.
"please," he whispers now, and his voice cracks. a tear escapes, tracing a clean path through the dirt and blood on his cheek. he doesn't even seem to notice it. all his focus is on you, on the gaping wound in your side that his hands are failing to fix. "please, just... just breathe. you can do that, right? just... in and out. with me. come on."
he tries to demonstrate, taking a shaky, hitching breath, but it dissolves into a choked sob. "shit. shit, i'm sorry. i'm trying. i'm trying so hard."
you want to tell him it's okay. you want to reach up and wipe the tear away, to tell him that this isn't his fault, that he's the best thing that's ever happened to you. but you can't. your limbs feel like they're made of lead, heavy and unresponsive. all your energy is focused on the simple, monumental task of trying to draw another breath.
"scott!" he yells, his voice cracking on the name. he's not yelling at you anymore. he's yelling into the trees, at the empty darkness. "scott, where are you?! i need you! we need you!"
the pressure on your side lessens for a second as he fumbles with his phone, his bloody fingers slipping on the screen. "no, no, no," he chants, a desperate mantra. "pick up, pick up, pick up."
he gives up, throwing the phone aside with a cry of frustration. his hands are back on you, pressing harder than before. "it's okay," he says, and he's talking to himself now as much as he's talking to you. "it's okay. we don't need him. we can do this. me and you. we always do this. remember that time with the pixies?^1^ you were so annoying then. you kept... you kept making jokes and i wanted to... i wanted to..."
his voice trails off. the memory is too painful. too happy. a stark contrast to the horror of right now.
you can feel the cold starting to set in. it's a strange kind of cold, a deep, bone-deep chill that has nothing to do with the night air. it's leeching the warmth from your body, replacing it with a numb, heavy stillness. the pain is fading, becoming a distant echo. that's almost scarier.
he's crying in earnest now, his shoulders shaking with silent, racking sobs. his tears are falling onto your face, hot and salty. "please," he whispers, his forehead dropping to yours. it's a desperate, final plea. "please wake up. just open your eyes. one more time. just... look at me."
but you can't. the darkness is pulling you under, a soft, quiet blanket. the last thing you hear is the sound of his heart breaking, a single, ragged gasp of your name.
and then, nothing.
he stays there for a long time. hours, maybe. or maybe it's only minutes. time has lost all meaning. he just leans over you, his body curled around yours, his hands still pressed uselessly against the wound that's no longer bleeding. he's not trying to fix it anymore. he's just... holding on.
the distant sound of yelling eventually cuts through the fog in his head, and the frantic crashing of someone running through the underbrush. scott. it's scott. but it doesn't matter. it's too late.
he doesn't move when he gets there. he doesn't answer when his best friend calls his name. he just keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closed, whispering the same words over and over again, a prayer to a god who isn't listening.
"come back," he whispers. "please, just come back."
tw: implied teen pregnancy, non-graphic mentions of past SA, zero romantic miscommunication, self blame, mentioned wounds + eye socket, substance abuse, panic attacks, slight regression, violence, mentions of child death.
The next morning when Daryl wakes up all he can hear is the sound of you retching between pained whines, objects clattering as you move around as quietly as you can despite your sickness to prevent waking him.
He sits up with an apology on his tongue for upsetting you yesterday, he was just trying to protect you, but before he can say a single word youâre glaring at him with teary eyes and slamming the barn doors shut behind you.
Is it strange that all he could think when he saw your face was that it was too hot outside for the long sleeve shirt you were wearing? âThat you could overheat, especially since he didnât see a canteen of water anywhere on you? He was planning to wake up early and get you something special to make you feel better, but you let him oversleep just to avoid him.
Daryl sighs and holds his head in his hands.
He really hopes he didnât just destroy what little vulnerability youâve been offering him. He needs to know what happened to you for his own sanity. Not knowing just how badly youâd been hurt is killing him. He wants to help, but every time heâs tried itâs been a horrible misstep.
You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, cringing at the taste of acid clinging to your tongue.
âEw,â You complain under your breath, slowing the pace youâre walking at once you realize that Daryl isnât going to follow you.
Whatever, itâs not like you wanted him to. Youâd rather wander Hilltop alone a hundred times over than be chained to Daryl for the rest of your life⊠Or more accurately, the other way around.
You sniffle, wiping your eyes on your sleeve.
Thatâs all youâve ever been to him since the day he met you, a burden.
He took you in to correct the mistake he made in capturing you in one of his nets, and the rest, well⊠you suppose maybe he learned to like you eventually, but all of it seemed to have meant a lot more to you than it did him. He saddled himself with teaching you how to survive out of a sense of duty to his fellow man and you couldn't even repay that kindness with honesty.
Now that he knows what a disgusting creature youâve become, if you were anything else before, he knows you arenât worthy of being a part of this group anymore.
Some part of you knows thatâs not true, but you bury it deep.
Thereâs too much trying to claw its way out of you already, the long gone phantoms of hands on your body carving into your skin, sharp heat splitting you open as your back scrapes against the concrete of a cell, eyes unable to adjust to the darkness swarming you. Sometimes you wondered if there was something over your eyes, or if it was your own inability to adjust to the pitch black.
Your fists clench at your sides, shaking, your brow furrowed in frustration at how dizzy youâre starting to feel from even abstract thoughts about the room. âNot even the one where you were supposed to be getting tortured.
Why are you so weak all of a sudden?
It was one thing for other people to infantilize you and treat you like you were helpless despite all the ways you proved yourself, but now youâre doing it to yourself.
Youâre afraid of your own mind when there could very well be a real threat inside you still.
âBambi!â
You try not to turn your head at the sound of Carlâs voice breaking through the thick atmosphere youâve blanketed around yourself, but your body moves on its own to watch his familiar figure jog down the path towards you with a smile on his face.
He looks so genuinely happy to see you âyou, of all peopleâ that it makes your chest ache.
You barely think about it before turning away and running off.
You hear his steps stop behind you for a split second before they resume at a faster pace, his boots crunching on the gravel.
âBambi?â He calls again, catching up with you with ease. You used to be faster than this. Faster than him. He bends his upper body so that heâs ahead of you with his face in front of yours, smile quickly fading when he sees the serious look on your face. âWhatâs the matter?â
You try not to look at him, instead turning your back and darting away faster this time until your lungs feel like theyâre about to burst with every stride.
Carl follows.
As Hilltop flies by in your peripheral, the pain in your chest gets bad enough that youâre letting out pathetic whimpers every few breaths, teeth clenched.
âDid I do somethinâ wrong?â He shouts from behind you with an anxious edge. The more you run from him, the more stricken he looks, the more you want to get as far away from him as possible before you taint him. ââIf I did somethinâ, please tell me!â
He doesnât even sound like heâs out of breath, itâs not fair. Itâs not fair.
Your legs get less coordinated, physically unable to keep the speed youâd been going at. You let out a frustrated scream, ignoring the weary looks you get from other people as you slow down and slip between a few buildings to avoid a majority of the residents wandering around.
Carl turns to the side and slips in after you.
âWas it what I said yesterday? I didnât mean for it toâŠâ He bites his tongue, eye searching the ground as he walks a few feet behind you trying to figure out what went wrong. âIâm sorry, Bambi. I justâ I didnât mean toââ He chokes back a soft sound and you stop in your tracks. âIâm sorry.â
You turn to face him, seeing the way he grips and twists his own skin trying to hold himself back, the pain giving him something other than the worry to focus on.
He might not be crying, but he looks genuinely destroyed by what youâd been doing, like this was the inevitable conclusion to what had been going on between the two of you and he knows itâs time to let go now.
You understand that.
It always feels like the good things in this world are moments away from oblivion.
You step forward and take his face into your hands to caress the apples of his cheeks, the tip of your left thumb teasing the edge of his scar where it's poking out from beneath the bandages. His upper lip twitches uncertainly and he leans into the touch, staring back as your gaze darts between his hidden socket and his untouched eye.
Carl puts his hand over yours where it rests on him.
âIt wasn't me?â He sniffs dryly.
You shake your head, feeling your resolve to escape him waver.
âThen why are you running from me?â
Because when he finds out everything that happened when you were away âand he will find outâ things between you will end, and youâll both be devastated. You donât want to lose him. You donât want him to hate you or treat you any differently than he already is.
âIâm⊠grossâŠâ You admit in a whine, eyes shining with unshed tears. âI donât deserve someone like you in my life.â
His brow raises slightly but he tries to cover the reaction.
âYouâre always so nice to me and I donât know why⊠I know I donât deserve it. Iâm a terrible person, I lied to everyone and now Iââ You cut yourself off with a frustrated eye roll, lowering your head to stare down at your boots as your tears fall onto them, washing away some of the grime.
âOh, Bambi,â Carl lets go of your hand and pulls you into his arms, resting his head atop your messy curls.
You sniffle, pawing at your eyes to try and stop the tears from coming.
âYou're not gross and you're not a terrible person,â He says after a moment, giving you a particularly tight squeeze to help soothe you. âWhat happened?â
You shake your head, hugging back and letting the tears drip onto his flannel with a suppressed wail.
For a split second Carl thinks he catches something familiar in the way your body trembles against him, hands clawing for purchase on the only thing youâve deemed safe in what feels like thousands of miles of empty sea trying to pull you under. He lets you collapse against him, leaning against the side of one of the trailers for support as he holds you.
He doesnât want to ask. He really doesnât.
âDid somebody⊠make you upset?â He asks after a moment, swallowing hard.
You nod against his shoulder.
âAre youââ He blinks hard enough to see stars, grip on you tightening. âDid they hurt you?â
You shake your head, taking a deep breath to try and settle yourself.
At least thereâs that, right? You arenât being hurt anymore. You should be grateful, not disappointed that things are changing.
Carl lets out a shaking exhale, pushing your shoulders back so that he can look into your eyes as he wipes the tears away. âYouâre not usually this sensitive, so he was more than a little shocked when you broke down the way you did.
âWhat can I do to make you feel better?â He asks, relieved to see that the question makes you smile, even if it is downwards from embarrassment.
Kisses?, you sign, adding an audible, âHm?â to indicate that it's a question.
He leans in and presses his lips to your cheek a few times, hat slipping upward. You grab it and pull it back onto his head, the tips of your noses touching when he pulls back from your cheek to see what youâre doing.
You avert your eyes, not moving to stop the contact even though you know itâs a bad idea.
âYouâre allowed to have good things yâknow,â He says softly, almost sounding remorseful. âI donât know why you think so much of me⊠Iâm not all that special. Youâre goinâ to wind up disappointed.â
âNever,â You say with complete certainty.
He hums, prying the fingers of one of your hands from his shirt to take it in his, slowly kissing his way up from your knuckles to the part of your arm covered in the flowering burns from the iron. He pauses at the bend of your elbow to push the half sleeves youâre wearing up to gain access to the worst of it, but you pull it back.
âI want to see your face,â You breathe. âItâs not fair that I canât see you.â
Carl just stares at you.
â...Your voice sounds better,â He deflects weakly.
âPlease?â You beg.
Slowly he reaches up and sticks his thumb underneath the bandage over his eye, taking a deep breath and holding it as he takes his hat off and pulls the gauze over his head to expose the empty socket. He sets his hat on the stack of crates behind him, taking longer than he needs to set it down with his hair in front of his face.
âThere,â He cautions defensively, losing the usual confidence the bandage gives him. âItâs off now, so⊠there.â
You smile with eye contact, meaning every second of it.
âI donât understand why you want to look at⊠it,â He gulps. âI donât even like to.â
ââCause itâs your face, and I love you,â You confess without thinking too much about the gravity of the words youâre using. They seem right. Even without this new development in the way you treat each other, you would still describe the way you feel about him with the word love.
Youâve grown as a part of the same family of survivors, gotten closer than most people will ever be.
His eye goes wide at your choice of words, cheeks going pink.
âI want to kiss you,â He warns as he leans in, which you think is odd considering youâve done it so many times now. You close your eyes and lean up, but he doesnât make contact yet. âIs that okay?â
You open your eyes, tipping your head to the side as you press your lips to his.
Carl laughs into the kiss at how annoyed youâd looked, but he had to be sure you were okay with him doing something like this given how shaken youâd been.
He pulls back from the kiss and peppers the side of your face and jaw with sweet, markless pecks. âYouâre so pretty, Bambi.â
You blush, looking away with embarrassment.
âAw, donât be like that,â He teases, moving to your neck and collar. âItâs not fair that I canât see you,â He repeats, voice teasing.
You groan, glaring at him with suspicion when he pauses over your pulse point.
âI remember after they found you, when you started to heal up, my dad and the rest of us would talk about different ways to make you smile âcause it was so cute when you did,â Carl laughs, gently nosing your neck. âYou kept peopleâs morale up. You still do.â
You bite your lip nervously, feeling like you're doing something very wrong despite not doing anything at all.
âNobody hates you, Bambi. People donât care that you lied, and if they do they can suck it,â He pauses after kissing the round of your shoulder, making eye contact. âYou proved yourself to this group enough that it shouldnât matter. They know who you are, and you donât owe them anythinâ more than that.â
He sounds so angry on your behalf. âLike it genuinely doesnât bother him that you werenât honest.
Huh.
You smile awkwardly, blinking at the warm feeling spreading through your stomach like butterflies covered in sticky sweet syrup, wings fluttering.
âYou act fragile now, but I remember windinâ up on my ass in the dirt ânough times when we sparred to know that's not true,â He banters, poking you in the side until you laugh. âThere you are, with that pretty voice.â
âCarl,â You whine, bracing yourself on his shoulders.
He leans back in and presses his lips to yours, hands soothingly stroking your sides.
Even if it means that heâs teasing you, he seems to have gotten over the shame that initially comes with exposing his whole face.
Carl licks into your mouth, drinking up every soft sigh you make in response. Your grip on his shoulders moves until youâre clutching the material of his outer shirt, tugging him closer to you with the benefit of knowing that at any moment you can tug at it and heâll break the kiss.
He moves his hands from your sides to around your waist, forcing you onto your tiptoes closer to him. âYou can feel his heart beating fast in his chest beneath your hand as you slide them from their place near the sides of his collar to his chest.
The only thing that pulls you from the rhythm of the kiss is the abrupt start of some off-key music nearby, sparking the realization that youâre long out of breath.
Itâs a nice song, soft, but kind of creepy as it echoes in the shadowed space youâre in between trailers.
Turning back towards one another, you both start laughing softly.
You grip the fabric of his shirt, leaning against his chest again and snuggling into the warmth, his head resting on yours as he sways the both of you to the music.
+
+
+
The manâs adams apple bobs as he gulps down the tinted liquid, the alcohol gurgling as it sloshes around in the bottle and floods his throat.
âBrother, take it easy,â Rick warns.
Darylâs fingers slip because of the condensation on the bottle, but it doesnât deter him. He flips Rick off, wincing as he shuts his eyes to gulp down the rest without taking a breath.
When his lips finally come off of the bottle, he gasps for air, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. âHow am I supposâ tâ take it easy when that kidâs out there thinkinâ Iâm tryna separate âer from âer besâ friend?â
âYouâre not,â Rick points out.
âBut thaâs what she thinks,â He slurs bitterly. âI bet theyâre together right now. Sneakinâ around doinâ god knows what.â
âWellââ The other man wrenches what he hopes is a spare bolt out of the car, squinting uncertainly at it before tossing it onto the ground. âIt's sorta like Romeo and Juliet, the more you try to keep âem apart, the more desperate they get. Doinâ what we were was only gonna make âem restless⊠Theyâd start takinâ risks.â
âBut we canât jusâ let themâŠâ Daryl scowls at the idea, shaking his head to clear it of the horrifying scenarios heâs been picturing for you at every wrong turn. âYou didn't see âem together, man. The way she looks at him. It'sâŠâ He winces.
The other man furrows his brow.
âMm. I might not have seen it, but I know what you mean,â Rick sighs, shaking his head slowly. âWhen I tried talkinâ to Carl about some changes I decided needed to happen, he started puffinâ out his chestââ
âLittle shit,â Daryl interrupts, snorting.
ââPuffin' out his chest, tellinâ me he wasn't gonna listen even if it meant beinâ punished. Said that tellinâ him to be gentle with her was condescendinâ,â Rick scoffs. âHe didn't care to hear my reasoninâ, didn't listen when I tried to tell him there was more goinâ on than he knows about.â
Daryl growls lowly. âThatâs exactly why âm worried⊠That boy donât know what heâs doinâ. Heâs gonna hurt her.â
It wouldnât even be on purpose.
âTellinâ him no only made him want to be closer to her⊠I think they think we're against them,â The man finishes, brow furrowed in thought. âBut I agree. Without any kind of interference from us, this will go badly.â
âWhat're we gonna do about it then?â
âI don't know yetâŠâ The other man says softly. âKeepinâ them from beinâ alone for too long sounds like a good step to make sure she doesn't get âtriggeredâ or whatever you want to call it. âI don't want her freakinâ out, and I don't want Carl makinâ it worse by doinâ the wrong thing if she does. Poor kid.â
Daryl sniffs dryly, looking down at the bottles sitting on the stack of cinder blocks to the right of the car theyâre supposed to be working on together, most empty, but a lucky few still full.
Rick barely took a sip of his still open beer next to him, but Daryl worked his way through three beers, a jar of moonshine, and some hard liquor he found that was too impure to be used for medical purposes.
He feels guilty for drinking this much when heâs supposed to be responsible, he never would have done this before he found that test in your bedding, but now he canât seem to stop. The pit in his stomach is never ending and always hungry for all the things that could get him killed.
âI actually needed to talk to you about somethinâ...â Rick says, setting the tools down and turning around to face the other man properly. He looks uneasy. âI know this ainât the best time, but all things considered, I think you deserve a heads up.â
âOkay?â Daryl grunts.
âI, uhâŠâ The other man stops with an exhale, clearing his throat. âIt's no cause for concern, alright? It's beinâ handledâŠâ
Daryl doesn't like the sound of that, doesn't like that whatever it is he's trying to say has him stalling.
âSpit it out.â
âSome⊠Saviors were spotted nearby, searchinâ for somethinâ,â Rick admits, spitting the other group's name like it's poison.
Daryl feels his stomach plummet a hundred feet underground, the alcohol and the sun beating down on the back of his neck leaving him feeling dizzy on his feet. He tries to say something, he thinks, but he just winds up staring at the other man with wide eyes, his breathing sharp.
He can hear his heart beating in his ears.
âWe donât know what they were lookinâ for, âkay?â Rick continues, seeing that the other is stunned to silence. âCould âa been anythinâ, doesnât have to be Hilltop, orâŠâ the two of you, he doesnât say. âAnything important... could be nothinâ at all. âThey were a few miles out, nowhere near here, and they werenât in vehicles. They went back to wherever they came from,â He tries to reassure.
Daryl blinks a few times, trying to swallow the sudden wave of nausea that's hit him.
The smell of the cell he was in invades his nostrils, the ever-present scent of urine and blood in the air clinging to his skin.
He can't go back a third time.
âRick, if they were out lookinâ for somethinâ and they didnât fuckinâ find it, theyâll be back!â Daryl shouts angrily, starting to pace in small circles. âFuck. Fuck! How long have you known about this?!â
âThis morninâ, the scouts saw âem last night,â Rick says softly, reaching out to try and comfort him, completely expecting it when his hand gets shrugged off.
âThe kidsâve been goinâ outside the gates, man!â Daryl shouts in a panic, rubbing his hands over his face.
âNot far. Theyâve practically been in the front yard, always with other people around,â The other man says with confidence. âNothinâ happened to them.â
âIt COULD have!â Daryl shouts, stopping to glare. âYou don't know how close they've come, how many times they've searched for us! For her!â
He can already picture the look in those big doe eyes of yours when you realize you've been caught again, that you'll never really escape them because Daryl can't protect you. He couldn't even protect himself.
âThey might not even be lookinâ for you!â Rick shouts back exasperatedly.
âAnd what if she had seen them? Huh?! What if she hears about it today? âHow is she supposâ tâŠâ Daryl stops mid rant, swiping at his eyes. âGodâŠâ
Rick's shoulders drop when he hears the man sniffle. â...Daryl?â
â...She's not gettinâ better, man,â Daryl mutters under his breath in response, voice weak. âShe wet the fuckinâ bed yesterday⊠like a babyâŠâ
Rick inhales sharply, rubbing at his upper lip with his thumb resting on his cheek to hide the reaction he has to that information.
âIf she gets worse⊠if sheâŠ.â Daryl shakes his head. âIf she winds up feelinâ likeâŠâ
Beth.
âYou won't let it get to that point, Daryl,â Rick says wearily, looking away at the mention of the Greene sister. âYou take good care of Bambi. She's never shown any signs of wantinâ to hurt herself like that.â
âBut what if she does wind up feelinâ that way, ân I'm not thereâŠ?â The man asks with a voice crack. âWhen she⊠I⊠I mocked her for it. âThat was one of the last conversations she had, and I was mockinâ her for slittinâ her wrists at the start.â
Rick doesnât know how to respond to that information. He feels the usual disgust and discomfort he would at the topic, but with years of experience both in the old world and the new, that information doesn't make him nearly uncomfortable as it should. He only feels the ache of the girl's absence, the warmth of her voice at the prison echoing through the halls.
She was a bright girl and the world snuffed her out like it was nothing.
âYou loved her,â Rick laments softly. âJust like we all did.â
âIâŠâ Daryl starts to deny it, push the memories of her down like he always does, but instead he swallows hard and nods once. âYeah. I did.â
And it wasn't enough to keep her alive. It never is.
The two men stare at the ground for a while, the only sound aside from their breathing the rustling of trees blowing in the wind, the sky a dreary color.
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âSo⊠this is where weâve been stayinâ,â Carl says nervously, leaning his back up against the door to shut it behind you.
His room is small. Bare, unlike the one heâd had in Alexandria. Even the walls themselves look weak, thinly insulated by a layer of what looks like white painted particle board. Against the center of one of those walls, thereâs a bed with a rust colored metal frame and mismatched sheets that hang loosely on it, a comforter curled up near the pillows like heâd been sitting there earlier. The only fixture aside from the bed is a wooden desk in the corner of the room with a few comics ânowhere near his full collectionâ sitting on it. He must have lost them in the attack.
Maybe thatâs why most of his things are anxiously and haphazardly stuffed into a backpack at the foot of the bed.
âItâs nice,â You try to console.
Thereâs a gentle breeze coming in through the cracked window, sheer white curtains swaying gently in the wind.
The moment you look at it, he walks over to it and opens it wider for you.
âItâs hot, but, uhmâŠâ He pauses, watching as you walk over and sit on the edge of his bed, legs dangling off the end of it until your foot touches something raised and you look down to see one of Judithâs toys half tucked underneath it. You smile at it and pull your legs up to sit criss-cross. âUhm⊠With the window, itâ Yâknow what? Let me just grab that.â
He comes over and bends down in front of you, picking the rainbow caterpillar up and tossing it onto the desk.
When he turns back towards you, you grab his wrist with one hand and lace your fingers with his using the other.
âYou seem nervous.â
âI am,â He says with a gulp. âThis isnât like before. This isnât my room. Maggie doesnât even know if this is where weâll stay. âI think she thinks weâre just waitinâ for things to cool off so we can go rebuild in Alexandria and IâŠâ He sits down on the bed next to you, posture slumping as he looks away. âThe idea of goinâ back there makes me nervous.â
You frown, remembering how easily the Saviors got inside during the attack, all the smoke and walkers clouding your vision, the fire seemingly never ending.
âMe too.â
âI almost died. You and Daryl got taken. Judith is still havinâ nightmaresâŠâ Carl reaches up and pulls his hat off again, setting it on top of his backpack. âNone of this feels real.â
He flops down onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a searching gaze.
You turn towards him and lie on your side, shuffling closer until youâre tucked underneath his arm, staring up with him.
âI like it here,â Carl admits. âThey have more people, more food, more everythinâ... This is the kind of life I picture for Judith,â He pauses, sighing. âBut I donât think my dad wants to stay. I'm pretty sure he wants to go back and try to reclaim whateverâs left of Alexandria, divide and conquer so that we stand a better chance if one of the settlements gets attacked again.â
It's the smart thing to do, especially given that everyone from Alexandria would have to hide when the Saviors come here for collections. âAND they'll already be on the look out for all of you, hoping to capture one of the people Negan put a bounty on.
âI like it here too,â You curl closer to him, wrapping your arm around his torso with tears in your eyes.
You get to be kids here. You get to make flower crowns and eat cookies without working your hands bloody for it, without worrying that everything will fall apart in the moments you spend idle.
âWhatever happens⊠I hope we stick together,â Carl laughs somberly. âIâm sick of losinâ people and gettinâ split up. I don'tâ I donât want to lose you. I was so scared when youââ His voice cracks.
You squeeze him tighter. You donât ever want to let go.
He rolls over so that youâre facing one another lying on your sides.
Your fingers dig into his back, clutching the fabric of his outer shirt. He does the same to you, clinging with one of his hands braced on your nape, both of your faces buried in each otherâs necks.
You hear two thuds as he kicks off his boots, legs curling and tangling with yours.
Carl never imagined getting to hold you like this, getting to hear your voice again, after you were gone. He knows that youâre a fighter. He knows that youâre strong. Knows that youâd break your own fingers scraping by to get freedom, live out a thousand life sentences, make the impossible happenâŠ
He ghosts a hand over the burns on your arm.
âŠBut he was too scared to think about the hope he had for longer than a second.
He didnât expect to see that smile, or that face, ever again, didnât think youâd come home even if you did survive. He pictured the day Daryl would return home after losing you to the woods, or never having seen you at all in the Saviorâs compound, unable to track you down and all the more jaded for it with a pitt in his stomach.
You like to run. Youâre good at it. And more than once youâve outrun your would-be hunters. You wouldnât leave a trail.
But you didnât run. You came home.
Despite everything that happened and all the reasons you had to run, you came home.
The two of you jump when the door handle rattles like someoneâs trying to get inside, Carlâs hand instantly on the holster strapped to his leg until a small knock follows the attempt.
âCarl?â Michonne calls from the other side, sounding hesitant.
The teen pulls back from you slowly, never fully letting go of you as he sits up and helps you do the same.
âUhââ He clears his throat, trying to shake the raw emotion from his voice. âYes?â
âIs Bambi in there, by any chance?â She asks slowly.
Carl furrows his brow skeptically, glancing at you in his periphery with a gulp.
âWeâre just hanginâ out⊠talkinâ and stuffâŠâ He says, somewhat sheepishly.
â...â
â...â
â...Carl, I know you two are close, but your dad said not to have the door closed anymore,â She reminds, clearly apprehensive to enforce the rule. âJust⊠crack it, alright?â
What?
You look at Carl for an explanation and find him frowning back at you with a frustrated, sorry look in his eye. He shakes his head and looks away, leaping from the bed and walking over to throw the door open so the woman can see whatâs not going on inside the room.
Her eyes do a once over, refusing to linger on anything for longer than a second aside from the bed youâre sitting on.
You swallow uncomfortably, pulling your knees up to your chest.
âMichonneâŠâ Carl pleads, but the woman doesnât react.
Instead she thanks him softly for opening the door, turning her attention to you and nodding in awkward greeting.
You hesitantly give her an equally uncomfortable wave.
Youâve been in Carlâs room hundreds of times, slept in his bed, disappeared with him for hours on end outside the walls back when you lived in Alexandria and nobody ever questioned it, but suddenly they donât trust you enough to be alone with him?
âThis is so dumb. Iâve killed people, but I canât have my door closed anymore when Bambi is here, just because sheâs a girl?â Carl huffs, crossing his arms over his chest at her. âI already told him Iâm not followinâ any of those stupid rules.â
âI knââ Michonneâs brow twitches at the end of his second sentence.
Not meaningfully, not on purpose, but it is a tell. She stops because she doesnât understand what heâs saying. Because she knows, and he doesnât.
Her eyes flick to yours and by whatever haunted look youâve had on your face since you caught the small movement, now she knows that you know she knows.
For a moment it feels as if youâre sharing one brain, both on the same sinking ship, eyes locked but unable to do anything to help the other.
But then she blinks and turns back to Carl with confusion, the understanding gone.
âI get why my dad is tryinâ to keep us apart, but you too?â He sighs, turning around and walking back over to the bed to sit back down next to you. âIt isn't right to punish us when we didn't do anythinâ wrong.â
She parts her lips, head cocked.
You slowly shake your head. Donât.
Please, not yet.
She closes it again, scanning the empty wall to reorganize her thoughts, then tries again.
Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Donât. Please, donât do it. Donât say anything, you plead silently, eyes getting wider every second she hesitates on what to say next.
Michonne finally catches your gaze again and manages to find her voice.
âItâs⊠supposed to rain later,â She says softly, eyes downcast at the floor with guilt. She wanted to tell him for the sake of loyalty, but she also doesn't want to be the one to break his heart like that. âMake sure you shut the window.â
She pulls the door up, leaving it as minimally cracked as possible.
Carl flops back onto the bed, rubbing his hands down his face with a frustrated laugh. âBut your heart is still pounding too fast in your chest from the fear of him almost finding out through someone else to be relieved.
You choke in a gasp, finally starting to breathe again.
Your vision is bleary with tears, body shivering like youâve been dunked in freezing cold water.
Carl looks over at you, seeing the stiff way youâre sitting, hands tightly gripping the flesh just above your knees. âBambiâŠ?â
âI shouldââ Youâre cut off by a wheeze. âGo. âI should go.â
You donât move a muscle.
Carl sits back up again, confusion written all over his face as he sets a hand on your back like heâs about to try and pull you into one of those compression hugs.
âDonât,â You snap at him with wide eyes, finally regaining enough control of yourself to lean away from the touch.
This is why Daryl doesnât want you near him. Youâre going to mess him up.
He pulls his hand back, nodding slowly. âOkay.â
You sit hunched over on the corner of his bed like that for a while, curled up small and angry, every shift he makes having you glance at him with weary eyes.
He's not going to hurt you. Nobody here is, you know that, it's just difficult to hold onto that thought right now.
Pretty much all of your energy right now is being put into focusing on not reacting the way you would have when you first arrived. When Carlâs hand reached into your space you'd wanted to bite him, hard, and you hadn't even really thought about it. âYou actually started to, but you'd ground your teeth instead, trying not to flee or hide like your body ached for.
Now enough time has passed for you to realize how embarrassing the whole thing was, flinching away from him and almost snapping at him like a dog, curled into this ridiculous defensive position as if youâre not in his room.
Carlâs not looking at you, thank goodness. âHasnât been for a while.
He probably thinks youâre crazy.
âSorry,â You whisper.
âIt's okay,â He whispers back, slowly turning towards you again. Once he's fully facing you, he looks between your eyes, searching. âToday seemed⊠hard, for youâŠâ
You shrug, sniffling dryly.
It was hard.
âIs everythinâ okay?â He asks, voice practically begging for answers despite him trying to tamp it down.
You start to shrug but he holds up a hand to interrupt the movement.
âBe honest. Don't just say what you think other people want to hear,â He frowns. âYouâve been⊠off, and IâŠâ He stops, shifting closer and looking up at you with his full attention, gaze soft and understanding. âWe havenât really talked about when you were gone.â
You push your hair back, dragging your fingers through it and pulling when you feel your eyes start to water again. You bury your face in your knees, shutting them as tightly as you can to stop yourself from crying.
You can't.
You won't do it to him.
Carl lowers his eye, turning away.
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âIf you had to leave you should have come and got me!â Daryl whisper shouts at the woman, throwing an arm out towards the door.
âMaggie needed help. She's pregnant, Daryl, what was I supposed to do?â Carol scoffs, offended by the suggestion that she was somehow in the wrong for leaving you alone when she was picking up his slack after panicked and ran out on you. âNobody even knew where you were. I would have wound up leavinâ her anyway, tryinâ to look for you!â
Daryl hears you shift in your sleep up in the loft, letting out a small whine.
âShh!â He hisses. âTalk quieter!â
âYou know, I don't think you even really blame me for this. You feel guilty, so you're tryinâ to shift some of the blame onto someone else,â She says, poking him in the chest. âAnd if that ain't some petty, childish, bullshit I don't know what is. âYou need to get over whatever the hell is goinâ on with you lately. Fast. There are more pressinâ issues.â
âThis ain't petty! I'm tryinâ to protect her!â
âAnd abandon her at every turn, might I add,â The woman points out. âYou were takinâ care of her just fine before, but now you're all fucked up over it.â
Daryl scowls, looking away. âIt's different now! I don't know how to handle this, what to say to a kid that wasââ
âSo help me god, if you say that word again, Daryl,â The woman seethes. âWe all know what happened, there's no need to keep sayinâ that word over and over just for shock value. âI know the severity of what happened to that girl, I know how twisted up she is inside right now, but she's not a victim. She's a survivor. Bambi has to move on with her life without lettinâ what happened cage her and stop her from doinâ what she has to, to survive. She has to learn to live with it.â
Darylâs lower lip quivers and he turns it up into a snarl, aggressive posture deflating.
âI don't know what to do,â The man says like a broken record, swaying on his feet. âI know it ain't rational, but now everythinâ seems like a threat to her. I feel like I failed⊠like I wasn't lookinâ out for her enough.â
Carol cocks her head empathetically, making a noise of understanding.
âYou might have run away when she was captured,â The man laments. âBut I let us get separated that day.â
Carol's eyes glaze with nostalgia, remembering the feeling of Sophia's fingers slipping from hers, the last time she would ever touch her daughter.
âYou canât blame yourself for that.â
Daryl shakes his head, forcing his eyes shut. âYes, I can. âI do.â
âIt was an accident, Daryl. You'd given her your bow.â
âShe was still learninâ how to use it,â Daryl says regretfully, remembering the image of you crouched in the bushes with the weapon in your hands, struggling to keep it steady. âI donât know why IâŠâ
He can remember seeing you from across the steady stream of walkers, your face twisted with panic as you tried to cross after he ran off ahead of you. You were panting, hesitating. Clearly struggling with the additional weight. The gap heâd found closed, but he didnât stop to wait for you. Why didnât he stop?
âI should never have left her side. âProbably shouldnât have even run into the fight in the first place,â The man scoffs bitterly, trying to imagine how that day would have played out had he stayed away from it. âA lot of good that did.â
âThere was a bounty on your head, Daryl. You thought she'd be okay if you'd gotten caught,â Carol argues. âYou thought she was safe.â
âSafe?â He laughs. âI ran off ahead of her like it didn't even matter. I didn't tell her where I was goinâ, where to meet me when things brushed overâ!â
âYou put together an entire safehouse to make sure she had somewhere to wait for you!â
âThatâs just basic survival crap!â The man denies, voice raising the more he thinks of you. âYouâre not listeninâ to me, you donât understand!â
âYouâre the one thatâs not takinâ the time to think things through right now, gettinâ all emotional and lettinâ it blind you!â Carol shouts back, pointing an accusing finger at him like a naughty dog. âYou know her! You know how to take care of her! Youâre just beinâ intentionally dense because you donât want to feel like a failure for not noticing!â
The man gets chest to chest with her, breathing heavily through his nose. âI am a failure.â
Carolâs eyes widen at the venom in his voice and she takes a step back, shaking her head.
âYou donât have to be,â She says blankly, eyes fierce. âAt least your child is still here to fail.â
Darylâs snarky reply dies in his throat, air hissing out of his lungs as he mimics her and takes a step back to diffuse the situation.
They both go silent.
âIâŠâ He starts to apologize, then stops, knowing that their situations are entirely different, willing them to be. He swallows hard, feeling like heâs eaten something jagged. âSheâs not my child.â
Carol stares into his eyes tiredly, regretting having come here in the first place. She should have left the group and lived out the rest of her days alone like she had planned, where there was no one to lose and nothing to fight for but another day.
She opens her mouth.
âMAMA!â
The cry is so loud it genuinely startles the two of them, both snapping their heads in the direction of the loft. Carol is still trying to reconcile the loud voice with yours in the crying that follows the shout, but Daryl shoots off like a bullet. He drops the canteen in his hand and clambors up the ladder as quickly as possible. âBambi?â He shouts up towards the loft, scrambling and nearly tripping when he makes it to the top of the ladder. âBambi! Kid?â
He steps onto the platform and disappears from Carolâs sight quietly, so she follows him up, finding the man frozen about three yards from the haybed. His hands are up, reaching and pulling back hesitantly in the air, unsure of what to do because youâre sobbing more frantically than he's ever seen. âYouâre grasping at your blankets like theyâre the only thing keeping you tethered right now, rocking slowly.
Carol expects him to reassure you.
Sheâs seen him do it before, handling the regular mood swings and anxiety youâve had in the past with ease. It only took a conversation, maybe a hug or a playfight, and heâd have you regulated again.
So why is he just standing there?
She stops at his side, looking between the two of you incredulously. â...Daryl? What are you doing?â
âIâ I don't know, IâŠâ The man sputters, shaking his head. His hands go palm up towards you in a placating offer. âI don't know what toâŠâ
âShe had a nightmare,â The woman concludes easily, motioning to you.
âI can see that,â Daryl huffs sarcastically, rolling his eyes at how simple she makes the situation sound. âThanks for the help.â
Just as you start moving across the bed to get to one of his open hands, he drops them without looking at you or realizing that you reached out at all. Your posture falls. You curl away from him, shrinking with your hands locked over your head.
Carol tips her head to the side slowly, narrowing her eyes at him.
âHold her.â
âWhat?â His eyes widen, âNo, Iâ I can't do that,â He quickly refuses, taking a weary half step back.
âWhy not?â She presses. âYou used to do it all the time, and it kept her calm, didnât it?â
Daryl looks contemplative, making a fruitless attempt at sorting through everything everyone has been saying about you. It seemed much simpler when it was just the two of you involved, but he already failed you once on top of not realizing what you were hiding. He proved he wasnât good enough to take care of you.
If he were to forget everything thatâs happened, âas wildly irresponsible as that soundsâ Carol would be right.
âNo,â He says softly, already opening up to the idea despite himself.
The refusal burns you deeply.
âGo away!â You shout through the tears, pulling the blankets over your head to hide.
âShe just wants to be held,â The woman says like it's obvious, putting her hand on his shoulder and urging him forward.
The man stumbles a few steps at the push, continuing to walk by himself until heâs come around to the side of the bed youâre closer to.
âI ain't her dad,â He tries weakly, looking over his shoulder at her to give her a pleading look.
Carol smiles tersely.
âI know. Do it anyway.â
The crying only seems to get louder the longer he stands there not doing anything.
Daryl winces at the wails, his chest aching. âSheâs not my biggest fan right now, I donât think I oughta beââ
âDaryl, sheâs a teenager. Itâs going to seem like she hates you sometimes, but she doesnât,â Carol deadpans, not having any more of his excuses. âSheâs frustrated with the world and sheâs got no place to direct it. âThat girl loves you.â
The man takes a deep breath and steps forward, pushing the blanket back so it falls from your head and you can see one another. You look devastated, and so damn tired. He hesitantly opens his arms. âEy, budââ He tries, shocked when you immediately kick the blankets aside and dart into his arms, wrapping yourself around his neck and your legs around his torso to cling to him.
âI'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,â You wail into his shoulder.
His eyes go wide when he finds himself immediately clinging back, arms snaking around you to cradle the back of your head with his hands.
âI gotcha,â He says breathlessly, wind knocked out of him by the whole thing.
âI don'tââ You hiccup, using the heel of your hand to swipe at your tears. âI don't want to fight anymore. I don't want you to hate me. I'm sorry.â
The words seem to shake him out of whatever stupor he'd been in, gaze sharpening.
âWe're not fightinâ, Bumble-Bea,â Daryl says firmly, turning so that your cheeks are pressed together as he starts bouncing you gently. ââS okay. I'm right here. I don't hate you.â
âYou should. I mess everything up for you⊠You'd be so much happier if I weren't here,â You sob, coughing.
âNo. I wouldn't,â He bristles, patting your back. âI love you, kid. So much. I wouldnât want to be anywhere else right now.â
You cling to him harder when he finally says the words you've been craving, burying your face in his neck and inhaling the scent of his sweat mixed with motor oil. âI love you tooâŠâ
He kisses your cheek repeatedly, ignoring the knowing look Carol gives him when he starts pacing with you in his arms.
Nothing softens a man faster than holding his own child.
âPleaseâ Please donât leave,â You plead. âI donât know why Iâm like this now, Iâm sorry. I donât mean to be. âI can still help, I can be strong, I swear.â
Daryl feels his eyes starting to water.
âI know, buddy. Youâre gonna be okay,â He sniffs. âNone of this was meant to happen. There ainât nothinâ wrong with you.â
You lift your head, fear in your eyes. âButâŠ?â
There are enough âwhat ifâs to spend the whole night talking about them.
Daryl pushes your head back down, anger bubbling in his chest. âWeâll handle it.â
Heâll take care of you.
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When your eyes have finally shut and Daryl is sure you've fallen back asleep for the night, he lays you down in his bed, brushing your hair out of your face.
âNight, Bea,â He mutters, kissing your forehead.
Daryl stays to watch when you smile in your sleep, humming contentedly and pulling the blankets closer to your chest, curling up. He smiles, closing his eyes on the moment to memorize every second of it.
His smile fades and he turns, motioning for Carol to follow him into the darkness outside the barn.
The night is quiet, and for once, the constantly moving and lively commune of Hilltop is still. There are lights on in the distance, but they're few and far between. The only thing that truly catches Darylâs eyes are the pitch black shadows playing tricks on him, dancing and reaching towards him but never pouncing.
âLet's do it,â He finally agrees, swallowing the bitter taste the words leave in his mouth.
He's put a lot of thought into it, and this is the only way he can be sure you're safe right now.
The woman arches a brow. âLet's do⊠what?â
âGo out there. Hunt âem,â He specifies, looking determined. âI'm assuminâ you already heard about those assholes gettinâ spotted nearby? Lurking.â
Carol nods grimly, crossing her arms over her chest.
âSo we kill them like you wanted, keep âem away from here so she never has to see their sorry asses again,â He growls, clenched fists shaking at his sides. âThe ones that got close tested their luck, they're fair game now. Rick can't talk me out of this. Not after tonight.â
She wants to feel relieved by his choice, but the woman knows itâs the sign of a much larger rot. The group is losing trust in itself. And really, it's not sustainable. One way or another, you'll wind up running into the Saviors again and you'll need to be prepared for it. Sheltering you is only going to make it that much worse when it happens.
âTomorrow, before dawn. We'll get out there and ambush anyone we find while it's still dark. âThey wonât notice a few soldiers missinâ as long as we donât leave witnesses,â Carol explains, fingers idly tapping on her arm as she speaks.
âGood,â Daryl breathes, feeling satisfied. â...Iâm gonna start takinâ day shifts in the garage since itâs closer to the gate. âGet a better view of whatâs happeninâ while itâs still goinâ on.â
âThat's a good idea. It could make things cleaner for us,â She hums. âEspecially if you learn the scoutsâ schedule so we don't cross paths with them.â
âClean.â Daryl repeats tonelessly, savoring the syllables of the word to try and understand it.
âYes, Daryl, clean,â Carol warns. âThis is about efficiency, not revenge.â
âI know,â He seethes, looking bloodthirsty. âThat doesn't make it any easier or mean that I don't still want to draw it out, make âem hurt for what they've done. âTo all of us.â
He looks down at his hands, imagining them around someone's neck, squeezing and watching their eyes bulge until their neck snaps with a satisfying crunch.
He closes his fists, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.
summary: seeing isaac between your thighs only happened in your dreams, it could never become a reality... right?
AU: where isaac came back from france and stayed for the rest of the series and everyone is going to the same college
pairings: isaac lahey x reader, isaac lahey x fem! reader
word count: 2.8K
warnings: MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', smut, oral fem!receiving, fingering, fluff, reader and isaac being lovesick idiots, implied p in v, characters are aged up to 18+ and in college, title is a lyric from fragile by laufey, kinda edited
a/n: RAHH i haven't written for isaac since july, so apologies if hes a little ooc but i miss him dearly so here's my first smut for him!! again minors please DNI please and thank you <3
but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!
You made eye contact with Isaacâs cerulean eyes as his breath ghosted your bare stomach, making goosebumps rise against your heated skin as he sunk in between your open legs. You let out a shaky breath as you tipped your head back into the plush pillows, breaking the intense gaze between you and Isaac.Â
You donât know how you got to this position. Well, you do, but you never thought in a million years that this would be happening. Having Isaac in between your thighs only happened in your dreams and imagination when you had the apartment to yourself and wanted to work off some steam in your room, your vibrator on the highest setting as it worked over your sensitive and swollen clit.Â
You had the biggest crush on Isaac since you met the scrawny kid in freshman year back at Beacon, since before you were pulled into the supernatural mess with Scott and eventually Isaac himself. But you hid it well. At least, you thought you did until Lydia cornered you one day and confronted you about your crush on him.Â
You shrugged it off, of course, denying that you had liked him at all and that he was only your best friend, but Lydia was smarter than that, having caught you looking at him longingly as he stared at Allison.Â
When Allison and Isaac got together, it hurt a lot. The pain of having the guy you liked start dating one of your best friends was one you wouldnât wish on anyone. But you played it off and only teased Allison about the irony of being a hunter and being into werewolves. She laughed it off, but Lydia could see the pain in your eyes every time Isaac mentioned her or you saw the two of them close to one another.Â
So when Allison died, you felt conflicted. Half of you was devastated that one of your best friends was gone, forever. But the other half was relieved that she was. You felt so guilty that you felt that way about Allison but kept it to yourself, internalizing it and locking away the information for life.Â
You knew the toll that Allisonâs death took on Isaac, but you guys still had the nogitsune to deal with. Once that was taken care of and you tried to talk to him about what happened with everything that had happened in the past year, he was gone. He fled to France with Allisonâs dad. The pack didnât know if he was going to come back, so you decided to swallow the devastation that flooded your veins at the thought of your best friend not coming back and moving on.Â
But as the new year started and moving into your second semester of junior year, your eyes met a familiar pair of cerulean ones in the crowded hallways of Beacon Hills High. You felt your heart race at the fact that Isaac came back.Â
From then on, you never really moved on from him. You tried, but he was always stuck in the back of your mind. Even throughout the craziness of the following year and a half of high school, the two of you stuck by each other and with the pack.Â
After high school, you and some of the pack members went to the nearest college and decided to live in the same apartment complex. Stiles, Scott, and Isaac lucked out and got a bigger unit than you and Lydia did, but it didnât matter since they usually came over to your place since it was âcozier.â You scoffed at them because they didnât bother to furnish their apartment as well as you and Lydia did.Â
âHey.â Isaac called out your name softly, making you snap out of your reverie and look back down at him. His warm hands were settled on your thighs as his chin rested on your stomach and his gaze intently staring at you.Â
Isaacâs were slightly swollen and pinker than usual from the heated make-out session that had started out of nowhere; well, it didnât start out of nowhere.Â
It was a Saturday night, and you didnât feel like going out with the rest of the pack, so you decided to stay in and relax. You had expected Isaac to go with them, but to your surprise, he stayed with you.Â
It was slightly awkward at first. The two of you hadnât hung out for a while without the rest of the pack hovering around you since he came back from France. Itâs not like you actively avoided spending one-on-one time, but you guys drifted apart when he came back, and the active threats to Beacon Hills didnât help with the space between the two of you.Â
You tried not to show that you were nervous around him, knowing he could hear if your heartbeat was erratic or not. You had planned to watch a movie in your room, so you invited him and joked that it would be like when we used to before he became a werewolf and hid in your room for a couple of hours before he had to go back to his place.Â
The smile Isaac gave you at your invite had destroyed the plan of masking your fondness for him, feeling your heartbeat slightly faster at the sight of it.Â
You sat next to Isaac when you finished setting up the movie, the two of you resting against your headboard, shoulders brushing against each other as the two of you settled in your queen-sized bed.Â
You kept your eyes trained on the TV, the opening sequence of Iron Man flicking through the LCD screen. But Isaac couldnât keep his eyes off of you, taking in your features being illuminated by the dim lighting of the fairy lights you hung around your room. He smiled, remembering your dislike for overhead lighting and preference for mood lighting.Â
You took a chance, glancing at Isaac and finding that his gaze was already on you. You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes.Â
âWhat?â You murmured.Â
Isaac raised his hand hesitantly, brushing a wayward hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear before resting his palm against your cheek. You almost shivered at the soft caress of his thumb against the apple of your cheek.Â
âNothing.â Isaac said with a half smile on his face, slowly inching his face closer to you.Â
You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to be unphased by his touch. âReally? Because youâre not watching the movie.âÂ
âYou know I donât care for Marvel.â Isaac smirked.Â
âThen why do you sit through the movies with me?âÂ
âBecause you like them.â Isaac stated as if it was obvious while shrugging.Â
You looked at him dumbly, your mouth slightly agape. Isaac chuckled lowly before he moved his hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck and rested his forehead against yours.Â
Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as you felt his breath fan against your lips.Â
âCan I kiss you?â Isaac whispered.Â
Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you placed your lips against his, drawing him into a soft kiss. It was a short and sweet kiss, but it contrasted how your body filled with heat at the feeling of his plush lips against yours.Â
Both of you pulled away, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before your lips collided once more. The kiss was filled with passion and all of the unsaid emotions that you guys had yet to admit to one another.Â
Your body had a mind of its own as your lips moved against Isaacâs. You moved to straddle his lap as your hands dived into his blonde curls while his hands made their way to your hips, guiding you to his lap. The warmth of his hands seeped through the fabric of the sweatpants you were wearing.Â
You felt Isaacâs tongue swipe at the seam of your lips, a silent request that you accepted. You moaned softly at the feeling of Isaacâs tongue softly intertwining against yours. You unconsciously ground your heated core against the growing bulge in his jeans. Isaac let out a low hiss, making the two of you pull apart from one another, a string of spit connecting the two of you before it broke.Â
You couldnât help but the giddy smile that broke out on your face, your stomach flipping at the sight of Isaacâs wide grin as his hands moved from your hips to the hem of the shirt you were wearing.Â
He tugged on it slightly, the unsaid question written in Isaacâs eyes. You nodded, and he slowly pulled it off of you, exposing your bare chest to him. You saw his gaze widen slightly, and you let out a small giggle at his reaction.Â
Isaac smiled wider at the sound of your small laugh, his heart swelling with love, and he laughed a bit when he felt you tug at his own shirt. He leaned up from the headboard and shed his own shirt, your palms settling against his chest once the offending item of clothing was flung across the room.Â
Isaac had a sly smile on his face, and before you could question him, you let out a small yelp as he used his werewolf strength and agility to put you on your back. He hovered over you before he drew you into a kiss that left you breathless. But it only lasted for a moment before Isaac trailed his lips down your jaw. He nipped and kissed at the skin of your neck before moving down your collarbone and towards your breasts.Â
Isaac left teasing kisses in the valley of your chest as his hands moved from your sides and to the waistband of your sweatpants.Â
He looked up at you, his breath fanning over the slightly wet skin of your chest. âCan I take these off baby?âÂ
You felt yourself melt at the softness of his tone and the pet name. âYeah.â You gave him a gentle smile.Â
Instead of responding, Isaac left a tender kiss next to where your heart was and slowly pulled down your sweatpants. As every new inch of you was exposed, Isaac kissed the skin as if it was fragile. You couldnât help but the lump that grew in your throat at how tender Isaac was being.Â
Isaac called your name again. He was looking down at you, chin no longer resting on your stomach. Isaac was hovering over you again, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. âYou alright? We donât have to keep going if you donât want to.âÂ
âMâfine.âÂ
âYou sure?âÂ
You hesitated, biting your bottom lip. âJust-â You inhaled sharply. âI donât know if this is going to be a one time thing.âÂ
Isaac shook his head. âTrust me, it isnât for me. Is it for you?â He asked, nerves coloring his tone.Â
âNo!â You almost shouted before you cringed at your volume and cleared your throat. âNo, Iâve been embarrassingly in love with you for a long time.â You admitted sheepishly.Â
The grin that was on Isaacâs face was blinding. He kissed you hard before pulling back. âThank god.â He breathed out, relieved. âIâve felt the same way for a long time. Ever since I came back to Beacon.âÂ
You didnât have any words to respond with, so you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring all of the love and adoration you had for him over the years into it. Isaac couldnât help but smile into the kiss before he deepened the kiss and blanketed your body with his, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt.Â
You moaned at the feeling of his denim-clad bulge brushing against your heated cunt, your underwear almost soaked through as the two of you made out. Isaac broke the kiss and eventually made his way back in between your legs, his heated stare directed at the wet patch in your panties.Â
He threw your legs over your shoulder as his face drew closer to your cunt, leaving feather-light kisses on your inner thighs. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing in anticipation. Isaac started to kiss you lightly through the wet fabric, making you moan softly.Â
âShit, youâre so wet.â He breathed out before taking one of his hands and pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your soaked core to him.Â
You could see the hunger in his eyes as he stared at your cunt. âFuck, youâre so pretty.â Isaac praised, and you clenched at his words, biting your lip in hopes of keeping the whine that threatened to escape your mouth.Â
Isaac couldnât help but smirk at your reaction, but instead of teasing you, wanting to save it for next time, he leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, and your hands went to fist at your comforter.Â
A breathy moan left the confines of your throat, and Isaac licked a strip from your slit to your sensitive nub, collected the slick leaking from you, and swirled his warm tongue around your clit. He drew it into his mouth, sucking on it softly.Â
One of your hands left the mattress to clutch at his hair, a low moan emanating from the boy in between your legs. The noise sends vibrations to your cunt and fills your veins with pleasure. Your cries and whines filled the room as Isaac ate you out like a man starved. You had barely registered that the bed was moving slightly due to Isaac rutting against the mattress and that he had ripped your panties off of you and completely dove into you, his tongue deep in you as he thumbed at your clit, wanting to wring out as much pleasure from you as possible.Â
âOh fu-uck.â Both of your hands were in his hair at this point. âShit, Isaac.â You could barely form words between your moaning, the heat in your core building rapidly at his ministrations.Â
Isaac smirked internally and moved his mouth to suck at your clit as he inserted a finger in you, the tugging at his hair and your moans spurring him on to try and make you cum.Â
âIsaac.â You whined at the feeling of your cunt finally being filled.Â
He quickly added a second finger, slowly thrusting in and out of your slick cunt. âYeah, baby?â Isaac asked, pulling away for a moment, kissing your inner thigh, and tilting his head to look up at you. He could stare at your blissed-out face forever, it being the second most beautiful thing heâs ever seen from you (the first one being your smile).Â
âI-i need to- fuck!â A choked moan leaves your lips as Isaacâs fingers brush against your g-spot.Â
Isaac grinned. âNeed what? You gotta tell me what you want sweetheart.âÂ
Through the haze of lust, you could hear the teasing tone of his words, but you didnât care. âPlease, let me cum.âÂ
âThere you go, pretty girl.â Isaac began to pump his fingers harder, making sure to hit your g-spot with every thrust, and latched onto your swollen nub again.Â
âFuck!â You felt the knot in your core threatening to snap. You were practically writhing in your bed, sweat coating your body as Isaac continued to finger you.Â
âIâm-Iâm-âÂ
âLet go sweetheart.â Isaac mumbled into your folds before pressing hard against your g-spot and sucking your clit hard.Â
The knot snapped, and a keening whine left your lips. Your warm walls clenched against Isaacâs fingers. His fingers slowed, working you through your orgasm until it subsided. He pulled his fingers out of you gently, mindful of your tender cunt. He peppered small kisses on your thighs, trailing up your body, waiting for you to come down from your intense high.Â
You felt Isaac shift, resting next to you, and his hand brushed away the hairs that were stuck to your slightly damp forehead. You opened your eyes to find Isaac looking down at you with a gentle but shy smile on his face.Â
You couldnât help the quiet laugh that escaped your lips at how bashful Isaac was being and placed a hand on his cheek and pulled him down for a kiss, uncaring if you could taste yourself on him.Â
Your lips melded with his, and you felt like you could kiss him forever; his lips were soft and warm against yours. Before you knew it, the kiss grew heated again. Isaacâs jeans were soon discarded, and his deep groans joined the chorus of moans that left you and filled your room as the two of you drew pleasure from each other.
Wolf whistles and clapping were your wake-up call the following day, your friends loitering outside of your room as they saw you and Isaac wrapped up in one another underneath your sheets.Â
[hereâs my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]
summary: seeing isaac between your thighs only happened in your dreams, it could never become a reality... right?
AU: where isaac came back from france and stayed for the rest of the series and everyone is going to the same college
pairings: isaac lahey x reader, isaac lahey x fem! reader
word count: 2.8K
warnings: MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', smut, oral fem!receiving, fingering, fluff, reader and isaac being lovesick idiots, implied p in v, characters are aged up to 18+ and in college, title is a lyric from fragile by laufey, kinda edited
a/n: RAHH i haven't written for isaac since july, so apologies if hes a little ooc but i miss him dearly so here's my first smut for him!! again minors please DNI please and thank you <3
but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!
You made eye contact with Isaacâs cerulean eyes as his breath ghosted your bare stomach, making goosebumps rise against your heated skin as he sunk in between your open legs. You let out a shaky breath as you tipped your head back into the plush pillows, breaking the intense gaze between you and Isaac.Â
You donât know how you got to this position. Well, you do, but you never thought in a million years that this would be happening. Having Isaac in between your thighs only happened in your dreams and imagination when you had the apartment to yourself and wanted to work off some steam in your room, your vibrator on the highest setting as it worked over your sensitive and swollen clit.Â
You had the biggest crush on Isaac since you met the scrawny kid in freshman year back at Beacon, since before you were pulled into the supernatural mess with Scott and eventually Isaac himself. But you hid it well. At least, you thought you did until Lydia cornered you one day and confronted you about your crush on him.Â
You shrugged it off, of course, denying that you had liked him at all and that he was only your best friend, but Lydia was smarter than that, having caught you looking at him longingly as he stared at Allison.Â
When Allison and Isaac got together, it hurt a lot. The pain of having the guy you liked start dating one of your best friends was one you wouldnât wish on anyone. But you played it off and only teased Allison about the irony of being a hunter and being into werewolves. She laughed it off, but Lydia could see the pain in your eyes every time Isaac mentioned her or you saw the two of them close to one another.Â
So when Allison died, you felt conflicted. Half of you was devastated that one of your best friends was gone, forever. But the other half was relieved that she was. You felt so guilty that you felt that way about Allison but kept it to yourself, internalizing it and locking away the information for life.Â
You knew the toll that Allisonâs death took on Isaac, but you guys still had the nogitsune to deal with. Once that was taken care of and you tried to talk to him about what happened with everything that had happened in the past year, he was gone. He fled to France with Allisonâs dad. The pack didnât know if he was going to come back, so you decided to swallow the devastation that flooded your veins at the thought of your best friend not coming back and moving on.Â
But as the new year started and moving into your second semester of junior year, your eyes met a familiar pair of cerulean ones in the crowded hallways of Beacon Hills High. You felt your heart race at the fact that Isaac came back.Â
From then on, you never really moved on from him. You tried, but he was always stuck in the back of your mind. Even throughout the craziness of the following year and a half of high school, the two of you stuck by each other and with the pack.Â
After high school, you and some of the pack members went to the nearest college and decided to live in the same apartment complex. Stiles, Scott, and Isaac lucked out and got a bigger unit than you and Lydia did, but it didnât matter since they usually came over to your place since it was âcozier.â You scoffed at them because they didnât bother to furnish their apartment as well as you and Lydia did.Â
âHey.â Isaac called out your name softly, making you snap out of your reverie and look back down at him. His warm hands were settled on your thighs as his chin rested on your stomach and his gaze intently staring at you.Â
Isaacâs were slightly swollen and pinker than usual from the heated make-out session that had started out of nowhere; well, it didnât start out of nowhere.Â
It was a Saturday night, and you didnât feel like going out with the rest of the pack, so you decided to stay in and relax. You had expected Isaac to go with them, but to your surprise, he stayed with you.Â
It was slightly awkward at first. The two of you hadnât hung out for a while without the rest of the pack hovering around you since he came back from France. Itâs not like you actively avoided spending one-on-one time, but you guys drifted apart when he came back, and the active threats to Beacon Hills didnât help with the space between the two of you.Â
You tried not to show that you were nervous around him, knowing he could hear if your heartbeat was erratic or not. You had planned to watch a movie in your room, so you invited him and joked that it would be like when we used to before he became a werewolf and hid in your room for a couple of hours before he had to go back to his place.Â
The smile Isaac gave you at your invite had destroyed the plan of masking your fondness for him, feeling your heartbeat slightly faster at the sight of it.Â
You sat next to Isaac when you finished setting up the movie, the two of you resting against your headboard, shoulders brushing against each other as the two of you settled in your queen-sized bed.Â
You kept your eyes trained on the TV, the opening sequence of Iron Man flicking through the LCD screen. But Isaac couldnât keep his eyes off of you, taking in your features being illuminated by the dim lighting of the fairy lights you hung around your room. He smiled, remembering your dislike for overhead lighting and preference for mood lighting.Â
You took a chance, glancing at Isaac and finding that his gaze was already on you. You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes.Â
âWhat?â You murmured.Â
Isaac raised his hand hesitantly, brushing a wayward hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear before resting his palm against your cheek. You almost shivered at the soft caress of his thumb against the apple of your cheek.Â
âNothing.â Isaac said with a half smile on his face, slowly inching his face closer to you.Â
You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to be unphased by his touch. âReally? Because youâre not watching the movie.âÂ
âYou know I donât care for Marvel.â Isaac smirked.Â
âThen why do you sit through the movies with me?âÂ
âBecause you like them.â Isaac stated as if it was obvious while shrugging.Â
You looked at him dumbly, your mouth slightly agape. Isaac chuckled lowly before he moved his hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck and rested his forehead against yours.Â
Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as you felt his breath fan against your lips.Â
âCan I kiss you?â Isaac whispered.Â
Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you placed your lips against his, drawing him into a soft kiss. It was a short and sweet kiss, but it contrasted how your body filled with heat at the feeling of his plush lips against yours.Â
Both of you pulled away, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before your lips collided once more. The kiss was filled with passion and all of the unsaid emotions that you guys had yet to admit to one another.Â
Your body had a mind of its own as your lips moved against Isaacâs. You moved to straddle his lap as your hands dived into his blonde curls while his hands made their way to your hips, guiding you to his lap. The warmth of his hands seeped through the fabric of the sweatpants you were wearing.Â
You felt Isaacâs tongue swipe at the seam of your lips, a silent request that you accepted. You moaned softly at the feeling of Isaacâs tongue softly intertwining against yours. You unconsciously ground your heated core against the growing bulge in his jeans. Isaac let out a low hiss, making the two of you pull apart from one another, a string of spit connecting the two of you before it broke.Â
You couldnât help but the giddy smile that broke out on your face, your stomach flipping at the sight of Isaacâs wide grin as his hands moved from your hips to the hem of the shirt you were wearing.Â
He tugged on it slightly, the unsaid question written in Isaacâs eyes. You nodded, and he slowly pulled it off of you, exposing your bare chest to him. You saw his gaze widen slightly, and you let out a small giggle at his reaction.Â
Isaac smiled wider at the sound of your small laugh, his heart swelling with love, and he laughed a bit when he felt you tug at his own shirt. He leaned up from the headboard and shed his own shirt, your palms settling against his chest once the offending item of clothing was flung across the room.Â
Isaac had a sly smile on his face, and before you could question him, you let out a small yelp as he used his werewolf strength and agility to put you on your back. He hovered over you before he drew you into a kiss that left you breathless. But it only lasted for a moment before Isaac trailed his lips down your jaw. He nipped and kissed at the skin of your neck before moving down your collarbone and towards your breasts.Â
Isaac left teasing kisses in the valley of your chest as his hands moved from your sides and to the waistband of your sweatpants.Â
He looked up at you, his breath fanning over the slightly wet skin of your chest. âCan I take these off baby?âÂ
You felt yourself melt at the softness of his tone and the pet name. âYeah.â You gave him a gentle smile.Â
Instead of responding, Isaac left a tender kiss next to where your heart was and slowly pulled down your sweatpants. As every new inch of you was exposed, Isaac kissed the skin as if it was fragile. You couldnât help but the lump that grew in your throat at how tender Isaac was being.Â
Isaac called your name again. He was looking down at you, chin no longer resting on your stomach. Isaac was hovering over you again, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. âYou alright? We donât have to keep going if you donât want to.âÂ
âMâfine.âÂ
âYou sure?âÂ
You hesitated, biting your bottom lip. âJust-â You inhaled sharply. âI donât know if this is going to be a one time thing.âÂ
Isaac shook his head. âTrust me, it isnât for me. Is it for you?â He asked, nerves coloring his tone.Â
âNo!â You almost shouted before you cringed at your volume and cleared your throat. âNo, Iâve been embarrassingly in love with you for a long time.â You admitted sheepishly.Â
The grin that was on Isaacâs face was blinding. He kissed you hard before pulling back. âThank god.â He breathed out, relieved. âIâve felt the same way for a long time. Ever since I came back to Beacon.âÂ
You didnât have any words to respond with, so you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring all of the love and adoration you had for him over the years into it. Isaac couldnât help but smile into the kiss before he deepened the kiss and blanketed your body with his, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt.Â
You moaned at the feeling of his denim-clad bulge brushing against your heated cunt, your underwear almost soaked through as the two of you made out. Isaac broke the kiss and eventually made his way back in between your legs, his heated stare directed at the wet patch in your panties.Â
He threw your legs over your shoulder as his face drew closer to your cunt, leaving feather-light kisses on your inner thighs. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing in anticipation. Isaac started to kiss you lightly through the wet fabric, making you moan softly.Â
âShit, youâre so wet.â He breathed out before taking one of his hands and pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your soaked core to him.Â
You could see the hunger in his eyes as he stared at your cunt. âFuck, youâre so pretty.â Isaac praised, and you clenched at his words, biting your lip in hopes of keeping the whine that threatened to escape your mouth.Â
Isaac couldnât help but smirk at your reaction, but instead of teasing you, wanting to save it for next time, he leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, and your hands went to fist at your comforter.Â
A breathy moan left the confines of your throat, and Isaac licked a strip from your slit to your sensitive nub, collected the slick leaking from you, and swirled his warm tongue around your clit. He drew it into his mouth, sucking on it softly.Â
One of your hands left the mattress to clutch at his hair, a low moan emanating from the boy in between your legs. The noise sends vibrations to your cunt and fills your veins with pleasure. Your cries and whines filled the room as Isaac ate you out like a man starved. You had barely registered that the bed was moving slightly due to Isaac rutting against the mattress and that he had ripped your panties off of you and completely dove into you, his tongue deep in you as he thumbed at your clit, wanting to wring out as much pleasure from you as possible.Â
âOh fu-uck.â Both of your hands were in his hair at this point. âShit, Isaac.â You could barely form words between your moaning, the heat in your core building rapidly at his ministrations.Â
Isaac smirked internally and moved his mouth to suck at your clit as he inserted a finger in you, the tugging at his hair and your moans spurring him on to try and make you cum.Â
âIsaac.â You whined at the feeling of your cunt finally being filled.Â
He quickly added a second finger, slowly thrusting in and out of your slick cunt. âYeah, baby?â Isaac asked, pulling away for a moment, kissing your inner thigh, and tilting his head to look up at you. He could stare at your blissed-out face forever, it being the second most beautiful thing heâs ever seen from you (the first one being your smile).Â
âI-i need to- fuck!â A choked moan leaves your lips as Isaacâs fingers brush against your g-spot.Â
Isaac grinned. âNeed what? You gotta tell me what you want sweetheart.âÂ
Through the haze of lust, you could hear the teasing tone of his words, but you didnât care. âPlease, let me cum.âÂ
âThere you go, pretty girl.â Isaac began to pump his fingers harder, making sure to hit your g-spot with every thrust, and latched onto your swollen nub again.Â
âFuck!â You felt the knot in your core threatening to snap. You were practically writhing in your bed, sweat coating your body as Isaac continued to finger you.Â
âIâm-Iâm-âÂ
âLet go sweetheart.â Isaac mumbled into your folds before pressing hard against your g-spot and sucking your clit hard.Â
The knot snapped, and a keening whine left your lips. Your warm walls clenched against Isaacâs fingers. His fingers slowed, working you through your orgasm until it subsided. He pulled his fingers out of you gently, mindful of your tender cunt. He peppered small kisses on your thighs, trailing up your body, waiting for you to come down from your intense high.Â
You felt Isaac shift, resting next to you, and his hand brushed away the hairs that were stuck to your slightly damp forehead. You opened your eyes to find Isaac looking down at you with a gentle but shy smile on his face.Â
You couldnât help the quiet laugh that escaped your lips at how bashful Isaac was being and placed a hand on his cheek and pulled him down for a kiss, uncaring if you could taste yourself on him.Â
Your lips melded with his, and you felt like you could kiss him forever; his lips were soft and warm against yours. Before you knew it, the kiss grew heated again. Isaacâs jeans were soon discarded, and his deep groans joined the chorus of moans that left you and filled your room as the two of you drew pleasure from each other.
Wolf whistles and clapping were your wake-up call the following day, your friends loitering outside of your room as they saw you and Isaac wrapped up in one another underneath your sheets.Â
[hereâs my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]
The leaves part with the push of small red hands, one of the fingertips emerging from the darkness of the underbrush wrapped in a bandaid.
His dragon is hanging at his side, motionless aside from rhythmically bobbing back and forth as he walks, dead shiny black eyes watching him wander.
Heâs humming something softly as he goes, gnawing on his chapped lower lip.
Some might take him for a fool, wandering through tangled vines on the outskirts without a weapon or a clue of how to get help when nobody knows where he is. âBut most people donât understand what itâs like to have to fade into the shadows hoping no one looks in your direction for too long.
Most people havenât had to watch their mother get dragged across the kitchen floor by her hair or see their brotherâs pupils blown wide, body shrunken and tense as the monster that lives in their home opens its snout and drips sweet poison into his ear.
Suddenly the dragon is flying through the air, shiny blue and green wings lifting with the wind.
It can see Sam from where it is, the boyâs arms raised above his head from launching it so that it gets tangled in the branches of the tree in front of him. The world spins for the toy, leaves falling as it finally lands on its side, Sam gripping the bark of the tree without bothering to pick the one that fell into his hair as he climbs.
The toy can do nothing but watch when Samâs foot slips.
It doesnât matter how badly Sam wants to believe his toys will protect him. Theyâre inanimate. They do not feel. They perceive. They judge.
The boy manages to catch himself and wraps an arm around a tree branch, reaching with the toe of his shoe to try and bear hug it for support.
His foot slips again and the bark slides off, falling to the ground with a soft rustle.
Sam, for whatever reason, decides he needs to climb higher.
He uses the knots in the tree as a path, surpassing the height of his dragon and continuing up the tall trunk until heâs gone up about five of himself and can see the roofs of the houses in Alexandria, sitting on a thick branch to watch the sun rise.
He kicks his legs out, looking down at the stuffed toy with his head cocked.
âPete, the magic dragon,â His mother had called it.
He renamed it Lenny after watching his brotherâs face get smashed into the TV set for the third time.
Sam leans back, letting his view shift and his hands slip from the bark holding his steady until heâs looking at the world from upside down, his locked legs resting above him the only thing keeping him from falling.
He sees you walking down the street with your hood pulled over your face, looking for something around the neighborhood.
If itâs Carl or Ron, you wonât find them. âThey snuck out together hours ago with their run bags.
Sam stretches his hands out, reaching for an apple.
His leg slips forward, pants crying at the grind of wood.
Just a little further.
He reaches out again, scooting forward until his fingers touch the plump red fruit.
He pulls and it comes free.
You walk behind a house and crouch down, sobbing into your hands and hitting the back of your head against the wall.
Sam chews the flesh of the apple, turning his gaze towards the rest of the street.
Tara is running from Judith, the toddler bouncing as she tries her hardest to catch the woman before getting distracted by a green plastic cap on the ground and starts to play with it instead.
The woman puts her hands on her hips.
Sam drops the apple core, tossing it far off in the grass and watching it roll.
A rabbit hops out of the brush and sniffs at it, nose and whiskers twitching curiously.
This is his opportunity!
Sam tries to sit himself up as fast as he can, reaching for a thin branch above him.
tw: Merle (in all his Merle-ness), use of the F-slur, implied homophobia, codependency as a coping mechanism, body dysmorphia, implied teen pregnancy, mentions of gender dysmorphia, self-blame, SPOILER: coming out (Carl).
We've got our first shadow!
Daryl didn't realize how late it'd gotten while he was⊠away.
He can hear a chorus of crickets chirping and see all the stars twinkling in the sky, the way you only used to see them if you'd gone outside the city before. âNow you're right near a major highway and can see them clear as day. No more light pollution. The wonders of the world going to shit, eh?
He stumbles over his own feet, turning around and around while staring up at the bright lights fading in and out of his visions like lighthouses in fog, feet twisting around until he catches himself and stops moving all at once. He feels his stomach lurch as he remembers you, so small when he first found you, clutching your stuffed animals close to your chest while you slept.
Now all he can think of is you being hurt and confused, so scared to let him find out about the possibility of life growing inside of you that you denied yourself proper medical care.
What about when you were locked up? âWhat had pushed you so far that you committed the massacre you left behind when you both escaped? Did they all⊠Were they all a part of it? He hadnât thought of that before⊠Heâd just assumed itâd been once, but what if it wasnât?
What ifâŠ
What if.
Daryl swallows back a string of curse words at the thoughts swarming him, eyes glossy.
He stops outside the barn, trying to quietly push the door open when he realizes that all the lights are still on.
He squints and pushes further, the brightness pouring out to assault his drunken senses.
âBambi?â He calls, keeping his voice low in case you were just afraid to sleep in the dark. He knows he's having a tough time in the pitch black after being in that cell.
A few seconds pass before you peer over the railing at him from the loft wide awake, your blankets clutched in front of you oddly.
The longer he looks at you, the more of yourself you seem to try and hide with it.
He feels himself sober immediately, posture straightening as he shuts the door behind him. âBea, what's the matter? âWhere's Carol?â
You lower your head. âAway.â
She'd made dinner and some cookies at Maggie's house with your help, and then she'd brought you back here and left you to your own devices. Youâre old enough to be left alone. It makes sense. You donât blame her for what happened.
âWhy are you still up?â He asks again, taking a step towards the ladder to make his way up to you, until you rapidly shake your head at him. You donât want him to see. He stops, looking down at the blanket again. âIs somethinâ wrong? Are you hurt? Sick?â
You bite your lip and shake your head at him, stepping back slightly to obscure yourself from view.
âShow me,â Daryl pleas, voice soft and afraid. âPlease just show me, I can't keep⊠I need to know that you're okay.â
You flush harder with shame, slowly lowering the blanket to show him the dark stain spread down your sweatpants.
It takes him a moment to realize what happened, especially since you've never, ever, in all the time that he's known you, had this particular problem.
âYou wet the bed.â He says, more of a bewildered statement than an accusation. âWhatâ Why did you wet the bed?â
You shrink, lower lip quivering with frustration as you avert your eyes.
âAlone,â You say on the verge of tears, nodding towards the deconstructed haybed, several sullied stacks pushed aside. â...Afraid.â
Right. This would have been your first night sleeping alone since you've been back. He didn't plan on this being the first time you got left alone, âhe assumed Carol would watch youâ but then again she did only say that she was taking you back and feeding you, not that she was babysitting. He got lucky that first night when Carl decided to stand guard over you.
The man sighs, running a hand from the base of the back of his neck to the crown of his head.
âFuck. Just⊠come down here, leave the blanketsâŠâ He says, motioning for you to come to him. You hesitate, but he watches as you drop the blankets and guiltily approach him like a puppy waiting for a scolding, head and shoulders clamped up against your neck. He points to the door. âGet yourself cleaned up.â
You take a half step, then turn back to him with wet eyes, signing, Mad at me?
Daryl doesn't answer initially, instead closing the distance between you by giving you a long kiss on the forehead. âMm-mm. I ain't mad at you.â
He should have been here.
âGo,â He urges. âAnd come back quick, alright? If you ain't back in⊠twenty minutes, I'm cominâ to look for you.â
You nod, sniffling sadly as you leave to clean yourself up.
In the meantime Daryl tosses the blankets into a pile with some dirty tarps that had already been in the barn when you were both directed to it, noting to himself that when the people on laundry duty come around he'll need to tell them to take them. Then he pushes the dirty haystacks aside like you'd been trying to do, and replaces them with fresh ones. Well, relatively fresh.
This entire situation is bizarre. He never imagined he'd one day have to deal with the things he has been before you both got captured.
The door opens and shuts, your guilty face peering up at him from the first floor while you wring your hands out.
âYerâ just gonna have to sleep with me tonight,â Daryl decides after a moment, shaking his head. âI'm not lettinâ myâ you sleep on bare hay like an animal. âThat ain't right.â
At the mention of getting to sleep with him again, you instantly perk up and make a noise of appreciation, smiling weakly at him.
He clumsily comes down the ladder, still somewhat drunk despite coming to his senses when he realized you were having trouble, swearing all the way down when his feet slip on the rungs or he misses the first time he reaches with his hands. He flops down on his bed, patting his chest for you to come join him.
You jump onto the bed next to him, quickly crawling over and sinking into his shoulder, arm around his torso to pull him closer. He tosses his blanket over you and you press your face into his warm, clammy skin.
Then he feels you move, rubbing your eyes.
âYou smell funny,â You whisper, laying your head back down and looking up at him like he hung those same stars he'd just been admiring on his way home.
âMaybe I did somethinâ funny,â He whispers back, fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he scratches your scalp to try and put you to sleep.
You shake your head, eyes drooping. âYou looked sad.â
Daryl hates how intuitive you are. He likes being able to tell how you feel with a single look or with the tone of your voice, but when you do it back to him he worries that it's another sign he shouldn't have you. Kids aren't supposed to be responsible for how the adults in their life feel. He should be the one looking out for, and taking care of you.
âI was,â He admits slowly, staring up at the ceiling. âBut now I'm okay, âcause I'm here with you.â
A smile spreads across your face, chubby cheeks getting fuller.
âI love you, D,â You say with one last sigh as your entire body goes slack.
He holds onto you a little tighter.
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Darylâs eyes open to a different ceiling. One made of scratched up, rusty metal and flat rounded screws, a piece of black duct tape in the corner next to the top of the window to prevent the rain from leaking in at night.
He sits up, frowning.
Daryl isn't sure how he got here, but he also isn't sure where else he would be. This is the last trailer he and Merle robbed and squatted in before⊠something happened. âHe doesn't know what.
There's pictures of the older couple that actually owns the trailer, although their faces are obscured he remembers that they're a white couple, both with hair so grey and silver itâs almost gone white. The woman had these funky purple and orange designer glasses that looked like they could cut someone, and the man had pins on his lapel from different things heâd been involved with. Daryl remembers staring at that picture a lot with a heavy feeling in his stomach he now knows is guilt.
He tips the photograph face-down and walks around the trailer, looking for any reminders of what he's supposed to be doing.
He finds more sentimental items that mean nothing to him personally, like a clay pot their grandchild probably made and some memorabilia hung on the walls like trophies. âAnything worthwhile, he and Merle pawned during their first day here, including a silver plated urn.
A dog barks and he hears someone laugh outside, the sound sweet and innocent. He knows that laugh.
He shoves open the trailer door and squints as he's blinded by sunlight, eyes just barely adjusting in time to see a stray dog from the area munching on a hotdog that someone tossed down for him.
There's a picnic table to his left, two figures sitting at it with the sun and trees behind them, gentle breeze making the leaves rustle.
âYou gotta work on that pokerface, baby,â Merle says raspily, tone teasing in nature. âThey'll eat that cute little ass alive in a real game down at the casino.â
Again, that familiar laughter.
âWhat are yaâ even supposed to be, anyway? âFag,â He taunts, laying down his winning hand.
The other person blows a raspberry at him and Merle shakes his head, muttering a few apologies.
âAlright, alright. You shuffle this time, baby doll.â
The kid hums and obliges, eagerly pulling the cards closer to themself and messily trying to shuffle the deck. âDaryl can see their face now, the sun abating to let him see their features between rays. They're bouncing excitedly in their seat, picking off small pieces of some kind of grilled meat to gnaw on. He knows they're important to him in some way, but he can't for the life of him recall how.
Daryl squints at those wide doe eyes and tries to remember.
âWell, look who it is,â Merle suddenly taunts, arms spanned out in a mocking gesture. âSleepinâ beauty finally decided to join us.â
The kid snorts and taps the cards on the table to line them up evenly.
Daryl scoffs with annoyance, momentarily distracted from the other person. âYou could'a woken me up.â
Merle blinks, blue eyes boring into his brother's.
âMmm⊠Nah,â The man shrugs, smiling in a soft way that Merle hasn't seen since they were kids. âI was havinâ the time of my life over here, gettinâ to know this little shit and repeatedly kickinâ her ass. âShe owes me big time, by the way. Any cigs she finds are mine.â
âWhatever.â
Daryl tries to turn and face her directly, but Merle man-handles him back to looking at him with a hand on the shoulder.
âNow, I like this kid, Daryl,â He says in a warning, pointing a finger at him threateningly. âI like her a whole lot. She's good company. Real sweet. âTrust me, I've been watchinâ, and I've seen a whole lot âa sweeties less sweet than this one. Less cute too.â
The kid finishes shuffling and sets the deck on the table between them, letting Merle deal. Which is probably why he's been winning this whole time. He's never been good at poker.
He tries to shrug Merle off. âSo?â
âSo don't fuck it up,â Merle growls, slamming his free fist on the table. The kid looks up, startled, and he backtracks. âSorry, baby doll. Tryinâa tell my idiot brother not to screw up the one good thing he's got.â
Daryl frowns, brow furrowed. âMe? âThe hell you mean by that?â
âI mean, get off your sorry, lazy ass and take care of your kid, deadbeat,â Merle snaps again, picking up his hand of cards and lowering his voice to something disgustingly sweet. âNow where were we, sweetheart?â
âWhat the hell are you talkinâ about? I ain't got aââ Except he does.
Merle side-eyes him knowingly. âYou take good care âa her, now.â
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Darylâs eyes shoot open and he grasps anything he can reach, his heart settling when he realizes you're still peacefully asleep in his arms, safe and sound. No blatant theft or Merle probably corrupting you in sight.
The ceiling is as it always was, unsanded wooden beams stretching up into the air. He turns onto his side and drags you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You're safe. He's safe. This is Hilltop. This isn't a cage. This isn't a closet. Or a trailer. This is Hilltop.
He lifts the corner of his shirt and drags his hand across a freshly healed wound spanning from his hip to his stomach, the raised skin pink and silvery.
This is Hilltop. He lived.
âMmh,â You groan from beside him, face scrunched up from the confusion of being smothered against him. âWhyyyyy?â
ââM sorry,â He mutters, sitting up slowly and taking you with him. âI didn't mean to wake you up.â
You stretch out your limbs and drag yourself out of his lap, standing up to sign at him at the same time as you speak. âHungry, Daryl. Can we go?â
The action drags a smile out of him. He's missed your voice. As quiet as it was before, he liked how loud you'd get when it was only him around. Slowly, you're getting more of yourself back and stringing together longer and longer sentences. Healing.
âYeah, we can go,â He agrees, cracking his knuckles and trailing after you when the news has you bouncing on one foot as you tug on your boots and yank the door open. âBambi, don't run off.â
You ignore his warning and keep sprinting far ahead of him, stopping every now and again until he catches up only to flee the next second before he can get close enough to grab you. Eventually his frustration ebbs and makes way for reluctant enjoyment of the game you're playing.
The next time you stop he sprints, nearly grabbing you until you realize what's happening and take off again, squealing.
You're swift, faster than him usually, but today you're not fast enough. He catches you from behind and bear hugs you, securing your arms to your sides as he picks you up and makes vaguely monstrous noises, pressing his face to your neck. You squeal louder, giggling and kicking your legs to try and get free until he lowers you and ruffles your hair, grinning.
That's much better.
You cough between pants, taking your place at Darylâs side as you try to catch your breath. You've barely run at all, not nearly as much as you have to in the wilderness or in a fight, but you're winded.
It must be because you're still recovering. The first days you were back, you were probably running on adrenaline and now that you've gotten some restless sleep, it's catching up to you.
Still, it was worth it to make Daryl smile.
You haven't seen him really happy since he found the test, and you honestly don't know when he will be again. Most of the time it feels like things can never go back to the way they were.
âI ain't got a clue where they're eatinâ,â Daryl grunts when you make it to the empty firepit, turning around to see if there's anyone he recognizes in the hustle of people rushing to their morning duties. âGuess they didn't think to let us know.â
âMm,â You grunt in agreement, following him when he starts in the direction of where Rick has been staying, close to Maggie.
He hip checks you a few times during the walk, albeit gentler than he would've before he knew you weren't a boy. âToday feels better than yesterday without the threat of the doctor's office visit hanging over you though, so you decide to chalk it up to him being worried about hurting you while your arm is all messed up and going through the healing process.
Daryl stops outside of the trailer Rick is staying in, a few away from Maggie's while the people of Hilltop work on building more permanent structures, and knocks a few times.
Before he can try again, you both turn at the sound of boots crunching on gravel.
âBambi!â Carl beams, jogging up from wherever he'd been, his clothes drenched and the sleeves of his flannel rolled up to his elbows. When he gets closer you see that there's soot smeared across his flushed cheeks, the wetness on him from sweating. âYou look like you're feelinâ a bit better, was Siddiq able to help?â
You nod, smiling and trying to step towards him when Darylâs arm shoots out and stops you from leaving his side.
You look over at him with confusion, smile dimming.
He can't even say it's because of the appointment this time. There's definitely something going on here⊠You don't like that two of the most important people in your life aren't getting along.
Since you both haven't made any moves to get closer, Carl keeps walking until he's right in front of you and Daryl, eye flicking back and forth between you cautiously.
You reach out to tug at his shirt with the arm Daryl isn't holding back. âWet?â
âOh!â Carl flushes, looking down at where his armpits have soaked through his shirt. âI-I was at the blacksmith's booth. He was showinâ me how he makes his bladesâŠâ He lowers his head, smiling thoughtfully. âIt was pretty cool.â
You make a sword motion with your hand, swinging out at him like you're in a duel. He swings back a few times, then staggers, hand to his forehead as he dramatically lets you stab him in the heart with your imaginary blade.
âI can't bear to fight you, Bambi,â He gasps, pressing a hand to the spot where you'd swung at him.
You give him a mischievous smile and twist the blade, pressing deeper.
âSo cruel,â He whines, huffing and staring at you with those half-lidded baby blues. âI'd hate to be at the other end of you with a real sword.â
You're overcome with the sudden urge to jump him and sink your teeth into his shoulder, not enough to break skin but hard enough that it leaves a mark. You want to be close to him again, tame that weird fluttering feeling you get in your stomach when he's in your line of sight.
Something on your face must give you away though, because before you know it, Daryl moves his hand up your arm to get a better grasp and pushes you behind him so that you're nearly out of one anotherâs view.
âMmm!â You whine in complaint, glaring at the back of his shoulder.
âWe were lookinâ for Rick,â Daryl says to interrupt the playful conversation you had going, souring the mood with an obvious scowl on his face. âAny idea where he is?â
âHe'sâŠâ Carl frowns slowly as he processes the way Darylâs been acting towards him recently, posture gaining that calculating edge that's kept him alive this long. âIn the junkyard. âWaiting for you, actually.â
You hate that you can hear the hurt and confusion in his voice at being treated like a delinquent by someone that's practically his uncle. He even stepped up when everyone thought Rick was losing it to help care for Judith.
âFuck,â Daryl straightens, casting his gaze in the vague direction the maze of cars had been in as if he could see it through all the buildings and structures between here and there. âI forgot all about that⊠we were trynaâ...â He shakes his head, flicking his hair out of his face. âShit. âC'mon, Bea.â
He starts to drag you off with him and you hang your head with a disappointed frown, starting to walk with him again.
But Carl stands in his path, fists loosely balled up at his sides in his iconic sheriff pose.
âWait,â He says resolutely. âWouldn't it be better if I took Bambi to get somethinâ to eat while you worked?â
Darylâs scowl gets deeper, feet turning to try and maneuver around the teen. âI appreciate the offer, but nauh.â
Carl steps back in front of him, the glint in his eye imploring.
âIt could take hours, and she still hasn't gotten a chance to see half the cool stuff here. It's a way bigger community than Alexandria,â He points out. âShe has to get to know her way âround here without you.â
You're confused what Carlâs trying to get at when his gaze flicks to yours, eye exaggeratedly closing for a shorter time than necessary to blink. He winked. He winked at you just now, but why?
Is he⊠trying to rescue you?
You whip your head towards Daryl, lips pulling into a wide smile you try your hardest to stifle as you wait for his verdict. The man's grip on you falters, then tightens, only to falter again as he stares into your eyes, fighting himself.
He lets go.
âHah⊠Okay, fine,â He reluctantly agrees, roughly but fondly pinching your cheek before turning to Carl with a stern look. âDon't you go gettinâ into trouble, and don't do nothinâ stupid, okay? She's⊠sick. Be gentle.â
You shy away at the mention, but Carl only smiles again, nodding in agreement to all of the loose rules Darylâs set.
He was never particularly good at that, but it's impossible for someone to predict all the sneaky things kids will do when they're left to their own devices. Especially teenagers.
Before Daryl can even go, Carl turns back to you excitedly. âHave you ever been to a fair?â
Sort of. Nothing particularly big like you're sure they had in Atlanta, even in a place as small as King County, but there are a few hazy celebrations in your memory of people sharing food and dancing together where you're from. âFestivals,â You nod.
Daryl watches the two of you from afar as he slowly tears himself away from you and starts making his way to the junkyard in earnest.
âWell, Hilltop is kind of like a small, permanent festival,â Carl eagerly explains, finally succeeding in taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers now that Daryl isn't here to intervene. âThe Kingdom is even better. It's got huge set pieces that make it look like it's straight from a children's book, a big market, fresh fruit and hot grilled meat. Their beef skewers are the best. âAnd I know you had to have heard about Shiva, Ezekiel's tiger.â
You nod eagerly. Carol had just been telling you more about her last night, how even at night the beautiful beast sleeps purring at Ezekiel's side, guarding him from the floor or the end of the bed with her body curled like a proper cat.
âI wish I could take you,â Carl says longingly, coming down from his ramble with a laugh. âBut it's too far to walk and I think Daryl might just kill me if we hitched a ride and I ran off with you.â
Suddenly, that's all you can think of. Running away together, sleeping at each other's side every night, and carving out your own quiet place in this world. It's not practical. You'd never leave Daryl behind, but the way he says it sounds so romantic. Not like when you were alone on the road before they found you.
âMm-mm,â You blush, giving his hand a squeeze. âI wouldn't let him.â
He squeezes back and leans over to kiss your cheek at the same time you try to kiss his, leading to a very awkward and poorly aimed but sweet peck on the lips that has you both blushing furiously.
You turn away from one another when the kiss is over, flustered even though you're linked at the hands.
It feels⊠different, in public.
Privately, it's just the two of you feeling what you feel and working around each other like a well oiled machine, but with the added knowledge that people are observing you and the loving touches you offer one another it suddenly feels risque.
It occurs to you that it might actually be a risk. Siddiq had asked you who you'd been with since you've been back and you refused to tell him to protect Carl, but now here you are kissing him in broad daylight where Siddiq could easily round the corner and catch you. You can't let that happen.
You dare to look back at him, tugging his hand forward to get him moving.
He smiles and starts running towards the market, leading you behind him by the hand. Your boots hit the pavement and uneven ground with loud thumps as the trailers and houses become tents and booths constructed from the scraps left over. Right now there's only about two rows of them, both of which you can see the end of from where you're standing, but there's also a few larger buildings from before the fall with their doors open.
âWââ You stop running, bending your upper body so that you can put your hands on your knees and cough.
Carl stops as soon as you slow down, turning to face you and rubbing your shoulder when he sees the trouble you seem to be having catching your breath. âBambi?â
You shake your head to brush off his concern, reaching into your pocket and popping one of Siddiq's candies hoping it'll at least help your voice if nothing else.
âWhere to?â You ask, signing, Slow, please.
He nods, looking serious as he scans the street. âThe first thing I wanna do is get you some fresh food. âSomethinâ not too rough on your stomach.â
Nothing hearty. Nothing greasy. Nothing heavy.
At least that's what Lori always told him when he was little and home sick. âShe'd make him homemade chicken soup and rub his back while he ate it, loosely humming songs he could never hope to put a name to.
ââM not that sickâŠâ You complain, pouting that he'd taken what Daryl said to heart.
He embarrassed you in front of Carl, and now the boy's going to keep treating you like you're breakable.
His gaze softens as he looks at you again, understanding.
âThe first time I ate here I threw it all up afterwards,â He admits sadly, giving a half shrug like the situation was inevitable. âI wasn't even sick like you are. I just wasn't used to how rich the food was after starvinâ for so longâŠâ
Your lips part, but you aren't sure what to say in response to that, so you lift your interlocked hands and nuzzle your cheek into the back of his.
He smiles softly, head cocking. âI trust you, Bambi, but I don't want to be the reason you get worse, that's all.â
At the new angle he's put his head at, he catches sight of a cart covered in roasted vegetables and skewered fruits made to look like animals, a dragon made of red and green apple slices with skin for the scales catching his eye.
âThere!â He points. âThat stuff is good quality and if you ask, they'll even drizzle different sauces on it.â
Sauces on⊠fruit?
The image that comes to mind immediately is someone drenching an assortment of fruits in ranch dressing, and it is not appealing. You stick your tongue out, walking with Carl to the cart.
The man handing the fruit out keeps positioning the skewers to make them look more appealing, while the woman next to him chops up a kiwi and some bananas to make a few bears with ear and stomach details. She ends up with more banana than she needs, so she ends up making one of the bears a polar bear.
âMiss my paper,â You whisper quietly to yourself, looking down at your free hand and remembering the way it felt to carefully fold each animal with your fingers.
The rest of your animals probably burned with Alexandria, you think sadly, mouth turning into a pout.
A kid runs up to the man and excitedly demands the dragon Carl had his eye on, pleading for extra sauce as the man drowns it in caramel. That makes more sense. Carl pretends not to be disappointed, but you see the look in his eye.
Another day, you sign, better dragon to slay.
To your surprise, he actually seems to understand a majority of your sentence.
âAnother day,â He echoes, using the sign for animal. âStronger animals for your kingdom.â
Suddenly you feel something slip into your free hand and see that the woman has given you the banana polar bear, along with a mango kangaroo, and a strawberry dinosaur.
âYou are so cute,â She giggles, a big smile on her face as she baby-talks you. âI remember when you first came here with your dad and Rick, I thought to myselfâ that looks exactly like my baby brother,â She grimaces. âWell, not literally. That'd be weird. But the shy awkward silent thing is just like him! You're such a cute little guy!â
You open your mouth to respond before closing it and bashfully looking at the ground with a flat smile, sighing through your nose.
Your mind is torn between focusing on the fact she thought Daryl was your dad, and the fact she mistook you for a boy, both of which make you extremely uncomfortable right now for different reasons.
Daryl doesn't want to be your dadâŠ
Does he?
He acts like your dad. He cares for you like a dad would. He teaches you like a dad. You love him like he's your dad and worry every time you're separated. You even have your own house (kind of) where you live together, and last night you got to sleep in his bed with him after a nightmare.
You blush, shaking the thought from your head as you bite the polar bear's head off, only to realize that Carlâs been intently staring at you.
Your brows unfurrow and you stop chewing, swallowing with a gulp.
âHm?â
âNothinâ,â He says quickly, averting his gaze. âThere's a lot more I want to show you.â
He tries to pull you away from the stand, but you stay firmly planted, pointing at the man who's actually handing out the fruit sticks.
Pay? Trade?
âOh, no,â Carl laughs, the awkward tension from before gone as he points at all the other people running up to get sticks and walking away. âYou don't have to give them anythinâ for what you get here. It works like that for most places, especially if their product is labor based like fruit. As long as you do your part in the community, everythinâ is free.â
Huh⊠Weird. You unplant your feet and let him lead you to the next cart, one where an older woman is selling blankets and home made pastries.
It looks like a square donut covered in something white, but the woman tells you that it's a beignet, something famous where she came from before.
She tells you a story about a famous man playing jazz right outside her window, confetti constantly all over the street and beaded necklaces getting thrown up into the flower pots on her balcony. âSays Hilltop is nowhere near as big and bright as her hometown.
You beg Carl to let you try one despite his worries about you getting sick and eventually he gives in, feeding you the pastry by hand. Apparently she's told him this story several times before and always makes him take a bag full of the sweet treat, which she does again. One for each of you.
That leads Carl to make another stop, into one of the storefronts where he pushes you forward and tells the man working that you need a bag. He shows you several, including a ridiculously bright orange one with pink accents and a flower decal, which would instantly get you killed in the woods despite how cute it is.
You settle on a camo backpack with black straps, the logo half ripped off and a few wonky stars drawn in places with a black marker. It's definitely used, but it's tougher than the other options he showed you.
Carl gives you another look, staring, but he recovers faster this time and loads the pastries into your backpack, leading you forward.
As soon as you're outside the shop, the sound of metal on metal can be heard down the road.
A few people abandon their stalls and walk down to crowd around the large tarped permanent structure with smoke billowing out from under it. It stands out from the rest of the places around Hilltop, with its blackened medieval structure and leather tarps, clearly built for durability instead of aesthetic. You'd think the building was for food if the smell of ash didn't rise so powerfully.
âBlacksmith?â You question, tentatively stepping closer with wide eyes.
âYeah, uhââ He puts his hand in yours again, tugging. You hadn't even realized you'd let go of him. âI don't think we should go there today. âThe blacksmith made some new swords and people have been sparrinâ off and on. It could be dangerousâŠâ
That sounds amazing. You have to see it. You want to try it.
âOne peek?â You plead, watching the crowd gasp in awe.
He can tell by the mischievous glint in your eye that you plan on pushing him for more the second he gives in and lets you go over there.
âBambi, I don't think that's a good idea,â Carl repeats more firmly. âYouâre coughinâ already, it's only goinâ to get worse if you inhale smoke.â
âButâŠâ You trail off, feeling discouraged by the tension in Carlâs posture.
You used to spar all the time, get into good natured fights that left your knuckles and noses bleeding. It was fulfilling. He fought with the skill of someone trained by a cop, and you fought with the cunning of someone used to ripping their way out of restraints. At the end of the day you'd pushed each other past your limits and learned how to defend yourself better.
âI don't wanna see you get hurt,â Carl says, urging you away from the crowd and back towards the rows of market.
You frown, sighing as you unplant your feet to continue letting him lead you around. âOkay.â
He only has your best interests at heart, it's not his fault everyone's treating you this way.
âI promise we'll come ân see him together. âAnother day when it's less busy and the coals aren't goinâ,â He comforts.
âMm,â You hum noncomittally.
The two of you wind up exploring a majority of the market Hilltop has to offer. You excitedly follow Carl to every booth he leads you past, trying to map it all out in your head despite the overload of colorful visual information and sound you're receiving.
You try to convince him to dance with you when you come across a man playing the violin in a group of drunken people taking a break, but he flushes and refuses, promising again that the two of you will dance when heâs sure youâre feeling well enough to.
Eventually the sky begins tinting orange and Carl leads you to a neighborhood, collapsing into sitting down against a cinderblock holding up a trailer, sighing contentedly.
âSo⊠how was your first real tour of Hilltop?â He asks with a grin as you shove a vegetable skewer into your mouth, licking your fingers in a way that reminds him so much of Daryl he does a double take.
âAwesome,â You smile, licking your lips. âI need to do it like a hundred more times, I feel like I'm already forgetting where we started.â
âGood, because I want to take you there a hundred more times,â He laughs, then slowly the smile on his face turns into a contemplative frown.
âCarl?â
He takes your other hand in his so that he's holding both of them, squeezing and rubbing with a serious look on his face.
Is this it? Does he know? Did he figure it out, or worse are you showing somehow?
âI have a question,â He says softly, voice honest. âAnd don't take this the wrong way. I don't care what the answer is, I want you to know that. It's you I care about.â
You swallow hard, chest aching with sadness.
You'd barely gotten the chance to be with him the way you'd wanted to be and now it's all over. He'll never trust you again, hell, he might not even talk to you. He probably hates your guts and only pretended to want to hang out with you today to give you closure because he's kind like that.
âAre you a boy?â He asks abruptly, pulling you from your thoughts.
You raise your eyes to his, face scrunching up with confusion as you look between him and pointedly at your chest, which he's seen bare.
âNo⊠I mean,â He pauses, making a soft scoff because he can't think of the right words. âAre you a boy?â He accentuates by pointing at your chest and shifting the aim to your face.
âMm? Mm-mm,â You shake your head, puzzled by the question.
âWell⊠are you a girl?â He asks next.
You think about this one longer, frowning with frustration at the memories of looking at yourself in the mirror and wondering why you were so inadequate. Nothing like the women you wished to be like, chest flat, shoulders too broad yet too soft to be a man's. You wished you could be seen like a girl, wished to be worthy of delicate items you held like glass, worried your existence would tarnish them. The way Enid and Judith and all the other girls stared at you like an outsider despite knowing yourself that you were disguised.
You lower your head. âI just don't think it should matterâŠâ
You'll never understand why people fixate on your gender so much.
âIt makes me mad,â You say slowly, a frown on your face. âI do my best and it's never good enough because people expect worse now. They treat me different.â
And you're constantly afraid.
Your shield has been taken. âAnd as soon as it was, the worst thing that could have happened did.
Before Daryl found you, you'd been hiding yourself for a long time because you knew what happened to girls that got caught. You knew what sick and twisted things they'd do, especially to the ones that were alone like you were. Yet the time that you finally faced this reality, you'd been surrounded by a group you were a part of, chest bound and hair cut short.
It was all for nothing. You punished and pushed yourself to the brink just to be taken advantage of anyway because you were weak.
Carl nods slowly, taking the information in. âOkay⊠I think I get it.â
He doesnât. Because he doesn't know. Because you've been lying to him.
âYou say you don't care about the answer, but clearly it means something or you wouldn't have asked,â You whisper, feeling tears well up in your eyes.
He never used to pay you any attention. You wouldn't be here like this if he hadn't found out that you were a girl.
You try to pull your hands out of his and he bites his lower lip, squirming where he sits as he holds them tighter.
âBambi,â He coos.
You turn your head away.
âPlease?â He asks. âJust listen?â
You nod. You can do that. Listen to him and give him a chance to explain what he's thinking, even if you don't want to hear it.
âI⊠never⊠like, suspected that you weren't a guy or anythinââŠâ He gulps with a shaky voice, cheeks dusting a light pink. âBut even before I knew, I⊠I liked you a lotââ He chokes out, grip tightening on you anxiously. âI liked spendinâ time with you, and laughinâ at stupid jokes, and havinâ you in my room...â
You smile softly. ââLiked you too.â
He shakes his head, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. âBambi, IâŠâ
He takes another deep breath.
âI thought you were cute⊠and amazinâ. There was nothinâ you couldn't do if you set your mind to it. Every second of your voice I got to hear âevery laugh or sigh I managed to get out of youâ played on loop in my head every time I tried to go to sleepâŠâ He pauses, looking very much like he wants to cry. âI-I tried to forget about it, but I couldn't. I didn't care if you were a guy, I liked you. âIt's never mattered to me what you are, as long as it's you.â
By the end of his explanation he's lightly panting through his mouth, teary eye pleading for you to be okay with this, to not judge him.
Me too, you sign, leaning in and giving him another kiss on the lips.
He moans in relief and appreciation, grabbing the back of your neck to gently hold you in the position until you decide to pull away or deepen the kiss.
You pull away, staring into his eye and the bandage covering his empty socket.
You want to yank the gauze right off his face and press kisses all along the seam of his scar, stare into the depths of the beautiful crater keeping him alive.
âYou're beautiful,â You tell him, because it's true and he doesn't hear it enough.
He lets out a disbelieving laugh that comes out more of a huff than anything else, looking away from you for a moment.
âSo are you,â He sighs, rubbing his hand along your jaw and down to the base of your neck. âEvery version. No matter what.â
You look down at your feet guiltily, thinking about how he's going to react when he finds out about what happened and still might be happening to you right now. âYou're not stupid enough to think a boy his age will want to stick around in the apocalypse if you find out that you're⊠pregnant.
You remember hearing people laugh about teen boys from your town running out on their pregnant girlfriends, never to be seen again. You were just a little kid back then. You couldn't really grasp what they were talking about.
âYou know you can tell me anythinâ... Don't you?â Carl whispers, hand starting to massage your neck with a steady squeeze and release, mimicking the tight full body squeezes that soothe you.
You nod half-heartedly.
âBambiâŠ?â He coos again, leaning back in so close your noses are almost touching.
You lower your head, cheeks flushing as you stare up at him through your lashes.
He starts to grin, voice turning sing-songy. âBambi, come on. Tell me what's wrong.â
You shake your head, lips turning up into a slight smile at the sight of his.
He starts to laugh when a duffle bag drops down into the dirt between you, jagged metal pieces clanging together loudly as it hits the ground and you jump away from noise.
âHah,â Daryl pants, grin pulled tight on his lips as he glances between you. âI finished early ân decided I'd come hang out with yaâ.â
âOh, you don't have toââ Carl is cut short when the man plops down between you, putting his arms around both of your shoulders to keep you firmly separated. âUh⊠Okay.â
Daryl stares Carl down, tongue tucked into his cheek.
âSo what're we doinâ, ah?â He asks, clearly wanting Carl to explain what the two of you are doing and why you were so close together. The more lost Carl looks, the harder Darylâs glare seems to get.
âTalkingâŠâ You answer quietly.
Daryl turns his attention to you next, patting you on the back so hard with false enthusiasm you have to move your foot to keep your balance.
âAbout what?â
You cringe, looking away from his prying gaze uncomfortably.
A few moments pass in awkward silence, your hands fidgeting in your lap and Carlâs in his, before the pressure is just too much to withstand anymore.
Carl stands and your heart sinks.
âBambi, I think I'm gonna go,â He grumbles, but then instead of standing up and backing off like he'd done yesterday, he leans over Daryl to wrap his arms around you in a hug, snuggling into your neck with a concealed peck before he pulls away. âI'll see you tomorrow,â He smiles, waving as he walks off.
You pull your lips into your mouth, trying and failing to hide the grin on your face as you wave back.
Daryl scowls, grumbling as he watches him go.
âDon't let that boy do anythinâ you don't want him to,â He warns. âGrabbinâ you like that is just askinâ to get punched.â
âI like him,â You say softly, staring after him with so much adoration itâs scary.
Daryl gulps.
âIâm beinâ serious. Donât let him do anythinâ to you, Bea,â He repeats, voice wavering. âFriends are great, but⊠that doesnât mean you owe âem anythinâ. I-I know it can be confusinâ when you, you know, start feelinâ a certain kind of way as you get older, butââ
You cringe so hard it physically hurts, audibly sucking a breath in through clenched teeth.
âIâm just sayinâ I donât want the two of you makinâ a mistake,â He finishes awkwardly by regurgitating Rick's words to him, turning his head away from you.
You think about letting the conversation end there, busying yourself with relacing your boots despite the knots they were in being perfectly fine, but you decide to test the waters. You want to know what he thinks as someone who âsort ofâ knows what happened to you.
â...What if I like him as more than a friend?â You ask slowly, heart pounding fiercely in your chest.
âYou canât,â He says quickly.
You raise your head to look at him with confusion, feeling something inside you start to crack. âI⊠canât?â
You're looking to Daryl for advice in one of the most delicate situations of your life, and looking at those big, wet eyes he doesn't know what to say. âSaying the wrong thing here is not an option, but picking the right thing is like stepping into a minefield of ways to misinterpret it. It could change the rest of your life and the way you see yourself.
âYou shouldnât,â He amends, looking panicked. âI mean, donât get me wrong, Carlâs a good kid but youâreââ
Not, your brain supplies when he fails you.
You feel your heart shatter into a million pieces as you watch him stumble over a few more words he canât get out, unable to find a nice way to break it to you. âYouâre damaged, thatâs all. He doesnât have to tell you.
You tried so hard to be good, but you just can't. You're always going to fail Daryl, and Carl, and everyone else you love.
Your entire body is shaking where you sit next to him, knees against your chest and fingers slowly flexing against your calves in a way that looks angry.
âBea,â Daryl says, trying to reach for you.
You smack his hand away, snatching up your bag and running off as fast as you can.
You pull at some of the sheets underneath you, wrapping yourself up in them. âI hate being responsible.â
âI think we discussed that already,â Carl says with one of the largest smiles youâve gotten from him.
He pulls on his jeans and boxers, bending over as he works his belt toâ
You jolt when he kisses you on the cheek, his mouth just barely catching on the corner of yours.
âIâll see you later, okay? âEat up.â
Youâre stunned to silence, heart going a million miles an hour in your chest.
This game of he loves me, he loves me not it starting to get sickening. Half the time all you can think about is how heartbroken and alone youâll be when all of this is over and he and Enid reunite.
tw: mentions of SA, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of STDs, mentions of menstruation, secondary traumatic stress (Daryl), self-blame, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of child death, dark intrusive thoughts (Daryl), *DARYL âSMUTâ* -> read at your own risk, dubious consent, miscommunication
You hear the first set of double doors to the building open and shut, two sets of footsteps coming to a stop right before the set that you're standing behind. Itâs quiet for a moment, your breathing slow and soft enough that you can hear the pair's clothes shuffle when they turn their heads.
If this were any other moment in time you might have closed your eyes to enjoy the peaceful, occasionally interrupted silence like the soft shushing of trees in the woods, but it's not.
Your hands are hidden behind you, and your back is pressed up against the wall, head angled low so that your hair shadows part of your face. You think it's odd that they haven't said anything, but you wait through another odd moment of silence from the two adults before you raise your head to look at them.
They're farther away than you initially thought they'd be, and apparently they haven't spotted you in the corner⊠Which makes sense, because technically you were trying to hide when you picked that spot to wait.
âThink she went in already?â Carol asks hesitantly, shifting on her feet to look down the hallway instead of facing the direction you're in. âWhen she turns back, you duck your head behind the door to avoid being seen. â...What are the chances?â
For what feels like the millionth time today, Daryl rubs a hand down his face, index and thumb pausing to rub tiredly at the corners of his eyes.
âShe wouldn't have,â He sighs, breath shaking on the exhale. âIs there any other way out of this building?â He asks, and to your surprise he doesn't sound the least bit disappointed or angry at you, even thinking you tried to escape the appointment.
âNot that I knowââ
You let out a cough to get their attention, knocking on the wall behind you.
Daryl's eyes flick up to the source of the noise, then soften when they meet yours.
âBea, sorry,â He apologizes, looking relieved. âThanks for waiting, kid.â
âMm,â You hum, shrugging.
Daryl pauses when he notices some faint movement behind your back, one of your hands digging into the other arm to try and prevent your hands from shaking the way that they are.
You're getting better at hiding things from him. If he hadn't noticed, your poker face would probably have been too good for him to notice anything else was amiss.
He turns away from you, looking down the hallway towards Siddiq's office.
The walls are clean and smooth like theyâve just been painted, the grain of the wood flooring twisting to hypnotically lead his eyes to a single room. His vision begins to swim and go dark at the edges when he stares at the clinical, hospital-like hallway for too long, the natural daylight âthe only light in this buildingâ too dim to focus as sharply as he would be able to outside in the open.
It feels like the hall stretches on forever.
âMakes him feel sick.
âYou doin' okay?â He asks, already knowing that all you're going to respond with is a shrug and a noise to let him know that you heard the question before you do it.
You're so easy to read.
Daryl turns back to look at you, jaw clenched as he takes another deep breath.
âWell, I'm scared.â
A jolt of panic goes through you at the admission, your eyes growing wide. If he's afraid and he's not even the one being examined, how should you be feeling right now? How are you meant to hold it together when Daryl, the strongest person you know, canât?
Your hands fall to your sides, still shaking as your lip begins quivering and your brows turn up in a panic.
Carol snaps her head towards Daryl, giving the man her best What the fuck? look, but he ignores her and steps forward, holding his arm out to you.
ââWill you hold my hand?â He finishes, his voice cracking with the weight of the emotions he's trying to keep at bay.
You look down at it, then back up at him, before eagerly clasping your hands together and squeezing his palm tightly. Your shoulders come up to shield your neck and you step close to him, taking your place at his side with a soft, dry sob.
âYouâre alright,â He hushes, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. âYouâre safe. âIâve got you, Bea.â
He takes a single step towards the infirmary, pausing to look down and make sure youâre doing alright before he takes another and so on. By the time youâve made it to the open door at the end of the hall, the tremors have made their way up through your arms and to the rest of your body.
Siddiq looks up from his desk and you squeeze Darylâs hand tighter, swallowing hard.
He squeezes back.
âAhâ Hello again, Bambi,â The man greets sweetly.
Carol walks in after you and leans up against the doorframe, preventing it from shutting all the way. âWhich you donât notice, but not hearing the deafening sound of the door shutting behind you like back in that cell at the Saviorâs base significantly reduces the amount of stress youâre under.
You take a seat on the exam table, not letting go of Darylâs hand, even as you struggle to climb onto it. Once youâve gotten situated you turn around to look at Rick standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, who briefly softens to offer you a tight, weary smile.
Jerk. He's why Daryl made you come here.
The sound of wheels gets your attention and you face forward, surprised to see Siddiq has wheeled over to you on his chair with a notepad in hand.
âAll settled?â He asks, the subtle smile on his lips never wavering.
It weirds you out that heâs acting so differently than the other adults in the room, but itâs also kind of a relief that he's not putting so much pressure on you and what's going to happen here.
You shrug at him with one shoulder, scrunching up your nose with a sniff.
He nods to himself, like he expected as much. âMostly because he did.
Siddiq tried to tell Rick he wasn't qualified for this kind of thing âespecially since he's hardly a doctor as it isâ but the man wouldn't take no for an answer and it was kind of difficult to refuse with Daryl actively trying to throttle him a few feet away, so he agreed.
And he read. A lot.
He pretty much turned Hilltop inside out looking for any books that might help him help you, from medical journals and psychological analyses to somewhat dramatized retellings of the impact of being victimized at your age. It was hard, but it helped give him some parameters to work with and he began practicing what he was going to say and how he would act in the room with you.
He decided to avoid standing up if he could so he wouldnât seem physically imposing, to raise the pitch of his voice slightly, but not enough to come across as condescending or like heâs baby-talking you, and to avoid looking at you for too long. âHence the notepad and pen, which could also double as a method of communication for you if need be.
âItâs nice to see you,â Siddiq says cheerfully, directed at you, but with a fleeting glance to the adults in the room. âAlthough I'm sure you'd rather not be seeing me right now.â
The room is completely silent.
âAhem. SoâŠâ He clears his throat, making his voice softer, "Do you know why you're here?â
You nod slowly. The test.
âGood, good. That's good,â He says in response to the nods, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second as he scoots back a bit, looking down at the notepad. âHave you been feeling any⊠discomfort?â
You touch your stomach with your free hand. Hurts.
âOkay, some stomach pain. I heard you've been nauseous lately too,â He writes something down, then looks back up at you. âWhat about elsewhere? Have you been⊠itchy or does it hurt when you use the bathroom at all?â
Your upper lip curls involuntarily at the thought and you shake your head.
âOkay, that's good too,â He says, smile getting tighter like he's struggling to maintain it while he thinks about his next question, sending a nervous glance to the man standing at your side. âUhm, Bambi, do you have any idea when your last menstrual cycle was?â
You blink at him, feeling Darylâs hand twitch in yours.
â...Before,â You say scratchily, not willing to let go of Darylâs hand for any complex signs.
Siddiq scrunches his nose at the sound of your voice, kicking back until his chair hits the desk behind him, then rifling through the drawers until he finds a small off-white pouch. âYou like candy, don't you, Bambi?â
You narrow your eyes skeptically, starting to turn your head towards Daryl for direction when Siddiq opens the bag and holds one of what he was looking for up for you.
It looks like a cough drop, small and oval shaped except it's flat, and the bag is filled with a bunch of different colors.
âHm?â You hum in a questioning tone.
âThis is like candy, except it's going to help with your voice and your throat,â He explains, dropping it into your free hand from a distance to let you inspect it. ââAnd it's not medicated, so you don't have to worry about waiting between them. Take as many or as little as you like.â
Daryl stares down at it, ready to toss it if he hears anything he doesnât like. âWhat's it made of?â
âHoney, a bit of tea, some fruit⊠an alternative to sugar, and some starch they had leftover from the bakery,â The man answers, his voice dipping until he looks back at you, realizing his slip up. âI promise it's good.â
You roll it over in your palm, frowning.
Then you tip your head back and pop it into your mouth, using your tongue to push it around as you try to decide if it's agreeable or not. It's hard, but it leaves this weird coating on your throat like lotion, and it's only vaguely sweet because of whatever flavor it's supposed to be.
You lick your lips anyway, loosely signing, Thank you.
A genuine smile spreads across Siddiq's face when you decide to trust him, relief joining the mix soon after when Daryl backs down seeing you accept the candy.
âYou said the last time you bled was before you were taken⊠Do you know how long before you were taken?â He asks, holding eye contact for slightly longer than he had before.
âHmâŠâ You squint, trying to think back, but coming up empty. It was definitely... longer than it should have been. âMm-mm.â
It was so infrequent before that when it came you were more focused on hiding it than the actual process of it⊠Not to mention you often found yourself in the woods, covered in walker blood without access to any hygiene products. It's not like they can go look at the burned up supply logs from Alexandria and check when you took (stole) some.
âDo you remember how long they would last? âWere they regular, to your understanding?â
You shake your head. âShort.â
âI seeâŠâ He mutters, brows raising as he sets the notepad and pen down, scooting closer. âMay I touch your stomach?â
You make a noise of protest, yanking away despite the man not having lifted a finger to actually touch you when he slides closer. Daryl catches you with his free arm before you can fall backwards off of the table or run and wraps it around your chest.
âS'okay, you're okay,â He mutters into your hair while you growl, getting louder as he announces the second bit. âI ain't lettinâ nobody put their hands on you.â
He glares at the doctor, who slides back again while he patiently waits for you to calm down with his hands visible in his lap.
You aren't scared.
You aren't. You're angry and uncomfortable. âNervous too, about whateverâs going on between the adults and why theyâre so deadset on trying to hide the obvious conflict from you.
If things were normal, then Daryl would be acting normal instead of frantically whispering into your ear like youâre a ticking bomb, Carol would be gone by now, and Rick wouldnât be here at all. Especially not watching like this, like he knows something you donât and has the right to make choices for you like forcing you to come here.
He can push Daryl around, and by consequence, you. Which makes you want to do anything to prove him wrong. Show him he's not as in control as he thinks.
You could throw a fit, smash everything, or try to run awayâŠ
But you don't want to be bad, you want to be good, for Daryl.
You let out an angry chuff through clenched teeth while staring at the doctor, lifting your shoulder to put some room between Darylâs face and yours, still unable to shake the feeling you woke up with this morning.
Siddiq's eyes are soft and understanding, even as he meets the malice in yours. He lifts his hands in surrender.
âIt's alright, I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. I mostly asked that as an example anyhow,â He says, voice softer again. â...Some of the questions I'm going to ask you today might make you feel uncomfortable or scared, and when I do, feel free to not answer. âI won't push.â
You hate this. You hate him. You hate that he's being so nice to you when you know you really don't deserve it at all.
He leans forward in the chair, lacing his fingers together and fidgeting slightly as he gives another unsure glance to the rest of the room. âDo you understand what consent is?â
You nod against Darylâs body.
âSo you know whatever happened there... in the bad place, was wrong, right? âAnd you know it wasn't your fault?â He asks, trying to get you to look at him and put your trust in him again.
You press yourself further into Daryl, briefly disengaging.
âSiddiq,â Rick warns from the corner of the room.
It's a single word, his name, but it sounds so harsh and angry.
The doctor sits up straight, looking at the other man with hesitation. âI was just trying toââ
âMove on.â
âBut, sheââ
âMove on,â He repeats with more emphasis.
Siddiq looks back over at you, concern blanketing his features, but he swallows and slowly seems to manage to push it down for the sake of getting through this appointment. You're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
He seems progressively more uncomfortable in the situation they've forced him into by asking him to have a look at you, and you feel for him. You don't want to be here either.
You take a deep breath and try to settle down the familiar rattle in your skin.
âBefore you were gone, had you ever had any encounters that might have led to pregnancy?â He asks delicately, showing no signs of judgement.
You shake your head.
Siddiq pauses before his next question, looking contemplative. â...What made you think you needed a test?â
Everything.
From the sensation of hands across your body to the pain of being taken at whim and thrown around like a ragdoll, the torture room, then the helplessness of hunger like you've never known, and then coming back to the only place you felt safe, only⊠you are different. Every fear you didn't have a name for came true before you could articulate it, and now it feels like you're permanently marked. âHurts worse than any brand or burns on your skin ever could.
But that's impossible to explain, so instead, you shrug.
Again and again, that's all you ever seem to do.
âOkayâŠâ Siddiq says slowly, eyes narrowing as he cocks his head at you, trying to put the incomplete pieces he has together. You're not making it easy on him.
He straightens out, leaning back in his chair again and crossing his arms over his chest, slouching.
âLet's talk about something else, then,â He says, skipping past his last question. âWhat about since you've been back?â
You wait for him to continue, but he doesnât. âMm?â
âHave you had any sexual encounters since you've been back?â He rephrases, not backing down.
âHey,â Daryl hisses at him, letting go of you. âI've been with her this whole time. Ain't nobody been near this kid like that! What the hell is wrong with you?!â
At the same time, Rickâs arms drop and he starts shouting from the corner, stepping forward. âSiddiq! That's enough.â
The doctor shrugs them off, giving them stern looks. âVictims ofâ" He stops, eyes flicking to you, then back. "Victims are more likely to be assaulted again than people who've never been assaulted. Not to mention, if someone has been close enough to get a better look at the totality of her injuries they might be able to give us a better picture of what we're dealing with. âSo sit down, and let me do my job⊠please.â
Rick looks thoroughly chastized, slowly moving back to the corner with his shoulders tensed.
But Daryl doesn't go back to holding you, instead starting to round the table to make his way over to Siddiq.
âNauh! You're standinâ over here talkinâ about how this kid might be raped again on our watch!â He shouts angrily, fists balling up. âYou're probably scarinâ the shit outta her!â
Your lips part at the word he uses and you lean away from him on the table, humiliation burning your cheeks.
âDaryl!â Carol shouts furiously, grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him.
âGet the fuck offaâ me!â Daryl shoves her away with his elbow, making sure the joint doesn't actually connect anywhere on her to do any damage. âI'm gonna kill him!â
âGet a hold of yourself!â The woman shouts back, pulling as hard as she can until Daryl finally gives in, slamming his fist into the wall and leaving the room with her.
âŠLeaving you alone with Rick and Siddiq, who noticeably gets further away from you, sighing.
âJesus fuckinâ christ,â Rick shakily whispers to himself, pinching his brow between his fingers.
You hear Daryl yelling in the hallway for a while, but eventually the sound fades and you hear the doors to the building open and slam closed, sending another burst of panic through you.
He just⊠left.
You can hardly believe it. He left you alone when he knew you were absolutely petrified to be here.
Siddiq turns when he hears you make a noise while pulling your knees up to your chest, watching you subtly rocking yourself for a moment before he says anything else.
âBambiâŠ?â He calls softly, waiting until you look at him. âDo you want to stop? We can always pick up another day andââ
You rapidly shake your head.
You don't want there to be another day of this. You can't handle having to go through this again.
âOkay, that's alright,â He agrees, keeping his distance. âAre you willing to answer my last question?â
You close your eyes, slowly working up the courage to nod without having the added pressure of seeing the inevitable disappointment and disgust that will cross his features. Theyâre going to be angry. Theyâre going to think all kinds of horrible things about you because of what you did when you came back.
When you nod, itâs jerky, your reluctance showing through it.
âIâm sorryâŠâ You whisper quietly, voice breaking apart.
While your eyes are closed, Rick perks up in the corner looking absolutely mortified. He feels nauseated. If Siddiq hadn't asked that, if they had cut the man off earlier, they never would have known. You could have been victimized over and over again, in their new home by one one of their own and they never would have guessed. âYou certainly wouldnât have said anything about it.
The doctor has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything like before or letting a string of incoherent cursing out.
âWasâŠâ He chokes on the word, the air in his lungs vanishing. âWas it consensual?â
You nod again, faster this time.
He doesn't know what he would have done if you had said no.
Rick lets out a sigh of relief, tipping his head back and lightly hitting it against the wall, which elicits a cautionary half-turn from you.
âDo you feel like you want to do more things like that now? âLike it's the only way to feel good?â He continues, feeling his palms start to sweat nervously. He doesn't like this line of questioning. It makes him feel sicker than he already does, but it's necessary, he reminds himself. All of this is necessary. âHow often are youâŠ?â
You shake your head, whispering, âOnce,â so broken it's barely audible.
âYouââ Siddiq finally breaks, voice cutting out as he turns his head away. âSorry, Iâ I need a minute.â
One minute becomes two, then three, before he's able to face you again with the positive attitude he started the appointment with.
He just has to remember, you're a child taking cues from the people around you. If he's nervous and panicky and breaks down right here or worse, snaps like Daryl did, it's going to set a precedent for you. You might be less inclined to speak up in the future.
Heâs no psychiatrist âagain, barely a doctorâ but he thinks that might cause you some long-term psychological damage.
âYou've only been intimate with someone once since you've been back?â He repeats for confirmation, giving you a small smile when you nod again. âOkay. âThat's okay. Did the person use protection?â
You shake your head.
He cringes on the inside. That could be a problem. âAm I allowed to ask whoââ
You shake your head harder, your back starting to tingle because you can't watch it with your eyes closed and Daryl isn't here to protect you anymore. He left. He left you and you want to cry, but thatâs not going to make him come back.
âWhy are they a secret?â He asks gently, smile beginning to fade again. ââŠDid they ask you to keep them a secret?â
You slow the shaking of your head, looking away from him as you answer, âI'm bad.â
There are a lot of things you canât control anymore, but thereâs one person left you can protect. They can force you to do whatever they want, but youâll never give Carl up. He's innocent.
âNo, youâre nââ Siddiq chokes again, this time harder, but he spins around in his chair so that he's facing away from you before you can see it.
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, every terrible thing he read coming back to haunt him, but he absolutely refuses to let them fall with you in the room.
He pulls himself together and turns back around, voice trembling with anger as he tries to reassure you. âYou're not bad, Bambi. âI am so, so sorry that people are making you feel this way. It's not fair, none of this is, but I promise you it's not true. You arenât here right now because youâre in trouble, or because you hid things from them. You're here because everyone loves you and theyâre scared.â
You don't respond, using the toe of your shoe to scuff the table.
Siddiq can't take this anymore. He needs a break from all this tension.
It might be harder to enjoy yourself without your guardian around, but Siddiq is going to try and keep you soothed for as long as you're in his care.
âWhat kind of music do you like to listen to, Bambi?â He asks, gliding over to the CD player in the corner.
+
+
+
âIâm not going to make her take the test,â Siddiq says hesitantly.
âWhat?â Rick gapes, keeping his voice low.
Daryl, who had been coaxed back inside by Carol after another lecture, feels a massive weight roll off his shoulders despite himself. It would be better to conclusively know whether youâre pregnant or not, but Daryl doesnât like the mental image of you being forced to take a test like that. âEspecially after the way he acted in the room with you.
He can still see the look of terror in your eyes, unable to communicate enough to stop him or make it through the shouting as he left.
Siddiq purses his lips, teething the bottom one as he tries to articulate his reasoning.
âGiven her situation⊠I don't think it would be right to push her on this. It's the only thing she wants control over. Forcing her would be violating,â The man pauses, looking a little uncomfortable. âQuite frankly from what she's told me, and what I've observed, I don't think it matters whether she's pregnant or not. âIt's not viable.â
The relief he felt just moments ago halts, frozen by the news. Even Carol goes uncharacteristically straight at his side, quickly grabbing his shoulder in the hopes of preventing another outburst. âWhat'dya mean?â
âHer hormones are out of balance so she never developed properly, she has poor nutrition, she's under a lot of stress, she lives in a community where she's constantly around smokeâŠâ He lists out. âIf the pregnancy actually took, it probably wouldn't last long. âCertainly not to term. Her body can't physically handle it.â
Siddiq looks at the door of the exam room, picturing you sitting on the table right now, waiting to be told you're free.
âI'd be more apologetic about that bit, had she seemed to want it at all,â He amends, purposefully avoiding the fearful looks he's getting.
Rick clenches his jaw. âLetâs be glad thatâs not something we have to deal with.â
âShe can't physically handle it, what does that mean?â Daryl repeats under his breath, his heart pounding dangerously in his chest. âYou're sayinâ she don't need to take the test, but you're also sayinâ she can't handle beinâ pregnant? âWhat does that mean?â
Carol squeezes his shoulder so that her fingers dig into his skin, the pain an attempt to distract him.
âWhat if it does? âLast?â Rick asks anxiously.
The doctor's response doesn't inspire confidence.
âThere's no way,â Siddiq says with a grimace, shaking his head. âIf that child gives birth, she'd die. Not even. She probably wouldn't make it through the first few months with a baby taking as much nutrients as it does. âAnd no matter how far the baby makes it, there's absolutely no chance it would come into this world healthy. Then without a mother, well⊠you get the picture.â
Daryl swipes a hand down his face, starting to get that same overwhelmed panicky feeling he got in the exam room again. âThe feeling he got when he realized he was completely incapable of helping you. âHow do we even fix that? A hormone imbalance in the damn apocalypseâŠâ
Carol loosens her grip, starting to reassuringly stroke his back instead of holding him in place.
âIs it hurtinâ her?â Rick asks.
Siddiq hums, brows furrowing as he thinks through what he knows. âDifficult to sayâŠâ He mumbles. âIf I had to pick symptoms that Bambi might be experiencing that are exacerbated by it, I'd say the quick weight loss, anxiety, maybe some depression⊠if the vomiting isn't a sign of pregnancy, that too.â
âNo, no, no,â Daryl says in a wheeze, turning away like he's going to walk again. âCarol, please take her⊠Please?â
âI'll take her back to the barn,â Carol says tersely, a deep frown settling on her face.
She looks at Siddiq for permission before slipping into the office and closing the door behind her, then shortly after comes back out with you in tow.
Siddiq gives you a sad smile, his eyes still bloodshot from holding back earlier. The second he left the room he vomited.
âGoodbye, Bambi,â He says softly, raising his left hand. âI hope you feel much better the next time we meet.â
You stare at him.
Ultimately, when he offered to play music he ended up playing two blues songs and an old rock CD that had Rick tapping his foot, and eventually, full on dad-dancing in the back of the examination room.
You couldnât help the light laughter it pried out of youâ it was ridiculous.
And where Siddiq could have given you any old medicine or forced you to drink bitter tea leaves, he went out of his way to turn what you needed into an enjoyable, familiar-looking candy.
You smile softly back at him and Siddiq's own falls to something stunned, the rest of the adults following suit when you slap your hand against his in a high-five.
âI get why Carl likes you,â You say softly, tonguing the candy in your cheek.
The man breaks out into the most genuine smile you've seen on his face all day as he stands up straighter, giving Rick and Daryl knowing looks in a silent communication you're not a part of.
âC'mon, let's go get you some food, kid,â Carol says, starting to walk off. She doesn't get very far before you rush to her side, shoulders brushing. âI feel like cookin' today, are you interested? âI might even make a batch of my cookies.â
You nod excitedly, rushing out a, âYes, please!â
Daryl watches the two of you go and feels his gut twist painfully. âHe wants to be the one at your side, comforting you in all the right ways and sure of what needs to be done next to keep you safe, but when he's back here looking at the two of you he could almost mistake you for mother and daughter.
It feels right.
Carol lost her daughter, and you lost your parents. It makes sense that you'd fill the empty places in one anotherâs lives.
Daryl certainly didn't lose a daughter or sister. He's got no right.
âIâm âonna go get a drink,â He grumbles bitterly, brushing off the concerned words of the other two men as he leaves the building and walks in the opposite direction of the barn.
âDaryl, stop!â Rick calls from the steps. âWhat are you doinâ man? You keep boltinâ!â
Daryl doesnât answer, instead extending his middle finger up behind him.
âDonât run from this,â He hears from behind him just before he gets out of range. âYouâll regret not beinâ there, brother, trust me.â
Daryl ignores his warning and keeps walking, only to find that the group from earlier around the pit has disbanded, most if not all of the containers left behind sucked completely dry. It looks like the wreckage a college frat would leave in their front yard.
âDamn it,â He hisses, lifting a beer bottle and hucking it across the cold firepit when he finds that it too is empty.
It rolls off a flipped bucket and hits the ground without breaking with an annoyingly polite clink.
He suddenly hears footsteps behind him and slowly turns around, expecting to see someone he knows ready to lecture him. âProbably Carol, based on the withering look she gave him before she led you off, but he also wouldnât discount the possibility of it being Michonne with the concern she showed earlier.
But where he'd been tensing up for getting another stern talking to or an unbearably one sided conversation, he's instead met with an entirely new face.
And a pretty one, at that.
âLookinâ for a drink?â The woman asks with a falsely high voice, cocking her head.
She's got dark hair down to her lower back and is, well, Darylâs not gonna lie, she's well-endowed pretty much everywhere except where her waist dips slightly right at her hip bones.
He wouldnât care enough to notice if it weren't for how much effort she seems to be putting into putting them on display accentuating those features, something shimmery spread across her cheek bones and the peak of where her breasts meet her rather obviously purposefully cut up shirt, little bits of soft skin standing out from the color of the material.
Which begs the questionâ Why on earth is she over here talking to him?
âMe?â He asks, sounding completely disinterested as he turns around with a scoff.
âYeah, you, hot stuff,â She purrs, getting closer. âI dig the wholeââ she motions up and down the length of his body, ââwet dog, lone wolf thing you've got goinâ on.â
Daryl stares at her, incredulous. âMe?â
The woman sighs and rolls her eyes, sick of keeping up the character she was going to play if Darylâs not going to play along. It makes it less fun.
Her voice drops to her regular southern accent. âYeah, you. âIt's hard to find people to fuck nowadays, if you hadn't noticed⊠So are you interested in doing this or not?â
Short answer, no.
Long answer, absolutely-the-fuck not.
Daryl opens his mouth to let her down, tell her that he should probably be getting back to the kid that's depending on him, his kid, but what comes out instead at the thought of going home is, âOnly if you've got booze.â
The woman laughs in her natural register and starts leading him back to her place with a flick of her wrist. It's a small trailer nearly at the opposite end of Hilltop to where the infirmary is. The whole place is messy, clothes and wrappers strewn about everywhere, a few containers of body glitter and a cup of brushes sitting on a bench in front of a mirror like a makeshift vanity.
âWhat're you lookinâ at?â She asks in that extremely hyper falsetto she'd done earlier, a hand coming up to cover her chest as if offended he's searching her home with his eyes. âAnd like most things he's discovering about her, it's too much.
âNothinâ...â He shrugs, letting her get close enough to wrap her arms around his neck, warm skin on his.
Up close, the woman reeks of the dead, like she spent all day mucking through their guts and letting it dry in the Virginia sun.
Somehow, though, the proximity makes her less intolerable. From this distance he can see all the streaks in her iris, slow blinks and the careful way she's staring as she leans into his neck, gaze imploring, but her hand ready to reach for her knife if the situation gets out of control.
She doesn't look trained, probably wouldn't even get to sink the knife into him if he was out to hurt her.
He tries not to dwell on any of that, none of it matters, and before long she's got her mouth on his and he's got his around the mouth of a bottle.
He doesnât know how they manage between all of the tongue and teeth to make it to her bedroom, hell, he only notices because sheâs suddenly taking the bottle away from him and setting it on the nightstand, leading his hands to her breasts.
He obliges with a squeeze and she giggles, pushing up into him.
âI think I might like that, mister wolf,â She gasps, back into whatever character sheâd been trying to play. âSo big and bad. âHandsome, too.â
âUh-huh,â He agrees mindlessly.
She strips off her shirt and jeans with minimal help, all the while trying to get him to do it for her. He doesn't take the hint, nor does he see all the weird red flags this interaction is raising. He tangles his fingers in the thin straps of her bra and forces the wire clasps open instead of unhooking them.
âDamn it,â She clicks her tongue, pushing her breasts up and laying back on the pillows for him, her skin smooth and tanned from the sun. âWell, it was old anyway⊠Your turn.â
Daryl ignores the request, reaching over to the bottle on the nightstand to take another swig before he pulls his shirt off and reaches down to unbuckle his pants.
He pauses. âYou need anythinâ?â
He doesn't want to be rude, but this all happened kind of fast and he's not exactly a lady killer. He's ended up scaring off more women than he's scored with his rough hands and animal pelts.
The woman stares up at him with half-lidded, glazed over eyes like she doesn't really comprehend what he's asking for a moment, until it dawns on her and she cringes, looking away with a frown. âYou aren't supposâ to ask me stuff like that. âJust take it.â
Daryl rolls his eyes with some form of grumbled agreement, reaching for the nightstand himselfâ but she catches his wrist before he can open it.
âWhat now?â He grunts, giving her a once over with his eyes. âYou ain't gotta be embarrassed, I'm sure I've seen worse than whateverâs in there.â
She spreads her legs, putting the soaked core of her underwear on display for him, batting her eyelashes despite how lewd the whole move is.
âPlease, mister wolf?â She whines. âI want it now.â
Daryl turns his head away, massaging his temples. âThis âmister wolfâ thing is seriously turning him off. It makes him feel creepy.
âYeah, okay.â
He reaches down and starts to slide her panties off, âbut againâ she catches his wrist and stops him because whatever he's doing isn't what she wanted him to.
âI thought you were supposed to be rugged and feral,â She scoffs, rolling her eyes. âYou certainly look like you haven't touched a woman like this in ages.â
âWhat d'you want from me, huh?â Daryl finally snaps, jerking his arms away from her. âDid you expect me to be some asshole, throwinâ you around ân shit?â
Her lips part into a smile and she finally seems to relax beneath him. âThat. âExactly that. Be rough. Push my underwear aside and don't worry about anythinâ except yourself.â
No.
âFine,â He agrees, pushing his pants down to his knees and caging her beneath him with his arms. âI don't understand why you thought I was gonna be some kind of animal⊠âs offensive.â
âShut up andââ The woman gasps when he pushes himself inside of her, throwing her head back against the pillows and letting out a desperate moan.
Daryl winces.
He tries to stop and let her readjust, but she starts canting her hips up to meet his, desperate to be filled now that she's had a taste.
âCome on, please, please, please,â She begs, voice high and whiny.
It makes the room temperature beer in his stomach curdle as he thrusts in and out of her a few more times, watching himself disappear into her body.
He keeps seeing things. Tiny flashes he knows his brain made up, but now that he's seen them he can't get them out of his head. Pain. Pain. Pain. It's horrific to imagine being the one doing the damage, but he can't help associating these pained whines withâ
The woman lets out this high pitched squeal, a few tears streaming down her face and Daryl just can't take it anymore. He jerks out of her as fast as he can.
âI can't,â He says angrily, his breath shaking as he ducks his head above her. âI can't, I'm sorry.â
âWhat?â The woman asks, sitting up after him. âYou didn't even finish, what the hell is your problem?â
Daryl doesn't answer, pulling up his pants and reaching down to pick his shirt up off the floor on his way out of her home, his skin still crawling.
tw: imposter syndrome, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of child abuse, brief wound descriptions/touching, mild paranoia (Daryl), dark intrusive thoughts (Daryl), secondary traumatic stress (Daryl), internalized misogyny, overprotectiveness
So sorry, Iâm about to absolutely torture this man these next few chapters
âI donât want to wake her up,â Daryl says softly, running a hand through your warm hair.
The sun is hitting it just right, shining through and giving it an amber quality that makes it look like itâs glowing. You still look so sleepy, and even though it's mid-morning and you usually would have been up by now, you haven't stirred except to take his spot when he got up to get dressed.
âThen don't,â Carol shrugs, refusing to look at him. âYou and I could go out there right now and make sure she can sleep as long as she wants.â
Darylâs hand pauses and he shoots her a glare.
Carol knows how much he wants to, how much more tantalizing that offer gets the more he hears it. Every time he looks at you he feels like he might break everything in sight, but all of this could be over. So easily, he could leave with her and kill those men to make an example out of them. Darylâs been to The Sanctuary. Gotten the whole run down on how the Saviors work and what's expected of them. If Negan knew what they did at that outpost, he wouldn't stand by them and he wouldn't retaliate. âAt least, not directly.
What they did goes against the Saviorsâ rules, the man can't be seen supporting it, otherwise the workers might try usurping him.
Now on the other hand, if say, some rogue Saviors were to go after the remainders of rebel Rick's group and smite them for killing two bases of good men the workers are at least vaguely familiar with, that's a good look. A leader who doles out fair punishments and understands their people's need for justice in a time of grief? That's exactly what he needs right now to get more support. You'd all be playing directly into their hands.
She must understand doing such a thing would also mean betraying Rick and taking risks that shouldn't be taken right now. It would mean putting you, your stability, your home, in a precarious positionâŠYet she keeps throwing this in his face and has the gall to imply he doesn't want to do it for you when he says no.
âYou know I want to,â He snaps, shoulders squaring.
He wants to throw something again, anything. âMake his muscles sore so that he has a valid reason not to take her up on the offer and hightail it out of Hilltop. If heâs weak and exhausted maybe he wonât feel so desperate to leave this place and get his hands bloody. Maybe.
That maybe is doing a lot of work.
Carol turns towards him where she's standing with her arms and legs loosely crossed, her back against one of the wooden support beams keeping the loft up.
âI don't know that I do,â She waves off, feigning ignorance but daring him with her eyes to do something about this.
âStop it,â Daryl demands, turning away so that the temptation is out of sight. The woman's been dressed and armed to the teeth since she first got him calm yesterday, completely ready to walk out and leave Hilltop at a moment's notice.
âDon't do this to me. I fuckinâ need you right now,â He says desperately, a plea entering his voice. âI ain't got nobody on my side âcept you. Everyone else is lookinâ at me like I've lost my damn mind for beinâ this worked up. I need somebody lookinâ out for the kid besides me.â
Carol stays silent.
Her disappointment still reaches him regardless, burning deep inside his chest and pressing up against old wounds.
âI would do anythinâ to fix this,â He hisses, tears coming to his eyes. âWhen it's safe to, when Rick gives the go ahead, and we get our hands on those bastards, I'm gonna make âem feel every bit of terror and pain thatââ
âDaryl,â She says in a warning, poker face falling to something more focused.
He turns his head in your direction just in time to see your limbs stretch out as you wake up, comfortable in the spot he'd been laying before. He clamps his mouth shut, wishing he had wire to keep himself from nearly saying anything stupid like that in front of you again.
âEy, bambino,â He tries lightheartedly, but his voice sounds pained.
He sniffs and tries to subtly wipe at his wet eyes as if he was still waking up himself, when in reality he barely slept at all last night. He couldn't stop thinking about it.
When your limbs relax, you curl into Darylâs side, looking between him and Carol trying to figure out what's happening without interrupting, but whatever conversation they were having seems to have ended the second you came into the picture.
âWa's goinâ on? â You say in a tired slur when they both go quiet, bodies still stiff with unresolved tension.
Daryl hesitates to answer, mouthing a few things but always stopping before he can make a real sentence with the pieces.
He's hunched over on the edge of the bed, his legs spread with his elbows on his thighs and his hands limp between them, looking sleep deprived. âIt's not a new look for the man, but the sorrowful, helplessly defeated energy radiating off of him is. It's worrying.
Carol doesn't wait very long after he's failed to answer in his place, looking more than displeased. âHe's takinâ you to see Siddiq. The doctor.â
You immediately snap your head up in Darylâs direction, nervously pushing the blankets from your chest and sitting up. âWhat? â
You knew he was going to make you go eventually because Rick was making him, but you didn't expect to be jumped with it first thing in the morning. Couldn't he have woken you up a little sooner so you could wrap your head around the idea first before being crammed into that sterile room? âGod, you're feeling nauseous already. Is he going to want to look at you? Touch you? Make you take the test right in front of him?
You wouldn't be able to refuse, and that alone is enough to shake you to your core.
âNo,â He lulls when you start scrambling to get up, setting a hand on your shoulder to push you back down. âWe aren't,â He maintains, seeing the hurt and confusion all over your face as your eyes jump to his clothes and shoes. Damn Carol for saying something like that when she knows how freaked out you already are. âI promise we ain't goinâ right now. âFirst thing we're gonna do is go get some breakfast.â
You lick the back of your teeth, glancing at the woman watching you both until she turns away and silently descends the ladder.
She wouldn't have said something like that just to scare you. There had to be a reason.
âCome on,â Daryl coaxes, pushing a bundle of fresh clothes closer to you and standing up to go wait by the ladder.
When you unfurl them, they're different from the other clothes you've gotten from the people of Hilltop. Baggier. Big enough to try and hide it if you were to gain a decent amount of weight⊠less girly than the other clothes too. It makes you a little upset to stare down at the neutral colors, no redeeming frills or lace to annoy the crap out of you but have your cheeks flushing from the enjoyment you secretly get out of wearing it at times. You're starting to miss that neon yellow shirt you got that you were sure you'd never wear.
You don't put up a fuss.
You pull off your pajamas and tug the shirt on. It's ugly. A shade of grey that's just dark enough to look wet. When you try to imagine someone picking this for you out of all the clothes in Hilltop, all you can feel is the shamefulness of it all. The sight almost tips words of complaint from your mouth, but you decide against it. This is all because you lied. The least you can do for Daryl is keep being an easy child. Right now what that means is getting dressed without complaint. You quickly tug on the dull maroon sweatpants that are about three sizes too big, visibly sagging on your hips. By the time you've finished, your throat's closing up. Having it on makes you even sadder, despite how soft and comfortable the material is. It doesn't fit you right, and you hope to god it never will.
âYou ready?â Daryl asks, turning back around to look at you when he hears you've stopped moving behind him.
He can see your eyes filling with tears where you're sitting on the edge of the bed, but you nod anyway, dabbing at them with your sleeves and going down the ladder ahead of him.
When you step outside of the barn, he puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you flush against his side.
That contact would normally be comforting to you, but when he looks down at your face you seem indifferent to it. âDespondent, but only because you're trying so hard to be brave for him and not cry.
âS'okay,â Daryl says so softly it's not even audible.
He's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or you, but either way it's not working.
Safe⊠I love you, he signs somewhat hesitantly, pressing it to your chest.
Daryl wants you to know that he's still here. For the silent words push past all the thoughts he's sure are swarming your panicky little brain right now. He's almost certain that all the things you need to hear are all the words he can't bring himself to say.
Your frown gets deeper.
He just can't get over how sad you look. It's ripping him apart, even more so because he doesn't know how to help.
He should, shouldn't he? He knows you better than anyone, but every time it comes down to something he's pretty sure is fatherly, he fails. You need more than he can give you. There are things a kid your age needs to know that don't have anything to do with survival and he doesn't have the right words to teach you. Everyone else seems to know just what to do. Rick, Michonne, Carol, hell even Maggie and her baby's still in utero⊠He really tried to be there for you in that way âout of necessity, at firstâ but whatever prepared them for that kind of responsibility must have skipped him. It kind of makes sense in his head sometimes, when he thinks about what a shithead he used to be before the world fell apart.
But then he remembers that you're standing here, parentless and possibly pregnant, and all logic goes out the window.
He felt like he was finally making some progress before all of this, enough that he was willing to tap into his more emotional side and try to discuss all the scars he saw on your skin. There was finally something he could use all the pent up emotions from his upbringing for, threading all the messy thoughts and memories of running through the wilderness with Merle, cigarette burns, and belts on his bare back into coherent lessons for you⊠but it wasn't enough.
Survival training, âsurvivingâ isn't enough on its own.
With every horrible thing happening, itâs all he knows how to do right now. Keep you alive. âWhich sounds so pathetic in his head he almost wants to laugh. People keep houseplants alive, youâre a full blown human being endowed with free will. He canât just give you food and water and hope youâll thrive alone. Youâll have questions, and problems, and relationships, and friends. Youâll get sick. Youâll have hobbies. Youâll keep doing that thing where you bring things to him with puppy eyes, looking for more approval than he knows how to give.
You'll grow up.
His grip with the arm that's around you tightens, firm, but nowhere near painful.
Daryl hates that one. Every time he thinks about it he wants to smother you into staying exactly the same for the rest of time. His baby Bambi. His little Bea.
He knew that before you came back, sure, but things have changed for him since he found out you were a girl. Before, he would just do his best to imitate the masculine relationships he saw on TV and in movies. Brotherhood. Fishing trips. Hunting. Polishing guns, and roasting your kills together⊠It seemed easy at first and once you fell into a routine it actually made sense.
Still, it wasnât âand would never beâ enough to raise a child. You looked for something in him that he didnât know how to give you, this scarily unyielding trust in your eyes when everything was left up to him.
Daryl still isnât sure if you got whatever it was.
You seemed happy enough with him though. Giggly. âAnd that was enough for him before. That you loved him and you werenât afraid so long as he was there with you. He liked being there for you. Liked knowing that even if he didn't look, you were right there under his arm.
âŠThen you were both separated and when you came back, everything was different. New all over again.
Well, not everything. He still loves you, you clearly love him, but the mounting pressure with each new reveal and everyone's conflicting accounts of what he's supposed to do with you (even when he knows it's completely the wrong thing) has him overthinking all the time you spent together. Instead of hunting trips, should he have been having pretend tea parties with you? Instead of arrows and ammo, should he have brought you dolls? Had he completely failed you? Was not noticing what you were hiding an admission that he was incapable of caring for you properly?
He knew from the very beginning that he wasn't father material, but he at the very least thought he could care for you.
Maybe he was wrong.
His grip on you loosens again with something akin to guilt.
You should have had someone to talk to about the things you felt like you couldnât tell him. If he would have left you alone with Carol more often before, would things have been different? You could have told her. He's sure the woman would have taken you with her to The Kingdom and gotten you everything a girl your age needs.
Instead, you were stuck with him and all his inadequacy. Trapped.
The worst part is that there was some small, shameful part of himself that he didnât know existed anymore until you came back. The part of him that remembered his mother wasting her life away at the bottom of a box of Malboros and the circus of drunk women Merle would bring back to their trailer at night. The part of him that would sit on the curb with Merle when he was in middle school and wolf whistle at any girl unfortunate enough to walk by them. The part of him that smacked women on the ass in his early twenties when he passed by them because it was just a joke. A compliment.
The part of him, he knows, that never would have accepted you or agreed to take care of you in the first place had he known the truth.
He doesn't think he can ever tell you that.
That's what scares him the most. Outright rejecting you. Losing all of this before it could even start because of his own mistakes. Because he would have judged you for something you didn't have a choice in before he even bothered getting to know you.
That part of him crumpled when he saw your bloody tear tracked face at the Saviorsâ outpost, but it's still terrifying to think about.
Daryl realizes that sometimes heâs his own worst enemy.
And it's not like it mattered. Daryl never suspected you weren't who you said you were. Not once. Which means it never really mattered in the first place. His attachment was to you, not to the idea of having a little brother or whatever you are to him. His ward.
All his life he'd been making these subtle distinctions between who someone could be as a boy or a man, then life gave him you.
You like hunting.
You like origami.
You like stuffed animals and toys.
You decidedly donât like the smell of nail polish. The first time Enid had gotten some back in Alexandria, you screwed your nose up and gagged.
âBut you did like the pretty colors of the paint.
It never bothered him before to see you pick up a doll or fold paper as a boy, so why should it be any different to imagine you holding a gun now? âIf this were before the fall maybe he'd have different feelings about it, but itâs a fact of survival now. He prides himself in being able to say you have great aim. He's always wanted you to be strong.
Daryl always accepted the women in the group without judgement, never playing gentleman or pulling punches on female assailants. For survivors there is no need for titles like woman and man, the only thing that matters is what you can do for the good of the group. He had never thought about that fact, it just⊠was.
It wasn't a mistake to do the things you did together. No matter what anyone else implies, nothing you did for the group under his care was a cruel punishment you were forced to endure. Your eyes would light up with pride every time you managed to strike dinner down with his bow.
Itâs no different than Michonne shooting down and bleeding out elk, or Aaron making blankets to prepare for the colder months.
Youâre you, and you like what you like. You do what you do, and Darylâs always going to support you in that. His father might not have taught him well, he might not know how to âparentâ, but he knows he doesn't want to beat lessons into you like his own father did and that's a start.
Keeping you safe and alive, telling you that heâs right there with you even if he doesnât know what to doâ That's how he can help you right now. Thatâs what he can do.
Daryl turns and plants another one of those decreasingly rare kisses on the top of your head, continuing to lead you to the firepit where the remaining people from Alexandria have loosely gathered.
Almost immediately you're both assaulted with the noise of chatter and excited shrill laughter, people rushing around one another and passing things back and forth. Kids that Daryl's never seen from Hilltop running up to people, and adults hauling supplies stopping through to talk about plans and have a drink. It's hectic, but at the center of all the chaos there's a box filled with rations.
Your teary eyes have dried since you left the barn, replaced with an overwhelmed look you try to hide by looking vacantly into the distance instead of at him. âAnd you succeed. He doesnât notice. Heâs too busy trying to stop all the thoughts heâs having from showing on his face.
âThought thereâd be less people since we came lateâŠâ He grumbles.
You donât respond.
After a brief pause where he takes everything in, Daryl pushes forward, his hand still on your shoulder until you're a few feet from the box at the center of it all and he releases you to dig in.
The laughter all around you, the same uncontainable joy heâd been feeling when you both made it out of that base alive, all feels so distant. He canât imagine what was going through your head when everyone kept moving on like nothing ever happened while you were still dealing with the consequences.
If it feels anything like what he feels now, heâs surprised you didnât snap. He feels like ripping out his eyes, otherwise he might cry himself to death.
âEy, look at this,â He tries instead, putting a small smile on his face for you as he rifles through the food. âThey've got⊠granola? âŠChips? âŠChocolate? âAh, you shouldn't eat chocolate right before we go to the doctorâŠâ He growls quietly, pushing it aside and going deeper. âWhat âbout this can of peas?â
He steals a glance back at you, but you're barely paying any attention, scanning the group while chewing on your lower lip anxiously.
It feels like you're about to pass out. Your heart won't stop racing and you keep forgetting to breathe.
âAârightâŠâ He sighs with defeat, handing you a few oat protein bars filled with preserve from the box. They claim to be made with real fruit, so they should be good for you.
When he turns back around to look for himself he can hear you thumbing the wrapper, groaning softly.
âAlmost there, kid,â He hushes. âI know.â
Michonne appears behind him while he's digging through the box of rations, her hands in her pockets as she looks between you with a forced smile on her face. âShe, like Carol wrongly assumed when she first met you, thinks that you can't tell the difference.
âHow's the barn?â She asks after a moment, words filled with genuine concern for his well-being.
Her voice barely makes it through Daryl's internal turmoil. The man's on a mission and he canât stop now. He's gotta get you fed and away from all this shit.
Case and point, some asshole just threw a potato for Gabriel over your heads like football instead of walking it over to him. He didn't catch it.
He growls to himself.
Daryl plans on turning around and giving Michonne a half-way decent answer about your living arrangements when he sees the expression on her face and realizes that sheâs fishing, subtly hinting with her eyes that she's trying to give him an opportunity to vent about whatâs happening with you.
Heâs grateful, but thereâs more pressing issues and heâs almost certain that if he tries to discuss whatâs going on heâs going to flip the fuck out again.
ââS fine,â He answers vaguely. âI'll talk to you later, alright?â
He returns his hand to your back, gently pushing you to a less chaotic spot, away from most of the people but still close enough to occasionally join the conversation.
There's no fire currently going, but there are a few people that have taken to sitting on the stones making up the pit. Theyâre the ones making the most noise, drinking even though it's barely mid-morning.
Daryl motions to the log in front of you, sitting down on it with an exaggerated groan in the hopes you'll at least crack a smile. You don't. There's more than enough room for you to join him, and anyone else who can keep things mellow.
You stay standing.
You're far more interested in what's going on between Rick and Carl than the food or sitting with people you barely spoke to before, and definitely haven't spoken to since, your return. You know they're not bad people, you do care about them and genuinely want to know how theyâre doing, but it'd be overwhelming. You could barely speak to Daryl when you first came back and you adore him.
Plus, they're drunk, so⊠Itâs better to keep your distance and gauge how theyâre handling your secret being exposed anyway, you remind yourself.
âLook me in the eye andâ!â Rick says something else that's just far enough out of earshot where they're standing that you can't hear it, and Carl responds with one of the most adverse reactions you've seen from him. He points a finger at Rick and starts yelling, his arms gesturing wildly in the space around him like whatever the man said was completely insane.
You really wish you could hear what they were saying, you've never seen him react that way. Especially not to Rick. You know how much he savors what little time the man spends with him when they're not actively engaged in a fight with another group, or on the road looking for a safe place to rest their heads.
It goes on like that for a little while before Rick's face hardens, his head cocking as he starts whisper-shouting back at him.
âBambi,â Daryl says, nudging you in the side. You barely register it, not taking your eyes off of the argument as you make a slightly annoyed but questioning noise. He taps the protein bars in your hand. âEat. âEven if it's just a little, okay?â
You tear open one of them without looking at what it is and bite into it, tearing a piece off.
Rickâs brow furrows and his posture abruptly falls, like he just canât stand to be angry at his son anymore. He reaches for Carlâs shoulder, barely having touched it before Carl shrugs him off, shaking his head. He looks miserable.
â...What does that mean?â
Most people are pretending not to notice their argument, but Daryl finally does and starts watching with you, tugging you a little closer to himself with a frown.
âNone of thatââ
Carl stops shouting, seemingly trying to desperately reason with the man in front of him and for the first time since you noticed, you start to wonder if the argument has something to do with you. âIf maybe heâd found out about all the terrible things youâd brought back with you and decided you needed to be punished for doing what youâd done with him knowing full well it could mess everything up. He could hate you right now. He could hate you and you wouldn't even know it until he decides to do something to hurt you.
The food in your mouth suddenly tastes bitter. When you swallow it feels like a handful of pebbles.
And then he points at you.
Your heart stops for a split second. Itâs a loose gesture, more of a hand waved over the entire group than an index poked out at a single subject, but when he does it he turns slightly and his eyes lock onto yours, hand freezing above you.
It stops in a spot where from Carlâs perspective it sort of looks like his hand is shielding you from the sun. He almost wants to laugh. Maybe he would if his dad wasn't throwing a hissy fit behind him, and you weren't looking at him with such a serious expression.
Regardless, he's done with whatever conversation heâd been having.
He shoots one last unreadable look at his father, then turns around and starts walking through the firepit of people quickly averting their eyes, still pretending they werenât watching. His fists are loosely balled up at his sides, and his chest is still rising and falling quickly like he hasn't completely caught his breath from the fight, eye narrowed into a glare.
He reaches you and Daryl, coming to a stop about three feet from where you're standing.
You brace yourself. Here it comesâ
âAre you feelinâ any better?â He asks, all too innocently for someone who received the kind of news he would have, his eye softening.
You blink. He has no idea.
You know Carlâs not stupid. Heâs going to figure things out eventually, but knowing that for now he's still safe from what's happening is a massive relief.
His eye drifts down to what you're wearing, his confusion only growing as he scans the sweatsuit. âYour outfit looks⊠comfortable? âI almost wish I'd worn my pajamas to breakfast. We could have matched.â
That earns a quiet but genuine laugh from you and he seems encouraged by it.
He steps closer.
âHowâs your, uhm,â He swallows hard, glancing at Daryl quickly as if he's just remembered that the man is there. ââYour arm? Is it botherinâ you?â
What he really wants to ask is if Daryl has calmed down at all from yesterday, considering the death glare the man is currently giving him. He hopes things have at least been okay between the two of you, but from looking at Daryl he has a feeling asking right now might set him off.
You shrug, pulling up your sleeve and holding out the scarred flesh so he can touch it if he wants to, the memories of the last time you'd done this making your heart pick up speed.
Even though youâre ashamed to admit it, you honestly wish heâd wind up in your bed again despite not wanting to trick him. It felt like a weight off your chest to wake up and see his baby blue eye looking back at yours.
âIt looks less irritated. That's goodâŠâ He mumbles, giving the healing skin a brief, gentle stroke with the tips of his fingers. His eye flicks up to yours while heâs doing it, as if heâs searching for something.
Then once again, he steps closer, lowering his voice so that you're the only one able to hear him. âI donât mean to pry but youâre not signinâ or talkinâ, youâre just⊠quiet. Is everythinâ okay?â
You shrug again, shying away from him.
Daryl used to think it was cute that you got so nervous around Carl, sweating and blushing and stumbling over your words, âor hiding behind him when Carl came into the roomâ because at the time he was under the impression that you wanted the âolderâ boy to think you were cool. It was adorable how hard you tried to be friends with him before it happened, your limited social skills much like his own, repeatedly delaying that very thing until Carl noticed and acquiesced.
But now that you've come back, a lot of those behaviors have mellowed out. You seem to trust Carl almost as much as you do on him, and the boy seems happy about your friendship. He's a good kid. Daryl should be happy your friendship is moving so smoothlyâŠ
And yet, he senses this tension between you. âMaybe it was always there, maybe he's making something out of nothing, but when he looks at the two of you without really taking a moment to think about it, he notices all these little things.
Like, for example, the way you're digging the foot your weight isn't resting on into the dirt like you're nervous. âThe way you look at him, all smitten, with those big doe eyes, the light, almost nonexistent blush on your cheeks, or the way Carl just keeps getting closer. All the excuses the boy seems to make to brush you, touch you, talk to youâŠ
Half of Daryl wants to believe that this is a good thing, like at the safe house when Carl stepped in to comfort you.
The other half is not so generous.
The boy is practically sniffinâ around you like a dog in heat and he doesn't. fucking. like. it.
AT. ALL.
Carl's not a bad boy, he knows that. âDamn near helped raise the kid himself. He has his own fair share of character flaws and enough trauma to fill more books than a complete set of encyclopedias, but he has a good head on his shoulders and a big heart. Heâs moral. Not cruel, but honest. Daryl isn't worried that you'll hate what he's doing, or won't speak up for yourself when you've had enough of it. In fact, it's the opposite.
He's worried that you like it.
âBea,â He says sternly, and you turn to face him owlishly, slipping your hands behind your back like he'd caught you doing something wrong.
But for the first time today, you don't look like you want to run away crying.
âMm?â You hum questioningly, eagerly tipping your head towards Carl as if to ask, Can I go?
âNo.â He replies sternly, the words sounding too fast and too harsh to his own ears. Daryl can only imagine what you're thinking right now, having him suddenly snap at you like that. âWe⊠We have to go to the doctor, âmember?â
He watches you deflate.
âSiddiq?â Carl cuts in, looking concerned. âWhy?â
âWe just do, kid. âM sorry,â He replies with a semi-false sympathetic tone, unable to shake his thoughts. You and Carl haven't done anything wrong. It's just⊠the situation.
âOhâŠâ Carl's shoulders kind of slump, brow furrowing like he's deep in thought.
You try to make eye contact with the boy again, still pouting, but he doesnât look back at you until he gets a good grip on what he should say to being told that he can't spend time with you for no apparent reason. Siddiq won't even be in for at least another hour.
âUhm, I'll see you after?â He says, trying to sound brighter as he turns to you, hand awkwardly reaching for yours then pulling away just as fast when he fails. âI'll be⊠y'know⊠around.â
You nod sadly, the joy draining from your face as he walks away.
Daryl watches you watch him go, his heart aching when he hears you start sniffling again. He just wants you safe. He didnât mean to be so domineering about it.
He reaches out and sets a hand on your forearm, squeezing it to comfort you even though he's the one making you the most upset right now. Ever since this morning you've felt angry at him and you don't know why. You just woke up feeling bad.
You love him so much you'd do anything to make him happy, but you just can't seem to do it right. Everything you do is almost always the wrong thing lately, even when you're doing it to protect him, like hiding what happened.
âCâmere,â Daryl says quietly, pulling you back over and patting the spot next to him.
You sit down slowly, sniffling all the while.
You want to go back to bed.
You don't want to go to the doctor and have that stranger poke at you, you want to go home. You want to go with Carl.
Daryl turns to look at you and you curl a fist into one of your eyes, rubbing to hide the tears bubbling up again.
âEat,â He says softly, tone apologetic.
You take another bite, then stuff the rest into your pocket, unwilling to force yourself to consume any more.
*
*
*
Nearly forty minutes later Rick gives the most subtle signal he can come up with for the two of you to follow him to Siddiqâs office from across the firepit, already starting that way himself.
You clench your teeth so hard they feel like they might shatter, an unpleasant rush of adrenaline starting to course through your veins.
Your chest is on fire. You clutch the center of your shirt with one hand, trying to steady your breathing. Every exhale is harder to come back from than the last, it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself. Is it the binding? No. You haven't bound your chest since Carl ripped it off of you because you saw how bad it was getting.
You look up at Daryl in an effort to communicate with him, but he silently stands up next to you, a deep frown on his face as he waits for you to take your place underneath his arm.
He looks tired. Run down. This morning he kept rubbing his eyes before he looked at you like he had to mentally prepare himself before he could look you in the eye againâŠ
If you tried to tell him about what you're feeling right now, would it even lead to anything meaningful? He'd probably think you were making excuses to try and avoid seeing the doctor.
You swallow hard, slipping into place next to him with a nervous glance he either doesn't see or doesn't acknowledge. âThough youâd be lying if you didnât say the closer you got to having to sit in that office, the more you considered going on the run or hiding somewhere so they couldn't force you into this.
His arm is heavy on your shoulders, too loose and too low, with none of the genuine adoration and pride the action is usually filled with. It's not like you want him to parade you around right now, but having him walk next to you with his shoulders hunched shamefully is just as bad. It only serves to make you feel worse. He doesn't understand. âAnd that makes you angrier, which makes you want to scream and cry because you love him so much it hurts.
You're also scared because maybe, just maybe, he's found it in himself to put your history aside and be rightfully humiliated to associate with you.
No. Daryl wouldnât abandon you like that⊠would he?
You try to stop to talk to him, âDaâ Mmph,â only to be effectively silenced as he bumps you into his arm, squeezing you tighter.
Heâs walking too fast. Smothering you. He probably wants to get this over with quickly, you understand that, but with every step building on your impending sense of doom you wish heâd give you some time to acclimate. Canât he tell that rushing you is making this so much worse? Doesnât he know that you need him right now?
Or, a little voice in the back of your head whispers, he doesnât care anymore. Youâve already put him through so much as it is, maybe you owe it to him to just be quiet for now.
You bite your tongue until you taste blood, consciously avoiding the part that was previously severed so it doesn't have to be treated again. Theyâve already put so much effort and resources into treating you as it is.
Up ahead, you can both see Rick peer over his shoulder before entering the building, but just as youâre about to catch up someone familiar steps into your line of sight. She has a deep frown on her face, jaw subtly flexing as she blocks your path to the infirmary.
She's furious.
âGo play for a minute,â Carol abruptly orders you, snapping her fingers and raising her arm to point at the nearest kids.
You send a glance their way, not recognizing any of them, before jerking your head back to look up at Daryl with confusion.
You've heard Carl talk about how cultishly friendly they all are with the exception of a select few new kids who are still dealing with personal problems, but you don't really feel the need to connect with them. It feels like they're on a different planet.
ââAnd don't go too far,â She tacks on as an afterthought, scrunching her face slightly.
Despite you not having moved to comply with the request, Darylâs grip on you tightens again.
âThe hell are you doinâ?â He balks at her.
âWe need to have a little chat,â She says, crossing her arms. âAlone.â
âNow?â Daryl asks, frustration clear as day.
Her eyes twitch, flicking to you and then back. âYes, right now.â
They hold eye contact with one another for a beat. Steeled, unyielding gaze up against steel, unyielding gaze. It looks like a continuation of whatever weird struggle was happening between them earlier, except now they're openly doing it in front of you. It's weird. It makes you upset.
Daryl releases you, glowering at the woman. âGo inside.â
You snap your head up to look at him dead-on, concern blanketing the fear growing in you at the prospect of having to go in alone. âNn?â
âInside,â He all but growls, narrowing his eyes without turning to look at you.
You clench your fists at your sides, holding your breath as you hesitantly step forward, looking between the two of them before vanishing into the building.
Itâs not like you really have a choice in the matter, youâd rather not force him to drag you inside and make a big fuss.
Daryl turns his attention back to Carol in front of him. âNow whatââ
He doesn't get to finish his question, the woman quickly stepping forward and poking him in the chest. âWhat is wrong with you? âI seriously hoped you were going to make the right choice and come with me to fix this, but instead you're rushinâ straight into what Rick told you to do.â
âAnd what's so wrong with that, huh?â Daryl shouts defensively, his hands starting to shake with thinly veiled anger and insecurity. âRick knows what he's doinâ.â
And I don't, he refrains from adding.
âNo he doesn't,â Carol scoffs, rolling her eyes. âIf this situation's made anything clear, it's that Rick's too stubborn to hear anyone else out when it's a topic that makes him uncomfortable. He thinks he knows whatâll keep them safe, but when it's too late to stop bad things from happening he's out of his depth. âYou saw what happened with Carl earlier.â And with Sophia, her mind whispers.
He did. Daryl has no idea what they were arguing about, but he did. Then the boy came directly over to you and Rick had this nervous look on his face, like he was itching to lock Carl up in the house for the rest of his lifeâŠBut Daryl doesn't like hearing her say that itâs too late to save you from what happened, even if he knows it's true. He can't erase your time held captive no matter how hard he tries.
âI don't know what kindaâ grudge you're holding against Rick, but I won't let it stop me from gettinâ the kid help,â He says pettily, trying to ignore the truth in her words. âI want her to get better.â
Carol bulldozes him with a single look. Her eyes narrowed with clear offense at his weak attempt to make it sound like she doesnât care about you, her lips curled into an even deeper, sadder frown.
One of the worst parts about trusting someone enough to tell them everything, âletting them see the deepest, darkest parts of yourselfâ is knowing that when you inevitably try to shut them out and twist the knife in their back, theyâll look you in the eyes the whole time and not be surprised in the slightest. That they can see through all the bullshit you say to protect yourself and the pretty little worlds you make up in your head to avoid having to confront reality.
âBetter's not going to happen for a long while,â She laments. âLonger, if you do the wrong thing here.â
âDon't say that,â He spits, taking a step back. âShe'sâ That's not true.â
He doesn't want to have to imagine a world where this is still affecting you this much until the day you die, doesnât want to have to keep picturing you holding a baby you wish didn't exist, spending the rest of your life trying to raise the child of yourâ
âStop saying things like that,â He begs. âShe's goinâ to be fine. Siddiqâs goinâ to help her.â
âHave you even taken a second to think this through?â She asks, tipping her head to the side.
ââCourse Iââ He starts, then falters.
Did he? He wonders, doubt creeping in again. He's so completely out of his depth when it comes to you.
âYes.â He answers, trying to sound as sure of himself as he possibly can.
âAnd you thought that it was a good idea to have her in a room full of men, poking and prodding at her?â
Daryl makes a wounded noise, physically taking a step back.
âDonât say it like that. We ainât men, weâre family,â He snarls back, wetting his lower lip.
âTrauma doesnât always follow logic,â Carol says softly. âIâm just telling you whatâs objectively happening. Three men with a young, terrified girl, behind a locked door.â
When she puts it like that it sounds so obviously wrong. But that can't be. All they're doing is taking you to the doctor to make sure that you're going to be okay. None of them would ever hurt you like that, and you know it.
You do know it⊠donât you?
You were so uncomfortable when you first came back that you wouldn't let Rick, Siddiq, or any man other than himself touch you even when they were just trying to take away your pain and make you more comfortable, you'd rather have stayed in metal handcuffs than let Rick get a hold of your wrist.
No wonder you've been so quiet all day, you must hate him for this.
But because he asked you to, you'd complied.
âShe trusts youâŠâ Carol goes on, averting her gaze. âShe would never say no if you lead her somewhere dangerous, because she trusts youâll look after her.â
And what if he was a bad person? What if you had ended up putting your trust in the wrong man and when you got into that room heâ Daryl nearly vomits, mouth tingling painfully as bile rises in his throat. Sheâs right. Youâd never say no. He seriously doubts that youâd fight back against him if he tried to hurt you, and that thought terrifies him to his very core. That you'd just let himâ
âDarylâŠâ Carol says, softer when she sees the tears in his eyes.
âI can't do this to her,â He cries softly, watching as the finger poking his chest softens and starts to rub it soothingly. âI don't know what to doâŠâ
âYou're spiraling,â She hushes.
âYou have toâ You have to take her, Carol,â He begs, letting a few tears fall. âI can't do this no more. I ain't her father and I don't know what to do, she needs help. Pleaseâ You have to take her from me.â
âHey,â The woman hisses, lowering her voice and peering over her shoulder to make sure no one heard that. âDo not let her hear you say that. Not right now.â
He clamps his mouth shut, sighing shakily.
âIâll be right there with you,â She nods, waiting until he starts nodding along with her. âThat's why I'm here. I'm going to be right there with you both⊠okay?â
âMm-yeah,â Daryl nods, taking a deep breath to get a handle on his emotions.
He can't let you see him cry. Not today. Not when you're already at your lowest and terrified. He's gotta be strong for you. The same way you tried to be for him when you hid all this from everyone.
âReady?â She asks after a moment.
The man takes another deep breath through his nose, feeling more unprepared than ever, then slowly lets it out through his nose.
They warned me that I shouldnât get attached to anyone in twd because they all fucking die. What they didnât warn me about is that every single one of these characters will claw their way under my skin and live there.
tw (SPOILERS): body dysmorphia, imposter syndrome, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of teen pregnancy, implied SA (more on that later, nothing explicit said for now), self blame, internalization
I'm so sorry Bambi :(
Daryl makes his way over to your pillow fort in the loft and crouches down, pushing some of the blankets and things the people of Hilltop left you aside to make space for himself. As he looks at all the neatly organized offerings he thinks about how glad he is that under Maggieâs leadership the people of Hilltop not only have enough to give surplus to people theyâve never met, but also that theyâre so willing to give. He doesnât want to think about how hard things would have been for you if everyone here treated you like an outsider and you had to struggle for scraps while recovering.
His hands find the half-eaten cheese cloth of cookies and he laughs to himself, the image of you stuffing your mouth full of cookies until your cheeks bulge making him smile as he takes the remaining half of one and pops it into his mouth, continuing to work.
He can always get you more. In fact, he plans to get all of your favorite foods even if it means having to work extra for them. He likes it when youâre happy, and since youâve been back heâs rarely seen you look unburdened.
Grunting, he pushes, then smashes down some of the hay barrels in an effort to make the whole bed less pokey for both of you. Which he wonders why you didn't do the first night you had to sleep on it. It could have been much more comfortable.
âDummy,â He snorts.
Daryl is almost finished, just straightening the blanket you have laid down over the hay as a sheet back into place, when his hand hits something strangely smooth hidden underneath it.
It's a completely different texture than any of the rest of the bed, and when he pushes down with his fingers he finds that the bulging object is completely separate from the barrels, seemingly intentionally put out of sight there. His concern mounts, Rickâs words creeping their way into his mind despite his efforts to hold them back and think of an innocent explanation.
He pulls back the blankets and finds the thin pink box you'd hidden, his heart dropping so fast he thinks he might pass out.
Part of him thinks he should back out, pretend he hadnât seen it and tell Rick and the others about it so they can take care of you. âTake you away from him, just like they should have the moment they found you. Darylâs not meant to be a father. Heâs irritable, rough around the edges, and even though he has much love to give, sometimes love just isn't enough. He knew he wasn't meant to be a father. This is proof enough of that.
But he can hear your footsteps approaching the barn, alone, and his rising emotions get the better of him.
Daryl quickly snatches up the box, gripping the cardboard so hard he might break the contents right along with it if he's not careful, making his way down the ladder before you've even stepped foot inside.
You're softly smiling to yourself when he comes to a stop right before the doors, blocking your path.
âWhy?â He seethes with so much hatred that it startles you and you look behind you to see if thereâs someone else here, but no, right now itâs only the two of you. He holds the test up, shaking it in front of your face so much that you hardly recognize it at first. âWhy? â He repeats again, voice getting sharper.
You don't shrug this time, your body is frozen solid, skin on alight with shame.
âWhy? Why do youâŠâ His voice breaks, and worse than the anger, Daryl looks like he's about to cry. âWhy? â
You shrink back.
âBambi.â He shouts warningly, refusing to let you run. You've never run from him.
Carol's footsteps catch up finally, and she's suddenly standing at your side trying to figure out what's going on. âDaryl?â Then her eyes go wide at the sight of the pregnancy test and she snaps her head to look at you, face mangled with disgust as if sheâs sickened.
You take a step away from her.
âAnswer me,â Daryl pleads loudly, reaching out to grab your arm only to be narrowly stopped by Carol. âWhy? Why, Bambi? Why d'ya need this?â He continues shouting helplessly, doing his best to fight Carol off so he can get to you. The woman keeps holding him back.
âDaryl! âDaryl stop it!â
He throws the test at you and you flinch, jumping back like touching it directly even for a second burned your skin.
âWhy?! â He says again, voice going hoarse as he clings into Carol's arms for dear life, crying. âWhy?! â
You take another step back at the sight of the damage you've caused.
Then another, and another, until you've turned your back on them completely and walked away.
Your legs feel numb and your stomach hurts. It hurts so damn bad, but you know it's not real. You're making yourself sick, doing all of this, hurting the people you love, keeping all your secrets and vaulting everything up until someone finds it.
Rick sees you, the dazed look on your face, and tries to ask you whatâs wrong but you donât stop to talk to him. You ignore him until he stops asking and lets you keep walking.
How could you do this to him? Daryl loved you. He considered you his family, tried to take you under his wing like a son, and you repaid that love, that trust, by hiding things from him twice now. Big things that would alter his life for the better not to have to deal with.
You hit the wooden walls of Hilltop and press your face against it, letting the tears stream down your face as you rub your cheek against it.
Who are you kidding? You were just being a coward. What's new? You've never been able to live up to what Darylâs expected, no matter how hard you try because this bodyâ
Gripping your unbound chest as hard as you can, you turn around and slam the back of your head against the wall with a muffled scream.
âFucking hates you. It does everything it can to get in the way of what you want at every turn, everything to make you hurt. You wish you could slip this skin. Life would be so much easier.
You slip down the wall and pull your knees up to your chest, burying your face into your arms.
Stop crying, you repeat to yourself, rocking back and forth. You don't get to cry.
If this were before you'd both been taken you wouldn't have cried. You were so⊠different. So strong. People respected you and took what little you said at face value because they trusted you enough to think you knew what you were doing.
You didn't deserve that trust.
You gag, hard, but swallow the bile in your throat to prevent yourself from throwing up. It must be the guilt.
You hate when Daryl yells, it's scary. But you hate it even more when he cries, and this time you made him cry. You. It's all your fault. Everyone must hate you now if they didn't already. Including him. You're such a disappointment.
Not only did you fail to live up to the name he gave you when he took you in and taught you like his own, now you've gone and made his life so much more complicated. You lied, liar. You went and got yourselfâŠ
Squeezing your arms tighter, then biting into the flesh of your forearm, you whine into your skin.
You're in real trouble now.
*
*
*
It's a few hours later when somebody finds you, your face buried in your knees, teetering on the edge of sleep.
They don't seem in a hurry. When they find you they don't call out to tell anyone else. They just sit down beside you, even when you curl tighter in on yourself, they simply rest a hand over the top of one of your shoes.
You want them to leave. In fact, you wait nearly half an hour for it, but they don't. They stay right where they are, their warm hand heating the toe of your boot.
It's comforting, and you don't like that. You don't deserve it.
You glare up at them defiantly, hoping that by some miracle the look will inflict some real damage and theyâll leave you alone⊠but the moment your eyes focus on your victim, you feel ashamed all over again, the guilt twisting deep in your gut like a knife.
Ducking your face down again, you cower from the patient look in Carlâs eye.
âI don't know what happened,â He says quietly, his gaze not faltering from you. âCarol said everyone should give you some space and wait for you to come back on your own, but I was worriedâŠâ
He shouldn't be worried about you. The second you came home and he saw what you were, what you'd been hiding from him, he should have been disgusted and felt betrayed. He should have pushed you away before things went too far.
âCan you at least sign something to tell me if you're okay?â He requests, voice growing softer. âBecause you don't look okay.â
Without looking up from where you've hidden, you set your hand over his, tugging on his sleeve until he understands you want him to come closer.
He slides to your side and hesitantly puts his arms around your shoulders, watching as you unfold and curl into his side like you were meant to fit there.
âYou cut your hair,â Carl observes, reaching down to rake his hands through it.
It wasn't like he hadn't already noticed from the moment he spotted you, but seeing it and getting to feel and rake his hands through it is a whole different experience he feels needs to be verbalized. It's soft. âEven at the much shorter ends where it used to be splitting apart, it's cleanly cut.
âAre you mad? âDo you still⊠want to be like this? â You ask softly, running your hand across his chest.
The question throws him for a loop despite what a relief it is to hear your voice. His heart skips a beat, and not in a pleasant way.
âBambiâŠâ He pauses, knowing there's so much he wants to ask, especially when it comes to the way you present yourself. âWhy would I ever be angry about somethinâ like that? Of course I want to be like this, I don't care about your hair as long as it makes you happy.â
Your heart squeezes.
âDonât tell anyone you saw me crying, please,â You request, looking up at him.
You think the others hearing about this would make them think they were right to treat you like you're breakable, when theyâre not. Everyone goes through emotions. Just because youâre younger, and a girl, doesnât mean that your problems and reasons for being upset are any less real. You wish it wasn't a constant fight to prove yourself, when you already did before all of this.
âIs Daryl stillâŠ? â
Carl grimaces, looking off into the distance.
âHe was flipping out. He wouldnât stop yellinâ at my dad and trying to lunge at Siddiq,â Carl pauses for a moment, his hold on you twitching like heâs not sure if his hand should be there or not, the emotions on his face turning cold as he recalls the moment. âNothinâ he said made any sense. He was hysterical.â
You guide his gaze back toward you to get him to stop making the face he is, sitting up so you can rest yourself on the edge of his shoulder. âBut you don't know what was going on? â
â...No,â He says after a moment of hesitation, trying to make sense of the desperate yelling the older man was doing. âBut you do, don't you? âBecause it was somethinâ to do with you, and you don't want me to know,â He adds, sounding hurt.
You know itâs not possible to hide something like this from him forever. Itâs just nice to pretend like everythingâs gonna be okay for once.
At least in the dark, Carl doesn't have to think about all the horrible things waiting for him on the other side.
You give him a somber look. âI'm sorry, Carl.â
âDon't be,â He dismisses easily, pulling you into the crook of his neck and resting his head on top of yours. âJust⊠focus on getting better.â
You almost want to laugh at how simple he makes it sound, like with one snap of your fingers you can suddenly erase weeks worth of torture and psychological agony from your memory. You were already dysfunctional to begin with, now that everything's out in the open you can't see a world in which anything gets any better. It's only going to get worse because of what Daryl found, and what it means for the rest of your probably short life.
âI donât know if I can,â You whisper bitterly, closing your eyes again.
He was never supposed to see that. âNever supposed to have a chance to think about what might have happened to you behind closed doors.
The mind wandering is a dangerous thing.
âI'm here,â Carl says when you shiver under him, putting a slight pressure into his hold like Daryl would after you first came into their lives.
You feel your heart starting to slow, trying to untense your muscles starting with your jaw and working your way down to your feet, then back up again. It's not enough. Every time you remember what's waiting for you when you return to the barn your stomach churns with anxiety.
âHarder, please,â You request, squeezing your eyelids as tightly closed as you can.
âMhm,â Carl puts more pressure into it until it's almost bruising, the kind of grip you'd use to knead clay. âBetter?â
You let out a sigh, allowing yourself to relax. âYeah. â
For all the stupid things Merle had said and done, he was right about this. Deep pressure is soothing, like a weighted blanket or a hug, and it forces your body to flood your brain with dopamine⊠Even if he initially intended for Daryl to use the technique when stealing their neighbor's livestock. If Daryl hadn't known it when he met you, things could have gone horrifically awry. You probably wouldn't have trusted him as much, not having the reassurance of being literally tucked underneath his arm unharmed to cite as a reason to, and you definitely wouldn't have wanted to stay. You were petrified.
Daryl wishes you'd gotten to meet Merle. You do too.
Things could have been different.
Despite everything he did, all the horrible things Merle learned from their father, and all the horrible names you're sure he would have called you if he would have been alive in Alexandria, underneath it all he was still the boy who used to tell Daryl jokes to keep him calm when their father prowled the house with a belt. The boy who told Daryl to run for the hills, for his life, who tried to teach Daryl what he thought was the only way to survive in the old world, and then again in the next. In a big way, he's part of the reason Daryl took you in.
He could have been so much more, could have changed just like Daryl did even though he was much farther gone. You feel his absence despite never having met him, an empty place setting in your and Darylâs dynamic where he would slide in perfectly.
It's not a place that can be filled by anyone else, nor is it a painful void that Daryl tries to fill. It's just grief. A nick in his heart that he's shown you, because that's how much you mean to him.
He would never hurt you.
âI need to talk to Daryl,â You say after a moment, turning to press a tentative kiss into the pale skin of Carlâs neck.
He lets out an appreciative noise, smiling as he angles his head to give you more access to his skin, but you shake your head apologetically. You need to get going.
âOkay,â He says just above a whisper, nosing the square of your jaw and your cheek. âCome find me if you need me.â
âI will. â
You stand up, offering your hand to help Carl up off of the ground despite how he snorts when you do it. The action feels so familiar, almost routine to you from the days you'd spent exploring the woods outside of Alexandria, boosting one another up and such, but to Carl it feels strange now. He isn't sure why, but you helping him up feels awkward. It looks⊠weird.
It's probably just because of the way his dad's been looking at the two of you recently. He just needs to shake it off.
He ducks down and plants one last kiss on your forehead. âBe safe.â
You nod, turning away and trying to steel yourself for what's ahead.
Every step you take is like being under a spotlight, the bulb melting your skin with the hot light of shame. It feels like everyone you pass knows what Daryl found, but clearly that can't be true. If it was, Carl would have known.
That doesn't seem to stop their eyes from sticking to you for what feels like far too long, though.
You cross your arms over your chest and walk faster.
*
*
*
Daryl is sitting on Maggieâs porch with his head in his hands when you find him. There are two short glasses sat on the railing with a golden brown residue in them, a cigarette butt in one. His eyes are searching the dirt for answers, but it seems he comes up empty because he swipes his hands down his face. He looks exhausted. Cried out.
You walk towards him, slowing to a stop a few feet away from where he's sitting to brace for his reaction to your presence, but he doesnât react. He stays right where he is, eyes not moving up to look at yours, shoulders only slumping further like even having you nearby is a huge weight on his shoulders.
Like you're a burden.
Tears sting at your eyes and at the back of your throat but you stay strong for him. You come to sit beside him quietly, leaving enough room between you that if you wanted to touch you'd have to move closer to bridge the gap.
He finally reacts in the form of a sigh, angling his head towards you for a moment like he's going to say somethingâ only to come up short and turn away from you again.
That's okay. He can take his time.
It took you a long time to wrap your mind around the idea too. You toyed with it while it drained you of any willpower to fight, your body showing increasing signs of sickness and exhaustion as if to say, very quietly, âI'm still here!â in the back of your mind every time you thought you had a chance of forgetting what happened. What could be happening to you as a consequence.
You pull your knees up to your chest again and rest the side of your face there, staring at him. Running your eyes over all of his features that you have memorized, only now they look withered with the weight of what he discovered. He's not drunk. It seems more like his friend, Maggie, gave him a drink to take the edge off and calm him down from the outburst Carl was talking about.
After a long while, he looks back at you, suddenly angered again by whatever went through his mind.
âYou didn't take it,â He says sharply, like it's an accusation.
It doesn't land nearly as hard when he can't even bring himself to yell at you or name the object you've both been terrorized by, but it gets his point across and hits you right where it hurts regardless.
âBecause I didn't want to know,â You answer immediately, digging your fingers into the flesh of your thighs so you don't break down. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. You can't right now, not until you've set things right. âAnd⊠I didn't want you to know.â
Daryl almost snaps at those words, mouth readying to yell at you and tell you that if you would have just said something to him everything could have been fixed sooner, that they might have wasted valuable medicine on you that you might not have even needed because they were symptoms of a different, worse condition, but he stops himself because you keep talking.
âI-I'm⊠I'm not ready⊠I want it all to go away,â You whimper quietly, shoulders raising to cover your neck. âI let you down. I couldn't protect myself when I actually needed to and now I ruined everything.â
The anger is punched out of him almost immediately. Another tear slips down his face, then down his arm until it rolls off onto his jeans.
It's not your fault that something like this happened. Even if you hadn't been lying about your gender before, if someone were going to do something like this to you it would still have happened no matter what you were dressed in. âBut having his worst fears all but confirmed by you, that this really is a possibility because of the Saviors, absolutely destroys him.
âWill you?â He asks delicately. âTake it soon?â
You nod, lip quivering too much to be conducive to conversation.
He turns away from you again, rubbing his forehead with his bloody, freshly bruised knuckles.
He must've punched something.
âHow?â He asks, softer, voice cracking at the edges. He just needs to hear it from you, hear how it happened and what you had to go through because he wasn't there to protect you. âHow could thisâ How? â
You turn away from the question.
âDo you even know how?â He asks in a sob, like the question is too much for him to even consider.
He shifts his legs on the stairs so he can close the distance between you, pulling you into his arms until he can knock his head into the side of yours, nuzzling into your hair with a deep inhale.
People do this with their children all the time. Daryl used to worry people would look at him sideways if he did something like that with you out in the open, reserving his real hugs and affection for when you were alone or hurt, but now he finds he doesn't really care what other people have to say. He needs to feel you in his arms and know that you're safe. He needs to smell you and hear you laughing from a distance while you play outside. He needs this.
Carol was right, it is everything.
Whether you're a mother or a father, a brother, or whatever Daryl is to you, losing a child like that means losing yourself right along with them. He might be able to imagine forcing himself to live in a world where you aren't anymore, but he doesnât want to. He can't live in that world anymore, not now that he knows what it's like when it's your own.
He loved Beth, but Beth wasn't his. She had a family she needed to get back to. You don't. It's a different feeling. With her, he always knew that she had options, a father and a sister who loved her to pieces and would defend her with their lives if they needed to. He never had to worry if while he was out hunting she'd get so lonely she struck out on her own to find him, or lie awake wondering if she got her fill at dinner instead of quietly watching from a distance. Not because she'd been older, but because with you, he's all you've got. There is no passing you off to better people, no letting them take you away like he wishes they would have at first.
Daryl would never be able to move on without you, especially not knowing you were still alive somewhere, needing and missing him.
So for the next hour or so, that's all he does. He keeps you close to his chest, on and off sobbing as he rubs his hands up and down your back.
He's so fucking sorry. You have no idea how sorry he really is.
If he hadn't found you, if he hadn't trapped you, if he hadn't brought you back here, if he would have noticed sooner, none of this would have happened. You'd be safe. He failed, and Rick knew it even before they all knew it. You needed someone who could take care of you, and he wasn't there. He's no father.
But there's no going back on you now.
The sun is just beginning to set, the exhaustion of being out and active all day âsince you returned, reallyâ is starting to take its toll on you again. Your body needs rest, and you're sure his does too. He's been straining himself to work when you know he still has to be hurting from whatever torture they inflicted.
You put your hands on either side of Darylâs face, wiping the last of his tears away.
âCan we go home now?â You say at full volume, voice strangled because of the effort it takes. âI promise to tell the truth from now onâŠâ
Daryl lets out another cry as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a tight embrace. Your voice just sounds so⊠small. Innocent. Fragile. Like the baby Bambi he found in the net that day.
He can't picture you having a baby. Your still so small frame being forced to carry the weight of another person, being sick and miserable all the time just like Lori and Maggie, when you've only just begun getting better. Then what? You give birth to the damn thing? Nobody was sure that Lori would survive with medicine, Maggie with a doctor, and they're fully grown women. What's going to happen to you?
What's going to happen to his baby, Bea?
The kid who still cries when stuffed animals are mistreated? Who crawls into bed with him half the time because the world is scary and thunderstorms are loud? Who barely knows how to hold a shotgun, let alone a full blown baby. You liked to play with Judith, but it was just that, play. He can't imagine you waking up to screaming and crying, having to feed it in the middle of the night. He can't imagine you dropping your lessons about hunting and target practice to learn how to change diapers.
âI'm gonna fix it,â He promises, rocking you in his arms. âI ain't gonna let nothinâ bad happen to you, okay? âI'm gonna make it all go away.â
You shake your head knowingly, chest aching at the desperation in his voice. âYou can't.â
âI can,â He doubles down, voice grave. âAnd I will. âI will make this fuckinâ better if âs the last thing I do. You don't deserve this. Any of this. You didn't do nothinâ wrong.â
âDarylâŠâ
You don't believe him, and it shows in the look on your face. It's not that you think he wouldn't go to the ends of the earth trying to find a way to find you, no, you know he'd do that for any of his family. âBut sometimes things just can't be fixed. You don't want him thinking he let you down when the whole thing falls apart. This is on you. Not anybody else. He did everything he should have, taught you everything he could, you were the one that failed.
Despite all your efforts, a few tears manage to slip down your cheeks.
Daryl stands up with you still in his arms, giving you no choice but to rest your weight on your feet. âC'mon kid,â He urges, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to usher you back to the barn like there's nothing in the world that could separate you.
He keeps his arm around your shoulders all the way up until Carol sees you, then he lowers it to your hip.
Her icy gaze sends a chill down your spine, but when she notices you're looking at her she softens.
The disgust that had shown on her face earlier wasn't directed at you at all, it was the realization that horrified her. The violence hit too close to home, an all too real possibility their group has had the misfortune of dealing with both before and after the virus. Most recent in her memory, Maggie and the Governor. Carol doesn't request that Daryl let you go, or make any efforts to hide what she's feeling right about now. You're sure she and Daryl, also apparently Rick and Siddiq, had a long discussion about what should be done about this already.
She stands very close, ducking down to whisper to you.
âThey won't get away with this, won't get the chance to do it again. I will kill every last one of them,â She whispers, meaning to be comforting as she tucks a few curls behind your ear. âEvery. Last. One.â
It's a lot to put on you at once, so you just give her a disturbed look with a slight shake of your head.
Breaking back into a Saviors base, especially for something as emotional as revenge, sounds like a horrendous idea. People on both sides would probably die as an unintended consequence, and then you'd have to deal with knowing you were the reason behind it all.
The Saviors are going to lose, one way or another, some day, and you hope she gets to be a part of that for everything they've taken from her and the rest of the group. âBut you can't be the reason they rush into it and risk ruining everything. Alexandria is already gone, you can't risk losing Hilltop right now.
âCarol,â Daryl says in a warning tone, teeth clenched as he pulls you flush against his side. âThat ain't the plan. âListen to Rick.â
The woman looks like she's going to argue with him, but before she can get the chance Darylâs already guiding you to the loft and nudging you up the ladder. You peek at him over your shoulder, but he nods for you to continue on without him for the time being.
You slip out of your clothes and change into the same set of pajamas you've worn since you got here.
As you get into bed, you hear Carol and Daryl softly arguing below.
âYou can't honestly not want to do anything about this,â The woman hisses quietly.
âLook, we donât know whether she is or she isn't. What matters right now is figurinâ that out and gettinâ her treated,â Daryl growls back. âI don't want to sit on my fuckinâ hands, but what else is there to do? Huh? âYou think I don't want to kill them? They took people from us. Good people.â
âPregnant or not, they stillââ
You pull the blankets over your ears, turning over so that you're facing the wall instead of the railing. The talking isn't gone, but it's muffled enough that you don't have to hear it unless you try to.
Eventually the two of them stop arguing and Daryl comes up the ladder, startling you by setting a hand down on your waist.
You sit upright, pulling the blankets away from your ears.
âSorry,â He sighs tensely, sitting down beside you. âI thought you were asleep already.â
You softly shake your head, staring intently as you sign, C-A-R-O-L?
âShe's down there,â He confirms, nodding towards the railing. âAin't in a talkinâ mood, but I'm sure she'd be okay if it's you.â
âMm-mm,â You hum in disagreement, pulling the covers up to your chest.
No offense to Carol, but there's no way in hell you're going down there to talk to her when she's in such a dangerous mood. You've had enough craziness for the day.
âAgh,â Daryl grunts as he flops onto his back, backing up until he's reached the pillows next to you.
You similarly flop sideways down onto his stomach so that you're staring up at him, nestling into his hand when he starts to lovingly rub the notch in your ear.
It's making you sleepy.
âY'know you gotta see Siddiq tomorrow, right?â He mentions, eyes softening at the sight of you melting into his side. âRick said you have to, and I⊠want to make sure you're alright.â
You grunt ambiguously, closing your eyes.
He pulls the blanket up from your chest so that it's sitting over your shoulders, covering both of you entirely. âG'night Bambi.â
âGood night,â You say back. âI love you.â
âLove you too,â He returns, but you're already asleep.
